Wildcat Cowboy (The McCabes of Texas #2)

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Silence fell between them. Unable to bear the raw disappointment in her eyes, or the knowledge that he had put it there, Wade let his glance fall to the stack of partially opened mail on Josie’s desk. One large envelope in particular caught his eye. Spilling out of it were dozens of pictures of pretty dresses that had been torn out of magazines.

  “Big date coming up?” Wade prodded dryly, wondering why even the thought of Josie out on the town with someone else did not go down well with him.

  Josie shoved her hands in the back of her formfitting blue jeans and scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, glaring at him as if she wouldn’t be caught dead in anything feminine or glamorous. “If you’re thinking I tore those pages out of magazines, think again!”

  Without the proof, Wade wouldn’t have suspected Josie of harboring any Cinderella dreams. As stunningly attractive as she was, she looked like a tomboy through and through. Her glossy dark brown hair had been caught in a bouncy ponytail at the back of her head. Silken tendrils escaped to drape her slender neck and frame her pretty oval face. She didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup on the delicate features of her face—not that her flawless golden skin, high model’s cheekbones, thickly lashed eyes and softly luscious lips would have needed much in any case.

  Obviously guessing at the direction of his thoughts, Josie’s lower lip slid out truculently, and her eyes turned an even stormier blue. “Those pictures were sent to me by my mother.”

  Wade wasn’t sure how he felt about the effort to get Josie into an incredibly gorgeous evening gown or not.

  It would be exciting as all get-out to see her in a dress that was cut up to here and down to there and showed a good deal of décolletage as well as an expanse of long, lissome thigh. But on the other hand her snug-fitting T-shirt molded her breasts as softly and precisely as a lover’s caress. Her slim-fitting jeans similarly outlined her slender waist, just-right hips and long, sexy legs.

  More to the point, Wade conceded appreciatively to himself, Josie’s jeans, T-shirt and dusty red western boots were more suited to the briskly energetic, sexily purposeful way she moved. Here, at last, was a woman who could hold her own in any situation, no matter how challenging or physical. Any situation except—Wade noted, while Josie did her best to swiftly gather up the pictures and shove them in a drawer, out of view—perhaps this.

  “So your mother wants to see you all gussied up?” Wade guessed.

  Josie shrugged and assumed an aura of supreme boredom. “She and my father both want me married off.”

  “Then they probably don’t want you working out here, do they?”

  “Given their druthers, no, they wouldn’t.” Josie sighed and, looking relieved to be able to talk about something else beside Wade’s crushing disappointment in Big Jim, continued in a low, disappointed tone, “Both of them hope that by working for Wyatt Drilling I’ll get this dream of mine, of being a wildcatter, out of my system once and for all. In the meantime,” Josie’s voluptuous lips thinned “my mother is trying every way possible to let me know I’ll never find the perfect man unless I live in the city and look like those magazine pictures all the time!”

  “She may have a point, you know.” Wade grinned and decided to throw in his two cents. “I know I prefer women in satin and silk.” In fact, for a variety of reasons, women like that were the only kind he dated.

  “Well, that’s not me,” Josie said flatly.

  He studied the new flood of color in her cheeks. Unable to resist teasing her, he said, “I can see where it’d be a stretch.” Although she clearly had the figure to wear anything she wanted, Wade couldn’t really see the Texas tomboy wearing any of the sexy dresses in those magazine ads.

  Josie gave him a measuring look. “You’re telling me I don’t look like some Dallas debutante?” she asked sweetly.

  If the Dallas debs looked anything like the Houston debs where he was currently living? “I’d have to say no,” Wade replied reluctantly. None of them would have been caught dead living out in the middle of the Texas countryside, working an oil rig.

  Josie draped a hand across her breasts and breathed a sigh of what appeared to be heartfelt relief. “Good.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “It was never my ambition to wear pretty dresses like a model or be a deb, anyway,” Josie told him frankly.

