Taming A Texas Heartbreaker (Bad Boy Ranch Book 4)

by Katie Lane

  “I don’t.”

  “Great! Then you can move back in here and finish your book, and maybe while you’re here you could tweet about what a wonderful time you’re having at the Dixon Boardinghouse and I can take a picture of you writing away in this room or maybe in a rocker on the front porch or the gazebo in the garden and put it on my website and Facebook pages.”

  “Absolutely not. I might not have Faulkner’s dedicated fans, but I do have a few fans who are more than willing to travel hundreds of miles to see their favorite author in person. Which is fine for signings, but not while I’m trying to get a book finished. I don’t need any more distractions.”

  “Any more?”

  “I meant any.”

  “I promise I’ll keep people who show up away from you. Even if I have to stand guard at your door so they don’t disturb your creative genius.”

  “Are you making fun of me, Ms. Dixon?”

  “My daddy always says the best way to deal with people making fun of you is to laugh right along with them. If you can’t laugh at yourself, then you’re taking yourself much too seriously. If you’d lighten up, Mr. Sterling, maybe you wouldn’t have writer’s block.”

  “I don’t have writer’s block.” His eyes narrowed. “Is your nightgown on backwards?”

  She glanced down and rolled her eyes. “I was in a hurry to catch an intruder. So will you return to the garden room and post a few tweets about how wonderful your stay at the Dixon Boardinghouse has been?”

  He paused for a very long moment before he spoke. “And exactly what do I get out of the deal?”

  Why did she feel like his question was sexual? She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the melty way her body felt. “You get a free room to write in next to a soothing garden.”

  “I wouldn’t call your garden soothing. Every time I tried to open the French doors and work, I either heard you singing badly or talking to yourself.”

  “I do not talk to myself!”

  “Really? Because when I got up and looked out, there wasn’t another soul around you.”

  “Then I was probably talking to Roo or Granny Dovey.”

  “Who are Roo and Granny Dovey?”

  “Roo is a little rabbit that lives in the garden and Granny Dovey is my great-great-great-great-grandmother who haunts the garden. And yes, I know it’s weird that I talk to a ghost.”

  “Actually, I find the rabbit weirder. So we’ve established that your garden isn’t soothing. What other perks do I get for bringing in new business?”

  “I’ll bring you breakfast.”

  “And dinner.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Breakfast and dinner. But if you complain about either, I’m kicking your butt out again. And I’m not doing your laundry.”

  “What about kisses?”

  She stared at him. “W-W-What?”

  He smiled. “I’m teasing you, Ms. Dixon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some writing to do.” He toed off his cowboy boots and stacked the pillows against the headboard.

  “You’re staying tonight?”

  He turned to look at her. “Isn’t that the deal?”

  “Well, yes. I just thought you would need to go get your things from the Double Diamond.”

  “I think I can manage for one night without my toothbrush. I’ll text Holden and let him know I won’t be coming back tonight.” He laughed. “I’m sure he’ll think he was right and I’m having a relationship with a sweet little Simple gal.” He paused. “And technically, I am. At least a business relationship.”

  “So you’ll take some pictures of the boardinghouse while you’re here and post them?”

  He pulled out his cellphone from his back pocket and lifted it.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m taking a picture.”

  “Of me?”

  He lowered the cellphone. “Of course not. I took a picture of the moonlit garden behind you.” He slipped his phone back in his pocket before he moved toward her.

  He stopped so close that her body tingled with awareness. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he turned her and, with a gentle hand on her back, pushed her out the doors.

  “Goodnight, Ms. Dixon.” The French doors clicked closed behind her.

  She stood there for a long moment trying to get her wits about her. It was silly. Valentine Sterling was not interested in her and she certainly wasn’t interested in him. The kiss they shared had just been an accidental happening. He wasn’t going to repeat it and she didn’t want him to. But if that was so, then why was her heart beating so fast?

  She shook her head to clear it before she started back through the garden to the caretakers’ cottage. Before she reached it, Roo popped out from under a forsythia bush. The little golden-haired rabbit had appeared in her garden months earlier. She should’ve chased it out. Rabbits love flowers and are notorious for chewing up gardens. But it was so cute with its tufted ears and expressive brown eyes that she just didn’t have the heart. So she started feeding it the leftover veggies, hoping if she kept the bunny well fed it would refrain from eating flowers. So far, it had worked—except for the occasional Black-eyed Susan.

  “Well, hello, little friend.” She leaned over and held out a hand. Roo moved closer and touched Reba’s palm with its cold little nose. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a treat, but I promise I’ll bring you some yummy veggies first thing tomorrow morn—”

  The bush rattled and Roo quickly hopped off. A second later, Rhett Butler slunk out from beneath the bush.

  “What in the world are you doing out here, you ornery cat?” she asked. “You’re usually tucked in tight with Aunt Gertie at night.”

  As soon as the words were out, Reba grew concerned. She scooped up the cat, ignoring his hiss of annoyance, and hurried down the path toward the back door of the boardinghouse. She found Aunt Gertie sitting on the pathway with her walker toppled over in some rosebushes.

