Cedarwood Cowboy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by Megan Slayer

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

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  About the Author

  Pride Publishing books by Megan Slayer

  Single Books

  Constant

  Permanent

  Vaulting

  Drive my Car

  We Belong Together

  Finding Michael

  Must Love Dogs

  The One I Want

  You and Me Again

  The Real Me

  My Other Half

  Cedarwood Pride

  Home to Cedarwood

  Ripples in Cedarwood

  Scoring in Cedarwood

  Rainbows over Cedarwood

  Rocking Cedarwood

  Cedarwood Manny

  Together in Cedarwood

  Doc Cedarwood

  Finding Forever in Cedarwood

  Silver Fox in Cedarwood

  Anthologies

  Out of Bounds: Crossing the Line

  Out of Bounds: Making the Play

  Aim High: Lifetime Hitch

  Brothers in Arms: One Night with You

  Rules of Summer: Summer Stock

  Collections

  What’s his Passion?: Wild Card

  Cedarwood Pride

  CEDARWOOD COWBOY

  MEGAN SLAYER

  Cedarwood Cowboy

  ISBN # 978-1-83943-075-6

  ©Copyright Megan Slayer 2020

  Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright October 2020

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2020 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  Book eleven in the

  Cedarwood Pride series

  Two men, one crush and a circumstance they can’t ignore.

  Evan Conley left Cedarwood with dreams of fame and fortune. Twenty-five years and one hit song later, he’s now Evan James. He sings songs and electrifies crowds, but he’s got to come home. His grandmother is dying. To make matters worse, the man handling his grandmother’s estate is none other than his high school crush, Mick Ryan.

  Mick Ryan wasn’t thrilled to see Evan James return to Cedarwood. He never got over his crush on Evan and isn’t sure being thrown together will do them any good. But Evan isn’t the man he seems and Mick’s desire hasn’t extinguished with time. Can these two men, seemingly opposites, find their mutual attraction is more than enough to make their love grow?

  Dedication

  For all those chasing your dreams. Never stop.

  For RB, because you wanted a cowboy.

  For JPZ

  Chapter One

  “Mick, you’re the one I trust. If anyone can get Evan to come home, it’s you.” Martha Conley held his hand. “I know it.”

  Mick Ryan nodded to his client. He loved Martha Conley like a grandmother and he’d do his best to take care of her estate, but calling her grandson? How could she be sure he’d get through? The last he’d been told, Evan Conley—better known as Evan James—was famous. He might not take Mick’s call. Everyone in Cedarwood knew Evan James. He was the singing cowboy and he was currently on tour.

  “I don’t have much time left.” Martha smiled, albeit weakly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Have you tried calling him? There’s a good chance he won’t answer my call.” Mick was good with facts and figures, but not people. “I tend to push guys away with my attention to my job. He might not talk to me.”

  “But you can get through to his people and tell them,” she said.

  “Won’t he…if he’s worth his salt, he’d be checking with you,” Mick said. He wasn’t wild about Evan. He didn’t fault the man for chasing his dreams, but he could be less hard to find.

  “He works hard and keeps getting close to breaking through.” Martha closed her eyes and sighed. “But I won’t lie. I want you to call him because I want him to settle down and I want you to date him.”

  “Martha.” He wasn’t sure he liked her plan now that he knew the truth. He wasn’t a pawn and nor was he a fan of Evan. What if Evan wasn’t even gay?

  “What? You can’t blame a lady for trying.” She opened her eyes. “Just do it.”

  “Fine. I’ll be back.” He shook his head and left the hospital room. The cancer was taking its toll on Martha. She’d grown paler with each passing day. Her cheeks weren’t full and her eyes didn’t shine any longer. She appeared tired. She’d opted for pain medication only and to be comfortable. He could swear she kept hanging on to give Evan time to come home.

  Mick strolled into the hallway and dialed the number he’d been given for Evan. He doubted the singer would answer. He hadn’t the three previous times.

  The ringing stopped. “Hello?”

  Mick froze. Someone had answered. Holy shit. He needed to regain his composure. “Hi. May I speak to Evan Conley?”

  “Who is this?”

  “My name is Mick Ryan and I’m calling on behalf of Evan’s grandmother, Martha Conley,” Mick said. “I would like to speak to Evan.”

  “Grandma?”

  “Yes.” If that was what they wanted to call her, Mick would go along with it. “May I speak to Evan? It’s vitally important.” He’d gotten through. He couldn’t let this opportunity vanish without telling Evan the grim truth. “She’s been diagnosed with cancer and wants him to come home. I’m afraid she doesn’t have much time left.”