  Wade wasn’t so sure about that—didn’t all little girls pine for stuff like that when they were growing up?—but for the sake of her feelings he let her remark pass undisputed. Resisting the urge to smooth a strand of silky brown hair from her cheek, he soothed her as best he could, “I imagine you’re a little old for all that debutante stuff, anyway.” No use in her crying for what she couldn’t have. No use in him pining after what he shouldn’t have!

  “I’m twenty-six. Not—” Josie tossed her head “—that it’s any of your business.”

  “Well, I’m thirty.” Wade’s lips curved wryly. “Not that it’s any of your business.” He frowned as the cell phone in his pocket began to ring. “Mind if I take this in here?”

  “Be my guest.” Josie quickly finished straightening her desk while he answered his call. To his chagrin, the news was not good.

  “Problem?” Josie said when he’d hung up.

  Wade nodded, grimacing. “My events planner just quit on me. Which is what I get, I suppose, for hiring someone I once dated.”

  “Why’d she take the job if she found it uncomfortable working for you?”

  “To teach me a lesson, apparently.” Despite his ex-girlfriend’s anger, Wade had no regrets about ending their relationship. He knew in the final analysis they had been all wrong for each other. His inability to confide in her, the loneliness he’d felt when he was with her, had been proof of that. “Andrea wanted me to know what it feels like to be left high and dry. Especially since—if what she said just now is to be believed—it’s now way too late to get anyone good to come all the way out to Laramie to handle the party for me.”

  Wade frowned as he slid his wallet-size cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “Of course, given Andrea’s background, I probably should have seen this coming. And known better than to deal with someone who was so emotional and reckless with money.”

  Josie quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Andrea’s a former deb. She’s got a healthy trust fund. She doesn’t need the money from her business to live on. She just uses it to give her some sort of identity, aside from her family’s wealth and social standing.”

  Josie flushed. Looking distinctly uncomfortable with the subject, she turned away from him and paced restlessly. “When is this party of yours?”

  Glad to be able to talk about something besides his ex-girlfriend, Wade stepped close enough to be able to look into Josie’s face and inhale the surprisingly warm and sensual orange blossom perfume. “Friday night.”

  Josie’s pretty eyes widened. “This Friday? Five days from now?”

  Wade nodded.

  Josie clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She shook her head at him, regarding him sympathetically. “Then Andrea’s probably right.”

  Wade looked at her curiously.

  “It’s June—which is prime wedding season,” Josie explained patiently. “Every reliable party planner in the state has probably already been booked for months now.”

  Wade shrugged. “I’ll just take care of the party myself, then.”

  Josie considered that a moment. “That might be possible. What kind of party is it?”

  “My parents are both retiring from Laramie Community Hospital in the next few weeks, and I thought I’d give them a proper send-off.”

  Josie picked up a notepad and pen and dropped into the swivel chair behind her desk, propping her bootclad feet on the edge. “You’ve at least rented a space to hold the party, I hope?”

  Wade nodded as he tore his eyes from her long legs. “The Laramie Community Center. That’s one detail I took care of myself.”

  Sh
e scribbled that down and put a check beside it. “Do you have a contract with a caterer?” He shook his head, aware from the look on her face that was a major faux pas.

  “Theme?” Josie prodded, scribbling some more.

  Again he shook his head. And was rewarded with another lightning round of questions.

  “Decorations? Band? DJ? Flowers or centerpieces?” she pressed.

  “None of the above,” Wade admitted reluctantly as he perched on the edge of her battered wooden desk. “But I’ll handle it. I can do anything I set my mind to.”

  Josie made a few more notes on the pad in front of her. “I suppose that means you’ll be staying in town, then.”

  “I’m gonna have to,” Wade said.

  “Good, then.” She looked up at him. “Because—”

  Wade put up a silencing hand. “It’s not going to change my mind about the drilling, though. I still want to pull the plug.”

