Million Dollar Cowboy

by Lori Wilde

  His past was a lot to overcome.

  For most of her childhood, she’d lived just across the pasture from him, her family in the foreman’s farmhouse where Archer now lived. Ridge and his brothers in the mansion.

  Her family servants. His masters. Another divide between them.

  Except Ridge was something of an outsider. Not fully fitting in either world.

  As she grew older, and adolescent hormones took over, she’d grown acutely aware of Ridge’s presence in that big house across that patch of desert ground.

  Sometimes at night, she’d sneak up on the roof of the farmhouse with binoculars and watch for a glimpse of him through his bedroom window. Once in a while she got lucky and the curtains would be open and he’d strip his shirt off to do push-ups. She lived for those sightings.

  Oh, the midnight fantasies she’d had!

  The one day when he was a senior, she saw him sneak a girl in his room and her heart had been crushed when he kissed her. She’d stopped spying on him after that because she couldn’t bear to watch him with someone else.

  The music tempo changed, cuing her that it was her turn to walk down the aisle. She pulled herself from her memories, met Ridge’s navy blue eyes.

  He sent her a significant look.

  A hungry look.

  A sexual look.

  Kaia was so wrapped up in that look she stumbled, almost tumbled. Righted herself. Someone inhaled sharply.

  And Ridge sprang forward as if to save her.

  She didn’t need saving, but damn, in that moment, she wished she had tumbled so he could catch her in his big strong arms and hold her as if it meant something.

  Chapter 6

  After rehearsal, the group moseyed out to the front porch again, chatting, laughing, and congratulating Archer and Casey on their impending wedding. A red-tailed hawk circled lazily overhead, gliding on the current.

  Ridge stood off to one side, slipped on his sunglasses again, more for the incognito effect than to block the morning sun.

  Behind the chapel was a brand-new barn that had never housed animals. Archer had told him it had been built solely to host wedding receptions. Three hundred yards to the right lay his house. He had to wonder why Duke had picked this spot to build the chapel and reception barn.

  A dig at him?

  Or had the location been Vivi’s idea?

  He hadn’t laid eyes on the house in ten years, and he felt no sense of ownership. Couldn’t even figure out what had possessed him to build on the plot of land his grandfather’s trust forbid him to sell without his father’s and brothers’ permission? Probably some naive notion, that as the oldest, he would run the ranch one day.

  Idiot.

  The house was constructed of Texas limestone, with a wide stone porch and silver tin roof. Desert willows in the front yard landscaped with gravel, flagstone pavers and hearty, heat-loving plants—agave, aloe, bougainvillea. The porch swing had a fresh coat of paint. Someone had been looking after it.

  Ridge set his jaw, fingered the straw Stetson in his hands. Archer and Casey were talking to her parents, Herb and Nancy. Kaia and her sisters were in a huddle discussing the upcoming bachelorette party that evening. His brother Ranger was offering Lynne and her husband, Ned, a private tour of the McDonald Observatory. Duke was deep in discussion with Kaia’s parents about something he couldn’t hear.

  The toddler ring bearer was running around and between the vehicles, carrying a toy water gun, making blasting noises, shooting everything and everyone in sight. Including Majestic who was still hitched up to the post in front of the chapel, not far from where Ridge was standing. No one was paying any attention to the kid.

  Ridge settled his hat on his head, eyed the boy.

  “Pew-pew!” Atticus cried, zipping by and squirting Ridge’s dusty boots.

  Majestic flicked his ears, narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring.

  Uh-oh. Trouble.

  The kid swung on the hitching post right underneath Majestic, back and forth, back and forth. With a chortle, the boy dropped to the ground and crawled underneath the horse.

  Majestic cocked his back leg, the muscles in his haunches twitching, his nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing.

  “Hey!” Ridge shouted, running for the boy. “Hey!”

  The clueless adults turned to see what was going on.

  “The kid! The kid!” His boots churned up a flurry of sand, but it felt as if his legs were slogging through molasses. One sharp kick from the ornery stallion could cave the kid’s head in.

