Montana Bachelor: Montana Cowboys Read online

  Montana Bachelor

  Hildie McQueen

  Pink Door Publishing, Augusta, Georgia 2016

  Montana Bachelor

  Bestselling Author

  Hildie McQueen

  Pink Door Publishing

  Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

  Editor: Scott Moreland

  Copyright Hildie McQueen 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Other Works by Hildie McQueen

  (In reading order)

  Contemporary Western Romance

  Montana Bachelor

  Montana Boss

  Montana Beau

  Montana Bliss

  Fords of Nashville

  Even Heroes Cry

  The Last Hero

  Her Hero*

  Nobody's Hero*

  Contemporary Romantic Comedy

  Taming Lisa

  Tea, Theft and Scones

  * Not published as of this publication

  Dedication

  To my wonderful readers

  Read On!

  Chapter One

  "Unbelievable!" Amy Leigh Paisley stared out the huge wall of windows and watched the airplane taxi off. The airplane she was supposed to be on. Not only had she missed her flight after arriving at the gate early, but while accompanied by three girlfriends.

  A pale, balding airline representative with a wayward eye looked past her and spoke. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We can't get you a flight until tomorrow afternoon." Amy Leigh looked over her shoulder, not sure to whom he spoke. "Since you missed your flight, through no fault of the airlines, I might add, we are unable to give you a seat on the next flight. It's full."

  "Oh, you're talking to me?"

  The man nodded and handed her a print out. "The best I can do is tomorrow at two fifty-five in the afternoon, flight eight-sixty-five. Make sure you get here early. And, ma'am, remain at the gate this time, so you don't miss the flight." He leaned to the microphone and proceeded to announce boarding for a flight to Albuquerque.

  "Right. Thanks."

  People squeezed in around her hoping to get the man's attention, so she moved out of the way.

  A few minutes later Amy Leigh stumbled out of the airport into the hot Las Vegas day. Somehow she'd managed to miss a flight while accompanied by three women. One of the girls called her when the airplane was taxiing down the runway.

  Admittedly, she'd been a little hung-over and had fallen asleep in a chair. They claimed to have shaken her awake and assumed she followed them onto the plane. Never thought to look back to ensure she was actually there. Who does that?

  The sun beat down creating wavy patterns rising from the pavement. What was she going to do for an entire day and night in Vegas?

  A cab driver gave her a quizzical look when she stood beside the taxi without moving. Obviously figuring her to be either overly tired or on drugs, the guy grabbed her bag and opened the door to allow her to slide in. "Where to, Miss?"

  "The Venetian," Amy Leigh told him on a whim and leaned her head back on the headrest. She'd never been to Las Vegas before this trip, much less to the fancy hotel she'd strolled by and drooled over earlier in the week. What the hell, she had a whole day and night left in Vegas. She may as well splurge.

  Amy Leigh leaned forward. "Excuse me, where is the closest shopping to the hotel?" The cabbie shrugged. “There are plenty of places to shop inside the hotel. The Grand Canal Shoppes."

  Perfect. A wide smile curved her lips. A plan formed. Her thirtieth birthday had been a blast with her friends, but it would have nothing on what she planned now. Today she was going to have more than just fun. It was time for excitement. When she got back to Pine Oak, the trio of deserting friends would hate they didn't miss the plane with her.

  "The Venetian, Miss," the cab driver announced a few minutes later. He retrieved her bag from the trunk and rolled it to the sidewalk.

  After paying, Amy Leigh walked into the immense building.

  I hope they have a room available.

  Six hours later, she stood in front of her hotel room's gilded framed mirror. Her coffee brown hair was long and straight. It fell like a silky curtain to the middle of her back. Her waves were gone. Flat-ironed away by a stunning girl, who used to be a guy, in the hotel beauty shop.

  She told Amy Leigh, in excruciating detail, the entire ordeal of the sex change. He, now a she, was a genius with hair and deserved the big tip she left. Amy Leigh swung her head back and forth and watched the tresses sway.

  To get a better vantage point of her newly purchased outfit, she turned sideways and studied the garnet red dress that hugged her curves emphasizing her small waist and pert backside. The short pleats on the hem of the skirt added enough of a flounce to attract the eye to her runner-shaped legs. She strolled to a side table and poured a glass of Cabernet and then went back to the mirror. Her gaze fell on the new leopard print platform pumps. They would definitely get attention.

  Amy Leigh Paisley, simple party planner from Pine Oak, Montana, was gone. Before her stood a new creation. The woman in the mirror looked more of a cross between a corporate executive and high priced hooker. Perfect.

  "Hello, I am Leigh Mason." She practiced using her middle name and mother's maiden name. "I am an event planner from Billings."

  Amy Leigh leaned forward and inspected her make up. Yes, the beautician had definitely earned her money.

  Dark brown eyes popped from her heart shaped face and new long lashes fanned flirtingly.

