by Carol Finch
“Because I intend to host the largest party Ca-Cross has ever seen, and for one night I need a stylish gown.”
“Ca-Cross?” Rosa’s lips twitched and her jewel-like eyes twinkled in amusement. “You sound like Quin.”
Rosa could have chattered all day without saying that, Adrianna thought, disgruntled. She did not want to be compared to that opinionated rascal.
“Never mind him.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “This town-wide celebration will honor your marriage to Lucas and it will be the talk of the county. With Beatrice and Ezmerelda’s organizing and cooking skills, we will have a grand time. Plus, I can become acquainted with the good citizens of Ca-Cross. After all, I will be doing business in town and I want to meet shop owners. Even the ones on the wrong side of the tracks.”
Rosa rolled her eyes, “Addie K., I have no qualms about you making a memorable splash in town, but there is no need to become notorious and outlandish. I, for one, prefer to keep a low profile.”
Adrianna noted the simple gold band that was nothing like the expensive jewels Rosa had been expected to wear in years past.
“The McKnight-Greer wealth has caused us both endless headaches,” Rosa said, then shrugged. “But I suppose we each have our own way of dealing with our demons.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “We both know you can’t trust a man’s motives. Lucas excluded. He, of course, is perfect.”
“Indeed, he is. I can tell him anything and he won’t betray me,” Rosa insisted. “But if you wish to be known as an eccentric heiress who wears breeches and rides astride in public—”
Adrianna flapped her arms to silence her cousin. “You just admitted you haven’t outgrown your hoyden tendencies entirely,” she pointed out. “We sneaked out the two-story windows at the estate repeatedly for midnight rides on horses that our parents considered too spirited for dainty females.”
Rosa smiled dryly, but didn’t refute the comment. “Be that as it may, do not drag me into this rebellion of yours.” She strode off with an armload of fabric and Adrianna followed at her heels. “If Quin set you off with his blundering comments why don’t you simply charm the breeches off him? It worked with the men who tried to manipulate you to the altar.”
“Cahill is a different breed and requires no finesse,” she replied. “I’ll make him regret his feeble attempt to persuade me to sell out and return to Boston, where he claims I should have stayed in the first place. In fact, I might become his new neighbor from hell if he continues to aggravate me.”
Rosa tossed back her silver-blonde head and burst out laughing. “I’m so glad you’re here to liven things up, Addie K. I’ve missed you terribly. Now I have Lucas, you and my thriving business. Life is good.”
Mine is getting better, Adrianna thought to herself. She had spread her independent wings and she wouldn’t be stifled, as she had the past seven years. Giving in to her wild, rebellious nature felt wonderful! And she was never going to reside in New England again. It wasn’t where she belonged, despite what that infuriating Quin Cahill thought.
“Come meet Melanie Ford, my assistant,” Rosa said, dragging Adrianna from her pensive musings. “She has the same kind of magical hands with a sewing machine as Elda Quickel has with cooking. I’ve already told Mel all about you.”
“Thank you…I think.”
“It’s all good,” Rosa insisted. “You can meet Mel and her husband, Cyril, who manages the stage station. He usually drops in to take Mel to lunch. Then you and I can dine together since Lucas is working at the ranch all day.”
Adrianna frowned curiously. “You didn’t mention where you and Lucas are living. In the apartment upstairs or at the ranch?”
“Both places, depending on our workload,” Rosa explained. “If you want to stay the night in our apartment while we are at the ranch, overseeing the construction of our new home, you are always welcome to use it.”
“Thank you. And, Rosa?”
“Yes?”
“I’m ever so glad to be here with you.”
Rosa grinned over her shoulder. “Me, too, Cuz. Texas is perfect for you. You’ll see.”
Adrianna followed Rosa into the workroom to make her first official acquaintance in Ca-Cross. Meeting Quin didn’t count because she didn’t consider that aggravating rascal a potential friend. And just wait until he found out what she had in store for him.
Call her Boston, would he? Dismiss her as an ineffective ranch manager? Ha! He would rue the day he belittled her when she was hell-bent on making a fresh new start. She had yet to begin to put Quin Cahill in his place!