  Damn Duke for bringing the stallion out here. He should have known better.

  The adults stood openmouthed, clearly still not understanding the impending disaster. The boy stood directly behind Majestic, gazing at the big horse with his mouth open and his eyes wide, seemingly mesmerized by the stallion’s flicking tail. Ridge knew exactly what that slow, deliberate tail flick meant.

  Imminent doom!

  Ridge dove to the earth, shoving the boy out of the way just as Majestic did what Ridge knew the stallion was going to do.

  Kick.

  Hard.

  Majestic’s hoof connected with the side of Ridge’s temple and sent him flying flat on his back.

  The boy howled at being knocked down.

  The adults gasped and came running. Lynne scooped up her yowling son, hugged him close, burst into tears.

  Ridge blinked at the sky. Saw stars at nine o’clock in the morning.

  And moons.

  And rainbows.

  And unicorns.

  And finally, after an elongated minute, Kaia’s concerned face peering down at him.

  When Kaia came outside to see Ridge sprawled spread-eagle in the dirt, a red welt blooming at his temple, her heart catapulted into her throat and stuck there like cockleburs in Velcro. She’d been in the chapel talking to her mother about Dart, the new kitten she was fostering, but suspected she’d adopt, and she hadn’t seen Majestic kick him.

  His cowboy hat and sunglasses were flung several feet away, and a circle of people surrounded him.

  Duke had untied Majestic and led him away from the group. Archer was crouched beside Ridge’s head, Casey at his feet. Lynne stood next to Ned, clutching Atticus to her chest.

  “Ridge saved Atty’s life,” Lynne kept babbling. “If it wasn’t for him …” She shuddered, buried her face against the toddler’s head.

  Ned made soothing noises and rubbed his palm over his wife’s shoulder.

  Kaia paid no attention to any of them. She raced to her truck and got her medical bag. In two strides, she was beside Ridge, dropping to her knees and nudging Archer out of the way.

  She might be a student, but she was in her final year of vet school and the closest thing to a doctor within fifteen miles. Never mind that her hands were shaking and her stomach quaking. Ridge needed her.

  “Move back.” She spread her arms and shooed the crowd. “Give him some air.”

  Everyone shifted, clearing out.

  Okay. Good. She was in charge. Feeling more confident and in control, she took Ridge’s hand, patted it firmly. “Ridge?”

  His eyes were closed.

  “Can you hear me?” She squeezed his hand.

  He squeezed her hand in return. Strong, capable grip. Promising sign. “Yep.”

  “Can you look at me?”

  He opened the eye that wasn’t rapidly swelling, grinned roguishly. “Hey there, cutie.”

  The look in his eye, and his lopsided smile, shot an arrow straight through her heart. Good God, even laid out on the ground with a black eye, the man was a force of nature.

  “How you doin’?” she croaked, sounding like a bullfrog with whooping cough.

  “Great, now that you’re here.” The timbre of his voice was as deep and dark as his beard stubble.

  Seriously, was he flirting with her? Her pulse cha-cha-chaed. Or was he just dingy from getting a kick upside the head?

  The scent of his cologne drifted over her—a manly aroma
of leather, bay rum, cardamom, and sunshine that set her nose twitching. Bits of dried grass clung to his thick whiskey brown hair, and the eye he had trained on her was bright and inquisitive and way too naughty, as if he knew exactly what she looked like naked.

  And then there was that cocky grin, rising higher on the right side of his mouth than the left; a crooked, self-assured, never-mind-that-I-could-have-a-head-injury-come-play-with-me smile that unraveled her on a dozen different levels.

  “Hand me a flashlight from my bag,” she said to Archer, and stuck out her hand.

  Archer slapped the mini Maglite into her palm like a scrub nurse passing a surgical instrument to a surgeon.

  “This might be uncomfortable,” Kaia said to Ridge, “but can you hold your right eye open, so I can check to see if your pupils are equal and reactive?”

