The Cowboy's Secret

by Riley Knight

  “I hope you didn’t eat any of that airplane food,” the woman said, her vivid dark eyes peering at him from her round face. When Kyle shook his head, bemused by the way that she was bustling around the kitchen while still peering at him, she gave him an approving smile and a nod. “Good. I’m Anna Dempsey, by the way. Mary Anne is my daughter.”

  “Kyle Mercer,” he introduced, then felt a little stupid because she nodded and he realized that she had been right there hearing him tell Malcolm that.

  She didn’t say anything, though, just settled down a plate of rustic bread, slathered liberally with honey and butter. His stomach growled in appreciation, and he reached for it without even thinking about it, and for once he wasn’t thinking about how many carbs there were in something like this, he was just thinking about getting it into his empty stomach.

  The moment he bit into it, he groaned with bliss, his teeth crunching through the thick crust into the fluffy white softness within. He chewed and swallowed with pleasure and then shot the woman a bit of a look, wondering if she’d make fun of him for his enjoyment.

  “Do you like it?” she asked. “I just made the bread this morning, and the honey and butter are from local farms.”

  Homemade bread. It had been a long time since he’d last had anything like that. Or had he ever? The more he thought about it, the more he was pretty sure that he hadn’t, and nothing bought in a store could come anywhere close.

  “It’s incredible,” he told her fervently, and she gave him an indulgent smile.

  “I’ll have to do my best to fatten you up while you’re here,” she told him cheerfully. “You need some taking care of. You’re way too skinny. I bet I could count every one of your ribs if your shirt were off.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Kyle had to wonder. “I mean, you know that I’m just here to get your boss to sell the ranch.” It honestly wouldn’t have surprised him if everyone on the ranch had reacted the same way that Malcolm had.

  “Because you’ll never get him to sell,” Anna replied, her tone full of confidence. “You might as well try to convince the sun not to ride in the east in the morning. Or tell the wind to stop blowing your hair around. Malcolm is like that, a law of nature. Stubborn.”

  “She’s right,” a deep voice said from behind him, and Kyle turned away from his delicious bread to glance over his shoulder at the newcomer. It was the other ranch hand who had been with Malcolm earlier, the one who had been a fair bit nicer than Malcolm had. “You won’t get him to do a damn thing that he doesn’t want to do. It’s just how he is.”

  “Wonderful,” Kyle commented wryly, watching as the other man dropped down into the seat beside him with a smooth, almost feline grace, then reached out and snagged one of the pieces of bread and butter from Kyle’s plate with a sort of entitlement that Kyle couldn’t help but find charming.

  “Sorry, kiddo,” Anna said, and she gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his hand in a casually affectionate way that made a strange lump rise in Kyle’s throat. He wasn’t used to being touched like that, but she did it like it was nothing.

  “It’s still my job,” he replied. It wasn’t great news that all of these people thought that he didn’t have a hope in hell of swaying Malcolm, but that didn’t change that he was going to have to try. “He might be stubborn but so am I. You shouldn’t count me out.”

  “Logan, please,” Anna protested, apparently not paying attention to Kyle’s words, like they were utterly irrelevant. Logan was reaching over to snag another piece of the buttered bread on Kyle’s place, and he gave a teasing grin that made him suddenly look about twelve years old when Kyle gazed at him in surprise.

  “What? I’m hungry,” Logan retorted, and Kyle couldn’t help the little smile that rose, unbidden, to his lips. In his world, everything was very serious most of the time, and Logan and Anna bantering back and forth was a refreshing change.

  Not that he should start liking these people. That would be the worst thing that he could do, given that he was, let’s face it, trying to screw them over. Only what was it that Wyatt had said? The ranch was going down anyway, so maybe he could see himself as just giving them the kick in the pants that they needed to move on.

  “Look, if you’re gonna be kicking around here a bit, I can give you a tour of the ranch later, if you want,” Logan offered. “Maybe even take you into town, such as it is. Probably won’t be that impressive to a big city guy like you, but if you’re curious …?”