Quin was dead tired. He’d spent the past week riding the range, sorting out the calves he planned to take on the spring cattle drive to Dodge City. Although the railroad had finally reached Ca-Cross, the cattle buyers from Chicago meatpacking companies sent their agents to Dodge, so Dodge was where Quin headed each spring and fall.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he glanced down the rolling hill to see his house, bunkhouse, barns and sheds. As soon as he and his cowhands corralled the cattle he’d brought in for branding, he planned to soak in the bathtub for at least an hour. Maybe more. Then he planned to prop up his aching legs and catch a nap. After that, he’d amble down to the bunkhouse to see what the chuckwagon cook had stirred up for supper.
Once his men penned up the special group of calves that represented the 4C’s finest beef stock, Quin glanced around the area and frowned. “Where’s Rocky Rhodes?” he asked the men that had remained behind to tend daily ranch chores.
The cowboys glanced away and tried to look exceptionally busy. Unease trickled down Quin’s spine. “Damnation, is Rock hurt? Or did he receive word that his family in Missouri needed him?”
Quin always counted on Rock, his efficient foreman. Rock had a good rapport with the cowboys and he was an expert on cattle. Quin never worried when he left for a trail drive because Rock was in charge.
“Well? Where is he?” Quin demanded impatiently.
Skeeter Gregory, the leather-faced, wiry cowboy who was Rock’s right-hand man, glanced down at the toes of his boots, as if they suddenly demanded his absolute attention. He dragged in a breath, then said, “Rock ain’t here no more. He quit four days ago and he left me in charge.”
“He quit?” Quin roared in disbelief. “What the hell for?”
A strange silence descended on the group of cowboys. Even the bawling calves that had been weaned from their mamas piped down for a moment.
Skeeter squinted up at him. “He got a better job offer and he told me to tell you no hard feelings.”
“A better job?” Hell’s jingling bells! No one paid better wages than 4C. That’s how Quin had kept the top hands after his family of traitors had ridden off to make new lives for themselves and left him short-handed.
Quin bounded from the saddle and stalked up to Skeeter, who still seemed exceptionally fascinated with the scuffed toes of his high-heel boots. “What the hell is really going on?” Quin demanded sharply.
“You ain’t gonna like this, boss,” Skeeter mumbled.
“I already don’t like it. Where is Rock’s new job?”
Finally, Skeeter’s hazel-eyed gaze lifted to face Quin’s annoyed frown. “That pretty Miz McKnight came over to hire him to run her spread.”
“What!” Quin bellowed in outrage. Wasn’t it enough that he’d spent the past week seeing that feisty female creep into his dreams each time he bedded down on the hard ground? Damn it, he didn’t even like Boston McKnight all that much. Well, sure, she was strikingly attractive with that body built for sin, those thick-lashed green eyes, that shiny chestnut hair and lush mouth that all but begged to be kissed—if only to shut her up. Her defiant attitude rubbed Quin the wrong way. He liked his women soft-spoken and engaging.
That did not begin to describe Boston.
“She’ll pay dearly for this prank,” Quin muttered as he lurched around, then stormed off. When a thought shot through his mind, he stopped short, then w
heeled back to his cowhands. “Anyone else planning to join the McKnight spread?”
“We weren’t asked,” Skeeter replied. “Just Rock.”
Growling under his breath, Quin made a beeline for the house to enjoy the long-awaited bath he’d promised himself. He breezed inside, greeted by the same silence that had met him for the past two years. His housekeeper, who only showed up three days a week, had taken a job in town so she wouldn’t have to travel to and from work each day. Quin hadn’t been home long enough to replace her. Now he was alone in the gigantic three-story house, thanks to his selfish siblings jumping ship after their parents’ tragic deaths.
Although his stomach was growling something fierce, Quin finished his bath, then dressed quickly. He stuffed his feet in his boots and his shirttail into his breeches, then hurried downstairs. He grabbed his best Stetson from the hook beside the door and breezed outside to fetch a horse. Not Cactus, he mused. His favorite mount was as exhausted from the roundup as Quin was.
