Gentling the Cowboy (6 page)

Emotion had never had much effect on the older man who had been taught several tough life lessons early. “If she is, maybe someone’ll outbid the meat man.”

The hand Tony buried in the horse’s mane belonged to the twelve-year-old he’d once been. “I won’t let you do it, Dad. Not this horse. Not to the auction. She’s mine. I love her.” A memory that should have faded with time was as sharp and painful in his dream as the day it had happened, and the desperation in his young voice as he pleaded with his father was equally real.

With a disgusted shake of his head, his father said, “There ain’t no room for love in reality, Son. You’d best learn that now. Love just makes a man miserable. That horse goes to auction in two weeks. Train her real good and maybe she’ll find herself a home.”

The weathered, neglected pen disappeared. Miles and miles of white fencing surrounded Tony. Tall green grass waved in the light breeze under a bright, cloudless sky. He heard the distant sound of a thundering gray stallion bearing down on him. The horse grew in size as it approached, morphing into a snorting beast intent on stomping the life out of him. The more he fought it, the more it knocked him down until he retreated from it. But it followed, as it always did, cornering him until he hated himself more than he feared any pain the horse could inflict.

An image of Sarah appeared and stood beside him, replacing the beast. Sweet, trusting Sarah. He reached for her, but she stepped back in horror, staring at his hands. They were covered and dripping with blood. He desperately tried to clean them on his shirt, but the blood remained. He wanted to reassure her but even at a scream, he had no voice.

Sarah faded away and Tony sank to his knees in the tall grass. Despite the blood, he covered his face in his hands and did in his dream what he had never done awake. He cried.

Long after he’d awoken, the dream lingered far too vividly. Tony cursed each bale of hay he threw down from the barn loft. Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, but the punishing heat of the day was a welcome discomfort.

He groaned when David changed direction upon spotting him. Only a year or two older than Tony, David successfully organized sales and handled the business side of things. He had quickly built up a reputation of integrity that trumped any amount of advertising another breeder might buy. He was also the best damn ranch manager in the area, possibly all of Texas, but he had a flaw:
He was too fucking happy.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, Tony headed down the ladder in resignation. David was as unavoidable as weeds in a pasture. He was the one person on the ranch Tony couldn’t avoid talking to.
But I don’t have to like it.

“I’m surprised you’re here so early this morning,” David said too cheerfully. “I thought you’d be . . .”

“I’d be what?” Tony bit out, stacking the leftover hay against the wall.

David paused a moment, pushed his Stetson back thoughtfully and chose his next words carefully. “I heard you had company. I figured you might take today off.”

“Do I pay you to think about who I do or don’t have in my house?” Tony’s body filled with fury. More, he knew, than the conversation called for.

“No,” David said slowly.

“Then why the hell are we having this conversation?” Tony snarled, his fists curling at his sides.

Another man would have turned tail and run at his tone, but David simply shook his head in a patient way that only irritated Tony more. “Snow Prince won another Reining Futurity,” he said as Tony piled the last bale on top. “I heard there was a huge purse. Word has it, he’s worth almost a million now and climbing. His owner would like to come meet you. He can’t say enough good about you. The papers are begging for interviews, too.”

“I don’t care about Prince’s new owner and you know I don’t give interviews,” Tony said with disgust.

David opened the nearby door to his small barn office and stood just outside it. “If you don’t want to be in the magazines, stop training horses. You’ve made enough money.”

I would, but it’s all I have left. That and one unwelcome houseguest.
“What do you know about that idiot reporter you found snooping around here last week? Was he working with anyone?” He’d almost forgotten about that man, but Sarah had brought him back, just as she had his nightmares.

“As far as I know, no one.” It wasn’t often that David looked embarrassed, but his face reddened at the mention of the hired hand who had turned out to be an undercover reporter.

“What about the rest of the hands? You might want to let them go and start fresh. One of them is always trying to talk to me.”

