Secret Billionaire's Stubborn Cowgirl (The Secret Billionaires, #1)

by Leslie North

  It had just begun to perk when Charlie came in, yawning and pulling up the strap of her overalls. “What’re you doing up so early?”

  Lucy shrugged and moved to cut some bread slices for toast. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “That wouldn’t be because of some dark-haired cowboy would it?” Charlie offered up a wicked grin.

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “As if. You know, there’s something off about him.”

  Charlie began pulling out eggs and bacon for breakfast. “Off? Lordy, girl, he’s not a piece of fruit that can spoil. Now what’s it to be—an omelet or scramble today? And you want pancakes with that?”

  “Omelet. And you know what I mean. He can afford that horse trailer and to rent your farm for a season—but he wears beaten-up jeans and a hat that’s seen better days. He’s a college guy, but he doesn’t have his own spread? And last night—you said he had business calls coming in. It just doesn’t add up.”

  Charlie smiled. “So you are thinking about him. Good. If I was twenty years younger and ten pounds leaner, I’d be doing more than thinking.”

  Lucy made a face. “I’m thinking about coffee—and bacon.”

  Coming over to her, Charlie slid an arm around Lucy’s waist. “Honey, you want to be doing more than thinking. Life passes far too quick. You put off and you put off and you put off—and suddenly all the things you wanted to do, well, it’s just too late. Sometimes you just have to jump at a chance when it comes. And let things work themselves out.”

  She gave Charlie a hug and moved to put the sliced bread into the toaster. “That sounds like a path to heartache.”

  Charlie gave a laugh. “Better a broken heart than an unused one. Now how about getting that bacon sizzling.”

  They settled into a familiar groove of cooking up breakfast. Charlie turned on the radio for the news and weather, and went on to sing along with Carrie Underwood.

  Lucy fried up the bacon and set it aside to drain. The kitchen smelled of food and coffee, and if she could only have days like this without the worry of money hanging over her head, Lucy knew she’d be happy. Turning, she saw Zach standing in the doorway. He leaned his shoulders against the door frame and had his ankles crossed as if he’d been there for some time.

  Charlie kept on singing, and when she turned and saw Zach she waved a spatula at him. “Come on in and join the fun. Coffee’s hot.”

  Zach turned his smile—warm and inviting—on Lucy. Her heart gave a little jump. She looked away and pushed a hand into her hair. She put it up into a haphazard bun, had dragged on a large, long sleeve T-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. She had to look a mess.

  Pushing off from the doorframe, he came over and took the coffee cup from her hands. “I’ll be glad to help, but looks like you’ve got things handled.”

  “Oh, we can always use another hand. Lucy, set him to buttering the toast.” Charlie kept on singing. She swung her hips with the music they made. Lucy held out the butter dish and a knife to Zach. Instead of taking them from her hands, he took her hands, pulled her into a two-step dance and a little spin.

  He slipped his hand down to her waist, spun her again and danced her over to the fridge. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and so very blue. She saw a hint of passion flare hot in his eyes. He stopped dancing with her but he didn’t pull his hands away. She held the butter dish and knife in front of her, but she wanted to toss them away and grab hold of him.

  “Food’s ready,” Charlie sang out.

  Zach looked away, and Lucy slipped from his hold. She pulled out the toast and said, “I’ll butter the bread.” She focused on that and kept herself busy, refilling coffee cups, getting the cream from the fridge, cleaning up plates after she’d bolted down two bites of Charlie’s omelet. Zach, thankfully, didn’t mention yesterday and she didn’t bring it up, either.

  Finishing up the breakfast dishes, Lucy turned to Zach. “Ready to start when you are, boss.”

  He frowned at the word, but stood up and grabbed his Stetson. “Let's get the stalls finished up in the barn. I’d like to move the horses down there. And take a look at the irrigation pipe.”

  Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Charlie asked, “Will you pick me some fruit from the trees down near the river. Peaches are almost done, but the sweetest ones come last.”