  After a nod at her reflection Amy Leigh picked up a shiny black patent leather wristlet to complete her ensemble. She had to admit, the outfit and makeover were the best four hundred dollars she'd ever spent. After over a year of no sex and no man, she was going to get lucky.

  Actually knowing herself, she'd probably flirt and chicken out at the last minute.

  The elevators were a few steps away from her room. Her heels sank into the plush carpeting of the hallway as she made her way inside. She pressed the button that would take her to the floor where the Bellini bar was. The hotel pamphlet claimed the Bellini bar was a relaxed, jazzy adult hangout.

  Bright lights, music, and sounds of conversations greeted her when she exited the elevator. Two men stopped in their tracks to stare at her. Their eyes traveled from her face to her shoes before they caught themselves and continued on their way. Amy Leigh fought to hold back a giggle and happy dance of triumph.

  "This is going to be an amazing night," she murmured to herself and smiled toward the retreating men. No doubt about it, the fun was just beginning. She ignored the nervous tingle in her belly and continued onward.

  Soft jazz music wafted from the doorway. She peered into the dimly lit interior. The subdued atmosphere with circular bar in the middle was not overly large. Groups of people sat around tables enjoying cocktails and conversing. The brochure was right it was the perfect place to start since she didn't feel ready to hit a loud nightclub. Not yet.
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  By the end of the evening, she hoped to be hot and sweaty from dancing, but for now the blue-lit background would do.

  Once her eyes adjusted, she stepped through the entryway and headed for an open barstool.

  Chapter Two

  "Here's to us!" Charles and Jenny raised their glasses, but instead of drinking, they locked lips in a kiss with way too much tongue. Again.

  Trent Baxter took a swallow of his scotch and allowed the smoky liquid to flow down his throat. "Why don't you guys go on up to your room? I'm getting tired of all this kissy-kissy stuff." He grinned at his childhood friends who'd not relented in bugging him until he agreed to come to Las Vegas and witness their impromptu wedding ceremony.

  Jenny leaned across the table to press a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love you, Trent. Thank you for coming. It would not have been this perfect without you."

  "Yeah, yeah." He waved her away. Truth be told, he envied their free-spirit lifestyle. They flew to Vegas to get married to avoid all the drama from their well meaning but domineering parents. The fact they managed to have a great time while doing it amazed him. He'd actually enjoyed the silly wedding at the overly decorated chapel on a side street to the point of getting teary-eyed when the two whooped in excitement once pronounced husband and wife.

  He could never do it. His mother would take to bed and cry for days over the lost opportunity of hosting the society event of the year, especially since he had been named Billings’ most eligible bachelor in the city's magazine last month. A fact he'd yet to live down with his friends, who ribbed him mercilessly.

  If he did anything like the pair before him, Trevor Baxter, his father, would no doubt disinherit him just for making his mother cry. It didn’t matter that Trent no longer needed any of the family money. On the brink of starting his own ranch supply company he didn't depend on the family fortune for anything.

  Admittedly he was a family man. The idea of causing either of his parent's distress didn't sit well with him. With all their quirks, they were his family and meant the world to him.

  Charles and Jenny smooched again. Trent looked away and waved for the waitress, signaling her for another drink.

  "Do you want to dance?" Jenny tore her eyes away from her new husband and lifted a brow at Trent. "We can boogie for a bit so you don't have to sit here by yourself."

  "He's a guy, honey." Charles laughed. "We're probably cramping his 'most eligible bachelor’ style by hanging out with him."

  Trent's cell phone rang and he hit the decline key sending whoever called straight to voice mail. Jenny wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. "It's Miranda isn't it? Your ice princess has been depleting your cell phone battery just to make sure you behave."

  As if on cue, his cell phone buzzed again in his pocket, it was probably her again. Miranda refused to accompany him to the wedding, declaring Las Vegas to be "excessively tacky" and yet hounded him constantly by phone and email since they'd arrived.

  "Get out of here, you two. Go on." Trent waved them off as the waitress brought a fresh drink. He held it up to his friends and announced, "I'm going to call it a night after I finish this."

  Neither of them moved. Instead stayed in their seats seeming uncertain. Charles shrugged after a while. "I don't know, Trent, maybe we can wait for you to finish your drink."

  Trent raised an eyebrow and swung his gaze towards the bar. "What if I told you I spotted a pretty lady at the bar and plan to buy her a drink?"

  "Oh, yeah right," Charles replied with a hearty laugh. "I've never seen you strike out before, but that group over there… might eat you alive."

  He looked at the bar. Other than a group of middle-aged women who looked like they were ready to fall off their barstools, howling with laughter, and a trio of bored businessmen, the rest of the seats at the round bar remained empty.

  Jenny stood and pulled at Charles. "Come on, let's go, babe. Let's give Trent some space, with any luck he'll find a Miranda replacement."

  The couple finally made their way past the bar. Trent shook his head and laughed when Charles turned back and blew him a kiss while Jenny grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him out the door.