Ezra Fields, the lanky, bearded cowboy who had signed on more than two years earlier, was waiting with a fresh horse. “Figured you were headed for the McKnight spread,” Ezra drawled. “Figured you’d want to give ole Cactus a rest.”
“Thanks,” Quin murmured as he descended from the porch.
“Don’t know what that McKnight gal is trying to pull,” Ezra remarked as he handed over the reins. “She came riding astride on her dapple-gray thoroughbred to see Rock.”
Riding astride? Now why didn’t that surprise him?
“She flashed a big smile and showed off her shapely figure in trim-fitting breeches and shirt.”
That sounded like something that hellion would do. Divert a man’s attention while she pulled her clever stunts.
“She could’ve lured more cowboys to join her but she turned all her charm on Rocky Rhodes that day,” Ez went on to say. “You think she’ll be back to hire away more cowhands while you’re out? You think she’s trying to undermine the 4C?”
Well, I do now! She is going to catch an earful from me, Quin thought resentfully.
“No telling what that seductive woman promised as fringe benefits to lure Rock away,” Ezra commented. “You know how bashful Rock is around women. I’d call him a pushover. Not like you. You don’t back down to nobody.”
Quin bounded onto the saddle and thundered off. Ezra was probably right. Boston had used her charm on Rock, who rarely worked up the nerve to ask a woman to dance at the occasional town social. Poor Rock, he thought. Boston would chew him up and spit him out if he crossed her.
Well, she won’t have the chance, Quin vowed resolutely. He would get his ranch foreman back before that sneaky female sank her claws into Rock and ripped him to shreds.
The moment Quin reached the McKnight Ranch, he headed directly to the house. Aggravated though he was, he noticed the house and veranda boasted a fresh coat of white paint and construction had begun on the new addition. But he wasn’t here to admire the changes. He wanted to have it out with Boston.
His hands curled into fists, itching to put a choke-hold on her lovely neck. Muttering, he rapped on the door—hard. Butler showed up two minutes later. Quin suspected the stoic accountant purposely left him waiting on the veranda.
“How nice to see you again, Cahill,” Butler said—and didn’t sound the slightest bit sincere.
“Same to you.” Quin glanced over Butler’s dark head. Not a hair was out of place, as usual. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?” Butler blinked and tried out a mock-innocent stare. Quin didn’t buy it for even a second. Butler was as annoying as his boss.
“You know perfectly well who I’m talking about,” Quin snapped irritably. “Where’s Boston and what prank is she planning to play on me next?”
“I don’t have the vaguest notion what you mean,” said Butler. “However, if you are asking after Addie K., she is sorting her Herefords. I doubt she has time for you right now. Maybe you could call again next week…or the week after.”
Quin gnashed his teeth so hard he nearly ground off the enamel. He glared at Butler, who obviously didn’t have much use for him. Not that Quin cared what Boston’s man of affairs thought. The sooner Boston and her entourage left Texas, the happier he’d be. Joyous, in fact.
Lurching around, Quin strode toward the barn and the surrounding corrals. To his amazement, Rock and the skeleton crew of cowhands had their arms draped over the top rail of the fence, watching Boston wander around the white-faced cows that she had shipped from New England. To his amazement—and the fascination of every cowboy—she was wearing the formfitting breeches Ezra mentioned. The tan-colored garment accentuated her small waist, the enticing curve of her hips and the well-defined shape of her legs. The breeches were tucked into her boots and her long chestnut hair lay against her spine in a thick braid.
And that blouse! Damn, thought Quin. The top two buttons had come undone. Or more likely, she had unbuttoned them to hold the cowboys spellbound and leave them wondering when another button would work loose to expose more cleavage. For certain, the garment was custom-made to display Boston’s full bosom to its best advantage.
One of Rosa’s designs, Quin suspected. No telling how much Boston had paid Rosa to create garments that diverted male attention away from the fact that she was an annoying little hellion.