  Nodding, Lucy gave a wave and followed Zach out of the house.

  Sunny danced up to them, spotted a rabbit and took off.

  Just like yesterday they walked out to the old barn, but today Sunny ran with them for most of the distance—and then he’d dash off again. Sometimes he’d bring Zach a stick to throw, but most of the time he just seemed to be checking in before he ran off again. Grass crunched under her boots and Lucy pulled in a deep breath. The rain had left the air fresh, smelling of damp grass.

  Inside the barn, Lucy picked up a pitch fork with worn tines. She headed down to the other end of the barn to bed down the stalls with fresh straw. They worked well past the morning hours. The day heated and Lucy pulled off the long-sleeve tee, leaving herself only in a white wife-beater. Sweat trickled down her back and dampened her forehead. She hummed one of the songs that Charlie had been singing this morning, but that didn’t drown out the awareness of Zach.

  He stripped down as well, pulling off his shirt to leave his skin bare to the sun. Oddly enough, he didn’t have the usual farmer’s tan of bronzed arms and neck, and pasty everywhere else. Instead, he looked a little pale all over, as if he didn’t really get out in the sun all that much. Had he been ill? She couldn’t believe that, not with muscles like his—and she didn’t see any scars. The mystery behind the man was starting to get to her.

  Around noon—at least Lucy figured it had to be close to that with the sun overhead—Zach called out, “Break time. Come and cool down.”

  She came out of the barn to see him sitting on a bale of straw. He still had his shirt off and his Stetson pushed back on his head. Lucy took in those long, jeans-clad legs and all that bare skin and her mouth dried.

  He glanced up, held up a bottle of water, and asked, “What?”

  Shaking her head, she took the water from him. “Nothing. You just look more like one of those ads—you know the ones that are selling image and some kind of outdoorsy cologne.”

  Instead of laughing, he grimaced. “Ads—never believe ‘em. Most of it’s lies anyway.”

  “Most of it.” She grinned. “Not all.”

  He patted the bale next to him. “I think a few folks try to hang onto their integrity.”

  She sat and stretched her legs out into the sun. “So you know about advertising then?”

  “Enough to know this is better.” He waved a hand out at Charlie’s farm. “Land, sun, sky—these are real. Don’t you feel more alive out here?”

  Reaching up, she plucked a straw from his hair. “I think I’m going to feel my aching back tomorrow. This barn’s big enough to hold twice the number of horses you have with room left over for hay, a few pigs and a couple of dairy cows.”

  He smiled. “That what you’d like to see here?”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Just what’s your story, Zach Collins? You seem to know your way around a farm—most of the time. But to really work this place you need a crew—a dozen hands or so. Are you playing at being a cowboy?”

  Pulling off his hat he slapped some of the dust off it and settled it on his knee. “You want to trade questions? Why not tell me what’s up with you and that black car that came by yesterday?”

  She looked out at the fields. “It’s late in the year to be getting a crop in.”

  “Oh, there’s time. A couple of months at least—and you don’t want to talk about your past any more than I do it seems.”

  She glanced at him. “Guess we all have things we’d rather not air in the light of day.”

  “And what about nights? Do you have bad dreams or good ones, Lucy?”

  She shook her head and stood. “We all have dreams, too.”

  He stood as w
ell and faced her. Taking one hand in his, he asked her, “What do you dream of, Lucy?”

  “Oh, simple things—you’d think them foolish.”

  “Would I?”

  She nodded. “Good land... a good man to work it. I’m not looking for much.”

  “You’re not looking for gold.”

  Head tipped, she stared at him. “Oh—you’re thinking of what Maggie said. No, I’m no gold digger. I know better. Most gold out there’s fool’s gold—nothing but a lie, like those ads we were talking about. But...well, it’s hard to get by in this life without money.” She stared at him. “I expect you know about that.”

  “Better than you may think. But money’s not everything.”

