Your Neighborhood Cowgirl: The Neighborhood #6 Read online

  Your Neighborhood Cowgirl

  The Neighborhood #6

  Tarrah Anders

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Dear Friends,

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Tarrah Anders

  To anyone that needs a hug. There’s something for everyone out there.

  COPYRIGHT © 2019– TARRAH ANDERS

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  Tarrah Anders | Tarrah Anders, LLC [email protected] |www.tarrahanders.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Formatting: Tarrah Anders, LLC

  Cover: Jess Bryant Designs

  Ordering Information: Your Neighborhood Cowgirl

  ISBN: 9780463565711

  One

  My nights are spent working at The Neighborhood Bar, and my days, well, my days are spent in the arms of a complete stranger.

  It's been a while since I've been in a relationship, and it's not like the small ass town of Mercy has any hot contenders of the male variety for me to choose from.

  No siree.

  The most eligible bachelors of Mercy may not be married, but they sure as shit are taken.

  So, I use a service for my affection quotas that come from Hollybrooke. A service that sends someone to you, to cuddle.

  That’s right, just pure cuddling. No sex, no feelings, just the connection. I need the connection, so the service sends out someone to me three times a week.

  Don't get me wrong, if a handsome fella came my way, I would stop the service, but the new guys who come to town sure as hell get swooped up real quick.

  When I first started at The Neighborhood, I had a crush on Miles, but I never got up the nerve to act on it. Then his college crush Missy came around.

  Then, the hot-as-sin bad boy in town, the grandson of old man Holmes and a recently released convict, moved here to start over and... well what do you know, swooped up within a week.

  So, I am not holding my breath.

  Anywho, I'm sitting on my rust colored couch, my knee bouncing and my fingertips pulling at a loose thread on the arm of the couch, likely damage caused by that damn cat that likes to boss me around, when a knock scares me out of my random thoughts, and a rush of excitement flows through my body.

  I force myself to walk slowly so as to not reflect how excited I am for today’s session and pull open the door.

  Now, the majority of my cuddlers tend to be male, and while I've perused their catalog of experts in the field, I've never seen the person in front of me.

  Which is worrisome.

  First, he is drop-dead, panty-drenching gorgeous.

  And second, he's not my usual guy.

  Is he my cuddler for today? Or is he a rando who knocked on the wrong door?

  He must have taken in my puzzled expression and realized my confusion.

  "Shit, Tre didn't call you, did she?" he asks with a wince.

  Tre is the cuddle service coordinator and someone who, while I've never seen her in person, she is someone who understands my needs. She is also someone who is dependable, and I'm truly wondering why I haven’t heard from her about a change in my cuddler.

  Slowly, I shake my head.

  Mr. So freakin' handsome offers me a smile, and the dimple on his right cheek is begging for me to stick my finger in there and ask him 'who’s the cute wittle boy!?'

  "Well, this is awkward. Here, let me call her." He pulls out his phone and presses a button as soon as he unlocks it.

  "Hey, Tre? Yeah, I'm here in Mercy with your client and it's lookin' like you haven’t made that phone call yet." He looks at me and then hands me the phone.

  "Deb?" Tre's voice sounds. "Listen, your usual, Devin, he had a last minute family emergency. Darrel, standing in front of you, was free and Dev called him to stand in for him today, I'm sorry, I meant to call you, but shit just hit the fan down here and, long story short, I’m rebuilding my website as we speak."

  "Darrel?" I say into the receiver as he looks up, offers a small wave with a crooked smile, and there’s that damn dimple again!

  "He's really great, brand new with the agency, and has amazing reviews from more than just his grandmother," she says with a laugh to her tone. "I'll credit your account for my lack of communication and follow-through. Try Darrel out, you will be exceptionally happy," she promises.

  We say our goodbyes, and I hand Darrel the phone.

  "I hear your reviews are from more than just your grandmother, so you’ve got Devin beat there," I say with a smirk as I step aside to let Darrel in.

  He brushes past me, smelling of ocean breeze and mint.

  I motion to the kitchen table and we sit across from one another.

  "Listen, I like Devin. I was comfortable around him, so let me ease myself in with you before we get started."

  "Of course. I have the rest of the afternoon free, so technically I'm all yours." He smiles proudly.

  "Age?" I ask.

  "Twenty-eight," he replies promptly.

  “Favorite kind of music?” I ask.

  “Country,” he replies, nodding to my boots by the front door.

  "Why are you working as a professional cuddler?"

  "Human contact, I crave it."

  We have that in common.

  "Tell me an embarrassing story?" I ask.

  "Wow, okay.” He rubs the back of his neck as he angles his chin to the ceiling in thought. “I was in high school, and a friend and I took acid during lunch at school. I had art class after lunch and just as my high was peaking, I was playing with clay, and I built the biggest set of breasts, then began playing with the nipples."