  He opened his swollen eye, immediately squinted it closed when she shone the light in it. The pupils reacted equally. A positive sign that he didn’t have a serious head injury.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “You know my name.”

  “But do you know your name?”

  He gave her a look that said, are you kidding me right now? “Ridge Lockhart.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Friday, June 3rd.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Silver Feather Ranch.”

  “Which horse did you tangle with?”

  “Majestic.”

  Ridge was oriented to time, place, and person, and he could tell her what happened, another encouraging sign.

  “Did you lose consciousness?”

  “It was a TKO,” Ridge said.

  She glanced over at Archer for translation and confirmation. “What did he say?”

  “TKO stands for technical knockout. Means technically, he’s out, but he didn’t get knocked out.”

  “And that means … ?” she asked, adding a sting to her voice. Men and their sports analogies.

  Archer chuckled. “He didn’t lose consciousness. His head is too hard for that.”

  “What?” Ridge protested. “You don’t trust my word?”

  “Stubborn as you are about admitting when you need help?” She shrugged. “Not so much.”

  “I don’t remember you being such a smart-ass.” Ridge was smiling at her, but he was watching her closely.

  Kaia bit down on her tongue. Wise not to show how easily he could push her buttons. “Can you sit up?”

  “Sure.” He popped up to a seated position. Instantly, he paled, the blood draining from his face, a palm going to his right temple. “Whoa.”

  She put a stabilizing hand to his shoulder, felt his muscles twitch beneath her touch. “Dizzy?”

  “Briefly. It passed.”

  “Take a few deep breaths.” She moved her hand, pressing it against his back. Felt the hard steady throb of his pulse. The man had the heart of a lion, big and strong and fierce.

  Ridge scanned the crowd. “I’m fine, people. Break it up. Go about your business.”

  “You’re getting a huge shiner,” Casey said.

  “Damn,” he mumbled. “It’s gonna ruin your wedding photos.”

  “No,” Casey said. “The black eye will make them. We’ll forever remember the day you saved my nephew’s life.”

  Ridge’s neck muscle stiffened. Kaia could tell the attention was making him uncomfortable.

  “Everyone, I’ve got this.” She made shooing motions. “Ridge is right. You all go on back to the big house. We’ll be along as soon as he’s steady.”

  “You need me to stay?” Archer asked.

  “Naw,” Ridge said before Kaia had a chance to ask her brother not to leave her alone with him. “Don’t let me spoil your day.”

  “You didn’t spoil the day,” Lynne said. “You saved my son. You’re a hero.”

  “No biggie.” Ridge shrugged, looked embarrassed.

  “You took a hoof for my kid,” Ned said. “It is a big deal.”

  “I did what anyone else would have done,” Ridge said.

  “Except no one else did.” Lynne hugged her son tightly and covered him in kisses. Atticus squirmed and giggled.

  “We’ll hold brunch on you two,” Casey said, wrapping her arms around Archer’s waist and drawing him toward the Suburban.

  Slowly, everyone drifted away to their vehicles. A couple of minutes later, it was just she and Ridge.

  “Are you okay?” Kaia asked more to fill the silence than anything else.

  “Why? Do I look that bad?”

  “You need to put ice on your temple, reduce the swelling.”

  “Good point.”

  Kaia rose to her feet, held out her hand to give him a boost up off the ground. The minute their fingers touched, a sharp snap of static electricity shot from him to her. Jarring. She sucked in her breath.

  His good eye widened, telling her that he felt it too. The second he was on his feet, he dropped her hand. Fine with her. She didn’t like that snap, crackle, and pop any more than he did.

  “I heard Vivi say your house is open and stocked with supplies. Do you think she’s got frozen vegetables in the freezer?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe there’s ice.”

  “May be.”

  “It’s a fifteen-minute ride back to the mansion and a short walk to your house. How about we give it a shot? I’m afraid if we don’t get some ice on it ASAP you won’t be able to pry your eye open tomorrow. Archer doesn’t need a best man with no depth perception. After we ice it, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  He hardened his chin. “Not going to the hospital.”