Despite the resentful thoughts chasing one another around Quin’s head, he watched her intently. She carried a stick as she wandered through the herd of Herefords, speaking softly to them. She tapped one and then another on the rump to single them out, then directed them into a separate pen. She seemed to be selecting heifers that carried the characteristics she wanted to breed into her next crop of calves. Quin was unwillingly impressed, though he’d cut out his tongue before he complimented the little vixen for her ability to spot quality beef on the hoof.
“These heifers will be penned up until my boxcar of shorthorn bulls and cows arrive next week,” she called over her shoulder. “These heifers are old enough to breed and they are familiar enough with the place to be released into a pasture with the incoming registered bulls.”
When she fastened the gate, she pivoted around—and halted abruptly. Quin’s narrowed gaze zeroed in on her, revealing none of the masculine appreciation that had bombarded him a few moments earlier. All the resentment that had spurred him during his ride hit him full force.
He watched her gaze dart to Rocky Rhodes—the six-foot, blond-haired, blue-eyed cowboy about Quin’s age—who stood at a distance. Quin focused his hard glare on his former foreman who suddenly became fascinated with the toes of his boots, just as Skeeter had earlier.
“Please see that all the Herefords have plenty of feed and water,” Boston requested as she passed around a dazzling smile to the crowd of cowboys.
Then she squared her shoulders and walked toward Quin. Her chin tilted and her deep green eyes drifted from the top of his hat to his chest and hips. He caught himself wondering if she found him the slightest bit attractive. Not that he cared what she thought of him, of course. He was just curious, was all.
“How nice to see you again,” she commented as she closed the gate.
“That’s what Butler said. I didn’t believe him, either.” Quin clutched her elbow and propelled her around to the back of the barn to ensure privacy. If he decided to strangle the smarmy little minx, he didn’t want her bewitched cowhands rushing to her rescue.
She jerked her arm from his grasp and stared him down. “The last man who tried to scuttle me off, in an attempt to seduce me into accepting his marriage proposal, received a kick in the crotch,” she informed him tartly.
“No need to fear for your virtue, only your life,” he growled as he rounded on her. “How dare you sneak over to my ranch while I was away to steal Rocky Rhodes!”
Her chin jutted out and he mentally kicked himself when his gaze dropped to the lush curve of her mouth. Anger and desire battled inside him and he hated that he found her so wildly attractiv
e when he wanted to strangle her.
“I’m sure he’s delighted, considering the intimate perks you’re probably offering him and the other cowboys who work here.”
Her gaze narrowed to glittering green slits. “What is that supposed to imply, Cahill?”
He gestured toward her clothing. “I’m surprised your cowboys can concentrate on what you tell them when you wear garments that fit like a coat of paint.”
Her back went ramrod stiff, which drew his rapt attention to her out-thrust breasts. Quin’s gaze focused on the gap between the buttons of her blouse and the cleavage beneath—and hated himself for his fierce attraction to this firebrand.
“You expect me to trounce around in a cow pen in a cumbersome dress?” she hissed like a disturbed cat. “That’s impractical. Furthermore, I don’t need your approval. In fact, I couldn’t care less what you think of my wardrobe and of me!”
Quin loomed over her, pressing her against the barn wall, trying to intimidate her. He outweighed her by a hundred pounds and was at least ten inches taller. However, it didn’t seem to matter that he could crush her like a bug. She refused to cower, even when he snarled, bared his teeth and tried to frighten her into submission.
“You listen to me, hellcat. I want my foreman back and I don’t want you to set foot on my property to lure my men to your spread again.”
“Business is business, Cahill,” she sassed him. “I will hire whomever I want in order to turn this ranch into a prosperous endeavor. I intend to integrate my Herefords into my present herd of longhorns and breed the finest group of them with the shorthorns due in next week.” She stabbed him in the chest with her forefinger. “You stay out of my way and off my ranch.”
He grabbed her finger before she poked a hole in his breastbone. “And you stay out of mine, Boston.”
She jerked sideways and he reflexively snaked his arm around her waist to hold her in place. This little snip wasn’t leaving until he dismissed her. Unfortunately, Quin forgot what he intended to say when her body slammed into his and she grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt to give him a shake.
