by Dawn Atkins
Yeah, right, Max thought. A former accountant was supposed to show her how the ranch worked. Hell, he barely knew how his horse worked.
"Like, for example, what's this for?" Lacey asked, holding up a long looped piece of leather. He had no clue what it was. But he couldn't let her know that. "Uh, that's a bridle deal."
"Deal? That a technical term?"
"Never mind. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Absolutely. Which horse should I ride?"
Oh, God. He couldn't think of a reason to turn her down. At least on horseback, she'd be out of kissing range. "You ever been on a horse before?" he asked.
"Not since I was a kid. But I loved it then. A lot."
"It's not as easy as it looks," he said. "You have to show the horse you're the boss and move with confidence."
"Maybe you can demonstrate for me."
"Right," he said. It was an even bet he'd end up on his ass when he climbed onto any horse but Seesaw.
He started to bridle Seesaw, but the horse gave him that look. She expected to kickback and take a snooze, or whatever horses did when they weren't working – shoo flies and compare notes with the other horses, he guessed.
So, he chose a brown gelding that looked as laid-back as Seesaw. He picked out the right-size bridle and the horse only snorted a little when he put it on and led him out into the yard. Max managed to get the saddle on and cinched down with a minimum of jerking and dodging by the horse. So far so good for his cowboy cover.
Now, to get Lacey on board.
"Can you climb on okay?" he asked her.
"It's been a while." She bit her lip nervously. God, that got to him.
"Okay. Step on," he said. He formed a stirrup with his hands.
She placed a boot-clad foot there, rested one small hand on his shoulder, reached up for the saddle horn with the other, and hopped up. And then back down. "These jeans are a little tight," she said breathlessly.
She leaned more fully against him – could she be pressing her breasts against him on purpose? If so, God bless her. She dug her fingers into his shoulder, wobbling as she tried to stretch her leg over the horse's back. No luck.
"Allow me," he said, and he put his hands around her narrow waist, steeling himself against how great it felt to hold her like that. He swung her high enough to get her leg over the horse's back and then she dropped into the saddle. Her eyes caught his and he felt that zing from their green depths.
She looked natural on a horse. The rodeo queen blouse was very feminine, the hat put a mysterious shadow on her face and her hair spilled out in pretty waves that gleamed in the sun.
She sat tall in the saddle, a position that emphasized how round and firm her behind was. The saddle horn nestled right against the vee of her legs. Right there.
His body declared how much he appreciated the sight. "You might want to scoot back a little," he said, as much for his peace of mind as for her stability. He wanted to yank her off that horse and into his arms and kiss that puffy mouth until it bruised.
As if reading his mind, her horse swung its head and whapped Max so hard he took a step backward. Whoever said horses were dumb?
Now he needed a horse. Back in the stable, he did a quick eeny-meeny-miny-mo and settled on a red-brown horse a little taller than Seesaw, who looked nice.
With hardly any trouble, he slipped a bridle on and slid the bit in the horse's mouth. It only required a minor adjustment and a modest tug-of-war to get him out of the stable. Max looped the reins around the fence post and went for a saddle, but when he got back, his horse seemed to be picking a fight with Lacey's, nosing it and whinnying.
Lacey's horse jerked to the side. Lacey yelped.
"Hang on," he said, yanking his horse away. "Keep your hips loose and move with the horse." But Lacey didn't need any advice about how to move those hips. She rocked nicely in that smooth leather saddle. Mmm, he sure would like some of that action.
When he went to saddle his horse, he saw the reins had slipped off the fence, so the creature was loose. It decided to play tag, so he ended up chasing it around the paddock with the saddle until it stopped to snuffle the business end of Lacey's horse. At that point, he slapped on the saddle, did a quick cinch job and climbed aboard.
"Don't you want that more snug?" Lacey asked, indicating his saddle.
"It's fine," he said. "Let's get going."
"What are you up to there, McLane?" Buck drawled from the fence. "Howdy, Miss Lacey." He tilted his hat at her.
"Hi, Buck," she said.
"What brings you to the Rockin' W? I haven't seen you around here since you were little."
