Wildcat Cowboy (The McCabes of Texas #2)

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Before Josie could get another word in edgewise, the line went dead.

  With an oath Josie yanked the receiver away from her ear and made a face at the phone. Leave it to her father to continue to insist on having the last word, while depriving her of the chance to speak her mind to him! But there was no time to worry about that or the fact that her father hadn’t even asked her what she’d been up to.

  Instead, Josie thought, as she scrambled around for her beat-up red cowgirl boots and shoved her feet into them, Big Jim had just assumed she’d been sitting around twiddling her thumbs, awaiting his return!

  Thinking back on it, Josie didn’t know why she was surprised.

  She thrust her arms into her stained blue chambray work shirt as she headed for the kitchen and the coffee she hoped was almost finished brewing.

  Her father had always been that way. Thinking she was just like her mother, when the reality of it was she was just like him! Wouldn’t he be surprised when he found out he wasn’t the only one in the family capable of striking oil!

  Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Josie pulled the coffeepot off the warmer, rinsed out the stainless steel thermos and poured coffee in. She grabbed a couple of paper beverage cups, her flashlight and headed out the door. As her feet hit the ground and the door slammed behind her, the first big fat raindrop landed on her head. Josie thought about going back to find her windbreaker or her yellow rain slicker, then decided to heck with it. It was a warm summer night. She’d survive, even if she got a little wet. The important thing was to get over to the drilling rig and find out just why the round-the-clock drilling had stopped. This time.

  WADE WOKE shortly after 5:00 a.m. with a gut feeling that something was wrong. Which, considering how things had been going so far on the trouble-laden drilling site, was not an unreasonable assumption. Having learned at a very early age to trust his instincts—especially when it came to business—he showered, dressed and, being careful not to wake his brother Shane, who was crashing in his guest room for the night, pulled on a Stetson and his yellow rain slicker and headed over to the site, where his worst suspicions were confirmed.

  The drill was silent and motionless, and Josie and the rest of the team were hunkered down over the hole, peering down into the pipe. “Problem?” he asked as he strode through the driving rain and climbed up on the platform to join them.

  Unlike Wade, none of them had on any rain gear and were, as a consequence, all soaked to the skin.

  The three men and Josie looked at each other. Finally Josie stood and squared off with him. “The drill’s stuck.”

  “How long?” Wade bit out, as Josie reached for a thermos and poured him what was left of the coffee, which amounted to about half a cup.

  Josie looked at the men. Silent communication passed among them, and the collective misery on their faces told Wade, more than words ever could, how bad it was. Just as he knew, from one taste of the bitter, lukewarm liquid, who had made the coffee.

  Josie squared her shoulders and stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Once again she took it upon herself to deliver the bad news. “Hours now. We’ve tried everything to get it out but so far nothing’s working.”

  With stony resolve, Josie filled Wade in on everything that had been tried so far and everything that might possibly be tried next. Once again he was struck not just by her dogged determination to keep going despite the constant setbacks and aggravation, or the depth and breadth of her knowledge about drilling machinery and techniques, but the respect the men obviously had for her. Given her knowledge base, it was due to her, of course, but what he was feeling was a lot more than that, too, Wade knew. And as he had decided the evening before when talking to his younger brother Shane, maybe it was time they started dealing with that, too, Wade told himself grimly.

  His expression deliberately closed and uncommunicative, Wade looked at Gus and the men. “Why don’t you knock off until the rain lets up and get some breakfast.” He frowned as the pager on his belt began to vibrate. He unclipped it and looked at the message floating across the screen. Saw a phone number and name, both of which he’d like to forget, followed by the cryptic and not unexpected message: Check your fax machine, you s.o.b.

  “I’ve got to go back to my ranch house, catch some news, pick up a fax and make a few calls.” Wade looked at Josie. “Then I’ll be by to, uh, reassess.” And clear a few things up.

  Josie’s tongue snaked out to wet her lower lip while the water continued to sluice down steadily on her head. For the first time since he’d arrived at the site, she looked nervous. Unaccountably so.

  “Mind if I go with you?” she said, already heading for his truck, her long legs flashing in the rain. She tossed him a look over her shoulder as if it had been decided. “We can talk on the way.”