  “My grandmother?”

  “Evan?” Really? He’d expected to be speaking with a manager.

  “Yeah,” Evan said. “It’s… I thought she’d last forever.”

  “I’d hoped she would, too. She and my grandmother, Ethel Brinks, were good friends. Martha was devastated when my Memaw passed,” Mick said. “Look, Martha wants to see you. If you’re considering coming home, make it snappy.”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon,” Eva
n said. “I’m booking a flight right now.”

  “Do you need to be picked up? I can collect you from the airport.” He wanted to get Evan to his grandmother as soon as possible.

  “I’ll text you the info. Thank you.” Evan’s voice caught. “Why didn’t she call?”

  “She’s too weak to call and she said she’s tried. I tried, too,” Mick said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me and I’ll be there to get you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He listened to the silence on the other end of the line as Evan hung up. What an odd guy. He didn’t understand the relationship between Evan and Martha, but the way they conducted themselves wasn’t his business. He stepped back into her room. “Martha?”

  “Mick.” She’d closed her eyes.

  “He’s coming. He’ll be here tomorrow.” Mick resumed his spot on the plastic chair. “I’ll collect him when he flies in.”

  “Good.” She sighed. “Now we can all get some rest.”

  “Yes.” He stayed in the room until the nurse returned. He needed to get some sleep and recharge for tomorrow. If he had to drive into Cleveland, then he should be rested up. God, he hated traffic.

  His phone pinged with a new text. He checked the screen. Evan had indeed texted him with his flight number, arrival time and gate number. Well, color me shocked. Part of Mick had expected Evan to stand him up. He hadn’t.

  Mick sent a reply.

  Thanks. Will be waiting in the baggage claims area.

  He’d done what Martha had wanted and rounded up Evan. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. He vaguely remembered Evan from school and hadn’t been impressed. Evan had been self-absorbed and devoted to his music.

  He’d also been very straight.

  Mick paused.

  If Evan was straight, why would Martha be trying to fix him up with Mick? He didn’t know and wasn’t going to try to figure it out.

  He tucked his phone into his pocket. Before he went home, he needed to stop by his office. The paperwork had piled up and he hated being at the hospital. He should get work done and catch a nap. According to Evan’s text, he’d be on the last red-eye flight. If the plane was on time, then he’d have to get up early to be at the airport to drive Evan home.

  He was too nice a guy. That was his problem. He helped too much for too little in return. Being nice wasn’t getting him anywhere or doing anything for his career. Sure, being the good guy and saving the day fulfilled him, but sometimes it seemed like he spent more time on things for others than on himself.

  He left the hospital. If nothing else, he hoped Evan would do right by his grandmother and be an adult. There was no time to coddle him through the estate process. Martha didn’t have much time left and Evan would have to take over—whether he liked it or not.

  Mick massaged his forehead and settled behind the wheel of his car. What have I gotten myself into?

  * * * *

  Evan fiddled with his overnight bag. He wasn’t used to taking planes and his concert schedule demanded he drive from venue to venue. He ate, slept and showered on the bus. The situation wasn’t great, but his damn career wasn’t going anywhere. The fans loved him and claimed he put on fabulous shows, but he couldn’t get traction anywhere else.

  His father had said he’d spun his wheels. His mother had said he should’ve come home. Music was a good hobby, but nothing to last forever.

  Farming wasn’t in his blood, though. Music stirred his soul. He came alive on stage and fed off the energy of the crowd. But the venues weren’t as good as they’d once been and the crowds were now smaller. People wanted to hear poppy versions of country music. His trademark gruffness didn’t work well with the popular sound. He wasn’t in vogue. Either he’d have to change his sound from gritty to something more streamlined or give up on his dream.

  God damn it.

  Now a Mr. Mick Ryan wanted to come home. After his mother and father had succumbed to lung cancer, he’d sworn his grandmother would live forever. She hadn’t smoked two packs of cigarettes a day like his parents. She didn’t drink and she took care of herself. She’d backed him in his dreams of being a famous musician. She cared when others didn’t and she knew he was gay. She hadn’t been shocked when he’d come out to her and she hadn’t pushed him to out himself to anyone else.

  According to Mr. Mick Ryan, his grandmother, his biggest fan, was fading.

  Damn.

  He held on to the armrest as the plane descended. He’d never unbuckled his belt. Instead, he sat still and tried not to be scared. His thoughts wandered. He’d known a Michael Ryan in school, but Michael was three or four years younger than him. Could Michael be Mick? Probably not. Anyone with any sense got the hell out of Cedarwood. Nothing was happening there and they tended to hate the gay community.

  But if Mick was Michael…he couldn’t be the same skinny kid with thick-rimmed glasses and poorly cut hair who loved to discuss the latest book he’d read. Michael had been the smartest kid in the school. If Evan remembered right, Michael had come out before Evan had graduated.

  Nah.

  Michael couldn’t be Mick. Michael was probably in New York or California making the rounds of the clubs and having a great time. He probably ran the world, too. He couldn’t be single or in Cedarwood. No way.

  He hadn’t noticed the plane stopping, but he did see the passengers beginning to debark. He clutched his bag and unbuckled his seatbelt. Time to look for Mr. Mick Ryan.

  Should he refer to Mr. Mick Ryan by his full name? By Mick? Esquire? Jesus, he had no idea. He wasn’t good with social graces. He drank, swore and played his guitar too loud. The doctor claimed he’d be dead by fifty. Maybe.

  He exited the plane and strode through the chute to the gate. Since the regulations had changed, no one could meet their loved ones at the gate. He had to find Mr. Mick Ryan by the baggage claim belts. He hadn’t brought a bag needing to go through the baggage claim. Everything he had was in his checked bag.

  Then again, he wouldn’t be staying long.

  He spotted a man at the bottom of the escalator with a sign.

  Evan Conley

  He waved. “Hi.” Was this Mick?

  The man offered his hand. “Hi, Evan. I’m Mick. We spoke on the phone.”

  No shit. Mick was unmistakable. He was also Michael. He’d managed a better haircut and his braces had to be long gone, but he was still thin. His smile widened and sent a tingle through Evan’s being. Mick wasn’t wearing his glasses. When he shook hands with Evan, he used a strong grip.

  “We went to school together,” Mick said. “Didn’t we?”

  “We did. You were a few years behind me.” Evan fidgeted with his bag. “Cedarwood pride, right?”

  “Cedarwood is better than when we were in school.” Mick pointed to the baggage corral. “Do you need to get your things?”

  “Nope. All I’ve got is in this one.” Evan nodded once. “We can leave.”

  “Then let’s go. It takes about forty-five minutes to get to town and your grandmother wants to see you.” Mick gestured for Evan to come along.

  “How is she?” He fell into step beside Mick. “Life got out of control and I lost touch with her.” He should’ve been home before now. He could chase his dream or run the farm. The dream was more fun but harder work. The farm was routine.

  Mick sighed as they rode the conveyor through the airport. “I’m just on the second level of the parking garage. We should be able to go right across.”

  “Thanks.” He couldn’t be angry with Mick. The man was just doing his job. Mick didn’t need to be gruff, though. Evan rode the conveyor in silence.

  Mick strode through the parking garage to a black sedan. “Do you want to put that in the back or the trunk?”

  “Between my feet is fine.” He shrugged. “But the back seat would be fine.” He opened the rear of the vehicle and placed the bag on the seat. He hadn’t even brought his guita
r along. Damn it. He’d have to call his manager, Lawrence, to send it to him.

  Mick slid behind the wheel.

  Evan joined him in the front seat. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “I’m only doing it for Martha,” Mick snapped. “I’m not a go-fer.”

  “Never said you were.” Evan settled on his side of the vehicle. He hated the uneasiness between them, but they were virtual strangers. “How is my grandmother?”

  “Not good,” Mick said. He paid the fee and drove out of the parking garage. He said nothing until he’d blended into the traffic on the freeway. “She developed lung cancer and it metastasized. She says she’s waiting for you to come home so she can rest. It really isn’t going to be long.”

  “Damn.” He could use the situation for one of his songs, but he hated that he had to go through this part of life. He didn’t know how to deal with his emotions other than through his music.

  “Uh-huh.” Disdain colored Mick’s voice.

  He wasn’t in the mood to spend the next forty-five minutes with an angry Mick. “Why don’t you spit it out and tell me why you’re so mad? We have to be together and we’ll have to for at least a few weeks. I’d rather be on speaking terms than fighting.”

  Mick growled.

  “If it’s because you had to pick me up, then I’ll pay for the gas and this will be the last time. I’m sorry. I should’ve lined up a rental car.” The money for said rental wasn’t in his budget, but putting his career on hiatus wasn’t supposed to have happened, either.

  “Why did you ignore her for so long?” Mick asked. His words came out clipped. “You haven’t been home in forever. She needed you.”

  “I had a career,” he said. “But I called my grandmother every Friday at one in the afternoon. She never said things were this bad.” She’d been good at hiding the truth, though. He’d learned from her to hide how he truly felt and play to the audience.