  Kyle smiled, but he made sure to keep it tight and professional, not friendly, just civil. Almost remote.

  “Thank you, but hopefully I won’t be here too long,” he replied. There could be no doubt that Logan was attractive, with those enormous, broad shoulders and the most vivid blue eyes that Kyle had ever seen, but that was absolutely the last thing he needed to be thinking about at the moment.

  Even if it had been way too long since he’d last gotten laid, he thought—way, way too long. Chances were, no one here on this ranch would even be interested, though, and even if they were, so what? It would be wildly unprofessional.

  So then why could he still picture, with embarrassing vividness, the feeling of Malcolm’s body on top of his own?

  Logan left soon after, with a look over his shoulder that Kyle didn’t know how to interpret. He had work to do, he informed them, and that left Kyle alone with Anna, a woman he barely knew. At which point he realized, he didn’t have much of a plan.

  In all honesty, he had sort of hoped that he would come to the ranch, have a frank discussion with Malcolm, and the other man would have no choice but to admit that Kyle was right. He had hoped, foolishly, perhaps, that he would be able just to walk away, be back in Seattle, where he belonged, in less than twenty-four hours. It seemed that things were going to be a bit more difficult than that.

  “Wyatt told me that I could stay here until this is all sorted out,” Kyle said suddenly, gazing at Anna. With her air of maternal competence, she seemed like the right person to talk to about this.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” she replied, and it seemed like nothing could disturb her equanimity. “He’s getting desperate. I’ll show you to a guest room before I get started on dinner.”

  And that was it. No drama, no storming away in a huff, it was almost too bad that Kyle had to deal with Malcolm instead of with Anna. He had the idea that she would have been a much easier person to have this discussion with.

  “Thank you,” he told her and went to his car to get his bag for what was going to be a much longer trip than he would have hoped.

  * * *

  After unpacking, Kyle found himself at loose ends, in a house that might be large and comfortable, in a country rustic sort of way, but which wasn’t his home. He glanced around the room, but there wasn’t much to do there, so he found himself wandering through the house, looking at things.

  It was clean, the whole house, from top to bottom, but the signs of wear and tear were there, too. It looked like it hadn’t been painted in quite a while, for instance, and the carpets were worn down by the passage of many feet.

  All of which made him feel a little bit better. Malcolm could be living in relative luxury, if he wanted to, just by selling the place. Once more, he comforted himself by saying that he was doing the right thing. Only why did he keep needing to remind himself of that? He was normally much more resolute than this.

  And he was going to need every last ounce of that resolve in order to get what he was here to get.

  Finally, he wandered into the kitchen, where Mary Anne was sitting at the table, her schoolbooks open in front of her. She looked up and grinned at Kyle when he came in, a slight flush on her cheeks and her eyes bright.

  “Hey. Do you know anything about math?” she asked, and that was when Kyle found himself not nearly as bored.

  He did help her with math, and then history. He was even able to take a stab at helping her with her Spanish, although it had been years since he’d last taken the class hi
mself. But it came back, at least enough that they could struggle through it together.

  He even helped Anna when she cooked dinner, though his own skills were, to put it nicely, not particularly impressive. One might even call them nonexistent, but Anna was an excellent, patient teacher, and Kyle was inordinately pleased with himself when he lifted the lid of the pot to stir it and was greeted by warm, savory steam and the most delicious aroma he had ever smelled.

  So this was homemade food. It had been awhile.

  “Smells good.” Logan’s voice, getting familiar now to Kyle, came from the doorway. Flushed with success, Kyle turned to smile broadly at him and was met by an answering grin.

  “Kyle helped me make dinner,” Anna commented, and Kyle’s cheeks reddened more with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. But Logan seemed to take it in stride, nodding as he sidled over to the pot, reaching for the stirring spoon. But he was thwarted by Anna, who snatched the spoon away, laughing.

