by Kadie Scott
“I’m your boss, now,” he said. “That makes things… different.”
Talk about dousing heat with a bucket of iced water. At least that was how it felt to Rusty. She also took a step back. “That’s right. You’re right. We shouldn’t…”
And now she was a mumbling mess. Terrific.
“It won’t happen again,” he said.
“Fine.” To end the awkward moment, she gathered up the plastic bags of food and handed them over to him. “Thanks for dinner.”
He paused, mouth open like he wanted to say more, but must’ve read her closed expression correctly, because he let out a short breath. “Good night, Rusty. See you tomorrow.”
She might’ve muttered a good night in return. Rusty honestly didn’t know. She just wanted him out of her room so she could die of embarrassment in private. She walked him to the door, locking it behind him.
Then she leaned against the door and touched her lips which still tingled from his kisses.
Hellfire and damnation. What had she been thinking?
She shook her head. She wasn’t thinking, because Will could kiss a nun out of her habit. That was what happened. Definitely not the best start to a boss-employee relationship. He’d been right about that.
She drew her shoulders back and pushed off the door. With mechanical motions, she went about getting ready for bed. From now on, it was professional only with Will. She was a strong, independent woman, so she could handle that.
As she turned off the light, the little devil who periodically popped up on her shoulder dropped by to laugh in her face, because her body still hummed with unrealized need for the man sleeping across the hall from her. She ignored the devil and shut her eyes.
*
Will spent the next days calling himself all sorts of fool and keeping his hands well away from Rusty. He hadn’t offered to bring her food again, either. Clearly, being alone in her bedroom had been a horrible plan. So he kept it professional.
He’d observed her working Mischief on Wednesday. On Thursday, she cemented her position at the top of the leader board with another fantastic run on Holly’s horse, which also put her in the short go. She sat with him in the stands to watch the steer ropers he’d trained in action, discussing the finer points of training horses for that type of work. She’d even hung out with him behind the scenes as he helped prep his bulls for their rides.
Will had wanted to tell every single cowboy who glanced her way to keep his dang eyes to himself. And there were a lot of them. Her red hair acted like a beacon, and the rest of the package was about as enticing as it got. However, he hadn’t needed to go all caveman and give them the stink eye, because Rusty took care of it for him. She didn’t seem to notice most of the stares, but when she did catch a more blatant one she’d stare right back with an expression that clearly said, “Move along. You have zero chance here.”
After a while, the guys had left her to her own devices, which seemed to suit Rusty just fine. Him too. Meanwhile, going on about his business had been harder than normal, thanks to the thoughts in his head.
Those were anything but professional. Because a crazy idea had taken root. One which he debated on an off nonstop as the rodeo went on. Even Chris and Jordan had noticed his distraction.
“What’s with you, boss?” Jordan had asked this morning.
“What do you mean?” Will asked.
“I mean a prime opportunity to sell the cowboy a horse just walked away, and you didn’t even notice.”
Will grimaced again. He hadn’t been paying any attention to the conversation with that cowboy. Hell, now that redhead was messing with his business. But he couldn’t seem to let go of that crazy idea.
The logical, no-nonsense part of him wanted to believe it was all about business. Rusty would be much easier to partner with than her father. If he could help Rusty in a very specific way—one that guaranteed her Rising Star—then, quid pro quo, she could partner with him. He’d give her better access to the Texas circuit. In the Midwest and mountain areas, not only would Rising Star get him access, but they could handle the transport and care of the animals more efficiently and on a larger scale than he was currently set up to do. More business. Win-win.
However, a part down deep he really didn’t want to listen to shouted at him, like hearing a tiny voice calling from the bottom of a well, that he might’ve fallen for Rusty Walker the minute he saw her ride, and that was what was driving this need to help her. Which was head over heels ridiculous.
Harebrained, his mother would call it. Still… the more he debated, silencing that inner voice, the more he thought it could work.
Right now, he stood on a rung of the corral fence, arms looped over the top as he watched her work with Maggie and her horse. In the distance, he could hear the roar of the crowd, the boom of the announcer’s voice, and the periodic music over the loudspeakers.
That was one thing about the rodeo life. The fans in the stands only saw the excitement of what was going on in the arena, but for the folks behind the scenes, most of the time was spent waiting. Lots and lots of waiting.
The last day of the rodeo and he had three bulls riding, as well as two of his roping horses still in it, and Rusty was riding Mischief, of course.
Barrel racing was up in half an hour or so, and Mischief stood quietly beside Will, hitched to the fence while Rusty and Maggie worked. Maggie claimed her horse was pulling to the left, and had asked Rusty’s advice. Which presented the perfect opportunity for him to observe how she’d work with potential clients and other horses.
Crud. No way could he pull off the strictly professional thing with her. He was hard just standing here watching her work the horse. Yet another check in the crazy idea column.
Granted, thanks to more than one cold shower, he’d kept a repeat of the other night from happening. In fact, if anything, an easy camaraderie had fallen between them. One of Will’s favorite people was his brother Cash’s new wife, Holly, because she was as horse crazy as he was. They could talk horse for hours. He found the same to be true of Rusty, who not only loved horses, but had spent her entire life around them and around rodeo. Hell, she’d probably learned to ride before she could walk.
