What the Bachelor Gets

by Kristina Knight

  Besides, calling or texting at almost eleven at night would send the wrong message. He didn’t want—or need—a booty call. If that was what he wanted, he’d have stayed with Natalia/Natasha at the MGM. She was exactly his type. Beautiful, confident, not demanding. Simple to date and simple to leave behind.

  So why had he left so abruptly when, before he spotted Callie across the club, he’d been having an okay time?

  Gage took a long drink from the beer. Liar. He’d been bored silly from the second he picked up the other woman, thinking of ways to get out of the date from the second he confirmed the plans. This was stupid. He had a huge deal on his plate with the Heck ranch, and he was getting Callie set up at the Oasis. He didn’t have time to date a bunch of women just because of Connor’s Bachelor of the Month segment in the newspaper.

  He’d been tempted to take Callie to the dance floor, though. Tempted to take her out of the club, to his truck, and right back here, in fact.

  Which would have been an even bigger mistake. Callie was not his type. She was a nice, wholesome, regular girl. Who happened to look amazing in short, red dresses, sure, but who was a partner in his business for the next year or so, at least. Mixing business with pleasure was not the way Gage Reeves ran his life.

  He finished the beer and tossed the can in the trash, then took off the shorts and pulled jeans over his long legs.

  She’d been his friend all those years ago. Friendship was something Gage didn’t jack with. Not back then. Not now.

  He got into his truck and started across the Vegas night. Traffic was still heavy on the Strip, but as he pulled past the main string of casinos, things quieted. By the time he crossed over into Henderson there seemed to be no other cars on the road. Before he knew exactly what he was doing there, Gage knocked on Callie’s front door.

  No answer. Probably still out having fun with Mandy and the tourists.

  He knocked again and turned to leave, but the sound of the lock scraping against the doorjamb stopped him.

  “Gage?” Callie blinked. “What are you doing here?”

  Her voice was rough, as if she’d been sleeping, and his mouth went dry when he took in the long length of her legs in short pajama shorts. She wore a fitted tank, and a short robe covered her shoulders. Gage swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

  “Then why are you knocking on my door at nearly midnight?”

  “I thought you’d still be up. Maybe just getting in from your celebration.”

  “And you wanted to, what?” Callie nibbled on her full lower lip.

  Tell her he didn’t want to date her. Tell her they could be friends, but nothing more. Tell her going out with that Bachelor of the Month groupie was a mistake that would never happen again.

  “I wanted to tell you congratulations. I think I might have forgotten that earlier today.”

  “Congratulations for signing a lease that is going to make your company a lot of money?” And then she smiled. “No, you didn’t tell me congratulations for that.” She shifted her weight and rested one foot on top of the other. Even her feet looked pretty tonight, which was crazy.

  He didn’t have a foot fetish, damn it. This was Callie. His friend. His sometimes confidante. His tenant. He would not cross that line. He just wouldn’t.

  “Well, congratulations. I think I’m going to be very happy with the money you make me,” he said, trying to play off the ridiculousness of his made-up reason for knocking on her door in the middle of the night.

  “Thank you. My plan is to make me more money than I make you.”

  “Good plan.”

  “I’ve got a lot of them.”

  “You always did.”

  They were quiet for a long moment. Gage tried not to look at Callie but found his gaze darting back to her legs too often. Traveling up them. Watching the light blue silk of her robe graze along the supple skin of her thigh. He shook himself.

  Business. Just business.

  “Well, I guess I should go.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Have to make sure my new tenants are happy.”

  Callie smiled. “Good night, Gage,” she said.

  “Good night, Cal.” He waved his hand and turned back to his SUV. Her front door closed behind him, and the lock clicked.

  Gage sat behind the wheel for a long moment, looking back at Callie’s condo.

  Business was most definitely not the only thing on his mind when it came to Callie Holliday.

  • • •

  Callie leaned her back against the door, listening to Gage’s footsteps retreat down her walk. That was a close one.

