Forbidden Cowboy (Rocky Ridge Creek #1)

PROLOGUE

WILMA AND FAYE

(The Quilt Queens)

“I’VE ACQUIRED THE first two blocks of material for our next quilt.” Wilma Quylt drags two clear totes in front of her chair. Inside each tote are colorful piles of perfectly cut and folded ten-by-ten-inch squares. “These two bins of blocks tell a tale of a forbidden love.”

The Rocky Ridge Creek quilters hold their breath and wring their hands with anticipation. Sitting in the quilting circle with Wilma and Faye Quylt, also known as the Quilt Queens, is a privilege.

Wilma lowers herself to the chair. “Let’s take a second to remember and thank our ancestors whose foresight guided them to weave quilts for those destined to be together.”

“Here, here,” the circle of friends chants.

“And to be grateful, we can continue the journey.”

“To the Quilt Queens.” The group lifts their pointer fingers in the air to salute. Silver thimbles embossed with QQ rest on the tips of their fingers.

The town’s local folklore is known for miles around. It’s also as common as it was hundreds of years ago for parents and family members to gather scraps of material from their children and hand them over to the current Quilt Queens. These sentimental scraps include detailed hand-written notes with meanings behind each scrap which assist with the matchmaking process.

Wilma lifts a block lying on top of the first tote. She’s the serious one in charge, and you’ll never find her wearing anything besides denim pants and an embroidered western shirt. On the other hand, Faye is never in a sour mood and wears tea dresses and extravagant hats suited for a queen to all the rodeos.

“This denim scrap belongs to Levi Wilde.”

The admission garners a round of thrilled woo and woohoos. It’s been decades since the Quilt Queens have chosen a Wilde.

Wilma holds up a lilac patch with a floral pattern. The room is buzzing with excitement. “This lilac patch belongs to Hope Fox.”

The space falls quiet. Even the birds outside the open bay window have stopped chirping.

“A Wilde and a Fox?”

“It’s never been attempted.”

“It shouldn’t even be allowed.”

“Love doesn’t pick a last name.” Faye reaches for the lilac patch and runs the material over her fingers. “Tell us about these.”

“These first patches were cut from Levi and Hope’s outfits when they first met. When their friendship bloomed.”

“Wildes and Foxes don’t have friendships.”

Wilma ignores the comment and continues her story. “Six years old. Both peeking over the fence line until Hope snuck under to introduce herself. It’s been over twenty years—” Her cowboy boot kicks a bin. “—each block tells a part of their story.”

“They shouldn’t have a story.”

“Unless it involves a cow and murder.”

Wilma digs out a green scrap from the first bin and reads the note attached. “This is from the blanket Levi would sneak to their meeting spot.”

Faye digs out a yellow scrap from Hope’s bin and unfolds the paper. “This belonged to the sundress she tore on one of their hikes.”

“How did you get these?”

Wilma slides her square-brimmed glasses down her nose and peers at everyone in the circle. “From their mamas, and they didn’t need as much convincing as this room.” She peers at each member individually. “Get ready, ladies and gents. We’re about to weave the biggest love story yet.”