The Billionaire Cowboy: A Billionaire's Club Story (5 page)

The simple command damn near brought him to his knees. No one dared to order him around, not
the
Ryder Blackwell. He was treated with a certain level of respect and sometimes fear because he was a shrewd businessman and went after what he wanted. And the women he’d been with … well, they saw nothing more than a chance to get their hands in his wallet. They rolled over and begged. Gladly. But not Lara. She refused to beg for anything. She didn’t give a damn about his money or his reputation. And that’s why he wanted her more than any other woman he’d ever met.

He worked her stiff bud in earnest, sliding his fingers over her flesh in tight little circles. Lara let out a long, drawn-out moan, the sound so goddamned sweet that a pleasant shudder shook Ryder’s body. Her muscles went rigid as stone against him, and then melted with her release as she pressed her hips into his hand, crying out over and over again as she came. Ryder brought her down slowly, easing into soft, feathery caresses. He released his grip on her wrists and she relaxed against him, holding onto his shoulders for support as her breath sped in her chest.

“Oh my god.” The words were barely a whisper, but her warm breath against his neck heated Ryder’s blood to boiling. He couldn’t wait to do it all over again, a battle of wills that ended up with her soft and willing in his arms. She raised her head from his shoulder, alert. “Did you hear that?”

The sound of tires crunching on gravel was followed by a car door slamming. An agitated female voice called out, “Ryder Blackwell, where in the hell are you?” and he groaned into Lara’s hair.

“Who is that?” she asked, her tone just north of horrified.

He pulled away to give her a grin and shrugged a shoulder. “My mother.”

Lord have mercy
. Despite the fact that she’d been caught—literally—with her pants down, Lara couldn’t help but find it amusing to see the oh-so-tough Ryder jump to attention like a wayward calf at the sound of his mama’s holler. And that guilty, boyish grin he’d flashed her before hightailing it out of the stable … she almost came again from the sight of it.

So much for keeping him at arm’s length.

Lara had vowed not to let Ryder Blackwell get to her, as he had so many others, but now that she was here alone with him, she found him too hard to resist. As evidenced by the mind-blowing orgasm he’d given her. She’d heard the rumors that he knew how to pleasure a woman. In fact, tales of the attention paid to his lovers was practically the stuff of legend. And when it came to his own pleasure, Ryder was known to be down to business. Lara had certainly come face-to-face with part of that legend today. As she tried to make herself look presentable, she wondered at his restraint. She could feel his erection through the tight denim of his jeans, saw the evidence of his arousal burning in his gaze, and heard the intensity of it in his voice.

Why did he hold back? Was it to add insult to injury? Take October from her and then tease her with his sexual prowess? No. If that had been the case, his only concern would have been making sure he got off, not the other way around. Maybe there was more to Ryder Blackwell than the rumors circulated around town. As she headed out of the stable, a smile curved Lara’s lips. She had all weekend to find out, didn’t she?

“Jason stopped by the house this morning on his way to Dallas. Told me a few things too. Ryder James Blackwell, did you buy a horse at auction this morning just to spite that poor little gal?”

As Lara approached, she swallowed down the laughter that threatened. A man was in serious trouble when his mama triple named him, and seeing the nearly thirty-year-old Ryder cower in his mother’s presence was a sight she’d cherish for weeks to come.

“Jase has a big mouth,” Ryder grumbled, casting a sheepish grin Lara’s way. Her chest swelled with emotion at the openness of his expression and she couldn’t help but smile back. “And I’m a grown man, Mom. If I want to buy a horse at auction—any horse—I will.”

“Pfft.” His mother swatted at him and Ryder jumped back barely missing his mother’s hand. “You need a thoroughbred like you need a hole in the head, son. What are you up to?”

“Apparently,” Lara said as she approached, “he’s getting into the horse-breeding business.”

“Well. I hope you’re here to whoop his butt, Dr. Montgomery,” Ryder’s mom said with a smile. She reminded her of him: same light brown eyes and intelligent features. “I’m Rayanne Blackwell, by the way.”

Lara reached out and shook her hand, trying not to let her gaze wander to Ryder as it seemed to want to do on its own. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackwell.”