  IGNORING THE STUNNED LOOKS of Gus, Dieter and Ernie, Josie sloshed through the mud, yanked open the door and climbed in the passenger side of Wade’s Expedition getting rain and mud all over the rubber mat in the process.

  To her relief, Wade followed, albeit a lot more insouciantly.

  “You’re soaked,” he remarked, climbing in beside her. He also got mud and rain all over the rubber mat.

  Not wanting him to see how desperate she was to divert him, Josie stared straight ahead. The way she figured it, the new South American oil field would be on the news for maybe twenty-four hours at the very most. So all she had to do was make sure that Wade didn’t catch any of the world news—at least until the oil on his own land had come in.

  Keeping him away from the newspapers and the cable television networks wouldn’t be much of a problem. They didn’t get cable that far out in the country. He didn’t have a satellite dish. Nor did he have a newspaper delivered to him there, since he’d bought the Golden Slipper Ranch simply to acquire the mineral rights. Local radio programs carried ranch and farm reports, country music, the occasional religious program.

  News via the Internet was something else again, however, since it was available on computer twenty-four hours a day. Plus, it was geared to national and international news, not local. So she’d have to keep him away from that, too.

  Aware he was waiting for a response to his comment, she said casually, “It’s not the first time I’ve been rained on.” She turned to give him her most charming debutante smile. “I’ll dry.”

  Noting the windows were steaming up from the combination of humidity, body heat and rain, Wade turned up the truck’s air-conditioning a notch. He slowed down slightly and wiped the window in front of him with his sleeve. Then tore his eyes away from the gravel ranch road just long enough to study her with a sidelong glance.

  Josie sort of smiled at him and nodded vaguely and tried not to get too agitated, even as she wondered guiltily if her withholding this information about the oil strike could be considered a lie, too.

  The most famous Texas wildcatters had always been incredibly inventive and imaginative in compiling the resources they needed to succeed. But Josie didn’t think any of her idols had been reduced to the shenanigans she was pulling. And while part of her thought she was foolish to be going so far out on a limb, she also knew everyone would forgive her in the end, when she did strike oil on the Golden Slipper Ranch. And then, with this success behind her, she would never be reduced to such tomfoolery again.

  “So what did you want to talk to me about?” Wade said as he drove the short distance to the tiny white house with the gingerbread porch and turquoise shutters.

  Best they didn’t talk about the drilling until Gus, Ernie and Dieter bad the drill unstuck and running again. Which left only one thing.

  “That party you were planning for your folks,” Josie said, her teeth beginning to chatter as the cool air coming from the vents permeated her soaked clothing.

  Wade’s glance narrowed as he reached over to turn it down a notch. “What about it?” he demanded lazily. Looking once again like he would never in a million years be able to figure her out.

&n
bsp; Josie shrugged. “I was wondering if you needed any help, considering your events planner just quit and all.”

  “I’m about to find out.” Wade pulled up next to a hopelessly beat-up red Ford pickup truck, parked as close to the front porch as he could and cut the motor on his Expedition.

  He got out. So did Josie. Both sprinted through the driving rain to the front door. Their boots clattered up the front steps as a blond hunk, in denim jacket, shirt and jeans, boots and a remarkable familial resemblance to Wade McCabe came swaggering out.

  “Company, and so early,” he drawled, taking in Josie’s wet, clinging clothes with a lascivious wink. “Brother, you impress me.”

  “My brother Shane,” Wade murmured beneath his breath, making no effort to finish the introductions and give Shane Josie’s name.

  Shane looked at Wade, his demeanor serious. “I got property to look at. Some near. Some not so near. I won’t be back for a couple of days, but I will be back in time for the surprise party on Friday.”

  Wade nodded as Shane used the flat of his hand to settle his hat more squarely across his brow. “Whatever you do, make sure the folks don’t set me up with someone while I’m gone,” Shane said.

  Wade grinned mischievously, giving Josie her first clue as to what kind of brother he had been and still was. “Can’t blame them for thinkin’ you need help in that particular arena,” he drawled.