Granted, he’d never once had the urge to kiss Holly, and in quiet moments sitting together or moments like last night when the Turtle had earned his highest score yet and he’d swept Rusty up in an exuberant hug, the thing between them made itself felt. Even now, he couldn’t keep his gaze from moving over her backside as she mounted. Hell, the woman had curves for such a petite thing. A fact he knew from firsthand experience, having run his hands over the indent of her waist and down those soft hips.
Get your mind off her ass. You’re her boss. Keep it professional.
With effort, he pulled his concentration back to what she was doing and saying. He kept quiet and observed for the half-hour or so it took the women to discuss everything, watching as Rusty cantered Maggie’s horse, Galant, then did a few slow curves around barrels.
After they wrapped up, he tipped his hat in Maggie’s direction, then found himself alone with Rusty and Mischief. She untied him from the fence and they walked slowly toward the stadium together, in no particular hurry. The horse’s hooves made a hushed clopping in the thick dirt, the sound turning sharper as they exited the barn onto the harder packed dirt between buildings.
“I like the way you work with people,” he said.
She laughed. “You thought I’d be bad with them?”
Will grinned. “No. But I’d say you’re a woman who doesn’t pull her punches. You seem to be a fan of straight talk, but, with Maggie at least, you temper it with patience and understanding that she might have a different approach. It works for you.”
She paused and he stopped walking to face her.
“I think that’s the first compliment you’ve given me,” she said. “Thanks.”
He crossed his arms. “If you wanted compliments, at least ones that don’t have to do with your phys
ical assets”—with monumental effort, he kept his gaze from dropping below her eyes—“then you should’ve picked a different business. Cowboys aren’t into spewing pretty words.”
Rusty laughed and rolled her eyes. “Duh. Still, that’s nice to hear.”
They picked back up walking. The air hung still and heavy, no breeze, and Will had to lift his hat to wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. At least this was a dry heat. In Texas, he was used to the added discomfort that came with high humidity. He’d be sweating a lot worse in those conditions. Still, that didn’t make the sun any less intense.
“I have an idea—” The words popped out of his mouth.
Dammit. He hadn’t even been thinking about his crazy plan right then. Had he? Or maybe it was all he’d been thinking about since the night in her room.
She stopped walking to face him. “Yeah?”
Can’t back out now. He gazed down at her upturned face—wide brown eyes gazing at him with vague curiosity, a stubborn chin, kissable lips, freckles. A face he wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.
“Marry me,” he said.
Holy shit. Now he’d gone and done it. The damned crazy idea was out now.
Rusty’s eyes flew wide. “Excuse me?” she asked in a voice that trembled slightly.
He could take it back, say never mind, walk away. Only he found he didn’t want to. He wanted her to say yes, the little voice inside him growing louder. This was going to take some fast talking. “Hear me out, okay?”
She seemed too shocked to respond either way, her mouth hanging open in an adorable way he bet didn’t happen often with her. He took advantage, breaking into speech.
“You want Rising Star, and the only way to get it is to marry. Why not marry me? I think the last few days have proved we could work well together, and it solves the inheritance problem.”
Rusty opened and closed her mouth a few times. Probably not a good sign. Then she scowled. Definitely not a good sign. “When did my father tell you he’d already approved of you as a candidate?”
He had? That was… interesting. “I haven’t talked to your father.”
“Yeah, right.” She turned and tromped away, leading Mischief.
Will caught up to her. “I mean it, Rusty. I haven’t talked to him.”
She stopped and swung to him so sharply that Will had to hop back a bit. “No?” she demanded. “Then what’s in it for you?”
She’d just laugh hysterically in his face and walk away if he said that she was what was in it for him. Hell, he was on the verge of thinking he’d lost his mind anyway. He hardly believed himself.
So instead he tried to appeal to her logical side, because he still had solid arguments on that side. “There’s no denying being linked to Rising Star would be good for my business, too. Access, transportation, care, and so forth. But how about this… we’ll draw up a document that says I get no part of the ranch when you inherit. And I won’t make any business-related deals with your dad, only with you.”
There, that should prove something to her.
Only, he also needed to prove he was in this for himself. He already knew Rusty enough to know she wouldn’t trust altruistic reasons.
Will cleared his throat. “And when all is said and done, we arrange a business deal that benefits both ranches.”
Rusty bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the dirt. “So, this would be what, a marriage in name only? And we’d end it after Dad—” She swallowed.
Denial kicked him hard in the solar plexus, but she’d run a country mile if he said he wanted a real marriage. “I assume we would need to remain married for a period of time after you inherit. And… I don’t want to worry my family and friends, so we would need to make it look real.”
That brought her gaze back up to his. “Are you serious?”
“As a preacher in church. Hopefully, after the initial shock wears off, during which we might need to convince a few people, we can just be friendly roommates.”
“Roommates.” She was starting to sound like a parrot. Shock? Or was she thinking it through?
