Emily's Cowboy Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Emily’s Cowboy

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-295-9

  ©Copyright Donna Gallagher 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2013

  Edited by Amy Parker

  Total-E-Bound 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, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound 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 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 108 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.

  League of Love

  EMILY’S COWBOY

  Donna Gallagher

  Book five in the League of Love series

  When love is not enough to heal the scars, both physical and mental, of the one you thought you would spend your life with…what else is there?

  It’s such a cliché—country boy moves to the big city to follow his dreams, leaving his girl and everything he loves behind—but that’s exactly what Gareth Andrews has done. Playing rugby league is Gareth’s dream, and he’s signed with one of the best teams in the competition, the Sydney Jets. Of course, that has meant a move to the big city and leaving Emily Mackenzie and everything he loves behind. Not that Gareth hasn’t begged her to join him in the city—he has, on bended knee—but Emily needs to stay in Gunnedah and help her father on the family farm until her brother’s stint in the armed forces is over. But Gareth knows it’s more than that. Emily is hiding away, embarrassed by the scars that mar her body in a constant reminder of the bushfire that nearly took her life.

  Can love give Emily the courage to face strangers again when her father is badly injured and Gareth shows up at the hospital to support her? Or will she let her fear and shame get the better of her, and break her one true love’s heart for a second time?

  Dedication

  To the lovely ladies of the Sydney branch of ARRA—thank you for your support and friendship.

  As always, hugs and thanks to my wonderful editor, Amy.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest: Ken Kesey

  Skype: Microsoft Corporation

  Tri-Nations Cup: Rugby League International Federation

  Chapter One

  They were going to kill him. The collective look in the men’s eyes was one of pure animosity. Emily could see it clearly defined in their faces, could see the intent as they charged towards the man she loved—three huge men, covered in mud and perhaps even blood, judging by the russet-coloured liquid leaking from one of the men’s bandaged head—and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t look away and sat frozen in the moment as she watched the horror unfold before her, silently praying that Gareth would survive the next few brutal seconds.

  Then they were on him, two around his upper body, one knocking his legs out from beneath him as they picked him up and slammed him, back first, onto the hard ground. The four men wrestled together. He was caught beneath the onslaught from the three above him—she could see him struggling to get to his feet. It really only took a matter of seconds, but for Emily it was a lifetime. Her heart raced, her palms moistened and she could not get the air into her lungs to take her next breath, the fear he would be hurt was so overwhelming.

  Just when Emily thought she could bear it no longer, the men stopped struggling. They broke away, stood and faced each other. Gareth reached down, put the ball under his foot and rolled it behind him. Emily drew a breath down deep into her oxygen-deprived lungs… The tackle was over.

  Every game was the same for Emily. It didn’t matter that for all intents and purposes Gareth was no longer hers, by her own choice. It would always be like that for her—the same fear, the same panic that overwhelmed her as she watched him play his beloved rugby league. It had started way back in the days of their childhood when she and Gareth had been joined at the hip, back when she would accompany his family to those junior rugby league matches. Emily always had the same reaction—horror and fear as she watched every tackle in a hypnotic trance, a panicked state, her breath trapped in her lungs until the moment she saw him back on his feet, healthy and unharmed despite the brutality of the sport he loved. She had never loved the game the way he did. Her only reason for watching was for reassurance that he remained uninjured, and had survived his time on the field without harm. She didn’t care if the team won or lost. For Emily, it was just about Gareth.

  Of course, her family—and even Gareth himself—had no idea her interest was so limited. They believed her a true fan of the sport. Why wouldn’t they? She had been with Gareth for every local game he’d ever played. Well, apart from that time she had been in the hospital, but she would have been there watching if she could have.

  As Emily tuned out, uninterested in the commentator’s wrap up of the televised game, she absentmindedly rubbed at her scars, the puckering skin of her deformity, the unkind reminder of the day her world had changed. She was hardly aware of her unconscious movement—her focus was on her relief that the final siren had sounded, concluding yet another game her precious Gareth had remained unscathed.

  “Chin up, Em. This is what you decided. No point second guessing or reminiscing. Gareth has moved on, his life is in the big city and you have chores to do.” She spoke the words in an attempt to quell the usual sadness she felt, as her only link to Gareth ended with the conclusion of the television broadcast. Emily turned the seldom used television off, waited till the black screen was all that was left to see and walked from the room. Her posture was hunched, her gait slow as she headed to the barn to feed the horses and clean the stalls. The routine, mundane tasks would fill her mind enough that the pain that lanced her heart would eventually fade.

  “Game finished? How’d he go? Did they win?”

