Inheriting a Rodeo Cowboy: Legacy Canyon Book 2

Her grandfather left her a ranch… 

And a rodeo cowboy! 

Kristen Larrabee is surprised when she inherits her grandfather’s ranch, but she’s even more stunned when she learns the conditions: She has to stay on the ranch for a year…and she has to run it with Lucas Thomas. Reeling from her recent divorce, Kristen and Lucas shared a steamy night on her last trip home. But the bigger problem is that the rodeo rider is a member of the family that’s been feuding with her family for years. Kristen can’t deny that the cowboy is good at his job and oh-so-tempting to lean on. But can she trust him with her family’s ranch…or her heart?

Coming August 2026

A SNEAK PEEK:

“Penny for your thoughts,” her grandfather said.

“Just thinking of the ranch and how it’s strange that Wyatt’s back.”

She used to be able to say that Wyatt was also an outlier for not living on the ranch, but once he’d adopted the boys, Wyatt had forsaken Denver. After Madi had met Wyatt, she’d left Boston for good. Together they’d built a house on ten acres of land deeded for their use from the Larrabee Ranch Trust. With over one hundred thousand acres, the working cattle ranch still had plenty of space, especially since her grandfather had his own plot of land with twenty thousand acres, acres not in the family trust but his personal one, a point of contention between her grandfather and Kristen’s dad.

“I don’t think the ranch really leaves you,” her grandfather said.

“Maybe not,” Kristen murmured, for it was easier to agree than wonder if he was correct. Long ago, she’d vowed to run the ranch, until her father had told her ranching was “men’s work.” Being a veterinarian was as close to animals as she was going to get, and suburban Chicago and her postage stamp–sized yard was as different from the wide open skies of Texas as one could get.

“Ah, here he is.” Her grandfather used the joystick on his wheelchair to roll back from the table so he could turn to face the man approaching. “Lucas, this is my granddaughter, Kristen. Kristen, Lucas Thomas. The two of you are my favorite people in the world, minus my wife, of course. It’s high time you met.”

“Ma’am.” When Lucas greeted her by touching a finger to the brim of his Stetson, Kristen swore she melted. He had a honey-whiskey voice, the deep kind that automatically sent shivers running down her spine. Smoky brown eyes assessed her, taking their time. His cheekbones appeared sculpted from granite and surrounded full, succulent lips.

“You’re tall,” Kate said from her seat on Kristen’s right, her daughter’s words breaking the spell.

His chuckle was like a delicious bite of creamy chocolate—rich and satisfying. “I am. And you have pretty hair like your mommy.”

“Uh-huh.” Kate nodded. “My daddy’s not as tall as you.”

Roy was five-seven, and he’d hated the fact that Kristen topped him by two inches. Lucas was at least six feet, maybe six-two, which meant if Kristen lowered her gaze, his waistline was directly in her line of view. 

Another benefit of being seated? She didn’t have to worry about her knees weakening. He was—what was that term  her friend, Lucy, had used the other weekend? Oh, yes. Sex on a stick. The kind of man a woman would love to savor and devour. Greek-god handsome and far too good looking, the type who promised pleasurable danger. He was one of those men who when he sashayed into a bar would have women offering to buy him drinks.

Kristen twisted the ruby ring she wore in place of her wedding ring. She’d put the diamond in the safe-deposit box long before she’d signed the papers. When her mother had asked her where her ring was, Kristen had told her it was at the jeweler because of a loose stone. Another lie come easy.

“Lucas is working on my ranch.” Her grandfather’s voice snapped Kristen back to attention. “He’ll be riding in the rodeo at the end of the month.”

“At least two events,” Lucas added in that warm honey—or was it molasses?— tone that called forth a primal urge from her  insides. “Maybe three, if I’m lucky.”

He was probably lucky in everything he did.

She managed a noncommittal “That’s nice. I’m sure the committee is happy to have a hometown boy competing.”

The Lasso for Legacy Rodeo was a community event that raised funds for charity, and participants came from as far away as Montana, Idaho and California because of the excellent prize money. This was the event’s fiftieth year, and the committee that had organized the event since its founding was as well known for its good deeds and charitable work as its matchmaking and meddling—all in the name of the town good, of course.

“It’s been nice meeting you,” Kristen said.

Acknowledging her dismissal, Lucas dipped his head and fingered the black felt, the classic oval cattleman-style hat complete with a subtle hatband dyed the same color as the body. Admittedly, he cleaned up nice—real nice—his dress boots shiny and his suit tailored. He’d find no shortage of other women to talk with.

However, her grandfather nixed that idea by pointing to an empty chair. “Sit. Get to know each other. Katie, love, come with me. I need to get more of those doughnuts from the dessert table.”

At the promise of more sweets, something Kristen rarely allowed, her daughter hopped up and darted off after her great-grandfather.

Lucas flipped a chair around backward, dropped onto it and folded his arms along the top crossbar. “You’re the vet,” he said easily, his gaze taking in everything but holding no condemnation. 

“And you’re the cowboy,” she parried, working for control of the desire he drew forth, which had no place here—or anywhere, really. And why did he seem to know so much about her?

“Cowboy. Ranch hand. Among other things.” His audacious wink and cheeky grin made her stomach flip.

She gave him a tolerant smile. Back in college, before meeting her husband and back when she’d known how to have fun, she’d shut men like him down. Now she self-consciously tugged on one of the brown ringlets the stylist had curled and left loose, framing her face. “I bet people like the other things.”

Something hummed between them as he said, “I’d like to think they do.”

She hadn’t meant it as a compliment, and he knew it. Thick, traceable eyebrows arched in silent challenge.

She had the urge to thrust her hand forward and show off her wedding ring. But it wasn’t there to protect her and never would be again. As her friend Lucy had said, what did Kristen need a man for anyway? She had her own checkbook. Good friends, girlfriends she needed to see more of. A child. Kristen was a woman left to her own devices, in the literal and figurative sense. Finding her backbone, when under the attention of a man she had the sudden urge to strip bare, was proving difficult but not impossible.

“Despite what my grandfather said, you don’t need to be keeping me company,” she told him. “There are some single women out on that dance floor ogling you.”

“I like the woman I’m ogling just fine.”

Oh, he was smooth. Too smooth. Men didn’t flirt with her anymore, especially younger men. “Hold up there, cowboy. How old are you?”

“Old enough,” he answered casually. “Twenty-six.”

To his credit, he didn’t break eye contact, and those smoky brown orbs darkened. Good grief. He was one year older than her widowed brother, Caleb, who managed the Larrabee Ranch and was a dad to a three-year-old daughter. 

“I see,” she let out slowly.

“And what do you see?” he returned, the corner of his lip inching upward in devilish tease.

“Trouble.”

“The good kind, I hope.”