  Josie cupped her chin between her forefinger and thumb. Looking more determined than ever to come out the winner in this, she regarded him thoughtfully. “What if I could get Wyatt Drilling to share the risk and absorb the costs of the drilling from this point forward, in exchange for a 2 percent higher royalty rate over the life of the well, if we do strike oil? Would you let us continue then?”

  Chapter Two

  To Josie’s immediate intense relief, Wade McCabe looked tempted by her offer. Very tempted. “How are you going to do that with Big Jim out of the country?” he demanded. He picked up a pencil and turned it end over end.

  “Big Jim made provisions with his bank and his attorneys for any contingency that might come up when he was in South America. I’ll talk to both parties promptly,” Josie continued in a soft, coaxing voice, drawing on every ounce of persuasiveness she possessed.

  “They know how it is in the oil business. Sometimes unusual financial arrangements have to be made in order to continue exploration, but it all works out in the end.” Josie paused and bit her lip. “The bottom line is that Big Jim has always been reasonable. And, with Wyatt Drilling’s reputation at stake here...well, you know how much your business in the past has meant to Big Jim. And how much we all hope it will mean in the future. So it only makes sense that we do whatever necessary to help you—us—continue with the drilling,” Josie said as the trailer door slammed and a grizzled old roughneck she loved almost as much as her own father strode in.

  At five foot five, he was shorter than Josie by several inches, his stocky frame muscled from head to toe. He wore a red-plaid long-sleeved shirt, buttoned at the neck, jeans and thick leather construction boots. His deeply suntanned face sported several days growth of beard, and the pewter gray hair sticking out from beneath his banged-up, yellow hard hat was buzz-cut close to his head with one of those home barber kits in a no-nonsense style that mirrored his personality.

  There was never any telling what Gus might say, if the spirit moved him; he had a habit of speaking his mind.

  Josie turned to Gus. “Isn’t that right, Crus?” she said meaningfully, giving him a look that let him know the situation was precarious, and warned him to watch what he said around Wade McCabe. “Big Jim would want Mr. McCabe to be satisfied with the work Wyatt Drilling is doing for him on his land.”

  “I know it for a fact,” Gus said. Wiping the grease from his hands with a rag, he looked at Josie, then Wade. “I feel as sure as Josie here that we’re very, very close to striking oil. Otherwise, I’d shut the operation down myself in a heartbeat. You have my word on that, McCabe.”

  Wade sighed. He didn’t know how or why he was letting himself be talked into this. He’d come here sure of what he wanted to do if he didn’t talk to Big Jim face-to-face. But between Josie’s soft pleading looks and Gus’s man-to-man assurance, he could feel himself folding, and that was curious. It wasn’t like him to be a soft touch, especially when it came to business. And especially when he still had this nagging feeling that Josie wasn’t telling him everything.

  “I suppose if you’ll guarantee Wyatt Drilling will absorb the cost of the drilling from this day forward until we strike,” he conceded reluctantly at last, knowing Gus—at least—had worked on other discovery wells for Wade that had ultimately become producers.

  Josie stepped forward hurriedly. “We’ll get permission and have papers drawn up for you to sign ASAP,” she promised.

  “Or else shut it down pronto,” Gus added. “Again at no further charge to you.”

  “Okay.” Wade capitulated, appreciating the excited sparkle in Josie’s eyes. He stood very still and studied both their faces. “I’ll do it, but only for a 1 percent royalty rate increase over the life of the well, not 2,” he stipulated determinedly. “Agreed?”

  Josie and Gus exchanged tenuous looks, then finally nodded. “Agreed,” Josie and Gus said as the three of them shook hands all around.

  “I’m headed over to the hospital in Laramie to see my brother Jackson. You can find me there or at my parents’ ranch.” Wade McCabe scrawled down both addresses and phone numbers on a piece of paper and handed them to Josie, his fingers brushing against her softer ones in the process. “Whatever happens, I want to know as soon as it’s decided,” he warned firmly. He wondered if the rest of her skin was as smooth and soft.

  Looking incredibly relieved, Josie nodded. She moved her hand away from his. “Gus or I will get back to you personally,” she promised.

