Wrangled by the Watchful Cowboy Read online

  “Hey,” he said. “Can we talk?”

  Even with a black eye and a swollen lower lip, he was handsome, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  “I need to check on Shadow,” she said, twisting the ring on her pinky finger.

  “It’ll only take a minute. We could sit on the swing.”

  The comfy white porch swing beckoned, swaying in the morning breeze. But swinging together meant having a deep conversation. Last night she’d decided to tell him everything, but now, with her frazzled emotions hanging by a thread, she’d lost her nerve. Maybe she could keep the talk light and playful.

  “Okay,” she answered. “At least I don’t have to worry about you kissing me.”

  “Was that a challenge?” His lips formed a swollen half-grin.

  “No.” She tried to frown, but failed. “You can joke all you want, but you’re still in trouble.”

  “I am?” He eased himself onto the contoured wood slats with minimal wincing, and she sat beside him, a comfortable six inches between them as the swing began to move. “You mean I got all these injuries for nothing? I thought you might not want to murder me if I already looked half dead—battered and bleeding.”

  “You see, that’s where you messed up. Battered doesn’t get any sympathy. Bleeding would’ve done it, but you already stopped the blood flow.”

  “Darn. I’d have sacrificed the truck upholstery if I’d known.” He pushed his glasses up with his unbandaged hand. “I should’ve said this before, but I’m sorry I kissed you in front of all those guests.”

  “It was pretty embarrassing.”

  “I know. I wish I could make it up to you.”

  For a few brief seconds, they sat in contented silence, enjoying the peaceful moment. A gentle morning breeze ruffled her hair as the cicadas sang their dissonant song. Then a brilliant idea sprang into her mind.

  “I know how you can make it up to me. Promise you won’t compete in the bull riding.”

  Anger clouded his face. “You’re okay with Mason McCaffrey riding, but you think I’m too much of a wimp to ride?”

  Maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant idea.

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “Really?” He stopped the swing, glaring at her. “Then why don’t you want me to compete?”

  How could she explain her severe anxiety without making it seem like an insult?

  “Because you’re already injured.”

  It seemed like a good argument, until he answered, “Your brother once competed with a broken hand, and everyone said he was tough. All I’ve got are broken ribs.”

  “Go ahead and ride, then,” she said, hating the wobble in her tone. “Kill yourself, if that’s what you want. It’s none of my business.”

  “That’s right. It isn’t.” He turned his head, staring ahead, muscles flexing along his jaw.

  “Fine.” Acid churned in her stomach. It definitely wasn’t fine. “If your life isn’t my business, then mine isn’t yours, either.”

  He snapped his face toward her. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, you and my brother need to stay out of my business.”

  “You’re the one who pulled me into this mess last Thursday with that crazy story about us going to the dance together. All I did was try to make your lie look believable.”

  Guess that clarifies how he feels about me. No use baring my soul. Especially when it’s probably a fleeting attraction, instead of love.

  “You’re officially off the hook. We’ll tell everyone we’re not dating.”

  “And what about McCaffrey?”

  “Not your problem. I shouldn’t have made up that crazy story.” She sat forward, preparing to escape before she blurted out something she would regret.

  “Wait! Don’t go.” His hand touched her arm. “I’m sorry I said that.”

  “No need to apologize. It’s the truth.”

  “No, it’s not.” He cleared his throat, swallowing audibly. “The truth is… when that whole fiasco started, I was on my way to ask you to the dance.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. What was he saying? Then she remembered his motivation.

  “I don’t need a date to the dance. Tell Nick I can take care of myself.” Blinking at unexplained tears, she surged out of the swing, aiming her feet toward the stables.

  But Cord followed on her heels, albeit with a few moans of pain. “It had nothing to do with Nick. I was planning to invite you because I like you.”

  Stunned, she stopped in her tracks, and he moved to stand in front of her. The air grew so thick, she couldn’t get it into her lungs. With shallow breaths, she studied his well-worn boots, mostly to avoid his gaze.