  She sank her hands on her hips. “You could have a concussion.”

  “I’ve had concussions before. This isn’t one.”

  “You don’t know that for certain.”

  “I’m not leaving the ranch. Casey and Archer are expecting us for brunch.”

  “They’ll understand.”

  He hardened his chin. “Not throwing a monkey wrench in their wedding plans.”

  “You already did. That shiner is gonna be epic if you don’t get ice on it.” She snapped her fingers. “Get a move on.”

  “When did you get so bossy?”

  “Sometime over the last decade.”

  “It has been a long time, Kaia.” He said her name in such a low, seductive way, it sent goose bumps dancing down her arm.

  She bit her lip and tried not to smile. He could charm the skin right off a rattlesnake. “Ice pack. Now.”

  “I really like this side of you.” He grinned. “Tough talking on the outside, but gooey on the inside.”

  “Who says I’m gooey on the inside?”

  “You don’t fool me, Braterminator. I know you too well.”

  “Then you know I hate to be called that.” Lie. When she was a kid she loved that he called her the Braterminator. It made feel like a superhero.

  “I could shorten it to ‘brat’ if that’s easier for you to work with.”

  Kaia snorted. “Don’t bother. You’re not going to be around long enough for it to stick.”

  “True,” he mused. “But if you let me call you brat, I might be tempted to stay a little longer.”

  “You are so full of hot air, Lockhart.” Ignoring her pounding heart, she scooped his Stetson and sunglasses off the ground, shoved them into his hand. “Your house. Now.”

  She spun on her heels and headed for the house, trying not to let him see how much his teasing got under her skin. Considering how loudly he was chuckling, she had to assume he already knew.

  Dang it.

  Chapter 7

  Kaia walked fast, but she couldn’t outpace him. He had longer legs and a more powerful stride. Ignoring the pulse pounding through his right eye, Ridge sprinted to catch up with her.

  Approached the steps he hadn’t trod in ten years.

  They reached the bottom porch step at the same time, but he sailed past to get the door for her.

&nbs
p; The door knocker—a lion’s head with an open mouth—banged loudly against the wood as he yanked the door open. Yep, he’d built the house without a doorbell. He’d avoided doorbells since he was three, and he hadn’t been about to install one in his house.

  His house.

  Although he felt no pride in it, no real sense of ownership since Duke had tainted it.

  He bowed low and swept his arm out, indicating she should go in ahead of him. “After you.”

  But in the bow, his head spun. Oops. Bad idea. He wouldn’t tell her he was dizzy. She’d make a fuss and insist on the hospital. He’d be all right. He’d had worse. Shaken off worse.

  Kaia snorted, stiffened her spine, and marched past him into the kitchen, medical bag in hand. He cocked his head, watching her hips sway, wishing both eyes were in good shape so he could fully appreciate the view.

  Nice. Very nice. He could spend hours watching that swing.

  She stalked over to the fridge, jerked open the freezer door, dug around, and found a package of frozen corn. She got a cup towel from a drawer, wrapped the corn in it, and tossed the package at him.

  He caught it one-handed, cocked his head, grinned.

  She dropped her gaze, hooked the tip of her boot around the rung of a kitchen chair, and scooted it out from the table. “Sit.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  “Matter of opinion. Sit.” She pointed.

  “I’m guessing you don’t have a boyfriend,” he teased, putting the bag of towel-wrapped corn to his temple and easing into the chair. The cold ice instantly soothed his swollen flesh.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “What makes you say that? I could have a boyfriend.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Why’s that.”

  “Most guys don’t like being ordered around.”

  “News flash, neither do most women. Normally, I’m not this bossy,” she amended. “But vet school and working at the shelter have taught me that when you’ve got a stubborn case, sometimes you have to get firm.”

  God, he was enjoying her. “You think I’m stubborn?”

  “Lockhart, a pack mule in the Grand Canyon threatened with a three-hundred-pound tourist wanting a ride to the top in August heat isn’t as stubborn as you.”