Firelight at Mustang Ridge

HARVEST AT MUSTANG RIDGE

“Jesse Hayworth writes delightful tales that will wrap themselves around readers' hearts. With breezy, lighthearted writing and plenty of laughter, charm, and emotion, Hayworth gifts her readers with a book that will keep them turning the pages and rooting for these wonderful characters.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Jill Gregory

WINTER AT MUSTANG RIDGE

“This is one of those series that just warms your heart. . . . Great . . . give it a try.”

—Debbie's Book Bag

“A story that you cannot just help falling in love with. Ms. Hayworth is fast becoming my go-to person to read, with heartfelt stories that steal your heart. . . . If you enjoy a heartfelt romance that has laughs, sighs, and more, then you need to race to get
Winter at Mustang Ridge
immediately. You won't be disappointed!”

—Love Romances & More

“With lyrical storytelling and genuine characters, Hayworth has created a love story that will wrap itself around any reader's heart.”
—
RT Book Reviews
(4
¹
/
₂
stars)

SUMMER AT MUSTANG RIDGE

“A superb read: a gorgeous setting and a beautiful love story.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Catherine Anderson

“Warm, witty, and with a great deal of heart,
Summer at Mustang Ridge
is an instant classic.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Kristan Higgins

“The Wyoming backdrop is beautiful, watching a foal
being born is miraculous, ranch life sounds like a lot of fun, and Foster and Shelby are sweet and tender with each other.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Hayworth paints the setting so beautifully, you won't want to leave. The romance is slow and subtle but with enough encouragement to keep you reading all night. I can't think of a better recommendation for a sweet romance: horses, scenery, and working cowboys.”

—
Kirkus Reviews

“A beautiful love story expressed in simple, elegant language. . . . With a solid plot and a host of sympathetic, genuine characters, Hayworth takes her time in weaving a tale of love and healing, all set against the beautiful rural backdrop of the Wyoming mountains. This heartwarming story is a keeper.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Hayworth does a wonderful job creating realistic and great characters . . . a wonderful book to read. . . . If you are looking for a fun and wonderful romance, look no further than
Summer at Mustang Ridge
.”

—The Reading Cafe

“Jesse Hayworth let Shelby's and Foster's feelings and emotions take the lead.
That
is
ROMANCE
! Romance where hearts heal, love, and then soar.”

—Once Upon a Romance

“An enjoyable book, providing interesting characters and a sweet love story with just enough unexpected special touches to keep the reader turning pages . . .
Summer at Mustang Ridge
is exactly what sweet-romance lovers crave, creating anticipation for what promises to be an enjoyable Western contemporary series. A tender love story, told in a unique voice sure to please any romance lover
.”

—Romance Junkies

Summer at Mustang Ridge

Winter at Mustang Ridge

Harvest at Mustang Ridge

Sunset at Keyhole Canyon
(a Penguin
Special)

SIGNET
ECLIPSE

Published by the Penguin Group

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New York, New York 10014

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A Penguin Random House Company

First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

Copyright © Jessica Andersen, 2015

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ISBN 978-0-698-16574-8

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

If you've ever felt like you've lost your way . . . this book is for you. May you find a new and unexpected path full of love and laughter. And pie, because you just can't go wrong with
pie.

Dear Reader-Friend,

We all know what they say—things change; people change; live in the moment because you never know what tomorrow might bring. But even if we keep up with our fortune-cookie fortunes and do our best with our deep breathing, we're never quite ready for that moment where life goes
BOOM
and everything takes a left-hand turn, are we? I sure wasn't five or so years ago when I woke up one morning (or so it seemed at the time) to find myself with no partner, a house I couldn't afford, and no idea what came next.

Well, what came next was more life—those cookies tell us that life is what happens while we're making plans, right? Tomorrow comes whether we're ready for it or not. For me, a bunch of doors closed but a whole lot of windows opened, and suddenly that too-big house was humming with activity as my mom (who rocks) and a dear friend (shout out, Liana!) helped me paint and pack and get the heck out of Dodge.

