Rancher in Her Bed

by Joanne Rock

  Xander might still live in a private wing of his father’s home, but they rarely saw each other around the ranch. Ryder Currin kept his personal affairs closely guarded. Rumors had been flying around the Texas Cattleman’s Club recently that Ryder was seeing Angela Perry, the daughter of his bitter business rival, Sterling. But Xander wasn’t about to ask his dad about that.

  “I happen to know she’s single,” Ryder observed as the server walked away from their table. He tipped his head in the departing woman’s direction. “In case you’re interested.”

  Xander’s thoughts were so far from women it took him a moment to realize what his dad was talking about. Strangely, the only female who’d been circling his thoughts lately was a fierce brunette named Frankie, of all people.

  The willowy ranch hand with the big green eyes and dust-smeared jeans wasn’t Xander’s type, but something about her prickly attitude and challenging stare had gotten under his skin.

  “Definitely not interested,” he told his father honestly, taking his hat off and settling it on the empty chair beside him. “And I’m pretty sure I passed the stage where I needed your help closing the deal with a woman at least a decade ago.”

  He plucked one of the longnecks from the center of the table and took a sip.

  Ryder chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair. Are you still dating Kenzie then?” he pressed, lifting his own beer for a swig. “I thought I saw her car parked outside the house last week.”

  A loudspeaker announcement called the contestants for the mutton-busting event into the arena, and a handful of families with kids hurried out of the dining pavilion. The band kept playing, their amps only muted periodically for the PA system. Behind them, the big Ferris wheel turned slowly, the neon lights flashing on the spokes even though it wasn’t dark out yet.

  “No. She only dropped in that morning to ask me to judge the rodeo queen competition with her.” Xander had escorted her back to her car as fast as possible, knowing she’d only inquired about the rodeo queen pageant as an excuse to stop by. To see why he hadn’t called. “But I’m not ready for a relationship with her or anyone else. Not after—”

  The stab of pain over losing his fiancée in a tragic horse fall had eased in the last two years, but he felt as certain as ever that he wouldn’t tread down that path to love and happily-ever-after again. That relationship had been complicated, with unhappy layers he hadn’t ever understood. And in the end, it had gutted him. So working the land had been the only thing that offered any healing, and Xander wasn’t willing to give that up anytime soon.

  “I understand.” Leaning forward in his chair, Ryder turned serious. “Better than you think. When I lost Elinah—” His lips compressed into a flat line at the mention of his second wife, who’d died of cancer thirteen years ago. “I know it’s not easy to love again after losing someone.”

  Xander had only been twelve at the time, and he hadn’t been living with his father then, spending most of his time with his mother, Penny, Ryder’s first wife. But even as a kid, Xander had seen how his father retreated into himself for years afterward. Elinah had been the love of his life.

  Now he appreciated his father’s understanding.

  “To be honest, I’ve got zero interest in the whole idea of love.” Drawing one of the plates of ribs closer, he took a big bite.

  “No need to rule it out altogether,” his father cautioned, ignoring his vibrating phone next to him on the table. “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala tomorrow night.” He gave Xander a level stare. “You are attending, I trust?”

  Ryder had already insisted on it, since he was hosting the event himself. Xander had no desire to spend the evening at a black-tie shindig, but he planned to support his father in his ongoing war with Sterling Perry for control of the Houston branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

  While Sterling might be a wealthy businessman with a vast company that dealt in real estate, construction and property management, Xander didn’t trust the guy. Part of that was because Sterling hated and resented Xander’s father, of course. But Xander found it tough to respect a ranch owner who never spent any time on the land, and that was Sterling to a T. He might own the prosperous Perry Ranch, but that didn’t mean its success had anything to do with his ranching IQ.

  “I’m going stag.” Xander had a spare ticket, but his awkward meeting with Kenzie had reinforced his decision to engage in only the most superficial kinds of affairs. She’d clearly been upset with him when she’d squealed her tires on her way out of the driveway.

  If Frankie Walsh hadn’t been such an accomplished horsewoman, Kenzie’s childish act could have seriously endangered the ranch hand. Frankie had really handled herself well, especially on an excitable young mare.

  “There will be plenty of single women there, anyway.” His father wiped his hands on a paper napkin as their server appeared to clear a few of the plates. He waited until she retreated to finish his thought. “Just keep an open mind where romance is concerned.”

  Not going to happen, Dad. But as soon as he thought that, Frankie’s long legs and sexy smile smoked through his thoughts. He willed away her image and took another swig of his beer. The sound of cowbells and cheering erupted from the nearby arena, and he guessed the children’s rodeo event had started, a precursor to the adult competitions that would start soon.

  “Most of the women I meet are more interested in the Currin name. Or the fortune. Or—” he’d been about to say my sexual prowess, but that hardly seemed like a topic to share “—who knows what. But regardless, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Another announcement came over the loudspeaker for the barrel-racing contestants. Showtime must be soon. Xander gladly used it as an excuse to finish his meal.

  “I’d better get into the arena.” He’d asked his father to meet him here for their weekly meal since several employees were competing in tonight’s events. “I want to wish the guys good luck before things get under way.”