  She kept watching him, trying to see past the smooth answers to what might be underneath. “Zach Collins, I know your type. You’ll come...and you’ll leave again. You’re the drifting type.”

  Eyebrows lifting he shook his head. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because you don’t have land—you’re leasing Charlie’s. Leasing—not buying.”

  “Maybe I’m just trying it out for size.”

  Lucy shook her head. “No. One morning we’ll wake and you’ll be gone. That’s how you do this, isn’t it.”

  He touched her arm, his finger brushing along her skin, leaving shivers behind. “And would you care? If I was gone?”

  She stared up at him, wondering the same thing. What if he did go? What if he left and she never got the answers she wanted about just what kind of man he was? Mouth pressed tight, Lucy knew she should be sensible here. She should keep her distance and let this guy just move on—but she thought about what Charlie had said.

  Her heart was far too unused. And she was damn tired of it.

  Facing Zach, she grabbed his face with both her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him, hard and fast, leaving herself breathless. When she pulled back, he blinked. And he smiled.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Digging his fingers into her hair, he pulled her up to him. On a gasp she opened her mouth. He slipped his tongue inside and traced the inside of her lips. But she wanted more.

  She pulled him with her down onto the grass.

  She had no idea what would come of this—but for once, she was going to give up thinking and just go with her feelings.

  And maybe she really was Dave Ennis’ daughter, after all.

  Chapter Eight

  Zach knew he wouldn’t be staying—and starting something with the woman wasn’t wise. But who the hell cared about that when he had her in his arms, kissing him like her body was on fire and he was the water she needed.

  He dragged off her shirt and unclasped her bra. Her fingers roamed over his skin and slipped down to his zipper. He cupped her breasts and kept on kissing her. Pushing away from him, she dragged off her jeans and underwear.

  He struggled to get his boots, socks, and jeans off. She was naked first and she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Sunlight pulled a halo from her hair and warmed her skin. Zach had a rock digging into his butt, but he didn’t care.

  “Always did want to ride a cowboy,” she said voice low.

  She ran her hand down his stomach and reached down between them, her touch teasing. He gave a groan. “Ride away, honey. Just watch it with your spurs.”

  She grinned, dug her heels into his thighs, rose up and plunged herself down on him. He’d never had any woman do that and the world went white for an instant. Over him, Lucy gave a moan and started to ride him, just like she’d promised. She leaned down every now and then to kiss him. He wrapped his fingers around her hips and watched those high firm breasts of hers bounce.

  With another moan, she did a little wiggle of her hips. He dug in his fingers. “Do that again and I’m not guaranteeing I’ll last.”

  “Isn’t that the general idea?” she asked. She wiggled her hips again.

  He gave himself up to her, let her ride him, and let him use him. She pounded herself hard and long on him. He could feel the orgasms take her—one after another, leaving her skin slick and her muscles quivering. He hovered on the edge himself, trying to hold on, trying to give her the best ride of her life. Finally, he couldn’t hold back. She shimmied her hips again and he gave a strangled cry. Pulling off him, she held him in her hand as he pushed up into her grip, nothing in this world but her hanging onto him and that damn rock pressing up into his butt.

  When he could think again—and move—he shifted her over onto her side. Laying next to her, he brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her green eyes looked warm and soft—and she smiled, about as contented as any cat who’d gotten into the cream.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” she said.

  He brushed his fingers over her sun and sex-warmed skin. “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything.”

  “Okay. I have a younger brother. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s kin, so what can you do.”

  “Ha. I was an only child. What I wouldn’t have given to have a brother or sister.” She plucked a strand of grass and teased his nose with it. “What’s your favorite color?”

  Grabbing her hand he bit her finger and kissed it. “Blue. How about favorite flower?”

  “Calla lily.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Those are for funerals. Tell me something about your parents. Do they live around here?”

  Her eyes rounded. She sat up and looked away. “My father’s dead.”

