Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler

by Darlene Panzera

  Dean smirked. “Of course.”

  “Josh, have you talked to all the boys in the area who own a crop duster?” their father asked.

  “I’m heading over to Fred Johnson’s place right after breakfast,” Josh informed them. “He has a crop duster and I hear he’s been real friendly with Ow—­”

  Ryan coughed and sent him a warning look. Josh’s face flushed as he glanced at Cody, then he said, “I mean . . . well, you know who.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Ryan said, pushing back his plate.

  “You didn’t finish your food,” his mom protested.

  Ryan gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll eat plenty when all of this is over,” he promised.

  “When what’s over?” Cody asked.

  Ryan gave his son a reassuring smile. “When we’re done catching the bad guys who ruined our fields.”

  “You could ask Grandpa Owens to help you,” Cody suggested. “He knows lots of bad guys.”

  Ryan snapped his head around to look at him. “Like who, Cody?”

  Cody swallowed another bite of his eggs, then answered, “Some guy named Roy. He told Grandpa Owens that if he didn’t get his money he’d dump salt all over him and bury him in it.”

  Josh pushed back his chair and jumped up from the table, his eyes wide. “Roy Paulson has a crop duster.”

  Ryan nodded and glanced back at his son. “Thanks, Cody. Looks like you might have just helped find our bad guy.”

  BREE SPENT THE next several days cleaning out the front of the hay barn to prepare for the dance. The cobwebs had been knocked down, the hay had all been stacked against the back wall, and the ground had been raked. Now all they had to do was decorate. Delaney helped when she wasn’t giving their guests horseback riding lessons, and Sammy Jo was due to arrive any minute.

  Unraveling a few feet of the white streamers she planned to string from the rafters, Bree twirled around, dreaming of Ryan’s arms embracing her as they danced the night away. She closed her eyes and imagined breathing in his clean, earthy scent as he drew her close, leaned his head toward hers . . . and his lips touched her own.

  He’d almost kissed her the other night after her impromptu trail ride. She was sure of it. The longing had been in his eyes and the connective spark between them had nearly crackled the air. She had no doubt that when he danced with her on Saturday he’d finally kiss her for real.

  She let out a happy sigh, and when she opened her eyes she saw Sammy Jo standing in the doorway. “Come on in,” she said, waving to her. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

  Sammy Jo hesitated before stepping forward. “You’re not . . . mad?”

  Bree closed the gap between them and gave her a hug. “No, not anymore. You were right. I needed to get back in the saddle and ride.”

  Sammy Jo picked up another roll of streamers. But instead of using it to decorate, she kept scrunching the thin, white crepe paper around in her hands and glancing up at the ceiling.

  Bree frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Sammy Jo’s expression didn’t ease but only became more strained. In fact, she’d never seen her friend look so nervous. “We need to talk.”

  Oh, no. Those infamous four words never came before anything good. Bree dropped the streamers onto a table, gave her friend her full attention, and braced herself for the worst. Had someone died? Was Sammy Jo in trouble? Was Sammy Jo mad at her?

  “Just spit it out,” Bree said, unable to wait a second longer.

  Sammy Jo nodded. “It’s about Ryan.”

  Ryan? Bree’s stomach lurched. “Is he okay? Did something happen to him?”

  “He’s fine,” Sammy Jo assured her. “It’s just that . . . over the last ­couple of months Ryan and I have been kind of . . . dating.”

  “What?” Bree demanded. Her ears buzzed and she couldn’t be sure she’d heard right.

  “Only a few times here and there. He didn’t have anyone else to go out with and neither did I,” Sammy Jo explained, wringing her hands.

  Bree suddenly felt ill and sat herself down in a nearby chair. Even when she was in New York, she and Sammy Jo had texted each other almost every week with some sort of news or information and never once had her friend mentioned anything about hooking up with Fox Creek’s most popular cowboy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

  Sammy Jo circled her chair to face her. “Because I knew you were disgusted with him and I thought if you found out you’d be upset with me, too.”