“Please. You call me Rayanne or nothin’ at all.”

It was also quite apparent where Ryder got his charm. “All right, then. Rayanne.”

“Well, since I’m here, you might as well show me what all the fuss is about.” She headed in the direction of the stables and Ryder jogged to catch up with her.

“October’s in the corral,” he said, turning her shoulders to navigate her in the right direction. “Over there.”

“Well,” she said on an exhale. “How ’bout that. She’s a beautiful mare, isn’t she?”

Rayanne strode up to the fence, clucking her tongue and cooing at October Sky. A pang of regret shot through Lara’s chest. What if she lost her bet to Ryder? And what if—even after what had happened between them—he still refused to sell the mare to her? Lara couldn’t bear to think of losing October. Not when she’d worked so hard to buy her.

“So, tell me, Dr. Montgomery, why did you have your eye on this particular mare?” There was something about the way Rayanne asked the question, as though she already knew the answer but wanted Lara to tell her for someone else’s benefit. Perhaps Ryder’s?

“First off, if I’m calling you Rayanne, you’d better call me Lara.” Rayanne gave her a wink and she continued, “October Sky is descended from Diamond Dancer.” From behind her, she heard Ryder approach and he settled in beside his mom, leaning his arms on the fence post as he watched October trot around the corral.

“He won the Triple Crown, didn’t he?” Rayanne asked.

“Twice,” Lara said with pride. “My grandpa owned the stables that bred him. A few others who made names for themselves too. At one time, people came from all over the world to buy his horses.”

“I’d say that’s a pretty interesting fact, wouldn’t you, son?”

Ryder didn’t answer, simply nodded his head. His eyes met Lara’s, his brow furrowed as he studied her. She wondered what he’d think of her when he heard the rest of her family’s sob story.

“So, what happened to your granddaddy’s stables, Lara?” Rayanne continued.

“Long story short,” Lara said as she peeled her gaze away from Ryder’s, “he trusted the wrong person and lost everything. His ranch, his livelihood, and every last horse in his stable. I saved up to buy October so I could rebuild his legacy. Maybe even redeem my family’s name.”

“Honey.” Rayanne laid a comforting hand on Lara’s shoulder. “It ain’t your name that makes you what you are. And don’t you forget that.”

Lara’s lips quirked in a half smile. If that wasn’t a ranch mother’s logic, she didn’t know what was. Those same words could have come from her own mother or grandmother. She just wished she believed it. If Rayanne knew her family’s story—and who knows, maybe she did—then she’d know how people had treated her family after everyone found out that the trainers at the stable had been injecting the horses with steroids, not to mention forging breeding records and fabricating lineages. In essence, they were selling poor stock for top dollar. By the time it all came out, her grandpa was too old to take an active role at the stables, and couldn’t fix the damage. When all was said and done, he was forced to answer to several lawsuits and had to sell everything to pay off the many judgments.

“Sometimes,” Lara replied, “your name and the reputation affixed to it is all you’ve got.”

“What do you think about that, Ryder?” Rayanne asked, turning to face her son. “Do you think a person should be judged by their name and the reputation hitched to it?”

Lara had a feeling that Rayanne Blackwell was the kind of woman who liked to point out life lessons on the sly. And as she sensed that Rayanne had coaxed Lara’s history out of her for her son’s benefit, likewise, there was something in her words to Ryder that made her think she wanted Lara to know a little something about the Blackwells as well.

A sordid past, perhaps? What sort of dark cloud could possibly be hovering over the lives of the town’s most prominent cattle family?

***

Ryder locked eyes with his mom, well aware of the message she was sending. It was one she’d been conveying to him all his life. That he was more than just his name and the by-product of the man who’d given it to him. A man was the sum of his actions and convictions. And the name Blackwell—while something he’d never been proud of as a boy—was one he’d built apart from his father’s contribution to it.

His mom was never shy about voicing her disappointment over some of his antics over the years. Apparently, today was no exception.

“I think a name is only as good as the person wearing it,” Ryder finally said. “And that worrying about the past or what you could or couldn’t have changed for whatever reason brings a person nothing but a lot of pointless heartache.”

His mom gave him a pointed look. “And don’t forget it, kiddo. Now, I left a stockpot here the last time we had Sunday dinner and I need it for a batch of chili I offered to take over to the Senior Center for their Christmas Eve dinner. I’m going to go fetch it and head home.” She turned toward the main house and added over her shoulder, “You best behave yourself, you hear me?”

Ryder gave his mom an affectionate smile as he watched her amble toward the main house. She had at least four stockpots at her own house; no doubt she was using the one she’d left here as an excuse to butt into his business and get a look at Lara. As if she needed an excuse to be nosy.

He scooted down the fence line to where Lara gazed out at the corral, watching with a wistful expression as October pranced around. “I feel like I’m fifteen again, caught doin’ something I shouldn’t with someone I shouldn’t be doin’ it with.”

“Your family is close, aren’t they?”

She didn’t look at him, just kept staring at some unknown point, lost in her thoughts. Ryder used to think that no one could have as dark a shadow on their past as he did. But maybe he was wrong about that. “My mom and my brothers and I are.” No need to dredge up too much of the past. If Lara knew all of the dark details, she’d jump in her truck and hightail it out of there, horse or not. “I’ve got some cousins on my mom’s side of the family that I’m pretty close with too. Aunts, uncles …”

“I’m not very close with mine,” she said on a sigh. “Maybe I ought to hit up the Senior Center for some Christmas Eve chili next week. It’s not like I’ll be spending the holiday with any of my own relatives.” Ryder hated how the moment managed to turn so somber. He wanted back the fiery, passionate woman he’d explored in the stables. The sadness she exuded now sent a pang straight through his chest. “My grandpa and I used to be close … before. After he died, I sort of drifted away.”

“Mom made it sound like she knew your family,” Ryder remarked. “I didn’t know you were local.”

“I’m not,” she scoffed. “Not really. My grandparents were local, but my dad moved to Houston after Grandpa lost everything and they stopped bringing me here. I guess without his money and reputation for my dad to live off of, he didn’t see much point in staying here.”

Ryder had known people like that most of his adult life. Those who measured others’ worth based on the numbers in their bank account and nothing more. No doubt none of them would give him the time of day if he lost everything. He could only imagine the kind of alienation Lara must have felt growing up with that hanging over her head. “You know, it’s not the mare that’s gonna redeem your family name, doc.”

“And what would you know about that?” She still refused to look at him and Ryder resisted the urge to grab her by the shoulders and spin her toward him.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “What’s next on the chore list, boss?” She looked at him now, her expression one of fierce determination. “Let’s get back to work. I’ve got a broodmare to win.”

Lara was an idiot. With nothing more than a few heated looks and seductive words whispered in that smooth bourbon voice of his, she’d spread her legs and let Ryder entice her into one hell of a distraction. And at the corral a moment ago, he’d tried to distract her again, opening the conversation to suggest that Lara should give up on owning October Sky and get herself some other horse to build her stables with. Because it wasn’t about reclaiming her family’s legacy, apparently. No, the foundation of a good reputation was all about pulling yourself up by the bootstraps and making do with what you had. Or maybe, what you could
afford
.

Yeah, right.

She waited patiently by the stables as Ryder said good-bye to his mama. Lara didn’t know much about the Blackwell family—aside from the fact that they had more money than God—and frankly she didn’t care. She needed to stay focused, remember why she was here, and steel herself against Ryder’s seductive ploys. If she wasn’t careful, by Monday, she’d be nothing more than another name to add to his long list of conquests, and she’d walk away as empty-handed as when she’d arrived.

As soon as Rayanne’s little pickup took off down the road, Ryder turned toward the stable, his rolling gait as relaxed and confident as a champion bull strolling through a feedlot. He strode past her into the stable, and Lara turned to watch him retrieve his Stetson from where he’d knocked it off her head right before he’d backed her into the stall. A pleasant shiver raced down her spine as she thought about what had happened in there and how alive with pleasure he’d made her feel.

It was no doubt merely a taste of what he was capable of, but whether or not she was interested in sampling the entire menu, a taste was all she was going to allow herself to have. Ever again. And if he came away from their encounter with nothing more than a serious case of blue balls, well, too damned bad. She was through with him.