Maybe I didn't go as far as Danny Traveler does—all the way to Mustang Ridge, Wyoming—and maybe the healing I needed to do was very different from hers. But, like her, I made a new home someplace I never expected to be. And, like
her, one day I met a big, broad-shouldered man from out West—one who knows how to ride and shoot and fend for himself, and who I absolutely wouldn't have been ready for had I met him any sooner in my journey.

So welcome back to Mustang Ridge, dear Reader-Friend. Please join me in a story that is near and dear to my heart, about left-hand turns, moments that go
BOOM
, and how a former adrenaline junkie–turned–nervous Nellie puts the pieces back together with the help of a slow-talking cowboy who is far more than he seems. And if you're in the process of putting a few pieces back together yourself, please know that you're not alone.

Love,

Jesse

D
anny Traveler didn't put much stock in luck or fortune-cookie sayings, but as the shuttle bus rolled beneath an archway that spelled out
WELCOME
TO
MUSTANG
RIDGE
in horseshoes, she was starting to think that the whole “if you're going through hell, keep on going” thing might have some merit. The last year or so had sucked eggs, but now, finally, she thought she might be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

Or, rather, the rainbow at the end of the tunnel. Because as the luxury bus glided between two pale, grassy fields—horses on one side, cattle on the other—it was headed straight for a perfect rainbow that arched over the pretty valley at the end of the driveway.

“Would you look at that?” Danny's seatmate had her face plastered to the window. “It's a sign!”

Danny made a polite murmur of agreement. Kiki-from-Cambridge had been talking in exclamation points for the entire three-hour ride, to the point that the heavily made-up—and generously endowed—brunette had seemed to be in danger of popping the snaps of her fringed Western shirt as she babbled on about everything from the gum-smacking guy who had sat next to
her on the plane to the fact that she hadn't been on a horse since she got bucked off a lead-line pony at the age of six. That made Danny wonder why she had decided on a dude ranch for her summer vacation, but she kept the question to herself and gave Kiki props for facing her fears.

Too bad she was doing it in close proximity at top volume.

Most of the others on the bus—twenty-some dudes and dudettes of various ages—had tuned Kiki out by the thirty-minute mark, leaving Danny wishing she had taken the singleton seat in the far back.

“Can you believe we're finally here?” Kiki gave a happy sigh. “It feels like I've been waiting for this forever. What color horse do you hope you get? I want a yellow one! Pimento, they call it.”

Danny couldn't help herself. “I think it's palomino.”

“No, I'm pretty sure it's pimento. And did you see the cowboys on the Web site?” Kiki made a
yum-yum
noise. “I'd like to take a ride on one of them!”

Trying not to picture a horse made of pimento loaf, a deli product called palomino loaf, or Kiki riding anything two-legged, Danny pointed out the window. “Oh, look! There's the ranch! Isn't it pretty?” Kiki made a happy noise and flattened her nose against the glass once more. The move made Danny wonder what she looked like from the other side, then give herself a mental kick for being bitchy. It wasn't the other woman's fault that she was winding down just when everyone else on the bus was gearing up. Hoping her internal eye rolls hadn't been obvious, Danny asked, “Do you see any of those cowboys?”

“Not yet.” Kiki stared raptly as the valley unfolded in front of them. “But I see more horses, and you're right. It's
sooo
beautiful down there!”

And, yeah, if Danny hadn't given up the window seat the second time Kiki leaned across her to
ooh
and
aah
before they even left the airport loop road, she would have been making a face print of her own on the glass. Because if the rapidly fading rainbow was a sign, Mustang Ridge itself was a vision.

The ranch was a mix of old and new, from the log-style main house and matching guest cabins scattered near an almost perfectly circular lake to the big steel-span barn that bumped up against an older wooden structure. Fence lines spidered out from the barns, enclosing horses, cattle, and riding areas, and bordering a dirt track that led through a perimeter fence and up a shallow slope to a ridge. Beyond that somewhere was Blessing Valley. Her valley.

Danny let out a soft sigh. It looked peaceful. Wonderful. And like it was exactly what the doctors had ordered.

“
Wow
is right!” Kiki said, which might or might not mean that Danny had said the word aloud. “Aren't those just the cutest cabins you've ever seen?”

The noise level increased as the other passengers roused from their travel fugue with exclamations of “There's the pavilion where they have dancing!” and “Do you think we can fish in the lake?” along with lots of “Ohh, look at the horses!”