  Her father’s deep voice breached her thoughts, bringing her back to the here and now, preventing any further painful memories from surfacing.

  “Yep, they won. Gareth came through okay.” Emily didn’t want to discuss Gareth any more. It was better to push him from her mind for now, knowing full well that it would only be a week before once again she would sit white-knuckled in front of the television, riding every moment with him, feeling every knock he took as if it was her on the field. Why she could not just keep herself from this anguish week after week, she could not explain. It was just something she had to do.

  She had sent him away, destroyed every plan they had ever made for their future—and they had planned and dreamt about what a perfect life they would have together, had talked of such things late into the night on many occasions. That was befo
re she’d pushed him from her life, but she could not stop loving him, worrying for him. Emily knew this like she knew she would take another breath, and until that last breath she would love Gareth like no other.

  But she’d had no choice. The accident had robbed her of that future, that destiny. Her deformity had changed all that. It was hard enough for her to live with it every day, and she could avoid the scarring if she stayed away from her own reflection. Those around her, forced to gaze upon her, had no such luxury—no, to their eyes the deformation was glaringly obvious, and Emily could not bear the looks of pity on the faces of the people she loved, and especially not on Gareth’s.

  Maybe once she had been good enough for him, but now there was no way. He deserved beauty in his life, not some hideous excuse for what she had once been. Gareth was loyal and Emily understood that he would have remained with her out of pity, a sense of duty to what they’d once had, the dreams they had once made, but she could not let that be the life for him. A life filled with the sight of her ugliness, when he woke each and every morning to see her as she was now. A life spent trying to ignore the whispered comments as she walked by, or the pointing, the looks of horror on the faces of innocent children scared by her appearance. Gareth deserved much more than that, and that was why Emily had sent him to the big city, told him to go and make a career playing rugby league, the way he was meant to. Despite all the plans they had made, she had told him, as her heart had broken, that she had changed her mind, hated the thought of living in a chaotic place full of cement buildings. She had told Gareth that she could not live without the fields and freedom of the countryside, told him she would not leave the family farm, would not make the move to the city with him as she had promised.

  She had known that living without Gareth would be suffocating, nearly impossible to survive, but she had hidden those emotions from him, ignored his pleas. Ignored the distress she’d seen in his eyes, in his features as she had pushed him away, until finally, Gareth had done as she had asked, and left.

  Taking away her sunshine.

  Her heart.

  Emily tried not to think of the hurt she had caused Gareth. She was doing the right thing for him, the only thing. He would see that eventually when he found someone new, someone whole to love. Emily just hoped that when that time came, she would be able to hold herself together, to survive seeing him happy with another woman, surrounded by children—his and his new love’s. It would remind Emily of the plans they had made together, which had been robbed from her by the fire that had ruined her life.

  “We really should use the quad bikes more, Em. Need to catch up with the other farms, but I just love the old ways, the feel of my horse beneath me. But I do get tired of the manure, that’s for sure.”

  Her father made this same statement nearly every day, and Emily smiled at the comforting familiarity of the moment. She did love the farm and adored her father. Being with him was no hardship. His love would have to be enough for her. Her father was a hero to her. He loved her without hesitation, never one with the idea that men must guard their emotions or else be thought of as weak. Not Daniel Mackenzie. No—Mac, as he was known to his friends, was proud to show his affection for his only daughter. He had not hidden the tears on his face as he had waved goodbye to his son, Dylan, who was off fighting the war in Afghanistan, a member of the Australian contingent of serviceman sent to serve in that area.

  “Dad, if I had a dollar for every time you said that, we could retire to some waterfront mansion on the Gold Coast.” She laughed, her mood slightly better, her memories back under control, locked away in that safe place usually only opened late at night when she was alone in her room. “You do what you want, Dad. Use quads, stick with the horses…gee, buy a helicopter for all I care, as long as you are happy and we get the work done. It’s your farm.”

  “Rubbish, Em. This is as much your farm as it is mine, especially now…with Gareth leaving you and all. I’ll never understand that boy—so selfish…”

  “Dad, stop! I’ve told you a million times it wasn’t like that. I sent Gareth away. I just didn’t want the same things as he did anymore. It was not his fault. You need to remember that. It was me.” Emily was shouting at her father, she knew she was, but she could not stop, could not lower her voice. Her emotions were out of control. It was too soon after the agony of watching him play—the teasing close-ups of his face had just added to her pain, reminding her of what she could not have.

  “Okay, Emily, no need to shout. It’s a father’s right to place blame on everyone but his own children. I know you hurt. Hell, you miss him—a blind man could see that. You never leave the farm, never even talk to anyone but me and the workers. If what you say is true, and you sent him away, why haven’t you moved on, girlie? I’m getting old, hoped to have some grandchildren to bounce on me knee someday. You’re not going to break the dreams of your old man, are you, Em?”