  Seeing him standing on her doorstep at midnight, wearing old jeans and an even older tee, put her ovaries into overdrive in a way that seeing him in the finest suits over the past few days hadn’t done. This Gage, casual Gage, the Gage she remembered from high school, was so much more dangerous than the slick, put-together, dating-supermodels Gage she’d been convinced he had become while she was going to school and marrying Mr. Wrong.

  Callie blew out a breath and peeked through the side window beside the front door. Gage put the truck in drive and pulled away from her curb.

  Damn. This wasn’t going to be just business, no matter what she’d told herself umpteen times over the past few days. She liked him. He seemed to like her. And not just as his old friend Callie.

  Oh, but he was tempting. He’d ridden to her rescue in a black SUV, wearing dangerous suits and playing nice with sick, old Mr. Heck. He’d offered her a way out of the Vast Hole Center, helped her rescue a coyote pup, and ate ice cream with hard candies sprinkled on top.

  Gage Reeves was dangerous from the soles of his scruffy Nikes to the top of his hundred-dollar haircut.

  Callie pushed away from the door and started down the hall. She needed to strengthen her resolve. Gage Reeves was out of her league. Maybe farther out of her league than Eddie had been.

  She’d already played that game and lost bitterly. This time she was taking no chances.

  Bachelor of the Month. Vegas high roller.

  Starting tomorrow, he was her business partner and nothing more.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning Gage got into his SUV and headed north toward the ranch.

  He felt like an idiot after his all-business pep talk to himself on the drive home from Callie’s condo, but he didn’t want to deal with the phone calls and emails from day four of what he was now calling Bachelor Gate. Only two more days until Connor’s next magazine went live online and in print. He could hold out that long.

  Three hours later, Gage cursed his decision to avoid the office. Dealing with a horde of date-hungry women was a cakewalk compared to the herd of angry ranchers demanding Gage “do something” about the coyote pup. With Rollie busy dealing with their calls, Gage took on the task of looking for a rehoming group. He should have started making the calls already, but he’d been distracted with Callie. Dinner with Callie, packing with Callie. And now he was dealing with annoyed friends because of Callie.

  After the third rescue he called laughed in his ear about taking on a coyote pup, he decided no more work. No more technology. Just Gage and his old horse.

  Gage wiped down the back of the gelding he’d been riding to avoid the phone ringing off the hook in the ranch house. And the barns. And his pocket. Rollie, stomping down the barn aisle, jerked his cell phone from its holster and tossed it at Gage’s head.

  “You’re the one who insisted I need this damn thing. All the calls are from you or for you, so you can have it back.” He stomped on through, taking a second to fill the water bowl in the coyote’s cage. “There’s a back-to-the-wild group in Washington State that has room for the pup. I could drive it up next week, unless you’re setting it free here.”

  Gage finished with the horse and patted its rump. So he’d spent the afternoon spinning his wheels. He should have known Rollie would already h
ave the situation in hand. The man never seemed to drop any of the balls he juggled, from running the ranch to volunteering with a rodeo group in the next county. Gage looked at the smartphone. Another neighboring rancher was calling—probably to offer input into the coyote problem. Gage sent the call to voice mail. He crouched down before the crate, and the pup inched forward to sniff at his hands. A few days ago, he’d have had no problem letting nature take its course, the pup either surviving on its own or … not. But survival of the fittest just didn’t seem fair now. Not when the pup yipped happily at Rollie and fell over into the water dish.

  Rollie righted the dish, and splashed a bit more water inside.

  “Good reputation?”

  “Solid. They’ve rehomed everything from river otters to mountain lions. Didn’t even hesitate when I mentioned the coyote.” Rollie pushed a chicken bone through the cage wire, and the pup grabbed it and began chewing. “So you want me to clear the schedule for next week? Figure it’ll take a day to get up there, a day to get back.”

  “And you’ll take at least a day in between getting there and coming back here. Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.” Gage stood and handed the cell phone back to Rollie.