"Max is going to take me on a horseback tour of the ranch."
"Oh, is he now?" Buck's leather-brown face creased into a grin.
"Unless you need me around here," Max said eagerly.
"Oh, no. You go on now and have fun." Buck bent to pick up Max's fallen hat and leaned out to hand it to Max, speaking quietly for Max's ears only. "You're riding Starfire. He's a lazy cuss, who likes to scrape riders off under tree branches, so watch yourself."
Max nodded.
"You're in good hands, Miss Lacey," Buck said. "McLane's one of my best men." Buck winked at Max. He was one of his only men. "Be sure and get his ideas on cost-saving and such."
"Oh, I will," Lacey said.
Buck chuckled and shook his head.
"Shall we go?" Lacey asked. She turned her horse and urged it into a trot with an efficient maneuver of her reins.
After a few seconds of wordless struggle, Max managed to get Starfire to do the same at a do-I-have-to pace. This was going to be a long afternoon, he could tell already.
* * *
An hour later, Max lay on the sofa in Lacey's trailer, wearing an ice-filled bag Lacey had insisted on putting on his head.
"It wasn't your fault, Max. I mean the horse was trying to scrape you off. You had to shift to the side."
"Yeah, and if I'd tightened the girth after we got out of the gate, the saddle wouldn't have slid," he said. "They always puff out their rib cages when you saddle them."
"Still, it could happen to any cowboy. How's your head?"
"It's fine. It's a small bump, that's all. I don't even need this ice pack."
"Just leave it there. We want to keep the swelling down. You don't feel sleepy, do you? That's a due that you've had a concussion. Let me look into your eyes."
They were so brown, so deep, she wanted to melt into them. But she forced herself to examine his pupils to see if they were equally dilated. Dark spots in the middle of brown velvet, they seemed okay – soft yet so intense… Stop that, Lacey.
"Let me get something for your cheek," she called to him as she headed to the bathroom for some medicine.
"It's just some scrapes," he called back. "Forget it."
Max sure seemed to get hurt a lot around her. He'd banged his hand changing the oil, nearly threw up in the diner, collected not a few handyman wounds and now had fallen off his horse. She hoped she wasn't some kind of jinx for him.
She hurried back into the living room with her supplies and sat next to him, her knees brushing his sides pleasantly. At least nursing him gave her a legitimate reason to get so close.
"I had a great time on the ranch," she said, dipping a swab into the peroxide. "I can see why you like working outdoors. Fresh air, exercise, working with the cattle. You did a good job fixing that fence post."
"You said it was crooked." He smirked at her.
"Just a tad. And then, you got that calf out of that rock crevice. That was so great." She dabbed the scrapes on both cheeks with the swab.
"You're killing me, Lacy," Max said.
"It's just a little peroxide, for crying out loud."
"I don't mean that," he said huskily, taking the hand with the cotton swab in both of his work-roughened ones. His eyes locked with hers.
Warmth shot from her fingers down to her toes. "Oh. I see." Boy, did she. At last here was the part of the movi
e where the heroine fixed up the hero, their eyes meet and poof, love scene! Any second they'd be kissing as peroxide fumes and sexual heat rose around them. Her bed was just a few feet away. Or they could stay right here on the sofa. Max was already lying down. She felt like she'd just cranked her way to the top of the first bill on a roller coaster, anticipating the downward whoosh and thrill. Here we go…
Before she could even moisten her lips, Max sat up and his mouth met hers, hot and strong, even better than after the kitchen sink geyser. She tilted slightly to give him better access to her mouth. His kiss felt so good, so right. Like magic. Their tongues had finally touched and it was hot heaven when ice-cold plastic suddenly came between them. The ice bag had slid from Max's head to their noses.
They pulled apart and the ice bag fell to Max's lap. Lacey pushed it to the floor. The last place she wanted iced was Max's lap. She leaned in to pick up where they'd left off, but Max pulled away. "We can't do this. Lacey." Heat flamed in his dark eyes, contradicting his words. He was practically panting. So was she.
