Crazy for Lovin’ You (3 page)

Any man but him.

“Would you like me to show you around, or do you want to check out the place on your own?” she asked.

After the thoughts he'd just had, he would be nuts to accept her offer. Common sense told him to go it by himself as he always did. But before he could get the right words out, he heard himself say, “I think it would be helpful if you gave me the tour.”

Helpful to whom? Beneficial to what? Certainly not him. Women had been kicking him in the teeth since he was ten years old. He would much rather have done business with Taylor's father. At least the man was up-front about the way things were. No surprises. God, Mitch hated surprises.

“Okay,” she said. “My truck is in back.”

“Let's take mine,” he countered.

“Are you one of those guys who's prejudiced against women drivers?” she asked, one eyebrow lifted with undisguised challenge.

His gaze snapped to hers and he saw the twinkle there. He grinned, his blood warming to her fire. “What if I am?”

“Then we've got more problems than whose truck to take,” she said.

“How so?”

“My last name is Stevens. I'm in charge. And you're going to have to deal with me.”

“I don't have a problem with that.”

“You're sure?” she asked, as if there was something he should know.

“I'm positive.”

It was the Lord's honest truth. As much as he wished otherwise, he was looking forward to dealing with her—more than he'd anticipated anything for a long time.

“Good,” she said nodding. “Then let me point out that I know this ranch like the back of my hand. If I drive, you'll be able to see more.”

“Okay. Your point is well taken. And there's nothing I'd like more than being chauffeured by a pretty lady.”

 

“So what do you think?” Taylor asked Mitch.

“What do I think?” he mused.

She had parked her truck beside the barn and they walked the short distance to the corrals. They stood side by side with their forearms resting on the top of the fence. Well, he was standing in the dirt and she was on the first slat, but their shoulders were even—and the occasional brushing together generated a sizzle of awareness. Actually more like sparks which created a serious fire hazard in her parched heart. What would it take to fan the embers into flames?

Taylor tried her darnedest not to notice the subtle scent of his aftershave, or the warmth of his body beside hers. She tried hard to shove the sensations to the back of her mind. She had more important things to worry about. Like getting the contract for the championships. Like
forgetting
that he was not the angry
man who had told her she kissed like a little girl. Now he was very much a man. And she was a woman, standing close enough for her to feel the unbridled effects of his masculinity.

Her breath caught when his gaze met hers. She'd seen the Pacific Ocean on a cloudless, blue-sky day. She'd marveled at the breathtaking water that glittered like diamonds, yet wondered what dangers lurked below its surface. Even in the shadow of his hat Mitch's eyes glinted, too, and she couldn't help questioning what was going on in his mind.

“Tell me what you think,” she said again.

“The ranch looks good,” he said carefully. “Even better than I remember. You've made some changes. Are you ready to tell me about the project you're working on?”

No, she wanted to say. She was afraid to let him know how much she needed him. It was bad enough when all she'd had to worry about was his memory of what she'd done ten years ago. But now she knew
how
he'd found out that the girl he loved had loved someone else. She knew better than anyone how deep that hurt could go.

If he'd waited for revenge, time had supplied him with the perfect means. All he had to do was hold the rodeo somewhere else. Her plan wouldn't necessarily fail, but it would take her a lot longer to succeed. Time was her enemy. The added boost of publicity right out of the chute would give her a leg up on a win.

Maybe she could sidestep his question. “What are you looking for in a rodeo site?” she asked.

He thumbed his black hat higher on his forehead. “Lots of land, first off,” he said. “There has to be room for vehicle parking and that includes horse trail
ers and campers. You're not too far off Interstate 20, so that's a plus.”

“What else?”

“Space for portable grandstands and food vendors, a freestanding corral big enough for the events.”

“I've got that,” she said pointing to the areas encircled by pipe fencing. “Three arenas, and one is long enough for the barrel racing, goat tying, and pole bending events.”

“I noticed. What I want to know is why.”

“Why what?” she asked.

“Why you have three. What do you need them for and why is the dirt soft and churned up?” He met her gaze again and asked, “What have you got up your sleeve?”

“You make it sound like I'm trying to pull a fast one.”

“I didn't mean to.” He turned away from the corral and leaned back against the fence, folding his arms over a pretty impressive chest.

To distract herself from his masculine pose, Taylor took the brunt of his full-on stare. Then she stepped off the fence and stood up straight. “I'm getting ready to open the ranch to visitors.”

“You don't mean a dude ranch,” he said, looking as shocked as when he'd gone backwards into the pool.

She nodded. “B&B, Texas style. The arenas are for activities—riding, roping. If a greenhorn takes a tumble, soft dirt is more forgiving.”

“Why?”

“Because it's softer and—”

He shook his head. “I meant why are you altering the operation from a working ranch?”

“It will still be a working ranch. As long as there's
breath in my body I'll do that kind of work. But I think that will add to the charm. This is something I've always wanted to do—take people with harried lifestyles and show them what silence is like. Give them a taste of a traditional Western lifestyle.”

“And?”

She didn't pretend to misunderstand. Anyone in Destiny could tell him if he asked. “I needed to do something not so closely tied to agriculture. Drought, beef and feed prices, all that can make a financial difference.”

“Why is that so important now?”

“I've got a mortgage.”

“Since when?” He frowned. “I thought your dad owned the land outright. Did something happen?”

“He died. Mom put the ranch up for sale.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Why does that surprise you?” she asked, studying the expression on his face.

“Your family is proud. A pillar of the community. Landowners in Destiny for several generations. It just wouldn't occur to me that a Stevens would sell out.” A frown settled in his eyes, making his expression dark.