  Even though her father winked, spoke in a teasing manner, a barb struck directly into Emily’s heart.

  “Dreams are not always meant to come true, Dad. That’s why they’re dreams. Maybe you can harass Dyl. He’s older than me, anyway, and I just don’t think I’m cut out for motherhood.”

  Emily ignored the shocked look that had appeared on her father’s usually smiling face. She took up a shovel and fiercely attacked the dirty hay in the stall she was in, hoping that her father would take the hint and leave the subjects of Gareth and grandchildren alone. Emily would not be bringing any children into this world—not now she wouldn’t be sharing any with Gareth, and certainly not any that would have to deal with the embarrassment of having a monster for a mother.

  Chapter Two

  “Ooh… You’re Gareth Andrews! You play for the Jets.”

  The high-pitched female voice screamed in his ear as the woman spilt her drink over his shirt. God, he hated groupies, wished they would just leave him be. Gareth tried a smile but only managed a grimace in the squealing woman’s direction as he wiped at his wet shirt with the napkin he’d picked up from the bar he stood at. All he had wanted was to be served his beer, but now he had to deal with this.

  “Yep, that’d be me. Nice to meet you, love, but I’m not looking for any company right now,” he replied quickly, gruffly. He had found that directness was the best option when dealing with this sort of unwanted attention. After dropping the soggy paper towel back on the bar and retrieving his change from Mick the barman, Gareth grabbed his beer. He spun on his heel and made a quick retreat to the private area that Mitch ‘Rook’ Harris had set up in his nightclub, Jetstream, for his fellow Jets teammates.

  Gareth could see that the area was full tonight after the team’s—his team’s—latest victory. All the usual suspects were in attendance. Coach Brodie James and his wife, Caitlin. Assistant coach Jon ‘JT’ Thomson, taking up a lot of space with his gigantic presence, and Mandy. Most of his fellow teammates—guys like Deano, Mark, Joseph, Josh and their significant others—all mingled about, enjoying themselves. Gareth greeted them all with a nod before quickly moving to join the one person in the city he felt closest to—the Jets’ physiotherapist, Phillipa Rogers, Pippa to her friends.

  “Hey, Cowboy! Caught some attention at the bar tonight, I see.” Pippa’s friendly teasing at his ordeal made him smile—a genuine smile. She understood his discomfort at the notoriety that came with playing first grade rugby league. She knew the story of his broken heart, his longing for the girl he had left behind, his Emily. It wasn’t long ago that she had shared that connection with him, had had a longing of her own, but that was all sorted out now that she and Rook had officially become a couple, after years of secretly yearning for each other. They had even announced their engagement, started planning a wedding.

  “Give it a rest, Pippa. It’s your fault, you know. Before you and Rook patched things up I had you to protect me, keep me safe and out of the clutches of the marauding groupies. You left me defenceless, a poor country boy naïve to the demands of the forward
city womenfolk.”

  “Oh, poor Gareth, my heart bleeds for you, mate.” Gareth heard the familiar sound of Rook’s voice behind him. “Men the world over would kill for your problems. Don’t blame my woman for abandoning you. Find your own to save you from the groupies—this one’s mine.”

  “Yeah, Rook, I know…first world problems. Still can’t believe she picked you over me. You’re getting on in years, buddy, and yet here I am still in the prime of my life. Maybe I’m still hoping to win her over for a bit of pity love.”

  Gareth gave Pippa a wink, letting her know he was only joking. Gareth was well aware that Pippa loved Rook, had for years, and there was no way in hell she was letting Rook go now she had him. Anyway, Gareth—even after three long, lonely years—had still not been able to push Emily from his heart. He had at one time, briefly, thought he could make a go of loving Pippa, but had only been kidding himself, mistaking friendship for something more. It had probably been more a case of trying to ease the hurt Pippa had been suffering over the whole Rook thing. That was in the past, just like his Em should be. Gareth did enjoy winding up his captain and Jets’ halfback, though, and amusingly he nearly always got a jealous reaction from his friend. Gareth was not disappointed this time, either, as Rook glared at him.

  “Fuck you, Gareth. Pippa’s mine and you keep your bloody hands off her.”

  “Gareth, Mitch, stop it. Mitch, he is just getting a reaction from you. You know it’s not like that between us. You will always be my fantasy man, Mitchell Harris, and you know it.” Pippa pinched Gareth on the arm in retaliation for his teasing of her beloved fiancé.