by Deb Kastner
The baby. In Slade’s haste to force the truth from her and find out what was really at the foundation of her actions, he’d forgotten that what affected Laney also affected Baby Beckett. Laney getting all stressed out wasn’t going to help Brody’s kid, and he didn’t want that to happen, no matter how frustrated he was.
She was right about one thing, although probably not in the way she’d meant it. He didn’t know if she was capable of running a cattle ranch, though he had good reason to doubt it, whether she had one business degree or a dozen. Most folks with ranches were born and raised for country life. He’d only seen her at that one rodeo where she and Brody had met, but as far as Slade knew, Laney had been one of those fancy rodeo princesses who wore lots of sparkles and waved flags around and whose only job was to sit on a horse and look pretty. Which, he granted, she probably did quite well. But she had to realize that wasn’t the same thing as wrangling cattle. Not by a long shot.
Even from behind a desk, running a ranch wasn’t for the faint of heart. So she had a couple of diplomas hanging on her wall. Good for her. Classroom learning wouldn’t cut it, not out here on the range. It was a tough life. It required a firm hand and plenty of understanding of what needed to be done. Even a task as simple as overseeing the wranglers could be a disaster with the wrong person in charge. The interview Slade had walked in on clearly showed that Laney didn’t know how to handle those situations. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. There’d be many more challenging and stressful issues she’d have to face.
That was what worried Slade the most. Even if the pressure didn’t directly affect the baby, and that was a big if—one which Slade didn’t want to leave to chance—it would eventually be too much for Laney to handle. If he didn’t miss his guess, she’d buckle within a week or two, pack up and leave town for good.
And then where would he be?
Out of Baby Beckett’s life.
Slade clenched his jaw to offset the ache that had opened up in his heart. That wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it happen. No matter what, he had to watch Brody’s kid grow up, be part of the kid’s life. He needed to be Uncle Slade, the fun one whom the child would look forward to seeing. Baby Beckett was all he had left of his friend, and he would be hog-tied and branded before he let Laney out of his sight and out of his life.
“Send those guys away.” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a demand, exactly, though he knew that was how it came out.
“Excuse me? Are you trying to order me around again? I believe we’ve covered this ground already. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
He sighed deeply, using every resource in his small arsenal to keep his cool with her. “I’m not giving you an order. I’m trying to help you here, and it would be really good if you’d just listen to what I’m trying to tell you is going to happen.”
Her jaw dropped, her gaping mouth only slightly wider than her eyes.
He took a deep breath and started again.
“You can send them away now, and good riddance to every last one of ’em. You don’t need to worry about this anymore, and you definitely don’t need the hassle of trying to work with any of those guys.” He didn’t even want to think about what kind of situation she’d almost put herself in. Judging by the looks of them—not to mention by the attitude of the one he’d spoken to himself—none of the wranglers waiting to interview with Laney came even close to what she needed right now. “If you’d rather, I would be happy to do the honors for you, only I’m warning you it won’t look so pretty if I’m the one to kick them out.”
Her mouth snapped shut and she shook her head. “Really, Slade? Clearly you haven’t heard a word I’ve said all day.”
“Oh, I heard, all right. Giving Grant a break. Business degree. Running the ranch.” He ticked off the list on his fingers. “But you aren’t going to need to interview any more of these wranglers to find someone to show you the ropes. Simple as that.”
She huffed out a disbelieving breath and arched one dark eyebrow.
“And why is that?” Her voice sounded more than a little bit acerbic. As if she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Oh, maybe she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Well. He could fix that.
He stood and braced his hands on the desk, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from hers, so close he could smell the fresh, clean woodsy scent of her perfume. Not that he noticed.
“Because,” he said softly, slowly, with every ounce of determination and certainty he possessed, “I’m your man.”
* * *
Miserable man.
Laney took the long way to the community stable in town where Slade had told her to meet him, enjoying a brisk walk to clear her head before heading in the direction he’d indicated. She couldn’t imagine why he’d need to spend any time at a public stable, much less why he’d want her to meet him there. Even before he’d agreed to help her learn the ins and outs of the ranching business, he had kept Nocturne on at the Becketts. No need to rent a horse, or find a place to ride one.
If he was planning to start educating her about life on her ranch, she would have thought that he’d want to meet her at her ranch.
Slade was her man.
Ugh. Two days wasn’t enough time for her to get over his incredible arrogance. She hadn’t liked the statement when he’d made it, and she didn’t like it now. She was beginning to believe no amount of time would diminish the intensity of the utter annoyance she experienced every time she thought of the stubborn cowboy. Slade was every bit as overbearing in personality as he was in size, and that said a lot, big oaf that he was. If she had any sense at all, she ought to have told him where to hang his offer—right off his beak.
She should have. And she would have.
Except for one tiny, indelible fact which she couldn’t ignore even if she wanted to—and oh, how she wanted to.