  Wincing, he got up as well and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  She gave a sharp laugh and faced him. “Don’t be. I wasn’t. I don’t think anyone was.” Pulling away, she found her jeans and dragged them on. He noticed she hadn’t bothered with any underwear. “He was a dad in name only. Dads do things with their kids. He didn’t. And you can’t miss something you never had. If it wasn’t for Charlie... well, let’s just say I might have ended up even worse off than I am.”

  “Worse?” He put his hands on his hips and realized he was still buck naked. Grabbing his jeans off the ground, he pulled them on.

  Lucy found her white T-shirt and dragged it over her head. Zach tried to drag his eyes off the pert nipples tending that T-shirt, but he couldn’t. She hadn’t pulled her T-shirt all the way down and a sliver of skin still showed above her jeans. Walking over to her, he stroked that skin. “What’s worse?”

  She shook her head, let out a breath and looked up at him. “You name it. My mom’s in Branson’s Creek. I go to see her once a week but she doesn’t even know me anymore. She’s...my daddy hit her once too often. And I—” She broke off the words and tried to turn away.

  He held onto her. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. My parents died in a car accident when I was still in high school. Took me six months to get custody of my brother and longer than that to get over just how damn angry I was at my folks for leaving us like that. I hated them for such a long time—and then it finally sank in that they did the best they could. Same for you—some people shouldn’t have kids. Some do and screw it up pretty good. That’s not what matters. You’re doing something with your life. You’ve turned into a remarkable woman.” He pushed the hair from her face. “Don’t ever sell that short by saying it’s worse.”

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I don’t even talk to Charlie.”

  He leaned over and kissed her lips, a brush of his mouth against her softness. “There’s something to be said for getting close.”

  She backed up a step. “Yeah, but I’m not asking you to stay. We’d better get back to work. I’m not earning any money like this.”

  She turned and walked away before he could say anything. And he wasn’t sure he was any closer to understanding her. But he was sure that she was getting under his skin.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time Zach got back to Charlie’s house all he could think about was how good a shower sounded. Sweaty, a touch sun burnt, he could feel the muscles he
’d used today telling him to go easy tomorrow. He could also smell chicken cooking—and he was pretty damn sure he could smell Lucy on him still. He headed upstairs fast, showered, and changed into clean jeans and a plaid shirt. He pulled on socks and his boots and came downstairs to hear Charlie just about yelling.

  “If you would just let me help you—”

  From the kitchen, Lucy answered, her tone low and determined. “I’ve told you a hundred times, this isn’t your problem.”

  Zach shook his head. Lucy sounded as if she’d dug in her heels good, and Charlie sounded like she’d just about had it with that kind of mule-like independence. He sat down on the couch in the living room and tried not to listen. It was, after all, none of his business. But he started tapping his fingers on his leg—he was itching to get in there and do something to sort those two out and fix things.

  “Lucy, you are the closest thing to family I have. So stop with that stubborn-ass pride of yours. That’s what friends and family do. Help.”

  “If you’re going to keep pushing, I’ll be moving out.”

  “What I need to do is go after that bastard with a gun! That’d sort Martino out pretty damn fast.”

  Zach stilled. Martino? He was sure he’d heard the name before? Where?

  From the kitchen, a pan clattered into the sink. “No, you’re not going after anyone. Because if anything ever happened to you... Charlie, I don’t have much family left either. So... you have to let me deal with him. I’m doing to pay off the debt. It’ll work out.”

  “Girl, you know he’ll just find another way to make you keep paying. He’s going to bleed you forever.”

  “Let me handle it. Please.”

  Their voices dropped. Zach got up and headed out to the front to play with Sunny and feed him. He kept thinking about what Lucy had said. She owed money. How the hell had she gotten in debt to the wrong kind of guy? To this Martino? Did she have a drug problem? The name finally clicked into place. He had his name and face on a photo near the entrance as the guy in charge of the casino in town. Did Lucy have a gambling addiction? He hadn’t seen any signs of it, but how well did he really know her?