  “Aunt Gertie!” She rushed over, but her aunt waved her away.

  “Don’t go gettin’ hysterical. I’m fine. I just can’t get up.”

  Reba put Butler down and crouched by her aunt. “Don’t move. I’m going to call an ambulance. You could’ve broken something when you fell.”

  “I didn’t fall. I was worried about you and that intruder and got to goin’ a little too fast down the pathway and the damn walker took off and drug me down. So what happened? Did you run him off?”

  “Actually, it was Valentine Sterling. And I’m still calling an ambulance.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s my body and I’ll tell you if you need to call an ambulance. What was that man doing lurking around? I thought we were well rid of that Double Diamond boy.”

  Valentine appeared out of the darkness. “Not quite yet I’m afraid, Miss Gertie.” He held out Grandpa Dix’s Colt .45 to Reba. “You left your gun in my room.”

  “His room?” Aunt Gertie turned to her with accusing eyes.

  Reba quickly got to her feet and took the gun. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my aunt inside and make sure I don’t need to call an ambulance.”

  “I’ll help you.” Valentine leaned down and, effortlessly, scooped Aunt Gertie up in his arms.

  “What are you doin’, you bounder?” Aunt Gertie swatted at his shoulders. “You don’t manhandle a woman without asking permission.”

  “Would you have given me permission?”

  “Hell, no. I can walk just fine.”

  “And take away my opportunity to impress two beautiful ladies with an act of chivalry?” He glanced at Reba. “Where to?”

  Like her aunt, Reba wanted to refuse his help. The last thing she needed was to be even more beholden to Valentine. But it was awfully nice to have her aunt fussing at someone else besides her.

  “Take her to her room.” As soon as he headed toward the back door with her still fuming aunt, Reba untangled the walker and scooped up Butler. The ca
t didn’t look happy about it, but at least he didn’t hiss this time. As soon as they got to Aunt Gertie’s room, he jumped out of her arms and up into his spot on the window seat while Valentine placed her angry aunt on the bed.

  “You are just like all the Double Diamond boys,” she snapped. “None of you bad boys have ever taken a woman’s desires into consideration. You just do whatever you please.”

  “Now, Aunt Gertie,” Reba said as she placed the heavy gun on her aunt’s dresser. “Quit being so ornery when someone is only trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need help. I could’ve walked just fine by myself. You can sell that chivalry hogwash to someone else, young man, because I’m too old to fall for it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her aunt a slight bow before he turned to Reba. “She seems like she’s fine to me, but if you decide to call an ambulance and need me to drive you to the hospital or keep an eye on things here, just let me know.”

  She wasn’t used to Valentine being nice so it took her a moment to be gracious. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He smiled. “Ten o’clock on the dot.”

  As soon as his words were out, Reba closed her eyes and cringed.

  “Ten o’clock?” her aunt jumped in. “We don’t serve breakfast at ten o’clock. We serve it at eight-thirty, which explains why you’ve missed it the entire time you’ve been here. If you don’t want to miss it again, you’ll need to be in the dining room at eight-thirty and not a second later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winked at Reba before he walked out of the room.

  Aunt Gertie snorted. “I hope you’re not fooled by that Double Diamond charm, Reba.”

  “I know better than to be charmed by any man, Aunt Gertie.” But even as she said the words, she couldn’t help feeling a little charmed by Valentine’s chivalry.

  Before she went back to the cottage, Reba checked her aunt over to make sure she was really all right. Besides two scraped knees that Reba cleaned and put Band-Aids on, Aunt Gertie seemed to be fine. Still, Reba stayed and watched television with her aunt until she finally fell asleep.

  After turning off the television, Reba got up from her chair and headed for the door. She had just started to switch off the light when she remembered the gun she’d placed on the dresser. The last thing she needed was her aunt brandishing the gun at a guest who had broken one of her rules. As soon as she picked up the gun, she noticed the letter lying beneath it. The paper looked aged and worn like it had been read over and over again. The ink was faded, but Reba could still read it.

  My Dearest Gertrude,

  Being away from you makes my heart feel like its been stomped flatter than a plugged nickel. I think about you all the time and can’t wait to see your purdy face again and kiss your sweet lips. I got two more rodeos before I can head home to you. When I get there, I’ve got something special to ask you. Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I hope you’ve been thinking about it to. I haft to go now. Those wild horses are calling.

  Love Forever,

  Your Luc

  Reba stared at the words trying to make sense of them. Not that they were hard to make sense of. It was obviously a love letter. But she just couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that it was her Aunt Gertie’s love letter. Her aunt had never mentioned having a boyfriend. In fact, she had always acted like she could do just fine without a man. And yet, here was proof that she’d had a boyfriend—from the sounds of it, not just a boyfriend, but a man who loved her dearly and was going to ask her to marry him.

  What had happened?

  Had Aunt Gertie not felt the same way about the man? If so, why had she kept the letter? Her aunt was not a hoarder and only hung on to things that mattered to her. No, it was obvious she cherished the letter and reread it often. Especially if it was out on her dresser now. Which meant that she had loved the man named Luc. Had he hurt her like Billy Bob had hurt Reba? Had he acted like he wanted to marry her, but then only used her?

