Roping the Rancher (Harlequin American Romance) (4 page)

“This is a tourist town. What if someone from out of town comes along? They could get hurt because we...”

Ryan’s voice broke. Stacy reached out and laid her hand over her brother’s, but he pulled away. This scene was hitting a little too close to home for him. His breathing accelerated again. His pupils dilated.

“Okay. Don’t worry.” She patted his arm. “Maybe if I lay on the horn they’ll move.”

The horn’s harsh blare hurt her ears, but the cows were apparently hearing impaired because they didn’t even twitch. She laid on the horn for a good thirty seconds this time. Nothing.

“Got any suggestions on how to get them to move?”

“Sure. We studied roping cows and ranching in school just last week.” Ryan laughed and the tension left his features.

“Smart-ass.” Stacy chuckled. This was the brother she loved so much. The one she feared might soon become smothered by his physical limitations.

She glanced at her watch. They were already late for Ryan’s appointment. “I could call someone, but we don’t have time to wait. We’re already running late.” How hard could it be to get the cows off the road? “I should be able to take care of this. In one episode of
The Kids Run the Place,
we went for a vacation on a dude ranch. We had a cattle-drive scene.”

“That was when you were thirteen. Can you even remember anything from that far back?”

“Gee, I don’t know. They say the memory goes the closer you get to thirty. In a couple of years I probably won’t even be able to remember who you are.” She opened the car door. “Stay here while I get the cows moving. You’ve been through enough today.”

“I’ll help.”

No way would she risk him getting hurt. They’d pressed their luck enough for one day. “I’ve got it. There aren’t many of them.”

“Just because my legs don’t work like they used to doesn’t mean I can’t do something.”

So often since the accident she’d felt she lacked the skills to deal with Ryan. At times she had to be mother, cheerleader and therapist. Being a substitute parent to a teenager had been tough enough before his accident.

“I don’t know—”

“It doesn’t matter what you say. I’m coming.”

She thought about pulling rank. With a teenager? They’d only end up having a huge fight and he’d do what he wanted to anyway. “You can help me holler at them, but stay close to the car.”

Then she climbed out of the sedan, retrieved his walker from the backseat and handed it to him when he opened the passenger door.

Lost and now chasing cows off the road. Great start to the day. Could things get any worse?

Stacy moved toward the animals. Waiving her arms, she yelled, “Go! Get out of here!”

Joining in the effort, Ryan waved his left arm and shouted along with her.

Of the cows on the road, only one lifted her head and turned in Stacy’s direction. Then the animal returned to munching on grass, without moving an inch. She searched her memory for how the cowboy at the dude ranch kept the cows moving. He’d sauntered up to them full of confidence and authority, slapped a lasso against his thigh and hollered at them. Trying her best to imitate the cowboy’s swagger, she moved forward, yelling, “Ya,” and slapped her thigh.

“Watch out, Stacy.”

She glanced over her shoulder toward her brother and her right foot landed in something mushy. “Ugh!” Her foot slid. Her balance waivered and she felt herself falling. Her backside landed hard against the paved road, but that wasn’t the worst part. The unmistakable sour smell of manure wafted around her.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked.

Really? He had to ask? She was sitting in the middle of cow pie. Of course she wasn’t okay. “I’ll live.”

Though her shoes were goners and probably her jeans, too. She glanced at her favorite pair of shoes, leopard print Louis V stilettos ruined with cow poop, and the dam holding her emotions in check sprang a gigantic leak. Tears stung her eyes. She was so damned tired of being strong, of taking care of everything and everyone around her. Of smiling for the world when all she wanted to say was to hell with it.

The whine of a motor sounded around her. Not a car, but some smaller recreational vehicle. She closed her eyes. A moment later when the noise stopped she opened her eyes to find a hand in front of her face.

“Looks like you could use some help.”

Stacy’s gaze traveled from the hand—not a well manicured hand like the actors she worked with, but one of a man who worked hard for his living, rough and tanned—to find a tall golden-haired man dressed in faded jeans and a Western plaid shirt standing beside a three-wheeler with a small cart. She grimaced. The only thing worse than falling in a cow pie was having a cowboy with an incredible body sculpted by hard work and piercing blue eyes witness her embarrassment.