“You know we can’t run this place alone.” David crossed his arms. “I’m not firing everyone mid-season because they admire you.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

David scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “What put a burr under your saddle this morning?”

“You know my rule.”

With a sad shake of his head, David said, “Some of these young men have worked here for years. They’re loyal to you. It’s your ranch, Tony. Fire the whole lot of them if you want, but I’m not cleaning the stalls. You let ’em go; you find the next ones. That’ll mean going to town, screening them, sorting through the ones with real skills versus the ones who think they can acquire some simply by watching you. By all means, go ahead.” David shrugged. “I’ll take the vacation I’m due to give you some time to figure out what a colossal mistake it was, then if you ask me real nice, I’ll try to find some qualified help before we lose a whole season.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I can let you go just as easily.”

David nodded. “Do it. I’ve made a good amount of money myself. It may be time for me to invest in something of my own.” Lifting and adjusting his hat, David said dryly, “I’d miss your sorry, self-destructive ass, though.” Tony caught a shadow of a smile on David’s face and hated the twinkle of amusement in his eyes as David said, “Go on back to the house. I bet your mood will get a whole lot better if you stop hiding down here and go see your little blonde.”

Tony opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap and a glare. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the barn.

I hate it when he’s right.

The early morning light that filtered through the curtainless windows woke Sarah up. She squinted into the brightness, then grabbed a pillow to cover her head. It took her a moment to remember where she was, but when she did she sat straight up in the twin bed, dropping the pillow on the floor.

Yesterday was not a dream. I really did get lost, made a complete idiot of myself over the first cowboy I met, got ditched by a woman I thought was my friend, and slept in the home of a complete stranger.
Sarah sat immobile on the bed, letting it all soak in.

Today can only go up from there.

She swung her legs to the floor, stood, and stretched. A light breeze from the window flitted across an area she didn’t normally air out. Sarah looked down quickly, past the T-shirt that rested just below her hips, and remembered she’d removed her underwear last night.

Probably not a good idea to stand in front of the window bare-assed.
She scrunched down and made her way to the luggage she hadn’t bothered to open the night before. A quick rummaging produced underwear and a fresh pair of jeans.

A shower would be nice. What’s the rule regarding the number of showers you’re allowed when you break into a person’s house? I’m guessing it’s one.

Some rules are meant to be broken, especially if it’s for the common good.

After a quick shower, she slid on the snuggly fitting jeans, delicately flowered tennis shoes, and a simple pink blouse, then sought the room’s mirror. A dab of cover-up, a quick sweep of the hair she’d kept dry into a ponytail, and she felt brave enough to face the new day.

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed when she discovered the only other person in the house was Melanie, washing dishes at the large sink in the kitchen. Sarah paused before entering and said, “Good morning.”

“Tony skipped breakfast, and you’re up late. You’ll have to make yourself something if you’re hungry.” Dressed in worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and an old gray T-shirt, Melanie looked as rough around the edges as she sounded.

If there was one thing Sarah prided herself on, it was her ability to make friends. She liked people and, in return, most people liked her. She supposed she shouldn’t care how Melanie felt about her since she was planning to leave after breakfast and it wasn’t likely they’d ever cross paths again. Still, there was something about Melanie that drew Sarah to her side.

“Would you like help with the dishes?” Sarah asked.

The housekeeper stopped and turned the water off. She gave Sarah what could only be described as an insulting, dismissive once-over. “You don’t need to be kissing up to me. I just work here.”

But you wish things were different? I know how you feel.

“My mother would call you essential support staff.”

Melanie turned away and snapped, “There’s coffee by the stove.”

Dismissed.

Sarah poured herself a cup of black coffee and turned to rest her hip against the counter as she sipped it. Almost instantly she spit the room-temperature bitter liquid back into the cup.
Whatever that is, it’s not coffee.
If Melanie heard, she didn’t seem to care. “Thank you for making dinner last night.”