  Would he ever find a life partner and be like them? Someone who would make him laugh like Jenny did his friend? Someone fun, down to earth, a woman who wasn't interested in him just because of his money.

  The cell buzzed again and he pulled it out of his pocket. Miranda again. He turned the device off, leaned back, and took a long draw from his glass.

  Movement at the entrance caught his attention. A woman peered in and lingered at the doorway as if contemplating whether to enter or not. From the light behind her, he could tell she was curvy, with a slender waist and killer legs.

  The beauty walked in and seemed to glide toward the bar. His eyebrows flew up. With long smooth brown hair down her back and pouty lips, she was a stunner. She wore animal print heels that screamed to be wrapped around some lucky man's waist. Her red dress accentuated every curve of her voluptuous body.

  With a swing of her head, her hair flipped behind her shoulder as she walked.

  He eyed the businessmen at the bar who remained oblivious to her presence. They stared into the blue backlit shelves behind the bartender or into their drinks.

  Well, he'd be damned if one of them got a chance to talk to her first. Trent grabbed his drink, and with an air of confidence, made his way toward the shiny bar.

  Keeping a slow gait, he caught her out of the corner of his eye before sitting with one barstool between them. He turned his attention away from her and lifted his hand to the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgment and finished mixing an already ordered drink.

  When the bartender headed toward him, Trent ordered another scotch and then looked to the woman. "If you want to order a drink, better catch him before he slips away."

  Coffee colored eyes met his and then looked to his half empty glass. She smiled at the bartender who immediately parked in front of her. "I'd like the Bellini Blush please."

  The husky voice melted over him. Unfortunately it seemed to have the same effect on the bartender whose smile widened. "It'll be on the house," he murmured, ignoring Trent's eye roll.

  "Thank you," she replied, the “you” sounding more like “queue.” After the barkeep left, she shrugged and smiled at Trent. "Maybe if you had ordered the house special drink, he'd given it to you free too." Her eyes sparkled with mirth and he shook his head.

  "Drink too many of those girlie concoctions and you'll have not only a killer headache in the morning but an upset stomach as well." He lifted his scotch. "Now this, drink too many of these and I can still function perfectly tomorrow. Maybe a bit slower, but I'd still have my wits about me."

  "Hmmm." Challenge vibrated from her direct gaze. "What I think is you can't handle a Bellini Blush. It's okay. You don't have to admit it. But I think just one of those and you'll be on the floor. I can drink three or four Bellini's and still wake up quite well."

  "I doubt it," he grinned.

  Before he could say anything more, the bartender returned with what looked more like a cake than a beverage. The fruity frozen concoction was layered in an oversized tall wine goblet and topped with a pile of whipped cream. The guy had outdone himself, by sticking a skewer of fruit on the side that unfortunately slopped off and landed on the bar counter with a sturdy plop. The comical effect brought a chuckle that earned Trent a glare from the guy behind the bar.

  "Oh goodness," the pretty woman exclaimed, her eyes wide. "It's so much bigger than I expected. I don't know if I can finish this."

  "Much less three," Trent couldn't help but remark.

  "It's beautiful," she praised the bartender who seemed to melt at her smile. The bartender scooped up the fruit kabob promising her a new one, his eyes drinking her in.

  Trent waited for the guy to go make another fruit kabob monstrosity and looked to the pretty woman who took a tentative sip. "I'm Trent Baxter, from Billings."

  Sh
e took a second sip from her drink. "Oh," she said closing her eyes and swaying. It was the first time a woman swooned at his name. "This drink is absolutely dreamy." Her lips curved and although his name wasn't what caused the swoon, it still made his insides warm. She held out her hand. "I'm A...Leigh Mason."

  "A Lee Mason?"

  "No, no, sorry." She laughed at some inside joke he didn't understand. "My name is Leigh Mason,” and then she proceeded to spell it. They were still holding hands when the bartender returned, his eyes went to their clasped hands and he scowled while not so gently plopping the fruit into her drink.

  "Trent." Leigh got his attention. "What if we switch drinks and you try mine and I, yours."

  "You want me to trade my scotch for your fruit salad?" He laughed at her expectant expression. "I don't think so."

  "Just as I figured." She slipped her hand from his and took another draw from the long pink straw. "You can't handle the mighty Bellini Blush.”

  The smooth amber liquid slid down his throat and Trent eyed the colorful swill. Then he slid his scotch across the countertop to end in front of Leigh. With a grimace, he slid her concoction closer.

  After taking a deep breath, he sucked the mixed drink through a second straw. "Gah!" He fought the urge to spit the overly sweet liquid and forced it down instead. Then to make a point that he would not give up, he took another sip ensuring it went straight past his tongue. "Your turn now."

  Brows drawn, she looked at the scotch. "There isn't much left in here."

  "It's more than half what I got."

  "Really?" Her mouth fell open. "It looks like he gypped you. You should ask him for more." Leigh lifted the small glass and sniffed it. Her eyes widened. "Oh my goodness! It smells like gasoline."