“No, I’m good. Just thought I’d sit here and reconnect with nature.”

“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

Her heart fluttered at the twinkle in his sky-blue gaze. Oh, my. He wasn’t even close to her type, but this cowboy definitely had something, and every cell in her body knew it.

Chapter Three

When Stacy placed her hand in his, the calluses on his fingers brushed her wrists. She almost gasped when excitement rippled down her spine. That is, once she recognized the emotion, which was hard to do considering she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything resembling interest in a man. Once she could speak, she joked, “Good thing, because my pride’s sure shot.”

“I bet it’ll recover.”

Her reaction to the cowboy was out of whack. A born and bred California girl, she’d been attracted to well-built surfer types. Something about their daring, how they challenged those giant waves drew her. Maybe because she’d always been so cautious, but then she’d realized all they cared about was catching the next wave.

She’d dated a few actors she’d worked with over the years. A movie pulled them together, but those relationships never worked. Actors had a way of slipping into their characters almost 24/7 during a film. When filming ended and she came to know who he really was, she often realized she’d been more attracted to the character he’d been playing than the real man.

A few times she dated businessmen, but they became frustrated with the travel and long absences associated with her job, but cowboy guy here? The rugged outdoorsman type never even showed up on her radar. So what about this cowboy got her all hot and bothered?

There was something about his eyes. Clear and blue, they shone with mischief and determination definitely, but something else. The look of an old soul haunted his gaze for brief flashes.

That combination in his steely gaze told her this man would be trouble. No doubt about it.

* * *

W
HEN
THE
WOMAN
at his feet clasped her delicate hand in his, their gazes locked and his breath hitched. Blond hair. Blue eyes that sparkled like a mountain spring under the morning sun. A woman who could look this pretty while sprawled in manure had to be trouble.

He glanced between her and the teenager waiting by the car. A teenage boy who needed a walker. His stomach tightened. Unless Colt missed his guess, Stacy and her brother Ryan had arrived.

He’d expected her to be beautiful because all the bachelorettes on
Finding Mrs. Right
had been knockouts, but he’d expected more California high-maintenance style. Not a woman with natural, understated makeup wearing jeans. Granted they were fancy designer ones with sparkly things instead of sturdy rivets and she had on stiltlike heels, but he wouldn’t have pegged her for a Hollywood actress.

After he helped her stand, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a bandana and handed the cloth to her. “It’s not much, but this will let you wipe off a little. I’m Colt Montgomery. Are you by chance Stacy and Ryan?”

“A little worse for the wear, but that’s us.” She laughed. The rich sound raced up his spine.

Colt strolled to where the teenager stood at the edge of the road, and shook hands with the kid. This he knew how to deal with. “How about you help me get these knuckle-headed animals back where they belong?”

For a minute the kid’s eyes widened with surprise before he masked the emotion, but before he could respond his sister piped in. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The first thing Healing Horses needed to work on was getting Ryan’s sister to quit treating the kid as if he would shatter right before her eyes.

“I wouldn’t ask if he couldn’t handle it.”

“You don’t know him. I do.” She crumpled his red bandana in her fist. “Plus, these cows are huge. What if one of them charges?”

“A car heading straight for them won’t budge these things, and you’re worried they’d suddenly get the gumption to charge?” He shook his head. City folks and their harebrained notions. “These aren’t the bulls that run in Pamplona.”

“I don’t know. A couple of them look like they could be troublemakers.” One of the cows raised its head and turned toward her. She pointed at the animal. “That one’s been giving me the evil eye. I think she has it in for me. Can you personally vouch for her character?”

Her attempt at humor almost made him smile. Almost. This woman appeared to have more than one trick up her sleeve to disarm a man, but then what did he expect from an actress? She could pretend to be anyone she wanted to.

Ignoring Stacy and her pretty blue eyes that he suspected could see straight inside him, he turned to Ryan. “What do you say, sport? You up for this?”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Wait a minute. Are you sure that’s a good idea, Ryan?” Stacy stepped forward, but then stopped and smiled at her brother. “Be careful.”