  “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Gus said as soon as Wade McCabe’s truck had disappeared from view and he’d heard the rest of her plans. “Dipping into your own trust fund to pay for drilling on someone else’s property?”

  “What choice did I have?” Josie replied, knowing she was already personally subsidizing the rest of the costs on this project that were not being directly billed to Wade McCabe. “If I hadn’t offered to absorb the costs he would have shut us down on the spot!”

  Josie went to the refrigerator and brought out the pitcher of iced tea. Finding it almost empty, she set about brewing some more.

  “Considering the way things have been going, maybe we should shut down until your father gets back from South America,” Gus continued as Josie got out two quart-size tea bags and put them in the top of the tea maker.

  “Not you, tool” Josie filled the bottom with cold water from the tap.

  Gus watched her put the tea maker together, plug it in and turn it on with a flick of the switch. “I know you have the talent for scenting out oil, Josie,” he said gently. Taking a paper towel from the round wooden holder, he dampened it with cold water and mopped his leathery, bewhiskered face. “Your father and I have both known it since you were a kid.” Gus paused, still holding the towel to the back of his sunburned neck. “But your father would skin me alive if he knew what you were doing, girl, and you know it.”

  Josie folded her arms in front of her and regarded Gus stubbornly. “He told me to take care of things on this end.”

  “Knowing dam well there was nothing here for you to do, since he’d leased out all the rest of his equipment, except that one old rig, which we both know he keeps mainly for sentimental reasons.”

  Her dad’s old rig held sentimental value for her, too; that was the rig he’d used when he went from employee—on someone else’s rig—to being an independent oilman. Josie had been five. She’d been visiting him at the site when he’d struck oil on one of his own leases for the very first time. It had been an incredibly exciting period of their life, and the start of what was now a very successful independently owned business. It had also required a lot of risk on her dad’s part and a lot of courage. The same kind of gumption and hard work Josie hoped she was demonstrating now.

  “Did you tell him your last name?” Gus continued his interrogation.

  Josie plucked a lemon from the refrigerator shelf and shut the door with her hip. “Just the first half of it.” And about that she did feel guilty. Josie didn’t like secrets of any kind. Full and open communication was the key to people understanding each oth
er. Unfortunately her parents—who were as different as night and day—had never learned that. Consequently, they were still on different wavelengths to this very day.

  “Then you’re scamming him!” Gus said.

  Josie sliced the lemon and placed them artistically in the dish. Making iced tea was one of the few culinary chores she could do. “If I told Wade McCabe my last name, then it wouldn’t take him long to find out—or figure out—everything else about me and my background. And you know as well as I do that no one is going to hire a former debutante to dig for oil! I don’t care what her lineage or last name is!”

  Gus shook his head. “We’re courting disaster here,” he predicted gloomily.

  Josie let out an exasperated sigh. She went to the refrigerator and brought out two trays of ice. “You worry too much,” she scolded as she emptied cubes into the glass pitcher.

  “And you, girl, don’t worry enough!”

  That wasn’t quite true, Josie thought. She’d done nothing but worry since she started this. But at the same time she was proud of herself. Taking risks had always been hard for her. And in this particular business, you didn’t get anywhere unless you were capable of taking risks. Big ones.

  If all went well here, as she and Gus and Dieter and Ernie expected it eventually would, then her decision to do this additional business for Big Jim would be proved right. And maybe, just maybe she would succeed in finally getting her mother and father both to look at her in a new light and accept her as she was, rather than what they both wanted her to be. Heaven knew she was tired of all the role-playing, tired of striving to please them, of trying to be two different types of women for two very different parents. Only to feel, ultimately, that she had somehow failed and disappointed them both. “You’re wrong, Gus. I know what’s at stake here,” Josie said gently as she brought down two glasses from the cupboard. Noting the tea had stopped brewing, she poured it over the ice in the pitcher. “If I fail, it’s not just my own butt on the line here. It’s Big Jim’s rep, too.”