  "Did you get in trouble?" I ask, leaning into him.

  "No, my buddy messed them up before the teacher came over to my side of the class, but he did take photos."

  "Did anyone know you were high?" I ask, fighting the smile that wants to erupt on my face.

  "Only friends. I got home and locked myself in my room for the rest of the night."

  “Okay, well that’s kinda embarrassing.”

  “Kinda? I was known as the clay groper for the rest of high school,” he protests.

  “I mean, it’s embarrassing, I guess. I was hoping for something more along the lines of you peeing your bed until you were in high school.” I shrug with a smile.

  “I was fully potty trained by the age of four.”

  “Well, congratulations, then.”

  “Thank you.” He winks.

  “Single?” I ask, merely for my own knowledge.

  “Who’s asking? Do you kn
ow someone?” he jokes and then shakes his head. “Last girlfriend I had was six month ago. No crazy exes or current girlfriends will hunt me down and come after you for any cuddle sessions.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Any allergies?” I continue asking.

  “I’m allergic to bullshit,” he quips.

  “That’s a good one to be allergic to. What happens - do you sneeze or go into anaphylactic shock?”

  “You’re a quick one, aren’t you?” He tilts his head in question.

  “I try to stay on my toes, you never know when you will be blindsided,” I reply.

  “That’s smart of you. But no, I’m pretty sure that I break out in hives. Bullshit is contagious, and I’d rather just stay away from it.”

  “You’re hired,” I say.

  “Alright, how do you want me?” He stretches out his arms and stands up.

  Two

  I point over to the hallway, and Darrel looks confused.

  “My bedroom. My couch is too small in the butt cushiony areas for two to lay without quickly falling off, so to avoid face-planting into the floor, I prefer for my cuddle sessions to happen in my bedroom. Don’t worry, my bedroom is boring and there’s nothing remotely sexy in there to suggest otherwise,” I explain as I lead the way down the hall.

  “I’m a professional, so even if there was, I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Well, thank you for that, then.”

  “So, are you a talkative cuddle person or are you a silent one?” he asks.

  “It depends. When my cuddler is an older woman, like Mrs. Maxwell, it’s like cuddling with your grandma. Otherwise, with Devin, it was a little bit of both. Some days, I didn’t need to talk, and it was comfortable. Other times, I would likely talk his ear off.”

  “Well, whatever is discussed will never leave the confines of this room, as well as if you get emotional, then let me know what I can do for you at that moment. How do you want to start? Big spoon, little spoon?”

  “I like to start out with my head on the chest and the arm wrapped around me, then I eventually will move to that. Since we’re new to one another, let’s just figure out what works.”

  “You got it boss.” He salutes playfully.

  He lays down in the center of my queen-sized bed and then opens his arms out to me to slide into place. I lay my head on his chest and my hand moves to just under my chin on his stomach. His strong arm wraps around my shoulder and we both seem to take a deep breath and release it at the same time.

  “Now, Mrs. Maxwell, she’s an interesting bird,” he says lightly.

  “You’ve met her?”

  “She is quite the story teller, always reminds me to eat my fiber and to tie my shoes,” he replies.

  “She always tells me to make sure I get all my beauty rest, so that way when I meet myself a young fella that my beauty will last well beyond my years.”

  “Oh, she’s a hoot,” he says lightly.

  “So, how new are you to cuddling?” I ask him.

  “Well, you are my fourth client. I now have two regulars. The other client, aside from you, I’m also filling in for Devin with because of his personal emergency.”

  “I hope that he is okay,” I say absently.

  “So, why do you seek our services?” he asks after a few moments of silence.

  “Same as you- human contact. I’m not in a relationship, so unless I start having hook ups from the bar, then your services are what I seek,” I reply.

  “The bar?” he asks.

  “Oh, I’m a waitress at the local bar, The Neighborhood. It’s, well, it’s the only happening place here in Mercy,”

  “Oh yeah, Mercy seems small, just from the drive in. I don’t even think that I’ve ever been over here.”

  “Mercy is the embodiment of what a small town is. Everyone knows one another’s business, and when a new person comes to town, they quickly get hazed into our society here. Which means that they are taken under the wing of someone, and that someone, lately, has been folks from The Neighborhood.”

  “And what does one do to get taken in?” he asks.

  “Well, the last few happened to be connected by dating. Noah met Valerie at the bar and pursued her like nobody’s business. Then Missy came into town and wouldn’t leave Miles alone, Luke followed my bestie, Rhi, into town – but he doesn’t count since they were together before he actually moved here, and lastly, we have Wyatt, who Noah gave a job to because he had one available.”

  “So, this bar is the mecca of Mercy?”