  At the moment Bree was more upset with herself for dreaming of Ryan. How did she let that happen when she knew he was nothing but a notorious flirt with everyone he came in contact with? Was she that desperate after her ex dumped her? Did she subconsciously need Ryan’s attention to make herself feel good again?

  “See?” Sammy Jo continued. “I knew you’d look at me like that. You think I’m crazy. After all, there could never be any future between us. Ryan’s never been serious about anyone he’s dated, including his ex-­wife. Everyone knows he only married Gail because he made a mistake and got her pregnant. But don’t worry. Now that you, Luke, and Delaney are back, things have changed, and I’m going to break it off with him.”

  “You don’t have to stop dating Ryan because of me,” Bree assured her.

  “No—­not because of you, but because of . . . Luke.”

  Bree wondered if her hearing really was failing her. “My brother, Luke?”

  “I know.” Sammy Jo glanced up at the ceiling again and let out a nervous laugh. “He’s the ‘boy next door,’ right?”

  “He’s younger than you.”

  “Only by a year.”

  “You teased him terrible when we were kids,” Bree reminded her. “I don’t think he’s ever got over it. Whenever you come by he tends to run the other way.”

  Sammy Jo pursed her lips. “I noticed. But . . . oh, Bree, I really like him. I’ve always liked him. Maybe that’s why I teased him so much.”

  Bree shook her head, unable to fathom her friend dating her brother any more than she could her friend dating Ryan. “But—­of all ­people . . . Luke?”

  Sammy Jo nodded. “Do you think he’ll dance with me?”

  “He told me he doesn’t think he can dance with a cane in one hand, but I’m sure if you asked, he’d dance with you—­if you begged him hard enough,” Bree said, forcing a smile.

  Sammy Jo laughed, her face aglow with anticipation. “So how do I tell Ryan I don’t want to go to the dance with him?”

  Bree gasped. “You’re asking me for advice?”

  “If Ryan sees me with Luke what will he think? I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you can hurt a guy like Ryan,” Bree said, her voice catching in the back of her throat as she said his name. “He’s a chick magnet. He’ll get himself another cowgirl quicker than you can blink. Besides, you said it yourself—­he’s never been serious about anyone.”

  “You’re right,” Sammy Jo agreed. “Since when have we ever seen Ryan without a female on his arm?”

  Bree’s chest tightened. “Never.”

  She stood up to resume the decorating, but her heart was no longer in it. Her daydreams of dancing had already been swept away with the dust.

  RYAN PACED BACK and forth in front of the Fox Creek Café waiting for Sammy Jo to arrive. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, but as soon as Bree called to invite his family to the barn dance he knew it was time he broke it off with Sammy Jo for good. They’d only had casual dates, but he didn’t want Sammy Jo’s feelings to be hurt if she saw him dancing with Bree.

  His stomach clenched and his nerves were all out of whack. He never liked having to tell a woman he didn’t want to date her anymore. Many of them cried. Some of them even begged him to reconsider. But Sammy Jo was tougher than most and he didn’t think she’d rea
ct that way.

  At least, he hoped she wouldn’t.

  Sammy Jo pulled her pickup to a stop in front of him and jumped out, her usual big, bright smile absent from her face. Maybe she already knew why he’d asked her to meet him here.

  “Hey, Ryan,” she greeted, not kissing him on the cheek as was her custom. “I’m so glad you called, because I need to talk to you, too.”

  They each took a chair under the umbrella table outside the café entrance. Ryan gestured toward the menus. “If you want to order something, I’ll pay—­”

  “No,” Sammy Jo said, shaking her long, dark curls. “I’d rather get right to the point. You heard Bree is having a barn dance?”

  “Yes . . . I did.” He leaned toward her. “You know I think you’re great, right?”

  Sammy Jo nodded. “Yeah, and we’ve had fun hanging out together, but—­”

  “But . . . we both know it wasn’t serious, right?”

  Sammy Jo exhaled and her face lit up with her usual smile. “Right.”

  Was she happy about this? Ryan hesitated. “And you’ll be okay if we just remain friends?”