  “It’s possible I actually wanted you to ask me.” Her pulse raced. Had she actually said that out loud?

  “How possible is possible?”

  “I’m guessing seventy percent. Maybe seventy-one.”

  His head bent low, and she spied his swollen smile. The scratches didn’t hide his dimples. “I’ll take those odds. They’re way better than my chance of making eight seconds.”

  His hand reached for hers, but she tucked it safely in her back pocket. “I can’t date anyone right now. Not until I graduate.”

  He made a strangled sound. “That’s almost a year from now.”

  She risked a quick glance and saw him push his hand through his dark hair, his brows bent with frustration.

  “We could be friends.” She tried to make it sound like a great compromise.

  “Friends.” He rubbed the scruff of beard on his face. “Does your definition of friends include kissing?”

  “No,” she choked, swallowing a lump of air.

  “How about dinner? Walks? Horse rides? Picnics?”

  His boots scooted closer, and she took a step back.

  “That sounds an awful lot like dating.”

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “I’ve done all those things with friends. Haven’t you?”

  “I guess so.”

  “What if I bought you an ice cream bar? Right now?”

  A grin fought its way onto her face. “Then I might like you seventy-two percent.”

  His hand beckoned again. “We can hold hands. Friends do it all the time.”

  “I don’t think we should.” His touch affected her too much. She might lose control.

  “It’ll keep McCaffrey off your back.” His enticing fingers wiggled.

  Against her better judgment, she slipped her hand into his large, masculine grasp, straining to remain still when sparks shot through her nerves. His hand tugged, leading her toward the ranch store, their boots crunching the oak tree acorns along the path.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said, as he limped along beside her. “I lied.”

  “About what?”

  “I was never sorry about kissing you.”

  Her mouth opened, ready to spout a sharp comeback, but not a single thing came to mind.

  7

  “It’s called Orange Zest. I know it feels weird, but I think you’re going to love it. It makes you look very bright and cheery.”

  No reply came from Jessica’s toes, wedged apart with a blue foam separator.

  “You probably don’t remember, but you wore it all the time last summer. I’ve been neglecting you since you’re almost always hidden in boots.”

  Pressed for time, Jess tried to rush on the next foot, painting a bit more than the nail on her big toe. She used a tissue to rub off the excess, but it left the skin discolored.

  “Great—now you look injured, and I don’t have any polish remover.”

  She could borrow some remover from her grandmother, but then she’d get a thorough inquisition about why she was painting her toenails. She was hoping to sneak out of the house without being seen. Living in the main house, rather than the bunk room with the other staffers, had major advantages, like the entire upstairs to herself, along with access to the upstairs wraparound screen porch. But along with a private bedroom, p
rivate bathroom, and private breakfast came a not-so-private social life. “Sorry, toe. You’re just going to have to be orange, like your nail.”

  Jess stood and hobbled to the bed, where she’d laid her outfit for the evening—one of only two dresses she’d included in her hurried packing for the summer at the dude ranch. Though she was excited about going to dinner at The Cabernet, the nicest restaurant in Sage Valley, she worried it was a bad idea to do something so date-like. It was one thing to eat ice cream together. She’d insisted on buying one for him the next day, to cement the friendship aspect of the relationship. They’d finished out the week with a daily ice cream bar, alternating who picked up the tab. But she didn’t have the funds to reciprocate in kind for a dinner like this.

  “I have more money, so I can afford a nice dinner,” Cord had argued, as he pulled the wrapper down on his ice cream sandwich. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  She should’ve turned him down when he invited her that morning, but a chance to eat at her favorite restaurant was too tempting.

  “It makes me nervous,” she’d said, coughing as she moved to her left, giving a blessed inch of separation between their legs as they sat on the iron bench under the tree in front of the general store.

  An impudent smile had slid onto his face, a bit crooked from the lingering swelling on his lip. “Nervous looks cute on you.”