The rising chatter bounced around Danny as the young cowboy in the driver's seat pulled the shuttle around in front of the barn and killed the engine.
Getting on the intercom to project over the chatter of two dozen vacationers readying to make a break for it, he said, “Welcome to Mustang Ridge, folks! I'd like to invite you to hop on down, fill your lungs with some fresh Wyoming air, and connect with Krista, Rose, or Gran—they're the ones wearing the green polo shirts and carrying clipboards. They'll get you set up with your cabins and tell you all the cool stuff that comes next.” He gave a dramatic pause, then deepened his voice. “So . . . are you ready to take your first step onto the soil that's been walked by cowboys of the Skye family for more than ten generations?”

As the group gave a ragged chorus of agreement, made up of lots of “Yeah” and “Woo” exclamations, Kiki scrambled over Danny and leaped into the aisle, where she did a shimmy-shake that set a whole lot of stuff shimmying and shaking, and hollered, “Let's ride 'em, cowboys!”

The driver's eyes went deer-in-headlights wide in the rearview mirror, and instead of doing the “I can't hear you” thing that was probably next in the script, he popped the doors open and called, “Watch your step, folks! And welcome to Rustlers' Week!”

Danny stayed put while the first wave of guests stampeded off. Then she and the stragglers filed out into a whole lot of sunshine. The minute her hiking boots touched down, she got a quiver of excitement in her belly.
You're here. You made it. Welcome to the next chapter of your life
. Which was totally the power of suggestion, thanks to the bus driver's rah-rah routine, but still . . . Moving away from the bus, she filled her lungs with dry, sweet-smelling air that carried the scents of
horses, sunbaked grasslands, and a tangy kitchen-type aroma that made her stomach grumble and suggested that the claim on the ranch's Web site about offering the best ranch food around wasn't an empty boast.

“You must be Danielle,” a voice said from behind her.

She turned, doing a double take at the sight of a pretty, perky blonde who wore a green polo and a baby sling, and was entirely familiar yet not. “Krista. Hi! Yes, it's me. But, please, call me Danny.” She peeked inside the sling and saw an infant's head topped with blond baby-fine hair and a fat pink bow. “And this must be Abigail Rose.”

Krista's lips curved. “Abby to her friends, which includes you. Any friend of Jenny's is a friend of ours.”

“Jenny and I really only worked together for a month or so.” In a faraway rain forest, where Krista's twin had been filming a reality dating show and Danny had been in charge of the zip-lining, bungee-jumping, and canyoneering dates.

It felt like another lifetime.

“If she says you're cool, then you're cool,” Krista said firmly. Then, to the baby, she cooed, “Isn't that right, Abby-gabby? Your Aunt Jenny knows her stuff. And thanks to her, Danny here is going to hang out with the horses up in Blessing Valley for a while. Won't that be fun?”

With her throat tightening, Danny managed, “I'm grateful. Really. I don't know how to tell you what this means to me.”

Krista patted her shoulder. “Don't stress about it—we're happy to help. Jenny wanted to be here to greet
you, but she took on a filming gig down in Belize for a friend of a friend. She and Nick will be back in a couple of weeks.”

“Seriously, you don't know me from the next gal. You're amazing to do this for me.”

“You're welcome here at Mustang Ridge. And I mean it—we're happy to help, honest.” Krista sent her a sidelong look. “I get that it feels weird, though. You're way more used to doing favors than needing them.”

Danny eyed her. “Jenny told you that?”

“Nope, but like recognizes like.” Krista adjusted the sling as the baby shifted, curving into her mother's body like a small, sleepy shrimp. “Up until a year ago, I had to be in charge of things no matter what. The ranch, the business, life in general . . . I might have asked for help now and then, but always on my terms.”

“And then she came along?” Danny nodded to the baby.

“Well, first her father came along.” Krista's brilliant blue eyes gained a glint. “Wyatt. We were college sweethearts who crossed paths again at a time when I needed a cowboy, he needed some saddle time, and neither of us was thinking about romance. At least that was what we kept telling ourselves.”

“And you're getting married soon.” Jenny had passed along that detail while Danny had still been trying to catch up to the idea that her freewheeling, country-hopping photographer friend was married to a veterinarian and living in Wyoming when she used to swear she would never return home for more than a quick visit.