  “More than okay,” Sammy Jo said, her eyes shining. “In fact, I was hoping to dance with someone else.”

  “Me, too,” Ryan admitted. “Thanks for making this so easy.”

  Sammy Jo laughed. “No problem. Can I ask who the lucky lady is?”

  “Not until I actually ask her.” He leaned back in his chair. “What about you? Who’s your new guy?”

  “Oh, I—­” Another smile touched her lips. “I can’t hand out any details yet either.”

  Ryan grinned. “Okay. I guess we’ll let it be a surprise.”

  SATURDAY NIGHT CAME all too quick. Maybe if Bree had more time to plan, more time to send out invitations, she could have drawn in more handsome, eligible men to appease the three CEOs.

  “So where are they?” Chelsea demanded. “The hot cowboys you promised?”

  Katelyn waved her hand toward Bree’s father and his friends, all wearing their shiniest belt buckles and fanciest Stetsons. “All of these guys are old.”

  “Yeah,” Rebecca chimed in. “We want men our age who we can date.”

  “Not everyone is here yet,” Bree assured them. When she’d learned three high-­profile professionals were coming to the ranch to scout out a place for their corporate retreat, never in a million years did she think hooking them up with hot, young cowboys would be a prerequisite to securing the contract. She glanced toward the few stragglers strolling through the double-­door opening and prayed for a miracle.

  She had invited the Tanners, hoping Ryan’s brothers would turn the CEOs’ heads, but it didn’t look like any of them were going to show. Not even Ryan.

  Her spirits plummeted. The dance was a disaster. Not only in the eyes of the three women but for herself as well. Despite what she’d said to Sammy Jo about Ryan, she’d still hoped to dance with him. What woman wouldn’t?

  “I wish you could dance with your father,” Ma said, pulling her aside.

  Bree stiffened. She and her father dance? Often it was hard enough just being in the same room with him. Besides, the man was still in a wheelchair.

  The day after her gallop on Equinox, she and Delaney had driven their father to the doctor’s office to get his leg checked. Bree apologized for her behavior on her birthday and thanked her father for the birthday gift. But to her horror, she found out her father had sold the horse earlier that morning and the new owner had already come to take the gelding away.

  “Dad, how could you?” Delaney cried.

  “Bree said she didn’t want it,” their father said, exasperation behind each word. “And we couldn’t afford the cost of feeding an extra horse no one was going to ride.”

  “But she did ride,” Del exclaimed.

  Bree nodded and her father gave her a look of disbelief. “First you didn’t want the horse and now you do?”

  That had been on Tuesday and he’d been in a foul mood ever since. She didn’t blame him for being confused, but did he have to sell the horse so quick?

  Bree glanced at her mother, who awaited a response. “The doctor said Dad’s leg is healing, but he can’t dance or be near others who may bump into him.”

  Ma sighed. “I know. It was only a wish. I can’t dance with him either. Do you think I can convince Luke to dance?”

  Glancing across the room, Bree watched her brother brush off Sammy Jo and said, “I don’t think he plans to dance with anyone.”

  “Well, then,” Ma said, capturing her granddaughter’s hand as she went by, “I’ll just have to dance with Meghan.”

  Bree snapped her fingers. “Ma, you just gave me an idea!”

  Luke might refuse everyone else, but he wouldn’t refuse Meghan. A fact that just might help Sammy Jo, if they all played their parts right.

  As Bree took out her cell phone, she watched Cody walk into the barn with his grandma, Mrs. Owens, and quickly texted. Come ASAP! Then, when Sammy Jo and Delaney met her by the punch table, she quickly hashed out her plan.

  A SHORT WHILE later, Bree pretended interest in Nora and Nadine’s new fancy nails and matching pink ruffled dresses, while keeping an ear on the conversation beside them.

  “Will you dance wif me?” Meghan asked, looking up at Luke with innocent big blue eyes.

  Del stepped up behind her daughter. “Please, Luke? It would mean so much to her and it would give me a chance to dance without having to worry about where she is.”

