Lone Star Woman

by CALLAHAN, SADIE

  “Watch yourself with her,” Brady said. “She’s got a mind of her own. And she’s in season, which makes her an even bigger pain in the ass.”

  He started for the barn and Jude followed. The horses clomped along with them and would have come into the barn if Brady hadn’t shut them out. Jude followed him into a tiny tack room, where he plucked three plastic buckets and three halters off nails on the wall. In the tack room’s close, hot quarters, she felt strangely uneasy, still thinking of Brady Fallon naked. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to be near him again without thinking of him in that way.

  “I love horses,” she said, holding out her hand to receive a bucket and a halter.

  “All women love horses. Until it comes to taking care of them.”

  Jude resented that. But she suspected the remark, along with others he had made, must say something about his past relationships with women, though she wasn’t sure what. “What are their names?”

  “Sorrel’s named Tuffy. The bay’s Poncho.”

  “What about the mare?”

  “Sweet Sal. But she’s not sweet.”

  “High-strung, huh?”

  “Afraid so.”

  High-strung horses didn’t frighten Jude. She had grown up with spirited horses. Her own horse, Patch, was a powerful stallion with a mind of his own.

  Ace’s barn had no stalls, but under a shed roof on one side, it had several mangers attached to the outside wall. Brady dumped oats in two mangers and Jude did likewise in a third. “Ace doesn’t have any horses?”

  “Not right now. He used to have a rope horse, but he sold him.”

  They returned to the outside of the fence and propped their arms on the top rail, watching the horses eat. Sweet Sal didn’t appear to be the least bit intimidated by the two males. “Sal’s a beauty,” she said. “I’ve always liked that grullo color. A grullo’s really a black dun, you know. Kind of rare.”

  His head turned her way and he gave her another one of those how-do-you-know-so-much? looks. “I know.” He turned his attention back to Sal. “She looks pretty, but she’s a prima donna.”

  “She looks like she’s got some good breeding. Classy. Where’d you get her?”

  “A guy gave her to me.”

  Jude let out a chuff of disbelief. “Just like that? Some guy just up and gave you a classy horse?”

  His brow tented. “’Course not. I did some riding for him. I found out too late he didn’t have any money to pay me. A horse was better than nothing.”

  “Is she papered?”

  “Yeah. She’s out of a King Ranch horse. But I didn’t know it when I got her. I almost sold her.”

  Jude made a mental note of a horse named Sweet Sal, sired by a famous King Ranch horse. At home, she could research the entire bloodline in minutes. “Why? You don’t like her?”

  “I didn’t have a place to keep her. Ace was already boarding Tuffy and Poncho and I didn’t feel like I could just put another horse on his pasture. But he said one more didn’t matter. I haven’t had much time to work with her. That’s why she’s such a son of a bitch.”

  “How old?”

  “Five.”

  “Has she foaled?”

  “Nope. Never could afford the fee for a good stud. Can’t afford AI, either.”

  “You don’t have to artificially inseminate. You could hand breed her or even pasture breed her.”

  “Like you say, she’s a good horse. Far as I know, she’s never been bred. Ornery as she is, she might put up a fight. I don’t want to chance getting her hurt by a stud that might get ornery, too.”

  “But all stallions aren’t ornery.”

  He shook his head, dismissing the conversation.

  “Once you get settled back in Lockett, you could at least think about it. It’s a shame to have a good, strong mare and not breed her. And five years old is an ideal age.”

  “I don’t have time to fool with a baby.”

  Indeed, a baby took a lot of work to make it grow into a good horse. Jude had raised Patch from a baby and been involved with many of the Circle C’s new foals.

  The horses finished their grain and sauntered over to the fence. Tuffy and Poncho proved easy to catch and soon were loaded into the trailer. But when Brady opened the corral gate to catch Sal, she dashed past him and out into the pasture before he could touch her with the halter.