  Had he ever had such an easy, fun relationship with anyone? Kyle swallowed down a lump in his throat because something about their exchange touched him a little bit too much. And these were the people that he was going to have to alienate if he wanted to do his job. It was almost tragic.

  Soon enough, they were settled around the table, with more of that crusty bread and the stew that Kyle had helped to make. But there was no Malcolm, and Kyle noticed the look that passed between Logan and Anna and knew that it was unusual for him not to be there for dinner.

  The man was probably avoiding him, which was annoying, even if Kyle couldn’t blame him. He had braced himself for a fight, but at this rate, he was going to be lucky even to get the chance to fight with Malcolm. It might be hard enough to find a way to be in the same room as him.

  Just as he thought that the front door opened and Malcolm walked in. He looked tired, slightly red from the sun, and dirty.

  He also looked like the sexiest man that Kyle had ever laid eyes on. Just looking at him made Kyle’s cock twitch in his pants, especially when he remembered being trapped under him, and what an experience that had been. He would remember that for quite some time.

  Not helpful, though.

  Kyle straightened his shoulders when he saw the look that Malcolm gave him, as though preparing for a physical blow. He wasn’t the sort of person to be easily intimidated, though, and he kept his gaze directly on Malcolm, not exactly trying to challenge him, but not shying away from him, either.

  “What’s he doing here?” Malcolm demanded, arms crossed over his massive chest, lips turned down into a scowl which made Kyle’s chin tilt up defiantly.

  “I have a job to do,” he replied before anyone else could. “And your brother …”

  Just then, there came a sort of scuffing sound, shuffling footsteps, and everyone looked up in response. Framed by the doorway was a man, an older man, but one who had a strong family resemblance to Malcolm, just older and smaller, more wrinkled.

  “And who’s this?” The man might appear somewhat frail and wasted, but his voice was strong and firm, without so much as a quaver, and his eyes, exactly like Malcolm’s, were steady as the older man looked right at Kyle.

  “Kyle Mercer,” Kyle introduced automatically, his mind flailing around desperately but he flattered himself that it didn’t show in his movements. “I’m a lawyer, Mr. Hart, that your son Wyatt sent …”

  But he wasn’t given a chance to finish his statement, because the man gave a hoarse chuckle. Anna rose to her feet, her face impassive as she helped him to one of the chairs sitting around the table, and once he was settled, he turned back to Kyle.

  “So he’s sending in lawyers now,” the man commented. “I’m not even dead yet, and he’s trying to get his hands on my money. But Wyatt was always like that, way more city in him than country, God help him.”

  All in all, Kyle was confused. The only person who had acted like he might have expected was Malcolm. Everyone else seemed more amused by Wyatt sending him than anything else. They had even done their best to make him feel welcome, which they probably wouldn’t do if they thought he was any sort of threat.

  “I want you gone,” Malcolm declared, finally falling into his own chair across the table from Kyle and glaring at him like he was some particularly disgusting, diseased rat. “Now. Get the hell off my property.”

  “It isn’t yours yet,” the older man said and then offered his thin, frail hand to Kyle, who shook it gently. “John Hart. And as far as I’m concerned, Kyle Mercer the lawyer, you can stay as long as you want.”

  “Dad, you can’t be saying that you want me to sell to that asshole,” Malcolm replied, clearly surprised, only to be met with a stern, reproving glance from John.

  “That asshole is your brother, and no, of course, I don’t want the ranch sold,” John said. “But I’d also rather this whole nonsense be settled before I kick the bucket. So let’s have it out. We’ll see what Kyle can do.”

  None of which was a ringing endorsement, but Kyle was a little bit shaken by the whole thing. Somehow, he hadn’t expected to be face to face with Mr. Hart, even though he had known that he hadn’t passed away yet. He had assumed that the man would be in a care facility, and it hadn’t occurred to him to ask.

  Still, he had what he needed. He had permission to stay from the only person, he supposed, that could give it.

  Still, he found himself wishing that the man hadn’t seemed quite as amused by him as he had.