  His hand had lifted, moved slowly toward her face, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture had felt so intimate, her cheeks had burned, along with something deep in her gut. She’d licked the outside of her fudgesicle to catch a drip and taken a bite, with a vain hope it would cool her off, inside and out.

  “Don’t touch me like that.” Her objection had sounded ridiculous. After all, they’d held hands each day when walking to their ice cream outings, even though Mason was no longer acting aggressive. Jess gave a lame explanation. “It tickles.”

  His mouth had twitched, and she’d wondered if he was somehow reading her mind. He’d leaned closer, his warm breath feathering her ear. “Would you rather I kissed you?”

  “No,” she’d lied, her grip tightening on her fudgesicle stick. “We’re friends, only. You promised not to push me.”

  “I never said anything about pushing you. My exact words were I promise not to kiss you.” Then his brows had waggled behind his glasses. “But I didn’t promise to resist if you decide to kiss me.”

  She’d gulped a lump of air. “Then I think we shouldn’t go to The Cabernet tonight.”

  “Does that mean my plan is working? Are you afraid if we go out to a nice dinner, you won’t be able to stop yourself? One bite of juicy end-cut prime rib and you’ll lose control and throw your arms around my neck and kiss me senseless?”

  “No, of course not—” She’d stopped, as his words sunk in. “End-cut prime rib?”

  “You told me it was your favorite. I called yesterday and paid in advance so they would save it for you.”

  Her mouth had watered. He’d gone to a great deal of trouble to ensure she would get one of the two end pieces off the prime rib. Had anyone ever gone to such lengths to please her before? Certainly not Parker. It would’ve been rude to turn Cord down when he’d made such a sweet gesture, right? She’d just have to make sure they sat on opposite sides of the table so there was no inadvertent contact between them.

  She stared into the mirror and shook her finger at her eager-eyed reflection. “Tonight must be completely platonic. No flirting. And definitely no kissing. If the thought even crosses your mind, think about something else, like… going to the dentist!” A great big needle and the whir of the drill ought to chase away any thoughts of locking lips with Cord.

  With that settled in her mind, she hurried to finish getting ready. At least she’d managed to talk Holden into leading the evening trail ride so she had time to shower and shave her legs. She donned the green sundress, lamenting that her arms had turned dark, despite religious use of sunblock. “White shoulders, tanned arms, and an orange toe. At least I’ll be colorful.”

  Her grandparents’ voices drifted from the family room up the stairwell as she tiptoed down, in hopes of escaping unnoticed. Two steps from the bottom, the board under her foot emitted a loud creak.

  Heat flashed up Jessica’s neck the moment her grandmother’s head turned, her sharp gaze zeroing in.

  “You’re all dressed up tonight,” Nanna said. “Where are you headed?”

  “Just out with friends, Nanna.” Jess moved off the stairs and continued toward the kitchen.

  “Would that friend happen to be Cord Dennison? I heard the two of you are dating, now.”

  With a groan, Jess returned to the family room. She perched in a chair opposite the couch, her hopes of a quick conversation dashed when Bucky clicked off the television, to give Jess his undivided attention, along with Nanna.

  “Cord and I aren’t dating. We’re only friends.”

  “Hmmm.” Nanna wore an expression like she was talking to a snake-oil salesman. “That’s not what Mason McCaffrey told us.”

  “What is he, a middle-schooler? Tattling to my grandparents just because he’s jealous?”

  “Actually, he assumed you’d already told us.” Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “He and one of the summer staffers came by to let us know they were dating and to sign a policy awareness form.”

  “Oh.” Her bluster gone, Jess scrunched her polish-adorned toes, still resenting the intrusion. “I kind of forgot about the employee dating policy thing. Besides, we really are keeping it in the friend zone.”

  “Even so, if the two of you are spending time alone together, you need to sign the form,” said Bucky. “I just happen to have one right here.”