  “I mean, it’s the only awesome place to hang out around here. We have a diner, but that’s just food. The Neighborhood has booze, a pool table, televisions, and food. It’s entertainment, and that’s what people in bored ass little town need to stay out of trouble. It’s good business for Noah. Smartest damn thing that his dad and granddad did was start up that bar and then leave it to his son after he passed. Otherwise, this town would be a ghost-town, and folks would be living in poverty out here, plus, the bar will be expanding soon,” I say mindlessly, aware that I’m rambling but happy to have someone new to ramble to.

  “From what I’ve seen, the town has character.”

  “You mean the town is full of characters.” I laugh.

  “Well, I’ve only met you, and you are quite an interesting one. I’ll have to check out The Neighborhood before I head back to Hollybrooke.”

  “I have a shift in two hours, so make sure to tip your waitress.” I laugh. “Okay, move?”

  We move from Darrel lying on his back to spooning me from behind. His arm wraps around my middle, and I cross my arms over my chest. I’m careful to not wiggle my ass too much into his groin, but the light movement that I do, I can feel the sizable bulge in his pants. Not quite rigid, but definitely there. The butterflies in my stomach are doing a shit ton fluttering, and my heart picks up speed.

  “You grow up around here?” he asks, his minty breath brushing across my shoulder.

  “Yeah, born and raised. My mom and dad still live in the same house that I was born in,” I offer with a shaky voice. I need a distraction; I need to not think about the hot guy cuddling me with the likely huge dick in my bed. The huge dick that is hard at my backside.

  Basketball. Men running back and forth on a squeaky court, men sweating and bumping into one another, men high-living, sweaty men slapping one another’s asses. Nope, didn’t work.

  “You were born in the house?” he asks, breaking me away from my thoughts.

  “Huh? Oh yeah, well, Hollybrooke General is about 40 minutes away and according to my mom, I wasn’t waiting. So, my mom bared down, and I basically fell out of her, as she likes to tell everyone.”

  “That’s fucking cool. I mean, not that you basically fell out of her, but that it was so quick,” he says reaching for his explanation.

  “Anyways, so where are you from?” I ask.

  “I am from Hollybrooke. I worked as a medical technician before it became a little taxing on my emotional status and then quit to cuddle those who needed it.”

  “What made you decide to become a cuddler though, of all things?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of shit while I was on the rig. Saw a lot of crying and no one consoling those who needed it, so when I made the decision, I just wanted to help, and now here I am.”

  “Wow, I can only imagine,” I say, my voice above a whisper.

  “Anyhow, I’ve met some interesting folks so far, and it’s a calming job. Almost like meditation.”

  “Unless you get a Chatty Cathy like me!” I laugh.

  “You’re good company, so I don’t mind. Besides, I’m here for you.”

  Three

  My hour is up, and I want to extend my time and stay within Darrel’s arms. Not for any reason other than I fit perfectly in between his limbs, and I feel some sort of calmness with him. Devin and I meshed well, but there was just something about this connection between Darrel and myself that I can’t put my finger on. We stand across from one another on opposit
e sides of my bed, and I pull my long platinum blonde hair up in a messy bun as he straightens his clothes out and shakes a leg. I try to hide my smile at his adjustment.

  “I hope it was good for you,” he says with a slight desperation in his tone.

  “It was really nice; I think you may have found yourself a new regular. That is, if you can manage the drive out to Mercy.”

  “I can’t promise multiple times a week with my schedule, but if you want to move back and forth between Mrs. Maxwell and I, I think that can be arranged. I wouldn’t want to impose on Devin, though. If you would prefer him as well, I guess you know the scheduling and such.”

  I nod my head and begin to walk out of the room.

  “I’ll make sure I can make the appropriate arrangements this week.” Why do I sound so clinical.

  “Good to hear.” He smiles. And there’s that dimple.

  Ah, yes. My attempt to be unaffected just went out the door. I like him. And I think that I like him in a more than just someone-that-I-pay-to-cuddle-me-on-the-regular-in-a-platonic-way type of like.

  Oh fuck. Well this can’t be good. I inwardly groan.

  Darrel sits down at my tiny kitchen table and puts his shoes on. He grabs his keys that sat on the table and stands. He holds out his hand, and I place mine apprehensively in his.

  “Here’s to the start of a wonderful relationship.” He coughs. “I mean business relationship. A wonderful business relationship,” he corrects himself.

  I offer him a smile and do what I can to not portray that I was liking that he just said relationship. He moves to the door, hand on the knob, and hesitates.

  “Hey Deb?” He turns.

  “Yeah?” I say in a light breathy tone.

  “It was real nice, you know, meeting ya and all. I hope to see you again.” He smiles and that damn fucking dimple. “Soon.”