  And yes, a part of him wondered if he’d see Frankie. She might attend to support the other hands. Or hell, maybe she’d be competing in the barrel race or one of the other women’s events. He really didn’t know much about her, which was unlike him.

  Truth was, he’d avoided her the few times their paths had come close to crossing around Currin Ranch. He’d felt the pull toward her before and had always tamped it down deep, unwilling to get drawn into that kind of affair with someone who worked for him. He only knew she had the least seniority around the ranch up until a few months ago, when they’d brought on a new kid, which meant Frankie often got stuck with some of the worst jobs.

  “Sure.” Ryder lifted his beer. “If I don’t see you inside, I’ll definitely catch up with you at the gala, son.”

  Nodding, Xander scooped up his hat and replaced it on his head before leaving the dining pavilion.

  Outside the arena, he could see the flag bearer lining up on horseback with her attendants. A few rodeo clowns waited with them, part of the processional that would kick things off soon. Inside the open arena with its high metal roof and dirt floor, Xander could see a couple of kids in cowboy hats riding the sheep used for the mutton-busting competition. The crowd was cheering, cowbells rang and the event announcer narrated the action.

  He’d been to plenty of rodeos, from the big Houston Livestock Show to the local Friday night events like this one, and he enjoyed the small-town, grassroots competitions far more. While he appreciated the national spotlight that the multibillion-dollar rodeo industry brought to ranching, he had more fun at the community affairs that celebrated the hardworking men and women who made their living off the land.

  Ranching was tough, but there was something cathartic about putting in the hard manual labor day after day and seeing the results firsthand.

  “Hey, boss!” someone shouted from behind the chutes.

  Peering
over that way, Xander spotted a throng of soon-to-be competitors congregating, black-and-white numbers pinned to their Western shirts. A bowlegged cowboy was flagging him down, waving the end of his lasso.

  Xander recognized Reggie Malloy, a longtime member of the Currin Ranch team. He headed that way, sidestepping a few families retrieving their kids after the mutton-busting event.

  “Good to see you, Reggie.” He clapped the senior-most herdsman on the shoulder. “Just came down to wish everyone well before the competitions start.”

  They moved out of the way of the stock contractors bringing in the calves for the first round of roping events. Out in the arena, the procession to kick off the rodeo began. Purple spotlights circled the venue, casting streaks across Reggie’s face as they spoke.

  “We’re all fired up down here,” Reggie told him with a wide grin, his cheeks red from the heat. He wore a championship buckle that broadcast his experience in roping. “My money’s on the new kid, Wyatt, to do the ranch proud tonight. I’ve been working with him off and on since Christmas, and he’s come a long way.”

  “That’s good of you, Reg. The young guys all look up to you.” He lowered his voice as the crowd quieted for the national anthem.

  Even the people backstage went still. Only the calves shuffled their feet while a local high school girl dressed in red, white and blue belted out the song. When she finished, the crowd cheered and the announcer started to rev things up.

  Reggie tucked his rope under one arm and started to head back toward the other competitors in the first go-round. “Boss, you might want to stick around for the lady bronc riders later.”

  “Lady bronc riders?” He’d been to plenty of rodeos before, and it wasn’t often that he’d seen women competing in rough stock events, especially at the smaller venues like this one.

  “There are more and more of them,” Reggie assured him while the rodeo clowns performed a few tricks to warm up the crowd. “There are only a few signed up tonight, but our own Frankie Walsh is one of them. I’ve seen her ride and she’s not bad.”

  Frankie?

  A vision of the ranch hand on the back of a bucking bronc flashed through his mind. Followed by memories of Rena’s fall. He hadn’t been there the day his fiancée had been thrown, but that had never stopped his brain from imagining it thousands of times.

  His gut balled up in a cold knot.

  “Where is she?” Clammy sweat popped out along his brow. “Where’s Frankie?”

  He needed to talk her out of it. No, he needed to lay down the law and tell her she couldn’t compete. What in the hell was she thinking to tempt fate like that? Bronc riding was a dangerous sport for anyone—man or woman.

  “You okay?” Reggie’s blond brows knit. Frowning, the wrangler reached for a bottled water resting on an empty bleacher off to one side. “Have a drink. You don’t look so good.”

  Swiping a hand along his forehead, he tried to shut off the images flashing through his mind.

  “I’m fine. Just—” He was already scouring the arena for any sign of the saucy brunette with killer legs. “Where’s Frankie?”

  Reggie pointed outside the arena. “Last I saw her, she was heading outside to give herself a pep talk. Looked to me like she was walking in the direction of the Ferris wheel.”

  Xander’s boots were already in motion.

  Two

  Frankie paced quick circles around a broken passenger cart tucked behind the Ferris wheel, out of the way of the kids and couples in line for their turn on the carnival attraction.

  Nerves always set in before an event like this. She’d only done half a dozen rodeos, but she recognized the mixture of butterflies and doubt that came before the exhilaration of her moment in the arena. This part—the waiting—was far more of a challenge than the eight seconds she needed to last on the back of a bucking horse.