  “Sal, you butthole, get back here!” He let out a shrill whistle, but the mare continued playing her game of trotting toward him, then, just before she came close enough for either Jude or Brady to get a rope on her, galloping away, tail in the air, mane flying.

  “Well, I guess she’s showed off enough,” Brady said, sighing. “Time to quit horsing around.” He handed Jude the halter, walked out into the open pasture and stood there with his hand out, smooching at her and talking horse talk. Sal trotted toward him, taunting him by making him think she would come to him. Just before she reached him, she picked up speed, turned on a dime and started in the opposite direction. Brady broke into a run alongside her, then in a flash, grabbed her mane, hopped twice beside her and threw himself astraddle her back.

  It happened almost too quickly to register in Jude’s mind. What did register was a warm sense of pleasure that caught in her midsection. And just like that, she realized she could fall head over heels in love with Brady Fallon. Even if he had been a stripper.

  Then again, maybe what she felt was something else entirely. Something like lust. Hell. Brady was the sexiest man she had ever known up close and personal. And she was only human, despite what Suzanne said.

  Sweet Sal pranced and danced and sidled and gathered herself to buck once, but Brady gripped her dark mane and stayed on her back until she calmed and lined out. “Bring that halter,” he shouted.

  Jude quick-stepped out to the horse, and the naughty girl stood perfectly still, even nibbled at Jude’s ear and cheek while Jude slipped the halter onto her head. “You’re nothing but a big show-off,” Jude told her. “You need to spend a day with me and Patch. We’d teach you how to behave.”

  Brady threw a long leg over the horse’s neck, pushing off her back and dropping to the ground flat-footed. “Let’s get her into the trailer. I’m starving.”

  He gathered his gear from Ace’s tack room and threw it in the pickup bed on top of the boxes they had packed earlier. His mood appeared to have worsened, and Jude couldn’t tell if it was because of Ginger or the pictures or Sal’s behavior. She chose to blame his bad mood on the horse. She settled herself into the pickup’s passenger seat. “Horses really want to please us, you know. They just don’t always know what we want them to do. We have to show them. I hope you aren’t really mad at her.”

  “Mad at her?” He chuckled, the warmth of it slithering through Jude’s system like warm, sweet syrup. “Hell, I’m not mad at her. I’m in love with her.”

  As they drove away from Ace’s place, he said, “We can wash up back at the trailer. We’ll go into Stephenville and I’ll buy us a steak for supper.”

  “Listen, there’s no need—”

  “Darlin’, I’ve got to eat. You think I’m gonna eat and not feed you?”

  “No. I just mean I can buy my—”

  Brady raised a palm. “No,” he said.

  “But it’s not like you’ve asked me out on a date or something.”

  “I’ll buy supper,” he said.

  She expelled a breath of resignation. “Fine.”

  10

  While Jude showered, Brady stood at the corral fence watching his horses chomp on the flakes of hay he had thrown them. His mind was on women—Ginger Thompson specifically. She had been drunk when she had shown up earlier, which too often put her in the mood to fight. He had known Ginger his whole life, and should have known he wouldn’t get out of Stephenville without one more of her flare-ups. At least today’s tantrum hadn’t been as wild and crazy as the one that had prompted him to end things with her several months back. Then, she had taken a pool cue t
o the front of his truck, denting the fenders and breaking the headlights, leaving him without transportation for several days while the truck underwent repair.

  The pool-cue stunt was the eye-opener he needed. It helped him decide that romps in the sack and raunchy sex, the only things he and Ginger had in common, just weren’t worth so much chaos in his life. Hadn’t he already lived nine years with a woman who was brainless, irresponsible and nuts?

  He thought about the photographs. Those friggin’ twelve-year-old pictures. Would they ever stop chasing him? Jude had put up a good front when she saw them, but she probably had been shocked. After she had seen him nearly naked in the pictures, riding together in the close quarters of his truck to Ace’s place and back had been as uncomfortable as traipsing through a bed of prickly pear. Her learning of his less-than-conventional past troubled him. After all, he had that long-ago connection with her family, and even with her in a distant way.