He was right.
As much as she hated to admit it, Slade showing her the ropes and helping her out until she learned all the things she needed to know to keep the Beckett ranch running smoothly made sense—in the worst possible way. And not only because she’d gotten a bad feeling from every one of the wranglers she had interviewed. Hiring any of them would have been a disaster. She couldn’t have trusted a single one of them. And while she couldn’t really trust Slade to be kind or compassionate or anything other than the overbearing boor that he was, she knew he had the best interests of the ranch at heart.
He was a friend of the family. For reasons she couldn’t even begin to understand, Grant and Carol trusted him implicitly and practically considered him their own son. It was no doubt a great consolation to them to have him around now that Brody was gone. Slade had worked the Beckett land with Brody when they’d been younger, giving him a unique advantage when it came to showing her the ropes.
Hadn’t he been checking their fences for the Becketts her first day back in Serendipity? She hated to admit she needed help, most especially from Slade, but his arrival that day had been a Godsend. He’d returned her to the Becketts’ house without incident when otherwise she might have—probably would have, if she was being honest—been hopelessly lost.
That didn’t make it easier for her now. She had to swallow gall just to consider what she was about to do.
Even though she was already feeling winded from the extra weight she carried in her midsection and the way the baby pressed up on her lungs, she picked up her pace to just short of a jog. She missed being able to exercise the way she used to prepregnancy. She’d been a regular jogger. Her morning runs were one of the few opportunities she had to get out of her own head and just be. She couldn’t wait to get back to it once Baby Beckett was born. But with the size of her stomach right now, she was well past running anywhere, and for now, brisk walking—which she suspected looked more like a wa
ddle—would have to do.
Working with Slade would likewise have to do. The man was infuriating on so many levels. It couldn’t possibly be good for her blood pressure to be constantly around him. And even that would be a potential problem. The thought made her chuckle. She could only imagine what would happen if she so much as hinted to the overbearing cowboy that his presence was causing her pulse to rise, putting the baby at risk.
Just kidding.
He’d be racing her to Dr. Delia’s faster than she could say boo.
After another minute’s walk she spotted the stable on the far corner of the block, located across the street from the park. She was getting her bearings around town and even becoming more used to the sounds and smells of country life. She didn’t know that she would have intentionally traded the conveniences of city life for Serendipity’s slower pace if she’d carefully considered the matter, but she’d made that decision sight-unseen the night she’d married Brody in a spur-of-the-moment Las Vegas wedding.
She would have followed Brody to his childhood home in a second once they were married had Brody given her any encouragement to do so, instead of renting an apartment in Houston as they had. And now that she was carrying his baby, she wasn’t about to turn her back on her obligations. The way she saw it, whether she’d come home with Brody back when they’d first married or now, without him and grieving for him, she would have ended up in Serendipity.
It was inevitable. She just wished it hadn’t happened in a way that left her feeling so alone.
Baby Beckett picked that moment to jam his or her heel into her rib, a sharp, active and very real reminder that she wasn’t alone—and that she had the most important reason of all to make her life in the country work.
Brody’s child.
She started toward the interior of the building but her attention was drawn toward a large corral where she saw a gaggle of teenage girls hanging over the side of a split-rail fence, clearly and quite loudly vying for the attention of whomever was inside. Probably some cowboy strutting his stuff for the poor, impressionable teenagers.
Some cowboy. She scoffed and shook her head, playing a hunch as she changed direction and headed for the corral. Slade was such a show off, especially to females. Even—or maybe especially—to the young, impressionable ones. And the old ladies who got a kick out of the handsome cowboy flirting with them. And women of every age in between.
Except for her.
It took Laney a moment to insert herself between two of the giggling girls before she could see who they were cheering for.
Her gaze landed on a single dark-haired cowboy and her smile dropped like lead. Her breath froze in her lungs.
It was Slade, all right. She’d expected as much. What she hadn’t been prepared to see was that he was crouched on top of a fearsome-looking bull, shifting his weight and adjusting the strap across his hand, which, as far as Laney could see, was the only thing between him and disaster.
Or death.
What was he thinking?
Had he abandoned all sense? He’d recently lost his best friend in a bull-riding incident and he was riding again?
What kind of fool even did that? He was certifiable. Crazy. Out of his mind.
“Slade,” she called, not expecting him to hear her over the chatter of the silly girls who continued to egg him on. The animal snorted and butted at the metal gate and Slade appeared to be completely in the moment, his attention solely on the bull underneath him, but at the last second he lifted his head and his gaze met hers.
Then someone opened the gate and the bull was loose.
Laney couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move at all beyond tightly gripping the fence, not even caring when splinters pierced the soft skin of her palms. She was certain her heart had stopped beating.