  He gave Delaney a wink, and using his cane to get up off the hay bale he’d been sitting on, he took Meghan’s hand. “Of course I’ll dance with you. Do you know the ‘chicken dance’?”

  When the song was halfway through, Bree sent Cody over in their direction.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Cody said, tugging on Luke’s red plaid shirttails. “Can I cut in?”

  Luke’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sure, I guess so. Meghan, do you want to dance with him?”

  Meghan smiled and bobbed her blond head.

  “Actually,” Cody continued, “I was hoping you’d help me out of a jam. There’s this other girl I’m supposed to dance with . . . but I don’t want to . . . if you know what I mean.”

  Luke laughed. “I know how that is.”

  Cody jerked his thumb toward the middle of the makeshift dance floor. “Can we switch partners? Just for one dance?”

  Luke hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. One dance. Which girl is it?”

  Bree’s hand flew up to cover her laugh as Sammy Jo stepped around him and announced, “Me.”

  Luke scowled and Bree thought he’d turn Sammy Jo away again, but Cody pointed a finger at him and said, “Dude, you promised.”

  “I thought you meant another little girl—­like Meghan, not a . . . a . . . woman.” Luke turned toward Sammy Jo. “I don’t have to dance with you.”

  “You will if you’re a man of your word,” Sammy Jo argued, sticking her face near his and glaring at him.

  Luke glared right back. “I always follow through on what I say.”

  Sammy Jo placed her hand over Luke’s—­the one with the cane—­and smiled. “Well, then, shall we dance?”

  Bree stayed a few more minutes to watch them sway in time to the music, then spun around to search for the three CEOs and collided straight into a hard, chiseled chest. A soothing warmth spread over her entire body as she glanced up into Ryan’s handsome face and gasped. “You’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  She leaned to the side and glanced at the three men behind him. “And you brought your brothers!”

  “Yeah, they’re the reason I’m late. They didn’t want to come, but I knew how much it meant to you, and why,” he said, giving her a mischievous grin. “So I had to negotiate a deal to get them here.”

  Bree s
miled because of the way his mouth twitched when he grinned, because of the excitement in his eyes when he looked at her, and because of the way his dark navy blue dress shirt and jeans clung to his splendid physique. Whoa, girl! Remember to keep it casual. Recollecting her thoughts, she met his gaze and asked, “What kind of deal?”

  Ryan placed a hand on either side of her waist, his touch firm and . . . pleasantly possessive. “I had to trade them my earnings from working your ranch so they can buy a set of new tires for their quad.”

  He did that for her?

  “Which means,” he continued, flashing her another pulse-­kicking grin, “I’m a little short on money and I’d be willing to be your weekend wrangler for the rest of the summer, if you’ll have me.”

  Stunned, Bree sucked in her breath and stared at him, unable to speak, unable to process exactly what this would mean for her family, unable to think of anything except that Ryan Tanner was absolutely, undeniably, the very, very best! With a little hop, she squealed, unable to hold back her delight, and with her heart taking the lead, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  It was a quick kiss, over before she even realized what she had done, but when Bree pulled back she didn’t know who was more surprised, she or Ryan.

  His gaze locked with hers for several long, breathless moments, then he cupped her cheek with his hand and drew her back toward him . . . and this time he kissed her.

  His mouth was warm, tender, and soft against her own and filled with such passion she blocked out every sound around them, every presence, everything except the fact that Ryan Tanner, the guy she’d wanted to dance with since high school, held her in his arms.

  When the kiss ended, he looked at her and grinned. “Would you like to . . . ?”

  Ryan motioned toward the other dancing ­couples and Bree was about to say yes when she spotted Mr. Owens leading Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca toward the door. What did he think he was doing? Stealing the CEOs’ corporate contacts away from her?

  She glanced back at Ryan. “Can you excuse me for just a minute?”

  After he nodded, Bree hurried toward the women, but the sapphire blue skirt of her dress caught around her knees and tripped her. “Wait!” she called as she struggled to untangle herself. “Where are you going?”