  He wasn’t ashamed of having held a job as an exotic dancer, not really. It wasn’t like he had robbed a bank, although back in those days, money had been the only thing on his mind. His mother had been sick and out of work, and he was the oldest and male to boot. He had sucked it up and done what was necessary at the time.

  He made a helluva lot more dancing half naked than he made cowboying for ranches around Stephenville, working on a dairy farm or driving a truck. And he had been able to live at home and help his mother with his three sisters and little brother. In the long run, the pay had not only helped his family and paid for school, the nighttime hours had enabled him to spend his days in classes. He had succeeded in avoiding the lake of alcohol that had been available to him, along with enough recreational drugs to baffle a pharmacist. He had managed to resist the rampant promiscuity and exotic sex. Well, to be honest, he hadn’t always resisted the exotic sex. But as far as he was concerned, the whole experience had turned out okay.

  What troubled him about Jude seeing the pictures, as well as her witnessing Ginger’s fit, was that he sensed a certain innocence about his new boss’s daughter. J. D. Strayhorn had a reputation for being a tough manager but having a soft side when it came to his only daughter. He had done or would do everything in his considerable power to protect her from worldly evils. Jude might be outgoing and well educated, but Brady knew she had grown up under unusual circumstances. And he suspected she led a sheltered life. He could think of no woman her age who lived at home with her parents. Nor could he think of one who felt a need to sneak around like a teenager.

  But what was going on within him was more confusing than just plain embarrassment at her seeing the pictures. All day, he had felt that familiar tension low in his belly, and he’d had to force himself to keep his eyes to himself. He understood what he felt well enough, but what had him baffled was that he had an almost desperate yearning for Jude to think well of him. When she had first inserted herself into his life yesterday, he had tolerated her because of who she was, but after spending time with her, he found himself liking her. She was more than a hot body with a pretty face. She was smart. She seemed to have enthusiasm for everything and an upbeat attitude that was a balm to his soul—though he sensed a layer of frustration seething within her.

  “Hell, who isn’t frustrated?” he mumbled to the air.

  Frustration was Brady Fallon’s middle name.

  Sal came over to him and nuzzled him as if he had summoned her, as if she were a well-behaved horse that never gave him a minute’s trouble. Her personality truly reminded him of some women he had known. Scary.

  Horses really want to please us, you know. They just don’t always know what we want them to do. We have to show them.

  You need to spend a day with me and Patch. We’d teach you how to behave.

  Jude’s words. Patch must be a horse. Brady wondered what Jude knew about horse training. Something, no doubt. The Circle C ranch was known for having good horses. Only someone with some knowledge would know a grullo was a black dun. Having attended cutting shows in Fort Worth and being acquainted with owners of highbred horses, Brady knew that cutting-horse champions had come from various Circle C studs.

  The mare nuzzled his pocket and brought him out of his musing. “No goodies tonight,” he told her. She ambled back to the two geldings on the other side of the corral as if Brady had disappointed her by not having a present. He shook his head. Just like a woman.

  He plucked his cell phone off his belt and checked the time. Then he punched in Ace’s number. When his call went to voice mail, Brady left a message saying he had picked up the horses. It was late in the day on a Saturday, so Ace was probably already out looking for a party.

  Brady turned from the horse pen, strolled back up to the trailer and sat down on the tiny front stoop, letting the quiet of the late afternoon and panoramic view of the valley seep into his soul. He had liked living here, perched like a raptor atop this rise. His closest neighbor was Ace, ten miles away.

  There had been whole days when he hadn’t seen or heard another human being. The solitude and silence were good. If he wanted company, he could drive somewhere and find it. If he wanted noise, he could turn on the radio or TV. He couldn’t deny being a loner. Without a doubt, this twelve-by-sixty trailer, anchored in the middle of a twenty-section pasture, had saved his sanity during those first months after his exit from Fort Worth.