  “Aw, you’d miss ol’ Rollie if he wasn’t around, huh?” Rollie squinted as he looked at Gage, the crow’s feet at his eyes deepening.

  Gage rolled his eyes, but the truth was he would miss Rollie. The man had been on the ranch as long as Gage could remember, having been hired by Caleb before either Gage or his brothers were born. He didn’t want to get all misty with the older man, though. “I’d miss the new ranch truck I paid fifty grand for last fall. Getting it in your favorite candy-apple red was a chore.”

  “But it sure looks nice with the ranch brand in gold and black on the sides, doesn’t it?” The cell phone rang again, and this time Rollie tossed it into the water trough outside the barn. “Whoops.”

  “You couldn’t just tell whoever that was that the pup’ll be gone in a week?”

  Rollie shrugged as they walked into the late afternoon sunlight. “Could have, but then I’d have had to repeat myself over and over and over again. This way they can leave their messages and I’ll get back to ’em when I feel like it.”

  “How are you gonna know who called?”

  “It’s called voice mail, Gage.” In the shade of an old oak, Rollie pulled a tub of chewing tobacco from his pocket and then stuck a wad in his mouth. “You gonna tell Callie we found her pup a home?”

  Gage couldn’t stop the smile on his face. Complications or not, letting Callie know the pup would be gone soon seemed like the friendly thing to do.

  Connor walked into the barn in his version of cowboy chic—straw hat on his head, pearl-buttoned shirt, Levi’s over his hips, and shiny boots made of … ostrich, if Gage were any judge. Not that he should come down too hard on Connor. It wasn’t as if Gage’s leather Luccheses should be worn in a pasture, either.

  “What brings you to the ranch?”

  Connor crouched beside the coyote, elbows resting on his knees and hands dangling toward the plank floor. “Had to see for myself if we really had a coyote pup on the premises.” Connor stood. “I figured you were serious, but this way I can tell my advertisers I’ve seen the holding area and their land and businesses are safe from it.”

  “You’ve got advertisers calling you? Jesus, it’s a freaking puppy, and it’s been here less than a week.” Gage blew out a breath.

  Connor shrugged. “You know how people talk. I figure by the weekend you’ll be breeding coyote pups for sale in those boutique, specialty pet stores.” He turned his attention to the foreman. “Hey, Roll.”

  “Connor. You pretending to be a cowboy instead of a publisher today?”

  Connor grinned. “Is it the pearl buttons that gave me away or the fact I don’t have a tobacco-can ring on my back pocket?”

  Rollie grimaced. “It’s the boots, Con. No self-respecting cowboy wears ostrich. I’ll make the arrangements for the pup, Gage. And I’ll spread the word to the other ranches, too.”

  “Thanks, Roll,” Gage said to the older man’s back. When he and Connor were alone, he asked, “What are you really out here for? If memory serves, you were just out here two months ago, when we rounded up the calves for sale.”

  “I can’t come out to visit my childhood home?”

  “You never come out here just to visit.” Gage motioned Connor to follow him. Even in the temperature-controlled barn it was hot this afternoon. They each grabbed a beer from the small fridge in the office and sank into their father’s favorite leather chairs.

  “Never? That’s being a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  Gage shrugged. Connor and Jase had both made themselves scarce from the ranch for more years than they cared to admit. Gage couldn’t remember the last time Connor actually came into the barn.

  Or wore jeans to the ranch, for that matter.

  “Rollie found a rescue place that will take the pup. Up in Washington. He leaves next week, so you can assure your advertisers and whoever else is calling we aren’t raising coyotes out here. We raise cattle and a few horses, same as always.”

  Connor drank from his bottle, looking out the window and not saying a word. It made Gage itchy. Connor could be sarcastic, annoying, downright stupid. But when it got quiet, things usually started hitting the fan. Gage had a coyote on the ranch, a growing attraction to Callie Holliday, a working partnership with Callie, and an ailing dude ranch owner to convince it was time to sell. He didn’t need to add a contemplative Connor to the list. Gage finished off his own bottle as the air conditioning in the office kicked back on.