"Sure we can. Why can't we?" She ticked off his previous objections on her fingers. "I'm not drunk. We both agree this is just a casual thing and I just told you how much I enjoy your world. So, what's the problem?" She closed her eyes and leaned in for more kissing.
She felt him hesitate, then he breathed, "Oh, hell," and kissed her, hard and fast. Almost immediately, he yanked himself away. "I've got to go," he said.
"Why?" she said, dazed by the slam-bam kiss.
"I've got stalls to muck."
"Stalls to muck? What?" Her daze evaporated. "You'd rather shovel manure than go to bed with me?"
"That's not it, Lacey." He pinned her with a look, a world of hunger in his eyes. "If I stay here one more minute," he said, his voice raw with need, "I won't be able to leave."
Then he grabbed his hat and headed for the door, where he stopped and turned to her. "See you tomorrow," he said, his eyes lingering on her.
"Yeah," she said faintly, stunned by what he'd just said. "See you tomorrow."
Wow. Max wanted her so much that all it would take would be one more kiss and he wouldn't be able to stop. One more kiss. Okay, she thought, flopping back onto the couch, I'll take that as a personal challenge.
* * *
"So, how'd the tour go?" Buck asked Max the next morning as they shared coffee in the stable before setting off to check fences, round up stray cattle and distribute salt blocks.
"Fine, I guess." Absently, he rubbed the lump on the top of his head. "I just wish you'd told Lacey that Starfire's name was Widowmaker. Would have saved me some dignity at least."
"You hit the dirt, huh?"
"Oh, yeah."
Buck looked at him speculatively. "I gotta wonder if you know what you're doing, son."
"I didn't recinch him after we got out of the gate."
"No, I mean with Miss Lacey. She's a sweet soul. She'd fall for a smooth line."
"I'm not giving her any lines, Buck. I swear. I'm doing my level best to watch out for her without, uh…"
"Thinking with your privates? Good. I know you'll do the right thing. Wade'd mow flat anyone that took advantage of his sister. Maybe stick to cold showers, son."
"Or ice bags."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Nothing." The ice bag had saved him yesterday in the trailer. Despite his best efforts, he kept ending up in kissing range of Lacey. He'd have to stay out of that tiny trailer and its convenient bed.
The worst of it was that if even Buck suspected something was going on, then it must be as obvious as the bowling-ball-size cherry on the top of Jasper's six-foot ice-cream-cone sculpture.
Buck studied him thoughtfully. "You know, Ray, from over the Red Arroyo Ranch, could pitch in around here," he finally said. "How about if you work over at the café full-time for a while. That way you can get in, get the job done and get out. Less temptation."
Max watched Buck's face. He did not want to let the man down. "That would probably be good, Buck. If you're sure you don't need me."
"We'll be fine."
"Then I'll take you up on your offer. Anyway, I know I haven't been much help to you around here."
"You did fine," Buck said affectionately. "You remind me of my son. He belonged in the city, too." He paused, bent to spit some tobacco into the dirt, then gave Max a speculative look. "You know, you might be able to help a friend of mine."
"How's that?"
"Riley Stoker's got a way with leather. And he's made up these everyday halters that don't cost much. They'd be real popular at riding stables and such, but he's got no head for figures. He needs someone to show him how to sell 'em. Would you sit down with him and look over what he's got?"
"I'd be glad to."
"Great," Buck said. "Now, why don't you load the salt blocks into the truck?"
Max headed off, grateful Buck had suggested a way to lessen the time he spent around Lacey.
Why the hell did he act like a teenager in the first rush of hormones around her? Even if she wasn't Wade's sister and he didn't have the job of supervising her, Lacey Wellington was not his type.
They were worlds apart, though not the way Lacey thought. Like Heather, his rich girlfriend from college, Lacey'd grown up with money and the unconscious security that went with it. Her family's wealth was a safety net for any financial tightrope she might walk. Max, on the other hand, succeeded or failed on his own. No one was there to pick him up and dust him off if he fell – though Lacey had been doing a lot of that lately with her trusty peroxide swabs. He could accept that – he almost liked it – but he'd never accept any financial first aid from her, or anyone else, for that matter.
