MICHAEL JAMES HARTFORD was screwed. Putting down his cell phone, he wandered to the window and stared out at the green swath of Central Park five stories below. As Western writer Jim Ford, he’d portrayed himself as a genuine, gold-plated cowboy. His readers believed it, his agent believed it and his editor believed it.
For some reason they’d never questioned why a real cowboy would choose to live in New York City. His books were so authentic that everyone had assumed he owned a secluded ranch where he spent a great deal of time. They’d assumed he could ride and rope and shoot.
He’d let them make those assumptions because the truth—that he belonged to a wealthy New York family and had never been on a horse in his life—wouldn’t sell books. Although he didn’t need the money from those sales, he needed the satisfaction of being read. He also needed the joy of living in the fantasy world he created every time he wrote a new story.
He’d been caught in a web of his own making. The books had done so well that he’d become a minor celebrity, which had aroused the interest of his publisher’s PR department. They wanted to push him to the next level.
As part of that campaign, they’d scheduled a video of Jim Ford doing all those cowboy things he wrote about. All those things he couldn’t do. And they wanted to shoot the video at the end of the month.
Michael had to think of a solution, and he had to think fast. He could fake an injury, but that seemed like the cowardly way out. He’d always meant to visit a dude ranch and learn some of those skills, but deadlines had kept him busy.
The dude ranch still seemed like a good solution, but he’d become so well-known that he couldn’t book a week just anywhere and admit that he didn’t know how to ride. He required discretion. As he racked his brain for people who might have a ranching connection, he remembered Bethany Grace.
He’d appeared with the motivational author on Opal Knightly’s talk show a few months ago, and while they’d hung out in the greenroom, she’d mentioned growing up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. They’d hit it off so well that they’d exchanged phone numbers. On impulse he scrolled through his contact list and dialed her number.
She answered on the second ring. “Jim! Wow, it’s lucky that you called! I’m going to deactivate this number next week.”
“How come?” Last he’d heard, she was on the fast track to becoming a permanent guest on Opal’s show, which was a terrific career move.
“I’m getting married and moving to Jackson Hole.”
“No kidding? Hey, congratulations. But what about—?”
“I know. Opal’s show. I’m not cut out for that, and thanks to various circumstances, I’ve realized it. So what’s up with you? Your books are doing great!”
“They are, and that’s why I called you. My publisher wants a video of me being a cowboy, and my skills are...rusty.” He winced at that whopper. “I wondered if you know anyone out in Wyoming who would help me on the QT.”
“I sure do. I’d work with you myself, but between the televised wedding and leaving on a honeymoon afterward, I’m going crazy.”
Michael chuckled. “Opal’s making you get hitched on TV?”
“She is, but I can’t begrudge her that after the gracious way she’s let me out of my contractual obligations. Listen, call Jack Chance at the Last Chance Ranch. Tell him what you need and that I recommended him for the job.”
“And he’ll be discreet?”
“I guarantee it. The Chance family is a classy bunch. You’ll love them all. Let me give you the number.”
Michael grabbed a notepad and jotted down Jack Chance’s contact info. “Thanks, Bethany. This could save my life—my writing life, at least.”
“I just thought of something, though. Jack’s mother, Sarah, is getting married soon. Call right away so you can sneak in there and get the job done before the festivities start.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call the minute I hang up. But back to your marriage. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Nash Bledsoe. He owns a ranch that borders the Last Chance.”
Michael heard the love vibrating in her voice as she said that. “He must be special.”
“He is.”
“I wish you the best, Bethany. I’ll admit I’m a little envious.” Living a double life, he was caught between two realities—his family’s glittery world of charity balls and gallery openings, and the writing community he loved but didn’t allow himself to embrace. He didn’t belong in either group, which meant he was sometimes lonely.
“You sound a little wistful, Jim. Is everything okay?”
“Sure. I’m fine.”
“Well, the Last Chance will do you good. Take it from me, that place has a way of reordering your priorities.”
“Right now my priority is getting comfortable on a horse.”
Bethany laughed. “I thought I knew what I wanted when I went out there, too. And now look at me. My life is taking off in a totally different direction.”
“I doubt that will happen. In fact, I don’t want that to happen.”
“If you say so. But let’s keep in touch. I’m curious to know how this turns out.”
“I’ll fill you in when you get back from your honeymoon.”
“You’d better, or I’ll have to rely on Jack’s version.”
“Then I’ll definitely be in touch. And congratulations.” As Michael disconnected the call and keyed in Jack Chance’s number, he remembered what she’d said about how the Jackson Hole area had affected her. But he didn’t need his priorities rearranged. All he needed was riding lessons.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Waking up To You by Leslie Kelly!