  FOUR

  Everyone in the world had gone insane, Malcolm was pretty sure of that. Why else would he be the only one who was upset about this son of a bitch, this lawyer, showing up to try to force Malcolm to sell the place?

  Other than Malcolm himself, everyone had been so friendly and welcoming to Kyle, but really, that was fine. Malcolm didn’t like the man, and he had no intention of pretending otherwise, not for a second.

  Malcolm didn’t sleep well. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, Kyle’s face was there, with those faintly mocking dark eyes and the full lips twisted into a wry little smile. In his mind’s eye, Kyle knew that Malcolm desired him and it amused him, just as it probably would in real life, he had to admit.

  Not that it mattered, because he was never going to tell the man. He wasn’t that much of a masochist. Still, he was undoubtedly grumpy as he rolled out of bed in the morning after too few hours of sleep, his eyes feeling like someone had dumped a huge bucket of sand right over his face so that his eyes were dry and burning. He needed coffee, post haste, but he also needed a shower to wash away the remnants of the bad night.

  Tugging on a pair of sweats, Malcolm went to the door and stumbled through it, yawning. Maybe the whole thing had been nothing but a bad dream, he mused to himself, not with a lot of hope but it would be nice. Maybe there was no lawyer, because even Wyatt, as slimy as he was, wouldn’t actually try to force his own family off of their land, right?

  Any comfortable illusions that he might have had didn’t stand up for long, though. Not when he, still groggy and vulnerable, went to open the bathroom door only to have it open seconds before his fingers closed around the doorknob.

  Malcolm was used to getting up earlier than the rest of the household. He usually had to wake up Logan, and even Anna would usually grab another half hour or so of sleep before she got up and put the coffee on. Malcolm would normally spend that time showering, getting ready for the day.

  So he couldn’t imagine, not at first, who could be in the bathroom. And when the door did slip open, a feeling of intense dread knotted his stomach.

  It was Kyle, of course. And a Kyle who was freshly showered, clutching nothing but a towel around his waist, his pale skin gleaming damply in the light that spilled around him from the open door. Kyle, more than half naked and vulnerable and sleepy, the only thing protecting him from Malcolm’s intensely interested gaze that flimsy, small towel clutched tightly around his slender waist.

  Under his clothes, under that suit, Kyle was small and slender, but
with surprisingly broad shoulders and that perfect triangle torso ending in a tiny waist. Malcolm had the sudden, utterly impossible urge to demand that Kyle turn around so that he could see what that ass of his looked like without all of those clothes in the way, but if the rest of Kyle was any indication, it was probably glorious.

  Not that Malcolm was into that sort of thing. Although it had been much easier for him to tell himself that when Kyle wasn’t living in his house and prancing around nearly naked and shimmering with dampness from the shower, he thought. When he wasn’t face to face with, and far too close to, the most gorgeous man he had ever seen.

  Kyle looked up at him, those dark eyes wide and surprised, and there was a veil that had been over those eyes before, Malcolm realized. A sort of care that Kyle took to make himself seem hard and tough and competent.

  Malcolm watched as that veil came back down over Kyle’s face, erasing the surprise and leaving a carefully bland, neutral expression. Malcolm found himself wondering if he had actually seen anything, but no, he knew that he had. He had caught Kyle in a moment of weakness that didn’t seem to be a particularly common occurrence, and damned if that didn’t make the son of a bitch even more appealing than he already had been.

  “Excuse me,” Kyle murmured, and Malcolm nodded and stepped back out of the way, but not far enough, he realized, as Kyle had to almost press against him to make his escape. Not that Malcolm had done that on purpose, he told himself, and he didn’t even look at Kyle’s retreating form to see if his hypothesis about the other man’s ass was correct or not.

  He very, very carefully didn’t look.

  Instead, he stepped into the bathroom, still warm and fragrant with steam from Kyle’s shower, pushed the door closed and pulled off his pants, groaning as the soft waistband brushed over his throbbing cock.