“I looked it up. Wyoming doesn’t have a waiting period. We could be married before we go back to Texas. Present your dad with the certificate before we go.”
“Next up, folks.” The boom of the announcer broke over them. “Barrel racing.”
“Shit,” Rusty hissed. Then she glared at him. “You thought right before my final ride would be a good time to talk about this?” She walked on, towing a very confused Mischief in her wake.
He grimaced, but couldn’t take it back. He could only go forward. “We get along.”
She snorted.
“When you don’t suspect me of siding with your father,” he amended. “We both love what we do and could work together. And this arrangement could benefit us both in the end.” He grabbed her by the elbow and swung her to face him. “Those are as good grounds as any for a solid partnership. Making your dad’s last days… errr… happy and getting you your ranch while helping to grow my business justifies the means. Don’t you think?”
Rusty only shook her head. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
A high, slightly off-kilter laugh burst from her. “Hard to think of anything else,” she muttered.
He waited, staring her down.
“Fine. I’ll think about it. Mind if I do my event now? I have several thousand dollars riding on this, you know.”
“Okay.”
She turned again and he followed.
Behind the scenes, Rusty stopped Mischief by where several other ladies were standing with their horses, or already mounted. As the current leader after the first two rounds, Rusty was slated to go last.
Expression one of total concentration, as though she’d blocked out their entire conversation with ease, she flipped a stirrup up over the saddle and checked the girth, tightening it.
Mischief gave a groan and Will patted his neck. “Stop being such an old man,” he told the horse.
Mischief responded by leaning into Rusty who pushed right back then kept fiddling with the strap. “You big baby.”
Mischief let loose a long sigh and shook his head. Horses all had a personality. Mischief lived up to his name.
“You do a good ride, and I promise a couple of carrots and even an apple will be waiting for you when we get back to the barn,” Rusty said to the horse.
His ears flickered at the word apple. The goofball loved them.
Satisfied with her gear, Rusty gathered the reins and a hank of Mischief’s mane, then glanced at Will. “Give me a leg up?”
He kept his surprise to himself. Up till now, she never asked for help. Will cupped his hands and she put her knee in it, then he lifted and she swung her other leg over the horse’s back, settling in the saddle.
Together, they waited as the eleven other ladies made their run at the barrels, one at a time. Maggie, one of the first up, turned in a fantastic time, bringing her into the second-place spot overall.
He stayed quiet as they moved closer to Rusty’s turn to ride, knowing she needed to focus, something he’d already ruined, that she was probably trying to visualize her run. He kept a steady hand on Mischief’s reins. The horse knew what was coming and was already starting to dance, feet shuffling as he pranced in place, as keyed up to go as his rider.
Will settled a hand on her thigh, meaning the gesture to be one of support, but immediately regretting it as the warm feel of her taut flesh under her jeans registered. “You ready?”
She glanced over the other women, not even acknowledging his hand, as though she hadn’t even noticed his touch. “It’s a tough group up for this short go. I’ve been up against most of them at one point or another.” She shrugged. “Anyone’s game.”
Will nodded his understanding. “Ride it like I’ve seen you do, and let everything else go.”
Was he just making it worse for her? The glance she sent him was unrea
dable, but he thought he recognized a connection, like she realized he got it, that he was only talking about the rodeo. They shared this somehow, were in on it together.
“Yes,” she finally said.
Then it was all about the ride. They waited, Mischief’s feet moving more and more, kicking up dust, and Rusty having to take in the reins to hold him steady, until it was their turn. As it came closer to her turn, Will let go of the horse, moving to the side to let Rusty do her thing. She hardly seemed to notice.
“Our final rider up is our time leader after the first two rounds. Rusty Walker and her horse, Mischief Maker, have only been working together a short time, but have already proved themselves to be a pair to contend with. Rusty hails to us from… well, this is new, folks. Rusty is usually with Rising Star Ranch out of Wyoming, but now claims home with High Hill Ranch out of Texas.”
Damn, that sounded good. Like she was already his, even if the truth was so far from that wish.
Will was suddenly glad he’d warned Rusty about changing her info for the announcements. By the way her chin went up, he had a feeling if that had been a surprise to her, he could’ve thrown her off her game. Not that proposing to her twenty minutes before her ride hadn’t already done that.
What the hell was I thinking?
The announcer continued. “Looks like Williams Hill snapped her up to train his barrel racers. Let’s see what Rusty and Mischief Maker can do tonight, folks!”
The announcer finished his intro and with barely a flick of her heels, horse and rider took off like a whip had been cracked over them. Will found himself holding his breath as she rounded first one barrel, then another, up and around the third, and straight back to where he waited in the shadows. They flew so fast, Rusty’s hat was coming off, and she put a hand up to yank it down as they blew past where he stood.
She pulled Mischief up sharply, the horse almost sitting as he used his strong hind quarters to skid to a halt, throwing up dirt in his wake. Rusty stopped to listen for her time.
“And that’s a new record at CFD, folks.” The announcer came over the loudspeakers. “As well as putting Rusty in first place overall.” The crowd went nuts, clapping and whistling.
