Rejected by the Cowboy

Chapter 1

Dolores was sitting on the hood of her car, legs crossed, staring at the blue sky under the scorching sun. The hot wind lifted dust along the road and swayed her hair. She had been waiting for hours—three, to be exact—and was beginning to think she had been forgotten in the middle of nowhere.

“Damn it. They’re never going to find me…” she muttered, discouraged, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

The sun felt even hotter when a loud, distant sound cut through the vast vegetation. A deep, powerful engine noise, steady and approaching, made her heart beat faster.

Dolores straightened instantly. Her phone vibrated—miraculously, considering the terrible reception in the area.

“Hello?” she answered, breathless.

“Miss Dolores!” It was André, her assistant, sounding relieved. “Have they found you yet? I managed to track your phone and asked for help at the Carter ranch.”

She looked toward the road and saw a pickup truck approaching, raising a cloud of dust behind it.

“Yes, someone’s coming,” she said, fixing her hair.

“Great. Oh, and just a warning: that handsome cowboy is more stubborn than a mule.”

Dolores laughed softly.

“Leave it to me. I know how to tame mules.”

“Good luck, boss.” He hung up.

The truck stopped right in front of her. She heard the loud engine for a few more seconds before it shut off. A door opened, and out stepped a very large man, wearing dusty boots and a hat that hid most of his face.

She straightened herself, trying to appear confident despite the pounding in her chest.

“Dolores?” he asked, his voice deep like thunder.

She swallowed hard.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice raspy from thirst.

She watched him closely. He was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.

She couldn’t help but admire his masculine build—broad shoulders, strong body, and a powerful, confident stride.

His plaid shirt was partially unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, revealing a broad chest covered with dark hair, just like his own hair.

He lifted the hat slightly. His face? Only one word could describe it: perfect.

Dolores snapped out of her daze and tried to sound confident as she extended her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mister…?”

He didn’t take her hand. Crossing his arms, his expression serious beneath the brim of his hat, he looked at the blazing sun and said, “If you stay out here without a hat, your brain’s going to fry and your skin’s going to burn.”

Dolores blinked, confused by the unexpected scolding. She slowly lowered her hand, unsure whether to reply or pretend she hadn’t heard it. Before she could decide, he suddenly stepped closer and grabbed her by the waist.

A breath escaped her lips—part surprise, part something she couldn’t explain, but intense and electrifying.

“Ah… please, put me on—” she began, but her words died as soon as her feet touched the ground.

She barely breathed. A powerful, almost uncontrollable attraction washed over her.

He, in turn, let his eyes travel slowly over her slender, well-shaped body, appreciating every inch without disguise. In seconds, however, the appreciation vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, impassive expression.

Dolores gathered all her composure to control the overwhelming desire surging through her. She turned quickly, pretending to examine her car.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping closer.

“The car just stopped working,” she answered without meeting his eyes—better than getting lost in those gray ones.

He nodded once.

“Alright. I’ll tow it.”

“Thank you… for the help,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

He shrugged, as if it meant nothing, then walked to the truck. Opening the passenger door, he looked at her and said, “Get in. I’ll tow it.”

Dolores hesitated, then climbed in.

A moment later, he got behind the wheel. When he turned the key, the powerful engine filled the silence between them, making her shiver.

No one spoke. Dolores kept her gaze on the open fields outside the window, trying to ignore the strong, magnetic presence beside her. Impossible.

“So…” she began carefully, “you’re Mr. Carter, right?”

He didn’t look at her.

“Zacky. Just Zacky.”

“Alright… Zacky,” she repeated, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Dolores Ferreira.”

“I know,” he replied curtly.

She raised a brow.

“So you’ve heard of me?”

“Just that you’re from the city, and that you shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, still focused on the road.

“Oh, so you already have an opinion about me,” she teased.

“Not an opinion. A fact.”

Dolores sighed, irritated.

“I’m guessing you’re not very sociable either, are you?”

A barely visible smirk curved his lips.

“Sociable enough to rescue lost city girls.”

She shot him a sideways look, biting back a sarcastic smile.

“So you’re my hero?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Silence again. She ran her hands over her thighs, trying to hide her nervousness, and looked ahead.

A few minutes later, the truck passed through the wooden gate and followed a gravel path until stopping in front of the ranch house. The engine roared once more before he finally shut it off, leaving an almost deafening silence.

Dolores sighed in relief—finally, her ears could rest.

She tried opening the door, but the latch wouldn’t budge. Before she could try again, he had already walked around the truck and opened it.

“I can get down by myself,” she muttered, not sounding very convincing.

Zacky ignored her. Holding her firmly by the waist, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. His touch was warm, startling. She gasped.

Before she found words, he set her on the ground. Her heels sank instantly into the soft dirt, making her wobble.

“See?” he said, crossing his arms, his tone half amused, half provoking. “High heels don’t mix with ranches.”

Dolores lifted her chin.

“I can handle any terrain.”

He raised a brow, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

She shot him a defiant look but said nothing.

“Come on. It’s obvious you’re dehydrated.”

Zacky led her to the outdoor kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbed a green coconut, cracked it open, placed a straw, and handed it to her.

She blinked, surprised. She took a sip, and her eyes closed. It was fresh, lightly sweet—nothing like the artificial canned versions.

When she opened her eyes again, Zacky was seated at the table, watching her with that calm, unreadable expression.

He leaned back, crossed his arms, and with a teasing smile asked:

“Now tell me, what’s a city girl like you doing in the middle of nowhere?”