  “There’s a conglomerate out of Denver looking at Vegas. They just bought the Daily Sun,” Connor said of the biggest daily in Las Vegas.

  “What do you care? Your paper covers the gossip or why would I be on the cover right now?”

  “We don’t just cover the gossip. Do you even read it?” Connor got up to pace the small office. No, Gage didn’t read it. But then he didn’t really read the Sun, either. He skimmed the financial headlines most days, looked at the classifieds for land sales. But most of his news came from the online versions of The Washington Post or USA Today.

  “You never asked me to read it.”

  “I shouldn’t have to ask, it’s part of the Reeves Brothers umbrella. Don’t you want to know what we publish?”

  “Do you seriously care what I think about your tabloid? Because if you do, you’re gonna have to take off the granny panties you’re wearing and suck it up like a big boy.”

  Connor pushed his hands against the windowsill and turned. “You’re such an idiot.”

  “And you’re such a blowhard. What’s your deal? Using my face to sell a few papers didn’t fill your weekly quota of assholishness? Now you’re out here whining about a takeover that doesn’t even affect you?”

  “Of course it affects me. Clayton Holdings is a pain in my ass. It’s like he knows every move I’m about to make. Do I really need to spell out how badly their takeover of the Sun could hurt my division?”

  “You’re already fighting the Sun for readers and ad dollars, Con. This is a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “And if he gets my media holdings here, what does that do to your property development side and Jase’s gaming company? We’re all linked, Pretty Boy. Reeves Brothers Entertainment. We’re all spokes in the main umbrella.”

  “So you think he’s ultimately after the ranch?” Gage’s heart pumped harder. They couldn’t lose the ranch. As much as he’d hated the place growing up, he understood it now. Understood why the land meant so much to his father. Understood what it meant that for more than one hundred years his family had held the same property. Through drought and flood, through nearly every other family selling to the developers who came out in the fifties and sixties, the Reeves family had held their place, protecting a little piece of the Mojave. That meant something.

  His eco-development of the
properties on the Strip and his plans for the Heck ranch would mean something, too. But not if Connor’s arm of the business was taken down by a competitor.

  Connor shoved his hands into his hair. “I don’t know what the hell he wants, but he outbid me on the Reno and Tahoe newspapers, and only you and Jase knew I wanted them. Shit, maybe I am overreacting. Reeves Publishing has a solid revenue line. My employees like working for me. Readership is up thanks to your pretty boy face on the cover. I just don’t like it.”

  “So you came out here to blow off a little steam? Figure out what to do about Clayton?”

  “Something like that.”

  They were so much alike, Gage realized. Jase was the most standoffish about the ranch, but then he’d seen the most of Helena’s craziness when they were kids. But any time things went sideways for any of them, the ranch was where they took shelter. Figured things out.

  “I can set you up with a shovel and a few stalls filled with horse shit.”

  “Think I’ll settle for the keys to the Jeep and a drive through the desert. You can keep the manual labor.” Connor chuckled and caught the keys Gage tossed at him in midair. “You should sit down with one of my reporters. Talk to ’em about being named Bachelor of the Month.”

  “You should go shovel some horse shit.” Gage chucked Connor’s shoulder as they walked into the hot afternoon sun. “The paper’s solid. The addition of the online shows will grow the ad base. And if you fold, you could always come work for me. Property development will never go out of style in Vegas.”

  “Yeah.” Connor started the Jeep. “You tell Callie you found a home for her coyote yet?”

  Gage didn’t have time to answer. Connor pulled the Jeep onto the gravel road leading into the desert, leaving a cloud of dust in the side yard.

  • • •

  Callie cursed herself for allowing Gage to convince her to come to the ranch, even as she turned down the long driveway. It was boredom, mixed with a little too much attraction, that made her do it. After finishing at the new spa, she ran a few errands and then indulged herself with a facial and new nail wraps. By four o’clock, she’d been desperate for something to do outside the little condo.