  Bucky handed her a piece of paper, and she read the title. Sexual Harassment Awareness Form. She was quite certain thinking about this form while she was with Cord would cool her off about as well as thinking about the dentist.

  “But you don’t have to tell us anything else about your life,” Nanna said, stiffly. “Though it might be nice to know if you’ll be coming in really late, since I’m a light sleeper.”

  Bucky coughed, smiling behind his hand.

  “What?” Nanna snapped. “I am a light sleeper.”

  “You could sleep through a twenty-one-gun salute,” said Bucky, with a chuckle.

  Jess knew her grandmother’s feelings were hurt. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about Cord, Nanna, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing. We’re going out as friends, and that’s all.”

  Nanna’s stony expression softened. “You just need to listen to your heart, Jess.”

  “That’s what got me engaged to Parker. This time, I’m listening to my head, and my head is telling me, absolutely no dating.”

  Cord slid around the turn in a spray of dust and gravel and came to a stop in front of the Buchanan’s white clapboard house. He hadn’t intended to be late, but he’d been halfway back to Sage Valley Ranch when he realized he’d forgotten his deodorant. Returning to apply the protection had cost an extra fifteen minutes, but he wouldn’t have dared the date without it.

  He leapt from the truck, ignoring the searing pain in his left knee, and hurried up the stone path, hoping his deodorant was up to the task. He was almost as nervous about talking to Jessica’s grandparents as he was about the date. Not that Jessica called it a date, but that was his intent.

  Tonight, he would show her his sophisticated side. Despite growing up in a small country community, Jessica liked big cities, now. If Jess liked big city life, he would show it to her, right there in Sage Valley.

  He, of all people, could understand the appeal of the city. Hadn’t he been living out his dream in New York City for the past nine years? And the door wasn’t closed, yet. Finn was still determined to keep him at Phantom Enterprises.

  But every day he heard his father’s haunting question. “Son, I just want to know one thing, and I can die in peace. Are you happy?
”

  When his dad first asked the question, Cord had been shaken to the core. Not because his dad asked it, but because it was the first time he’d ever seen his dad cry. Cord had assured him he was happy. He had everything he’d ever wanted. A successful career. The respect of his peers. A bright future in an exciting city. Lots of friends. A great life.

  Yet Cord saw his parents’ friends, who brought food, sat at the hospital, took over the work on the ranch, raised money to help with hospital bills, and wept with the family when his father finally died. It seemed something about the small community of Sage Valley drove the bonds of friendship deeper. What Cord had once viewed as people being-in-your-business, he now saw as compassion and caring.

  He couldn’t help wondering what he’d been running from nine years ago. And his father’s question echoed unanswered in his head.

  Cord limped up the steps, still favoring his sore knee. Clad in a custom-tailored suit, he ought to feel confident in his appearance. But even though he’d opted to forgo the sling on his arm, he couldn’t look too sophisticated sporting a black eye.

  He knocked on the door, surprised when Jess answered with an anxious expression.

  “Hi, Cord. I—” Her jaw dropped. “Wow, you look great.” Her hands smoothed her dress down. “I think I’m underdressed.”

  His gaze dropped, taking in the pretty dress and the shapely calves it exposed. “No. You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  She graced him with a shy smile, pink rising to her cheeks. Then she whispered, “I hate to ask, but can you come in for a minute?”

  “Sure. I’ve got something for your grandfather.” He whipped the folded papers from his coat pocket. “You’re going to need to fill one of these out, too. It’s kind of awkward, but Sage Valley Ranch requires us to—”

  “Sign a Sexual Harassment Awareness form,” she finished with him. “I know. I just did it. Signed it with my own blood.”

  He laughed, relieved someone else had broken the news to her. “I used ink. Hope it’s still valid.”

  As he entered, Bucky stood to greet him, his brows rising as he looked him over. “Evening, Cord. Is this how you New Yorkers dress?”