  Rock music blared from the ride’s sound system, competing with a local country band playing nearby, the pings and whistles of various skills competitions along the carnival main strip, and the shouts of carnies urging on the guests to play longer. Spend more. Every now and then, an announcement over the loudspeaker reminded the fair attendees who needed to report to the arena next for their event in the rodeo. Barrel racers, calf ropers and wranglers of all sorts took their turn.

  Pacing faster as she let herself get keyed up, Frankie knew tonight would be tough. There were only a handful of lady competitors in the saddle bronc event. But she’d seen the list and recognized the names of two top-notch riders from an all-women’s tour that had made its way around Texas the year before. She’d seen those ladies live and guessed she didn’t have much of a shot against them tonight.

  Then again...who knew?

  The broncs could surprise anyone. And Frankie had never walked away from a challenge. Her mother had told her more than once it was her worst failing.

  Not that she was going to think about her adoptive mom. Or dad. Or the home she’d run from the moment she’d turned eighteen. She’d save those worries for another night, when she wasn’t about to risk her neck.

  “Frankie.”

  A man’s voice cut clean through her tumultuous thoughts. Her head snapped up to see Xander Currin striding toward her.

  Purposefully.

  A thrill shot through her at the sight of him in his dark jeans and a fitted black button-down. His Stetson was the same one he usually wore, but his boots were an upgrade from the ones he wore for work. His blue eyes zeroed in on her face, stirring more butterflies.

  “Yes?” Puzzled that he would seek her out, she listened hard to hear over her galloping heartbeat.

  He didn’t look pleased. He couldn’t possibly still be mad about her taking Carmen out the other day, could he?

  “I just saw Reggie.” Her boss stopped a few feet away from her, closer than he’d ever stood before. “He told me you’re entering the saddle bronc event.”

  “That’s right.” Relief seeped through the awareness of him. He wasn’t here to give her a hard time about riding Carmen. “There’s a ladies’ competition tonight.”

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous rough stock events can be?” His voice was all sharp edges and accusation, just like the last time they’d spoken.

  Defensiveness flared. How was it she could irritate this man just by existing?

  “I work with horses and cattle every day, the same as you do. I suppose I know a thing or two about them.” She folded her arms, refusing to let him intimidate her here, off the Currin Ranch.

  She’d worked too hard in life to be steamrollered by people who thought they knew what was best for her.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re ready to ride a surly, pissed-off beast trained to buck.” His jaw clenched. “Do you know how hard riders prepare for this event?”

  A burst of applause broke out at a nearby midway game while she reeled from Xander’s sexist audacity.

  “Did you give Reggie the same speech you’re giving me?” She felt a flash of impatience that bordered on anger. “Or Wyatt, the greenest of your employees entering a competition tonight?”

  Xander’s lips flattened into a thin line. “No. But—”

  “Then don’t you think you’re being a chauvinist to call me out for doing an event that I have spent time preparing for and that I’m actually good at?”

  His expression shifted slightly, some of the tension around his eyes easing a fraction. He seemed to force in a deep breath before responding.

  “You have a reputation as a very hard worker around the ranch, but if you’ve been training for this, it’s the first I’ve heard,” he acknowledged, dialing back the confrontational tone.

  And taking a bit of the wind from her sails along with it.

  “Well, I don’t have much spare time to train given my schedule.” Some days she ached so much from the physical grind of the lab
or she did, she could barely force her arms to shovel food in her mouth before showering and heading to bed. “I take as many hours as I can to make ends meet.”

  She lifted her chin, daring him to find fault in that. There was no shame in hard work.

  The country band playing nearby launched into a crowd-pleasing favorite, eliciting whistles and shouts from the dancers on the other side of the Ferris wheel. Neon lights blinked in varying shades as the spokes of the ride spun past them.

  “I don’t want you in that arena tonight,” Xander informed her, his eyes utterly serious.

  She reminded herself she worked for him. That she didn’t want to land on the wrong side of the powerful Currin family. But damn it, who did he think he was to call the shots for her tonight?

  “That’s too bad,” she found herself saying anyhow, “because I’m not on the clock now, which means you can’t order me around.”

  Xander glanced away from her and then back again. More gently, he asked, “Can you tell me why it’s so important to you to enter an event so fundamentally dangerous?”

  Something in his voice compelled her. So she decided to be honest.

  “I’m working hard all the time trying to earn enough money to put myself through veterinary school, and I don’t get many breaks.” She forced herself to unclasp her folded arms. To stand up straighter and own her thoughts and feelings. “And when I heard about the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala, I thought that was the kind of break I’d love—something fun and different that would let me have a glimpse of the life I’m working toward. A chance to see the reward with my own eyes to keep me on the path. You know?”

  Xander cocked his head like he didn’t quite understand.

  “You want to go to the Flood Relief Gala,” he said slowly.

  “I do. It’s healthy to give yourself some tangible rewards in the process of working toward a big goal,” she explained, sharing an insight gleaned from a college counselor who’d helped her figure out how to start on a path toward achieving her big dreams. “And the prize money tonight will give me enough to afford a ticket to the gala.”