She remembered the first rodeo she’d been to, the one where she’d met Brody. She’d been impressed by the strength and athleticism of the bull riders and had been especially flattered when she’d been approached by one of them. Brody Beckett, with his fair good looks and charming smile, had simply swept her right off her feet.
Time stood still as Laney watched Slade. This wasn’t even a rodeo. It was a guy on a bull in a mostly empty corral with only one cowboy there to spot him. How would he even know when his ride was supposed to be finished?
More to the point, how did a man even stay on such an angry beast, even for one second, never mind eight? Slade made it look easy. With effortless grace and athleticism, he anticipated the bull’s every move and brilliantly compensated, even when the animal dug in all four feet and hopped sideways and backward.
After what seemed like forever, a buzzer sounded and the man spotting Slade pulled his horse in close so Slade could jump to safety, if that’s what it was. The way Laney saw it, he practically flew off the bull, seriously jarring his body when he landed on his feet and jogged a couple of feet to regain his balance.
Slade bent to retrieve his black Stetson, which he’d lost about halfway through his ride. He raked his fingers through his hair, replaced his hat, and tipped it in her direction. Or maybe he was acknowledging his little fan club. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.
Laney felt the heat rising to her cheeks as her breath returned to her lungs. Her heart, which had only moments before been a still, solid mass in her throat now jolted back to life and started beating with all the vengeance of a jackhammer.
Slade disappeared behind the high row of bullpens. Laney pulled her hands from the fence and picked at the sharp splinters, welcoming the pain to distract her. Better than thinking about what she was going to do to Slade when she saw him.
“Laney.” Slade’s rich, deep voice came from over her left shoulder and she stiffened but did not turn. The teenage girls’ chattering increased exponentially, sounding as if they’d gone from a few sparrows to an entire flock of geese. Laney watched Slade from the corner of her eye and was surprised when he didn’t so much as acknowledge his young fans.
Instead, he moved in right next to Laney, leaning a forearm against the fence and bracing a foot on the lower rail. The long sleeves of his dirty white Western shirt probably prevented him from getting the splinters Laney had received, but it would have served him right if he’d picked up one or two, or a whole log’s worth of them.
Feeling as if she were about to boil over, she refused to look at him until he nudged her shoulder with his.
“So, what did you think?”
What did she think? What did she think?
She whirled on him and let him feel the full force of her fury. Anger and grief and a surprisingly heavy dose of anxiety coursed through her as she glared daggers at him, clenching her fists as tension rolled through her.
This wasn’t about thinking. It was about feeling. And right now she was feeling—well, she didn’t even know. Just that he’d opened something in her that she desperately wanted to remain closed.
Unable to contain herself any longer, she reached for his chest and took handfuls of his shirt in her fists. At first she had the notion of shaking some sense into him, but the man was built like a tree. She could have pushed all day and he wouldn’t have budged.
Not unless he wanted to.
He wrapped his large hands over hers, completely encompassing them, but instead of forcefully breaking her hold on his shirt, he lightly brushed the rough pads of his thumbs across the backs of her hands.
There was pride striking back from the depths of his blue eyes, but there was confusion, too, and other emotions Laney couldn’t put a name to, which made her feel even more vulnerable than she already was.
“How could you?” she choked out. Slade’s gentle response had taken the wind from her sails and her voice sounded more like a sob than a demand. “How could you go back to riding bulls after what happened to Brody? Don’t you have any sense at all? Any k
indness in your heart, knowing that I’d be here—that I’d see? Did you even think about what I might be feeling?”
His features hardened and his brow lowered.
She knew what she was about to say wasn’t a fair question, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her tongue was lashing out with all the fury of a horse whip, her emotions a runaway train with no brakes to stop her from falling over the edge of the ravine.
“Never mind me—don’t you care about Brody at all?”
Chapter Five
Laney’s words were a direct hit to Slade’s gut. When he had invited her to meet him at the stable, he supposed he had had some backward, mixed up notion that she’d appreciate what he was trying to do. Serendipity’s annual rodeo was coming up and he was planning to ride—to honor Brody by competing in the sport that had meant so much to him.
And if he was being completely honest, he might have been trying to show off to her. Just a little bit.
Truthfully, it hadn’t even occurred to him how the situation might appear to her. Of course she was furious with him. She probably didn’t understand what bull riding was all about. She wouldn’t know it had been nothing more dangerous than a practice run and that he’d been riding far below his skill level.
All she’d seen was a man on a bull.
No wonder she was freaking out.
“Laney,” he groaned from deep in his throat. He shifted his hands to her shoulders, brushing his palms down her arms to her elbows and then back up again. “Princess, I’m an idiot. I didn’t even think how this would look to you.”
She sniffed and made quick work of brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, but he’d seen the tears, and he could feel the tension rippling across her shoulders. He’d really messed up this time. Brody would have been appalled with him not only for inadvertently hurting Laney but for the ever-present possibility of putting the child at risk.