He liked being self-sufficient and he wanted a woman who understood that and valued it. Lacey didn't act like money mattered to her, but Max knew it made a difference. It showed in the way she was chasing that crazy corporate dream.
Lacey was not the kind of woman he wanted, so he was at a loss to explain the intensity of his attraction to her – the way she stopped his heart, then started it again like electric paddles.
Besides, according to Wade, she was almost engaged. And, even if she had broken up with the guy, like she'd said, Lacey was not the fling type. Those green eyes were determined and independent, but they were also vulnerable. She could be hurt, and hurt bad. Max didn't want to hurt her. Nor would he allow anyone else to. For a moment, he wanted to check out this Pierce guy and see if he was good enough for Lacey. Something angry and heavy filled his chest at the thought of that corporate candy ass with his hands on Lacey.
On second thought, maybe it would be better if he never set eyes on the guy. He might go cowboy and coldcock him on sight. God, all this Wild West stuff was getting to him. Just the same, if he caught wind of this Pierce jerk bothering Lacey in any way, there'd be a showdown at the Not-So-OK Corral.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
"Lacey, I think it's time we talked."
Uh-oh. It was Pierce on the phone. She hadn't heard from him since they'd broken up and she'd hoped that meant he'd accepted her decision.
"You've had three weeks to think things through and now I need to see you."
Obviously, he hadn't.
Lacey uprighted the stool she'd been stapling zebra-striped fabric onto and sat on it.
"Nothing's changed, Pierce."
"Give me a chance to talk to you. There's a reception for the California guys on Friday. We can talk, then I'll take you out to Alberto's for Flaming Plan Fantastique." He paused. "Your favorite."
"I can't, Pierce. I'm busy here."
"You can take one evening off, can't you?"
"Not this Friday." In fact, she was auditioning bands for the grand opening, but she couldn't tell him that. He might tell Wade her plan and ruin everything.
"Come up here, Lace. I miss you. We're just suffering the strain of being apart."
"I'm sorry you miss me, Pierce, but it's for the best. I�
�"
"Come and taste this," Ramón shouted from the kitchen. "Now!"
"There's a problem in the kitchen, Pierce. I've got to run. I'll call you back." She hung up, wondering what more she could say.
The problem in the kitchen was that Ramón had gotten as temperamental and demanding as a famous chef, expecting her to drop everything and run to taste a new sauce, salsa or pastry. It would have been irritating if it hadn't been so cute, and the food hadn't been so good.
She headed to the kitchen, worrying as she went. She wasn't sorry to miss an awkward encounter with Pierce, but she wished she could be at the reception for the California guys. She felt a surge of envy that she hadn't been in on the negotiations for the California properties. She was out of the loop down here in this little way station. She'd gotten so carried away with the renovation, her long-term goal had slipped into the background. She should have been talking with Wade about the California plans, e-mailing him her ideas.
Oh, well. In six weeks, once she'd succeeded with the Wonder Coffeehouse, she'd have proven herself to Wade and she'd be where she wanted to be – in the middle of all the corporate doings she could want. She'd be up to her neck in flaming flan.
When she walked through the archway headed for the kitchen, she noticed Max at a booth with a weathered-looking cowboy. Both were huddled over her laptop, and Max was explaining something to the guy, who nodded. Next to the computer was a pile of what looked like bridles.
What the heck were cowboys doing with a computer? She guessed she didn't know much about modern ranching. Of course they had to figure acreage and feed costs, but still, she'd been surprised at how well Max had taken to her budget.
At that moment, the cowboy shook Max's hand, thanked him, gathered up his bridles and left.
Max looked up and caught her eye. He carried the laptop to where she stood by the counter, and set it down next to a bunch of papers he'd been working on.
"What was that all about?" she asked him.
"That was a friend of Buck's. I was just giving him a little help with … um, some math," he said, sounding uncomfortable. He picked up a pencil and tapped it on a paper. It was a very sharp pencil. Kind of anal for a cowboy, but then what did she know? The more she knew about Max, she realized, the less she knew about cowboys.