Was he thinking about her sister? Jensen had sold him out with another guy. At least Mitch believed she had, even though her sister had followed her heart.

She sighed. “My mother was born and raised in North Dallas, a sophisticated city girl through and through. She was happy here as long as my dad was alive and running the operation.”

“But not after he was gone?”

She shook her head. “She missed him. And there were too many memories here. He inherited the land
so she had no emotional connection except through him.”

“But to sell it out from under you,” he said. “That seems a little harsh.”

“Even for a Stevens,” she finished for him.

“You said it, I didn't,” he answered with a shrug.

“Not that it matters, but she was a Stevens by marriage.” So much for water under the bridge and not holding a grudge. It would be best not to count on any help from him, she decided. “Mom needed the money for retirement in Dallas,” Taylor explained. “She couldn't stay here and didn't have the resources to get away. It was her only choice.”

“And you couldn't let the land out of the family.” It wasn't a question.

Vaguely she wondered how he'd known her so well. “I guess I'm like my dad in that way. It means something to me that there's been a Stevens on this ranch as far back as anyone can remember. Roots that deep are hard to pull.”

“I've done pretty well without roots.” His mouth hardened into a tight, straight line.

“I'm not rubbing your nose in it, Mitch. I'm just explaining why I'm in charge now.”

“Okay. But why a dude ranch?”

“I'm excited about the prospect of having guests and showing them a way of life that I love. And—” She stopped, wondering if she dared expose even a hint of weakness. But she had little to lose in telling him. “I think I can make this place profitable.”

“What happens if you don't?”

That was something she'd tried not to think about. All her energy had gone into positive planning. She kept telling herself failure was not an option. Now she
was almost ready to open the chute and she was scared to the bone.

“Taylor?”

“If it doesn't work, I could lose the ranch,” she said quietly. “Mom and Jen would help, but I want to do this on my own.”

“I'm guessing that by holding the championships here you'll get publicity and word-of-mouth endorsements.”

“That's right. If the right folks have a positive experience, the PR would be invaluable. Not to mention—”

She stopped. She was already lucky he hadn't laughed her from here to Fort Worth. There was no way he would actually help her unless it served his needs at the same time.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said. She turned away and started back toward the house.

Mitch fell into step beside her. “Tell me.”

“First you tell me whether or not you're going to give me the go-ahead to have the event here.”

They walked in silence for several moments. He stuck his fingertips in the pockets of his jeans. The memory came to her like a lightning bolt illuminating a pitch-black sky. He always frowned and stuck his hands into his pockets when he was deep in thought. Why did she have to remember that? She didn't want to recall anything about him or what had happened in the past.

It was a cruel and twisted cosmic joke that she found herself and her future dependent on the man who had no love lost for her family, and every reason to stand back and watch her fall flat on her face. She wasn't the
one who had hurt him but she had a feeling that wouldn't matter. She suspected Mitch didn't have a lot of experience with forgiveness. But it had been ten years. Everyone changed. Even a mixed-up kid nicknamed Riffraff Rafferty.

“Mitch?”

He glanced at her. “I haven't made up my mind yet. There's still another site I have to check out.”

“At least tell me if you think the Circle S will work.”

“If you tell me what you were going to say.”

Were they destined to deal with each other by dangling carrots when they wanted information? Was that any way to run a rodeo? She wished she could tell him to just let her know when he made his decision. But she had too much riding on it to walk away now.

“I was going to say that an endorsement from a famous champion bull rider would go a long way toward getting the word out.” She raised one eyebrow. “That someone like you could inspire national attention—even from nonrodeo people.”

“Free publicity?” he asked, but there was a grin turning up the corners of his lips.

An answering smile made her own mouth twitch. “A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I didn't major in ranch management at A&M for nothing. How can you go wrong with something free?”

They were approaching the pool and Jacuzzi she'd invested in. It made good sense that guests would want to relax and cool off after a hot dusty ride. Her goal was to lure customers with the ranch experience at the same time giving them all the comforts of home. Unfortunately the sight of the pool made her distinctly
uncomfortable. Would it tickle his memory of that night ten years ago at the Lamplighter Motel?

If she'd been thinking, she would have parked on the other side of the house. But she hadn't had a single coherent thought since opening the door to devil-may-care Mitch Rafferty. She just hoped there wasn't hell to pay.

Please don't let him notice the pool. Or if he does, give him temporary amnesia or selective memory loss.

As they got closer, she insinuated herself between him and the pool area. If only she were taller and could block his view. Not a chance of that. He could easily see over her head.

She pointed in the opposite direction. “Look at those clouds. Do you think we're in for a storm?”

He turned to see what she meant, then glanced back down at her. “No. Those are just wispy, nothin' clouds.”

As they continued walking, she held out her hand to show him something else. “I plan to plant flowers over there,” she said, hoping to distract him. Just a little bit farther and she would be home free. “To spruce up the place and give it color.”

He looked at her. “Okay.”

“And over there,” she said, directing his gaze to an empty spot beside the house. “I'm considering a vegetable garden.”

“In your copious free time?”

“Why not?”

“Since when did you become a farmer?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting.

“I'll do whatever it takes, be whatever I have to be to make this work. If I can help it, no one outside the family will get their hands on my land.”

“Your determination is commendable.” He stopped beside the pool and looked down into the crystal-clear water. When he met her gaze again, there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “But even if I choose another site, your ideas are still sound. You shouldn't have any trouble pulling in tourists.”

“Not fast enough.”

“What do you mean?” He asked the question but he glanced over his shoulder at the water. When he looked back, the expression in his bad-boy blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine.