The Billionaire Cowboy: A Billionaire's Club Story (6 page)

“Back the truck in here,” Ryder all but commanded. “We need to load up thirty alfalfa bales and take them over to the far pasture.”

His cool tone didn’t do much for Lara’s attitude. Though, what did she expect? She’d treated him with the same detachment not a moment before. She deserved everything he dished out, and now that she’d practically rejected him, Lara expected him to put her through the ringer. No doubt he’d dish out a list of chores designed to make her want to give up.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

She wasn’t leaving this ranch without October Sky.

The ranch truck wasn’t an impressive, tricked-out, luxury ranch pickup like she’d expected it might be. Rather, it was an old, beat-up flatbed with one white door, one blue door, and a green hood. A smile curved her lips as she headed for the old Ford that looked like it would be more at home on a tiny, run-down, three-acre ranch, rather than Ryder Blackwell’s sprawling estate.

“Keys are in it!” His voice echoed from somewhere deep inside the stables.

Lara hopped into the truck, the door hinges resisting as they creaked in protest. “You know what Ford stands for, don’t you?” she called back toward the stables. “Found on the road dead.” Ryder’s soft laughter made it to her ears and she settled herself on the worn bench seat, adjusted her position to avoid a spring poking through the upholstery, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine whined and whirred, as though reluctant to get to work, and Lara pumped the gas pedal in quick succession. “Come on, you can do it. Fire up.” On her third try, the engine roared to life and knocked and spluttered for a few minutes before it began to idle at a steady pace.

Woot!
Ryder probably thought she’d have trouble starting the old ranch rig, but she showed him. She may have failed at running cows, but she’d owned enough beater vehicles in her life to know how to coax one into starting. Lara threw the truck into gear and slowly backed it in through the wide barn doors. Careful not to back into anything, she negotiated the narrow middle section until the flatbed sat directly under the loft stacked with dark green bales of alfalfa.

“Stay out of the way,” Ryder called from the loft, his tone not a little bossy. She supposed that was a good thing. Distance would be a hell of a lot easier if he was too pissed off with her to be charming. “I’m going to drop these bales down.”

“You need someone to stack them, though,” Lara remarked with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I can manage to not be crushed by a bale of hay. Just toss them down. I’ll stack them.”

The derisive snort that answered her made her wish she had something to chuck at the cocky cowboy. She welcomed the chance to exercise her muscles and maybe work out a little of the frustration she was feeling. Granted, her legs were damned near useless after the shattering orgasm Ryder had given her, but she didn’t want him to know that. No use bolstering an ego that already got its fair share of strokes.

Ryder stepped to the edge of the loft, a bale of alfalfa held firmly in his grasp. She couldn’t deny it was quite an impressive sight, each muscle cut and defined, corded from the effort of holding up the eighty-pound bale of hay. He tossed it down as though it weighed nothing at all and it bounced once on the flatbed before rolling to a stop at Lara’s feet. She gripped the twine that held the bale together in both of her hands and was sure to lift with her legs as she maneuvered the heavy rectangle of hay to the back of the flatbed, the first of her soon-to-be-organized stack. Granted, she couldn’t haul them around the way Ryder could, but she was holding her own just the same.

“Here.” Ryder threw down a pair of well-worn leather gloves. “Use those.”

***

Of all the stubborn, pigheaded women.

Though he always welcomed a social call from his mother, today’s not-so-impromptu visit had thrown a huge monkey wrench into his plans. He’d had Lara right where he wanted her: soft, dripping wet, and oh-so-willing. But his mom’s sermon on family and reputations had managed to squash all of Ryder’s hard work.

Speaking of hard …

His cock pulsed in his jeans, his own raging desire reminding him that as far as he was concerned, he and Lara had only just begun their erotic play. He welcomed the discomfort, used it as motivation to continue on his course. He refused to stop this game until he had her every way imaginable. And maybe even a few he’d never thought of.

“Are you tired, Blackwell? Need to take a little breather after exerting yourself over that one bale?”

Lara’s sarcastic comment broke through his musing, and he looked down to find her smirking up at him, an expression that made him want to strip her bare and do all sorts of dirty things to her until she was as pliant and agreeable as a newly broke filly. Damn it, with all of the women who’d gladly jump into his bed without so much as a wink, why was he so obsessed with the one who didn’t seem to want anything to do with him?

Well, it didn’t take a mind like Freud’s to figure that one out.

He hoisted another bale into his grip and dropped it down onto the flatbed. Lara slipped his gloves on and moved the alfalfa next to the first bale. One thing was for certain: Lara Montgomery was damned tough.

It took half as long to load the truck as he’d expected. And though there’d been next to no conversation, it was a companionable silence. Something he rarely experienced with other women. He enjoyed working alongside Lara. And wasn’t that damned domestic of him? “Ready?” he asked as Lara hefted the last bale into place. He hopped down onto the truck from the loft and pushed his hat back on his forehead.

“To the feedlot?” she asked.

Down to business. She could deflect all she wanted, but Ryder was more determined than Lara was stubborn. “Yup. We’ll feed and then break for dinner.”

It took all of about an hour to throw out thirty bales of alfalfa for the cows and calves they’d moved to the north pasture. The supplemental feeding was important, and for some stupid reason, Ryder wanted Lara to know that he was looking out for his stock and making sure they were well taken care of. When the last bale was spread and followed the long line of strewn alfalfa he’d constructed, he had her circle back around toward the house.

Ryder sat on the flatbed, legs dangling off the edge as the old truck rocked and teetered on the unsteady ground. It was a piece of shit and only ran about half the time, but he kept it to remind him of his roots. And a few other things. He pulled off his gloves and brought his hand to his temple, tracing the scar above his left eyebrow. It took eight stitches to close the split in his head, an injury sustained when his dad got pissed at his brother Luke and Ryder stepped in to take the brunt of his father’s rage. His eyes wandered to the corner of the flatbed, to the very spot he’d smacked his head when his dad shoved him and he’d tripped into it.

He couldn’t erase the past. But he could damn well make sure history didn’t repeat itself. Ryder had been only sixteen when he finally took matters into his own hands. It had been the first and last time that he’d let his own rage spur him to violence. And he vowed he’d never lose control like that again.

“Where do you want me to park?”

Lara’s words cut into his thoughts like a soft rain on a sultry afternoon. Only now did Ryder realize that his fists were clenched tight, and his heart raced in his chest. He banished the unpleasant memories that threatened to suck him into a dark place he rarely visited and focused his attention instead on the sound of Lara’s voice. “You can pull up to the main house.”

The truck rounded the stables and approached the house, and Pepper shimmied her little black body out from her doghouse and bounded next to the pickup, tail wagging as she yipped in welcome. “Somebody’s glad to see you,” Lara remarked as she killed the engine and hopped out of the truck. “Come here, girl.”

Ryder watched as Lara snuggled Pepper, ruffling the fur at her ears. “She’s a mixed breed, isn’t she?”

“She’s a mutt all right,” Ryder said with affection as he bent down beside Lara to stroke Pepper’s fur. “Blue heeler and border collie. She’s smart as a whip and the best-tempered dog I’ve ever owned.”

“I believe it,” Lara said with a laugh. “You sure showed those ornery cows who’s boss this morning, didn’t you, girl?”

Pepper wagged her tail and pushed her snout under Lara’s arm, getting close enough to give her cheek a couple of licks. Lara laughed and wrapped her arms around Pepper’s neck, enjoying the affection, and something tightened in Ryder’s chest. Maybe this weekend wasn’t such a good idea. Because with every moment he spent with her, Ryder was afraid that Lara was anchoring herself deeper into his system rather than working herself out the way he’d hoped.

“Did you train her to run cattle?” Lara’s eyes met his and for a moment, some of the iciness melted away, replaced with a glow that seemed to soak right into him, igniting every inch of Ryder’s body with fiery warmth.

“Sort of,” he said with a shrug. “She was born to chase and herd, so it comes naturally to her. Dogs like Pep need something to get after, you know?”

Lara smiled. “I do. I’ve treated more than a couple ambitious cow dogs who thought they could take on a truck tire or two. It’s good that she has plenty of space to roam around and get all of that energy out of her system.”

Ryder looked around—there wasn’t another house for miles—at the acres and acres of land. “You got that right. Guess we both need a little space to roam.”

Lara’s expression darkened and she averted her gaze. “Guess so. No chance of any ex-girlfriends dropping by for a quick visit when you live all the way out here.”

He was good and ready to put talk of his past relationships away once and for all. Yes, he’d been with more than a few women in his life. They both knew it, no point in beating a dead horse. But he was curious at Lara’s sharp tone. “What’s the matter, doc?” he teased. “Jealous?”

She didn’t look at him when she said, “Hardly. Though I have to wonder how many women have gotten the Ryder Blackwell treatment in such a low-rent place.” She ran her fingers absently through Pepper’s fur. “Maybe you figure the local vet wouldn’t mind if you took her right there in the barn.”

Low rent?
That stable cost him a fortune, and the place was almost as clean as his house. He wasn’t sure what Lara thought—maybe that he wined and dined the women he slept with, bathed them in expensive gifts before they fell into bed with him. But what she didn’t know was that she was the first woman he’d ever actually entertained at his place.
Ever
. “You’re making a mighty big assumption, don’t you think?”

“Am I?” Her eyes met his, serious and almost … sad.

“Jesus Christ, Lara.” Ryder stood and snatched his Stetson off his head, smacking it against his thigh. She frustrated him past the point of reason and maybe it was her up-front, down-to-business attitude that made him want her even more. “For someone who’s trying so hard to rebuild a reputation tarnished by cheap, cruel gossip, you’re sure jumping on that bandwagon pretty damned quick.”

“See, that’s the thing, Ryder,” Lara said, giving Pepper one last scratch behind the ear before she stood to face him. “All the gossip about my family happened to be true. People don’t generally talk about someone unless they give ’em something to talk about.”

“Well, if that’s what you think, I suppose there’s nothing I can say to change your mind.” He let out a derisive snort. “Let’s eat.” Ryder snapped his fingers and Pepper fell into step beside him, wagging her tail and bouncing as he headed for the house.

Never before had Ryder bothered with worrying over the shit people said about him. It was just talk after all, and he’d be willing to bet his “many” conquests were way overexaggerated in the public opinion. But now, after being hit over the head with it repeatedly by the woman he was trying to impress, Ryder wished for the first time that people would’ve kept their big mouths shut.

Lara didn’t know why her mood had turned so sour. Especially since she’d already decided that she wasn’t going to let Ryder Blackwell touch her in any way more intimate than a handshake ever again. Still … her mind rebelled against logic, reminding her of their time in the stable and the way his fingers worked her sensitive flesh, bringing her fevered body to heights of pleasure she’d never experienced before.

With nothing more than the artful caress of his fingertips he’d given her the most intense orgasm of her life. And there was a part of her that yearned for more. That need to have a little more of him was enough to sour Lara’s mood.
So much for being stone-cold
.

The Blackwell ranch was impressive in and of itself. Over nine hundred acres of lush pastures and rolling hills dotted with trees. Ryder’s house stood like a sentinel at the head of it all, a sprawling ranch-style mansion that might have been considered modest by billionaire standards. Even when her family had been at its wealthiest, they’d never known luxury like this.

Ryder led the way across a wraparound porch to the side of the house. A cottage door led to a small mudroom, complete with coat hooks fashioned from discarded horseshoes and a bench made from cut lodge poles lined with cubbies for boots. Pepper scrambled across the hardwood floor into the depths of the house while Ryder kicked off his boots. Lara followed suit, stuffing them into one of the empty cubbies and tried not to look too nosy as she followed him into the kitchen.

Wow.

“I think your kitchen is as big as my entire apartment.” The words escaped Lara’s mouth before she could think better of it. “I mean …”

Ryder chuckled. “It’s definitely bigger than the house I grew up in.”

Lara strolled into the kitchen, her fingers skimming the shiny granite countertops as she walked. If she had a kitchen like this, she’d live in it. Top-of-the-line appliances, an island counter big enough to roll out ten pie crusts, windows that let in the perfect amount of sunlight, and a gorgeous porcelain basin sink that looked like the only antique in the place.

“My mom salvaged that sink from my grandma’s place,” Ryder said when he noticed her eyeing it. “We reclaimed a bunch of stuff from the old house when we built this one. There are little bits and pieces of my family in every room.”