A pleased flush touched Krista's cheeks. “We've got
a couple of months still until the wedding. Long enough to feel like I should change everything but not long enough that it's an option, so we're going with the plan we've got—family and friends under the pavilion as the sun sets behind the mountains.” Her expression brightened. “You're invited, of course. Please say you'll come!”

Danny had to stop herself from backpedaling, which was silly. Maybe at one point she had hoped the next wedding she went to would be her own, but it was past time for her to stop flinching over that. “I'd be honored,” she said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Brilliant! Don't worry about dressing up, but if you want to shop, Jenny and I are always up for a girls' night, or afternoon or whatever. And our friend Shelby—she always manages to make the stuff she finds in town look like it came out of a fashion magazine.”

“That sounds fun.” She couldn't spend the whole summer alone, after all. Besides, she wanted to thank Jenny in person for e-mailing out of the blue to catch up, and then, when Danny gave her the short version of the past couple of years, responding with:
Come to Mustang Ridge. It's the perfect place to get your head screwed back on straight
.

“Sweetie?” a voice called from the other side of the bus. Moments later, a petite white-haired woman came around the front of the shuttle, eyes lighting when she caught sight of Krista. “There you are! I'm going to fix a few folk up with snacks while your mom and Junior show the others to their cabins. Do you need anything?”

“Nope, I'm good for right now, and Miss Abby is conked out.” Krista patted the snoozing bundle within the sling. “Bless her for being a good sleeper, and pretty much the best baby ever—not that I'm biased or anything. But before you go, Gran, I want to introduce you to Danny Traveler.”

The older woman's face brightened. “Hello, dear! It's so lovely that you're here. How was your trip?”

“It was fine.” She had splurged on a direct flight and strapped herself in, chased an Ambien with a screw-top micro-bottle of white wine, and practiced her deep-breathing exercises. It hadn't been fun, but she had made it through.

Gran's eyes went sympathetic, as if she had said the rest of it out loud. “I stocked your camp with supplies, but come see me before you and Krista head out there. I have a little basket put together for you.”

“And by
little
, she means approximately the size and mass of the average blanket chest,” Krista put in.

Danny cleared her throat, suddenly overwhelmed—by the warm welcome, the chaos, all the people around her. To Krista, she said, “Do you need to help show people to their cabins? I don't want to keep you from your guests.”

“You're a guest, too.”

“I'm not paying nearly what they are.” Which was yet another reason to be grateful.

“No, but you're staying far longer, and you're not going to require as much hands-on time. Though, for the record, you're welcome to participate in any activities you'd like. We've always got a spare horse or
three, and there's something magical about a long ride in the great big wide-open.”

“We'll see. I'm planning on spending most of my time in the valley. You know, reading, walking, chilling out.” Working her way through the daunting collection of aptitude exams that had been a parting gift from Farah, her physical-therapist-turned-friend.

“Of course. But please consider it an open invitation.” Krista touched her arm—like she wanted to do more but could tell Danny wasn't a hugger. “Come on. Let me hand Abby off to her nana, and then I'll show you to your valley.” She laughed. “Now
that's
not something I get to say every day! See? I knew I was going to like having you around.” She danced away, humming a happy tune and exchanging a few words with each of the guests she passed, introducing herself and the baby, and welcoming the newcomers to her family's world.

Danny watched her, thinking,
That
. That was what she wanted—not all the people and the hustle-bustle of running a dude ranch, but that sense of loving life and doing exactly what she wanted to do. Too bad she didn't know what that was.

Yet.

*   *   *

An hour later, Danny was gunning along behind Krista on a borrowed ATV, anticipation growing as they steered their four-wheelers toward a narrow cut-through between two rock walls. They rode through a gap nestled beside a sluggish river lying low on its banks—Jenny had mentioned that the region was in the grip of a
drought, with water at a premium and the fire danger high. Then, when the rocks opened up, Krista slowed and stopped, waving for Danny to come up beside her.

As she did, her mouth fell open and she had to remember to hit the brakes, because otherwise she might've rolled right into the lush valley ahead of them. “Holy . . . Wow,” she said reverently. “This is gorgeous!”