“Ryan, you head over there to the opening in the fence. Stand right beside it and make sure the cows don’t make a last-minute break for it.” Colt knew once he got the animals that far, they weren’t likely to find the energy to go anywhere. “They probably won’t. It’s more likely they’ll get all bunched up. If that happens just swat them on the rear to speed them up.”

“Got it.”

Ryan clutched his walker and tried to find a level spot. Once he did that, he moved his walker and stepped. He repeated the process again. Colt glanced at Stacy. Her gaze locked on her brother as she stood there, her body rigid, her hands clasped in front of her, nibbling on her lower lips.
She wants to help, but she knows he needs to do this on his own. Maybe there’s hope for her.

A couple of steps later Ryan wobbled. Colt glanced again at Stacy. When she stepped forward he shook his head and she froze, concern clouding her beautiful features. Sweat beaded on Ryan’s face as he worked his way out of the ditch to the hole in the fence. Once there, Colt walked up to the ring leader and slapped the cow on the hind quarters. “Move!”

In fewer than five minutes he had all the cows back in the pasture. That job done, he tugged the fence until it and Stacy’s rental car created a temporary barrier. “This should hold them until Charlie can fix the fence.” Colt strolled to his three-wheeler, crawled on and then glanced back at the pair. “Ryan, hop on the back with me. Stacy, ride in wagon and hold the walker.”

Ryan headed toward him, but Stacy stood rooted in her spot glaring at him. “Why do I have to ride in the cart?”

“Your butt’s covered in manure.”

“Ryan, won’t you switch—”

“I’m not having manure all over my seat.”

She appealed to her brother again.

“Sorry, sis. I’m siding with Colt on this one.”

Hands on her hips, she said, “You’ve got to be kidding?”

“It’s either the wagon or walk,” Colt replied.

She shook her head, dropped her hands off her hips and walked toward the wagon. “Men.”

* * *

W
HEN
S
TACY
ARRIVED
at the Rocking M Ranch she found herself thankful that the jolting ride over in the cart hadn’t loosened her teeth.

They stopped in front of a mocha-colored wood-and-brick house with trees that stood guard around the structure. The house, while not huge, wasn’t too small, either, and was in pristine condition. When they reached the front porch, she discovered a rocking chair. She could envision Colt’s long frame seated there as he surveyed the beautiful land around him.

This wasn’t a house. It was a home.

Once inside the living room, Colt turned to Ryan. “You can hang out here while I show your sister where to clean up. Then we’ll head for the barn and I’ll show you around. We’ve got a few things to take care of before your first session, like picking out a horse for you.”

“Shouldn’t I be there for that?”

“He’s seventeen. He’ll be fine.” Colt motioned for her to follow him. “I’d let you use my daughter’s room, but you know how teenagers are about their privacy.”

At the mention of his daughter, she glanced at his left hand. No wedding ring, but then a lot of guys, especially ones who worked with their hands, didn’t wear one. “Ryan said he met your daughter at school. How old is she?”

“Almost sixteen. I’ve got three months until D-Day.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“She gets to date and drive when she turns sixteen in three months.”

“You look tough. I bet you can survive it. I did with Ryan. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it can be done.”

“Guys are different.”

She thought about his comment. In some ways she’d had it easier with Ryan. Guys didn’t get pregnant. They weren’t victims of date rape. There were a hundred other horrors parents of teenage girls had to worry about.

At the end of the upstairs hallway Colt opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter. Stacy walked into the room and stared. Never in her life had she seen such a neat, well-organized bedroom. Not a speck of dust lay on any of the large rustic furniture. The bed was not only made, but there wasn’t a wrinkle anywhere on the dark brown comforter. No clothes on the floor. No shoes for someone to trip over. Not even any change tossed on the nightstand by the massive bed. “Either your wife spends all her waking time cleaning or you’ve got an amazing maid.”

“I’m not married, and you’re looking at the maid.”

That explained the no ring. Was he divorced? A widower? Whatever his situation, between that and being a war vet, the man probably carried more baggage than a 747. She didn’t want to know.