  Reba glanced over at her sleeping aunt. It was funny how a simple love letter made Reba feel a lot more sympathetic to her aunt. Being a mean, ornery old woman just to be a mean, ornery old woman was a lot different than being a mean, ornery old woman because the man you loved had broken your heart.

  She carefully folded the letter and placed it back on the dresser, then she walked over to her aunt and made sure the covers were tucked up to her chin before placing a kiss on her forehead.

  “I love you, Aunt Gertie. And we’ll do just fine and dandy without men.”

  Chapter Six

  Val woke to a tapping on the door. He stretched and then glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Ten o’clock right on the dot. He sat up and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He had only gotten around four hours of sleep. Changing the murderer to a woman made the story better, but he was still having doubts that this novel would be an improvement over his last one. His insecurities and self-doubt were really screwing with his head.

  The tapping turned to a hard, insistent knock, and he picked his jeans up off the floor and pulled them on before he headed to the door. The sight of Reba in her usual t-shirt and jeans with a flowered apron wrapped around her waist and an annoyed look on her face made him smile.

  “I know we made a deal, Mr. Sterling,” she said in a snippy voice. “But with a new guest checking in this morning, I don’t have time to wait outside your door for fifteen minutes.”

  “You could’ve come in. It wasn’t locked.”

  “I don’t walk into guests’ rooms while they’re sleeping.”

  “I’m not really a guest anymore. I’m more a business partner.”

  She gave him a thorough onceover, and suddenly he wished he’d taken the time to put on a shirt. Her gaze seemed to sear into his bare chest like a hot branding iron. “Another rough night?”

  “Not as bad as yesterday, but not as good as I’d—”

  A door opening down the hallway had her eyes widening. “Aunt Gertie,” she said before she shoved her way into the room with the tray and bumped the door closed with one full-figured hip.

  She listened at the door with her back to him, so close that a few wayward red curls brushed his chin. They were soft and ticklish and carried the scent of strawberries. And he loved strawberries. Especially heaped over soft, golden sponge cake and liberally coated with billows of sweet whipped cream. Or maybe what he would love was liberally coating Reba’s delectable body in piles of whipped cream—and then slowly licking it off.

  The image had all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. With no blood in his head, he suddenly felt like he might pass out. He reached out and placed a hand on the door to steady himself. Which brought Reba even closer. Especially when she turned around. Her plump lips were only inches away. All he’d have to do was slightly bend his head to capture them beneath his.

  “I’m sorry to bust into your room,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But if my aunt finds out I’ve been bringing you food, you’ll be out on your ear and there will be no way to save you.”

  He needed to step away from the woman. But he couldn’t seem to do it. His craving for strawberry shortcake was too strong. So he kept his hand on the door and took a step closer. Her t-shirt was just tight enough that he could see the outline of her bra and the swell of cleavage that spilled over the top. His fingers twitched. But this time, it wasn’t with the desire to write. This time, it was with the strong desire to strip off the shirt, cup her breasts in his hands, and press his face to that sweet swell of soft flesh.

  “And would you try to save me, Ms. Dixon?” he said in a low voice.

  Her eyes widened even more and he read all the emotions parading through their blue starburst depths. Surprise. Uncertainty. Fear. Desire. And then finally stubborn determination.

  She shoved the tray hard enough into his stomach that his coffee spilled and breath wheezed out. “You’re the last person who needs to be saved, Mr. Sterling. If yo
u’ll take the tray, I have work to do. I think my aunt is gone now.”

  He dropped his arm from the door and took the tray. What was wrong with him? Somewhere along the line a craving for carbs had gotten all tangled up with a craving for Reba Dixon. And neither carbs nor Reba was a good idea. One would screw with his body and the other would screw with his mind.

  Now was not the time to lose his focus. He needed to keep his mind on one thing and one thing only: producing a new bestseller. Because if he wrote another crappy novel, there was a possibility he could lose his readers. And if he lost his readers, he would lose his publisher. And if he was no longer Valentine Sterling, famous author, who was he?

  He turned away from the scent of strawberries and the sight of plump, tempting lips, and walked over to the table to set down the tray. “Thank you, Ms. Dixon.” He noticed the food on the tray. “Where is my poached egg?”

  “I’m not good at cooking poached eggs. I turn them into Ping-Pong balls. That, and I’m through making you a special breakfast. I don’t mind bringing you a tray of food, but it will be whatever’s on the menu. Today, it’s vegetable quiche and a cinnamon scone.”

  He turned to her. “I don’t eat carbs.” But he’d definitely been craving them.

  “So only eat the quiche.” She cracked open the door and peeked out, then quickly closed it again. “What the heck is she doing? It’s almost like she’s standing guard in the hallway.”

  He chuckled as he took a seat at the table. “She’s a smart woman. She probably knows you’ve been bringing me food and is just waiting to catch you.” He held his hand out to the opposite chair. “You might as well sit down.”

  “I don’t have time to sit. I have a to-do list a mile long, including cleaning the rooms, going to the grocery store, mowing the front lawn, and figuring out what to make for dinner.”