  His thoughts drifted to Jude again, inside the trailer and naked in his shower. An image of soap and water sluicing over her well-honed body filled his mind and he imagined his hands gliding over her breasts, down to her belly, between her legs. He felt a tightening in his groin. Women who looked like her had always appealed to him. Fairly tall, willowy and well developed. He had never gone for the emaciated look.

  Just cool it, hoss, he told himself. None of what he thought mattered. She was his new boss’s daughter.

  Jude stood in front of the vanity mirror brushing her hair. Since the plan was to go out for supper and relax, she saw no need to braid it. She let it fall free in its natural unruliness.

  She pulled her change of clothes from her duffel—underwear, jeans and a green tank top. When she packed yesterday morning, the thought that they might have supper out in Stephenville hadn’t occurred to her, or she would have brought better clothes. She put on the clean clothes, dabbed her grandmother’s perfume behind her ears and between her breasts, then walked outside feeling refreshed. “Your turn,” she told Brady.

  “I won’t be long,” he said, and went inside.

  The high humidity, combined with the ninety-five-degree temperature, had felt suffocating all day, even with the air conditioner blasting. Evening brought little relief. Though she had just showered, she began to perspire. She sat on the steps and tried to study the landscape, watched a hawk floating on a thermal, hunting his supper. But she couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t get those images of Brady out of her mind. The smaller photographs of his bare back and buttocks hadn’t been nearly as evocative as the larger frontal shot and the blatant shapes molded in the black G-string’s front triangle. In the quiet idleness, all she could think of was him in the shower and water and soap flooding over all of that hard, naked flesh. She could even imagine him leaping onto Sal’s back naked. She shook herself out of such musing. A man had never dominated her thoughts so completely.

  He soon came out of the mobile, pushing his hair back with his fingers and setting his hat on, tugging the brim low on his forehead. He was wearing clean starched and ironed Wranglers and a long-sleeve Cinch button-down the same color as his eyes. He looked cowboy delicious, almost too much to take in all at once. She sprang to her feet.

  “Ready?” he asked curtly, turning the lock, then slamming the door.

  He seemed less friendly than he had earlier. Maybe he was still embarrassed, she told herself. “Sure.”

  He gestured her ahead of him and they went to his pickup. Inside the cab, his damp masculine smell, with a hint of shampoo and cologne mixed in, filled the close quarters. It zoom
ed to her very core, making her even more nervous. She was glad for the daylight. “Can I ask you something?” she asked as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the highway.

  He made a low grunting sound that she took to mean “Not really, but I know you’re going to anyway.”

  “How old were you in those pictures?”

  His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his left wrist hooked over the steering wheel, his right hand splayed on his thigh. “Twenty-two. Or maybe three.” He answered without inflection.

  “Wow. How did you get in such good shape? Did you play sports in school?”

  “Nope.”

  “People aren’t born with bodies that look like those pictures. You had to have put some effort into it. Did you work out in a gym?”

  “Nope.”

  She chuffed. “Look, I know you know words besides ‘nope’ and ‘yep.’” For crying out loud, hadn’t Daddy said he was a college graduate? And hadn’t Jake said he had owned a business?

  “What I did, darlin’, was work. Period. I roughnecked for a few years on an offshore rig. That’s a job that’ll bulk you up in a hurry.”

  Stories abounded in Texas about the hard physical work, as well as danger, on offshore oil wells. “Oh, my gosh, really? I’ve never known anyone who worked on an offshore rig. You did that when you were a kid?”

  “No, I wasn’t a kid. I was eighteen.”

  Jude envisioned the eighteen-year-olds in her classes. Few of them, even kids who worked on their parents’ farms or ranches, had bodies that looked like Brady’s. Her curiosity was getting the better of her again. “That’s a kid. So why were you doing that kind of work when you were that young? Did you live at home? Had you finished school, quit school, what?”

  His head finally turned in her direction. “Why are you so determined to hear my life story?”

  “Because I’m interested. I’m interested in everyone who does something I’ve never done.”