“It’s my job,” Melanie said without turning around.

“Well, it was nice,” Sarah said warmly, deciding to ride out the arctic chill she was receiving from the other woman. “And it may be the only home-cooked meal I have in Texas before driving home today.”

Just the thought of that long drive was enough to dampen Sarah’s mood. She might as well start calling the bed and breakfasts she’d stayed at on the way down and hope they had rooms open.

Melanie looked at her over her shoulder. “You really leaving?”

Sarah put the coffee cup down on the counter beside her and sighed. “That’s the way it looks.”

After wiping her hands on a towel beside the sink, Melanie turned around and faced Sarah. “I figured you’d be staying longer.”

A flush of embarrassment warmed Sarah’s neck and cheeks
. Not when I’m taken in like a dog in a storm.
She smiled with self-deprecating humor.
Tony’s probably in town stapling my picture on telephone poles with the caption: Found—stray woman. Please call with description.

“He doesn’t usually bring women here,” Melanie said.

Sarah let out a short rueful laugh. “I sort of brought myself. He was just too nice to throw me out.”

The housekeeper raised both eyebrows as she said, “Really? ‘Nice’ isn’t how most people describe Tony.” Then she frowned. “I guess it’s not a surprise he’d make an exception for someone like you.”

Oh, boy. I’m not awake enough for this.
Rubbing a tired hand over her forehead, Sarah joked, “If you’re looking for a fight, you should make better coffee. I don’t function until after my second cup.”

Melanie folded her arms across her chest and studied her for a long moment before saying, “My coffee is fine. That’s yesterday’s pot.”

And round one goes to the angry housekeeper.

If this is Southern charm, give me a Northern cold shoulder any day.

“I’m leaving today, so there’s no need to try to poison me.”

“We’ll see.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if Melanie was referring to her leaving or the need to poison her, but she wasn’t going to ask. “Okay, well, I probably won’t see you before I leave, so thanks again for dinner.”

Melanie turned away without saying another word and returned to washing the dishes.

Sarah inched her way out of the kitchen.

My novel won’t have a housekeeper.

Sarah stepped onto the porch, and the heat of the day met her with a slap.

And it won’t be ten thousand degrees by nine in the morning.

But it will have him.
Freshly shaven, dressed in a light-blue plaid shirt and jeans that fit him snugly in all the right places, Tony walked to the bottom of the porch steps. For a split second he looked like he might smile, but then he frowned instead as he looked her over.

Well, a happier version of him, anyway.

What? Was he hoping I had my luggage with me?

“Good morning,” she said awkwardly, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans, attempting some Southern sophistication.

“Morning,” he said with a neutral nod of his head.

If I threw myself at him, would he catch me or let me face-plant in the dirt? Tough call.
“I’m sorry I slept in. I must have been exhausted from the trip.”

“Melanie make you breakfast?”

“I wasn’t very hungry,” Sarah hedged. She didn’t need to stir up trouble for a housekeeper who looked like life had already been harsh enough for her. “I thought I’d come out and check on Scooter, then make some calls. Do you mind if I use your phone again?”

He looked back at her wordlessly, and Sarah amused herself with fanciful thoughts.
At which point can I ask him to pose for a photo? You know, for research purposes only. Not to pin next to my bed like some lovelorn teenager.

“You still planning on staying in Texas?”

His question brought back the sting of reality and Sarah shook her head sadly. “I wish. Lucy implied this isn’t a good time to visit after all. Honestly, I’d rather turn around and go home than stay where I’m not wanted.”

Tony narrowed his eyes and said, “Long drive back.”

“No kidding.” Deciding to make the best of it, Sarah shrugged and said, “It won’t be that bad if I can get rooms in the places I stayed on the way down. At least it’s not a straight drive home.”

“You must be disappointed.”

“That’s an understatement.”

He lifted and settled his hat on his head, pondering something as he did. “Your horse could use a rest before traveling again.”