She craved average and uncomplicated.

Knowing about a person’s life led to attachments and caring, which led to emotional entanglements, responsibilities and expectations. All of which usually ended up with her getting disappointed. She thought about her past relationships. Whenever she started having expectations or wanted more out of the relationship, her boyfriends suddenly stopped calling.

She and Colt had a business arrangement. He was to help Ryan overcome his physical disabilities. Period.

But she couldn’t miss the similarity of their situations. She was raising a teenage boy and half the time she felt clueless. While he was raising his daughter alone, and from his comments, she suspected he often felt out of his league, too. Men and women saw the world differently, and no matter how she tried, they couldn’t really stand in each other’s shoes.

She could imagine how much harder it would be for a guy to raise a teenage girl alone. Dealing with female hormones and emotions which caused bigger ups and downs than an amusement-park roller coaster, her developing body
and
the sex talk issues. The man must be made of titanium.

“You need something to wear while your clothes are in the washer.” He walked to his closet door. Inside were neatly folded shirts, organized by color, even the plaid ones, stacked on metal closet organizer shelves. He selected one. Then he grabbed a pair of jeans and a belt and handed the items to her.

She stared at him. He was easily six-two and solidly built. “You’re kidding, right? Have you looked at me?”

A slow grin spread across his face, as his gaze scanned her from head to toe. And not a quick look, but a slow inspection that let him take his time to check out all the assets. She, who was used to guys staring at her as if they could see through to her underwear all the time in auditions and on the set, blushed at the intensity in this man’s gaze.

“What in particular am I supposed to notice?” His low, husky voice slid over her, making her tingle. Really? Tingle? Men didn’t make her do that. What was up with her reaction to this guy? He wasn’t even close to her type. He was too strong. Too imposing. Just plain too much.

But there was something about him. An honesty and a confidence she found compelling.
He’s real. What a woman saw was what she’d get.

Stop it. He’s the last thing you need right now.

She cleared her throat. “I’m built a little bit different than you are.”

“Thank the good Lord for that.”

She pinned him with her best no-nonsense, we’re-not-going-anywhere-on-a-personal-level stare. “These will be huge on me. I’m not sure your belt has a hole tight enough to keep the jeans from falling off. Doesn’t your daughter have something I could borrow?”

“I can’t loan you anything of Jess’s without written permission. My luck, whatever I gave you would turn out to be her favorite pants. You’d fall in another cow pie or snag them on something in the barn, and I’d be a dead man.”

His words said with a straight face and a tinge of fear rippling in his voice made her smile. Humor? What an odd, but not unpleasant, combination with his take-charge attitude.

“You’re afraid of a sixteen-year-old girl?” she teased back.

“Damn right. You were that age once. Don’t you remember what you were like with your clothes then?”

“What was I thinking?” At that age she’d been on a hit TV series. Her image had been everything, and yes, she’d been fanatical about her clothes.

“A smart man knows when not to press his luck.” He took the clothes from her and placed them on his enormous bed. Then he pointed to the door opposite the closet. “There’s the bathroom. The towels are in the linen closet and the soap’s in the shower. My robe’s on the back of the bathroom door. Try the clothes or put on the robe. I don’t care which.”

Then he told her where to find the washer and dryer, and said to join him and Ryan when she could. He was out the door before she could even comment.

Stacy found Colt’s bathroom in the same pristinely clean and organized fashion as his bedroom. After she washed up, she grabbed the forest-green terrycloth bathrobe off the hook and slipped the garment on. An earthy smell mixed with a spicy scent flowed over her as if the man had wrapped her in his strong arms.

Not good.

Wearing his robe was way too intimate. She smoothed her hand down the fluffy fabric. How could she feel a connection with a man by putting on his bathrobe? It was silly, but in slipping into the garment, she felt exactly that—connected.

A vision of Colt, strong and confident, standing in this room, wearing this same garment filled her vision. While the robe reached her ankles, the garment would hit him just below the knees. She could see him, the robe gaping to reveal his muscled chest, standing in front of the sink shaving that stern chin of his. Then she saw his clear blue eyes focused on her as a woman in this room.