  Shane tilted his head Josie’s way, keeping his own mischievously sparkling eyes on Wade all the while. “You just watch out for your own interests, pardner. I’ll watch out for mine.” Shane tipped his hat at Josie gallantly. “Keep him in line,” he drawled. Then he stepped off the porch into the rain and dashed for his battered red pickup truck.

  Wade shook the rain off his hat and massive shoulders, then led the way inside.

  The air-conditioning hit Josie like a chilly Texas wind, sending yet another wave of icy shivers over her skin.

  Wade switched on a light against the pale dawn, then turned and took one look at her, his glance sweeping down her body, lingering hotly, rapaciously over her breasts. “We have got,” Wade growled determinedly, “to get you into some dry clothes.”

  Josie looked down and saw immediately what he meant. Soft, wet cotton was molded to her breasts, which were as clearly outlined as if she had been a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest.

  Flushing, and feeling her nipples tighten all the more against the clinging cotton, she turned away.

  His mouth set in a hard line, Wade disappeared up the stairs. She heard his boots moving across the floor. Drawers opening and shutting. A closet, too. Then he came back with a folded navy-blue sheet, blue chambray work shirt and a pair of thick cotton socks.

  Averting her eyes, he thrust the booty into her arms and told her gruffly, “A hot shower would be the fastest way to warm up. Bathroom’s at the top of the stairs. There are plenty of towels in there. If you put your clothes outside, I’ll drop them in the dryer for you.”

  Josie couldn’t deny she was chilled to the skin. A hot shower sounded wonderful. Holding the dry clothes in one hand, her soaked shirt away from her breasts with the other, she glanced surreptitiously down at her watch and noted it was six forty-five.

  No national news was on the local television stations till seven. Which meant she had fifteen minutes to pull herself together, after which she needed to make sure he was so busy he had no time to find other sources of national news—like the Internet.

  “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a cup of coffee, too. Maybe a little something to eat?”

  Again Wade looked surprised. And with good reason, Josie thought. She was being awfully demanding of him. Fortunately he had obviously been too well brought up to deny a guest food and drink.

  “No problem,” he said easily, after only a slight hesitation. “I’ll put some coffee on. Scrambled eggs and orange juice all right with you?”

  Josie nodded and tried not to feel too embarrassed that she had just invited herself for breakfast at a client’s home. “Perfect.”

  She hurried up the stairs, her clothes smacking wetly against her as she moved.

  The hot shower helped take away the chills. Unfortunately she couldn’t linger in it. Drying off quickly, she slipped on the thick white socks, then straightening, grabbed the navy-blue sheet and tucked it beneath her armpits, wrapping it around her repeatedly so it covered her from chest to toes. She secured it firmly by tucking the end between her breasts, then slipped on the long blue chambray shirt, which fell almost to her knees, and knotted the ends together at her waist. Running a comb through her hair, she blow-dried it briefly and secured it away from her face. With five minutes left to spare, she hurried back downstairs.

  Wade was at the stove, pushing eggs around in a skillet. “Pour us both a cup of coffee, will you?” he said without turning around.

  Josie was relieved to note the television in the small kitchen was silent.

  Feeling guilty about the way she was imposing on him, she rushed to do his bidding. “Sure. You take cream or sugar in yours?”

  “Milk. And it’s in the fridge. Sugar is in the bowl in the cupboard just above the coffee.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The toast popped up. He tossed one piece on each plate, put two more pieces in. By the time he’d poured juice for both of them and transferred the eggs to the plates, the second two pieces of toast were ready. He added them to the plates, carried them to the table and sat down opposite her.

  “Wow,” was all Josie could say. “You do know how to cook.”

  Wade shrugged. “Eggs, steak and coffee. That’s about the extent of it. You?”

  “Let’s just say you’ve probably got me beat.” Josie lifted the coffee to her lips and drank deeply of the steaming hot, fragrant liquid. It was without a doubt the best she’d ever had. And it put hers to shame. “The coffee is incredible. What do you do to make it taste so good?”

  He grinned at her unrepentantly. “Follow directions on the can?”

  “Very funny. And I’m serious.” Josie shifted positions. Their knees collided beneath the table. Swiftly she drew her legs back. But that did nothing to stop the tingling that was ghosting upward from her knees, through her thighs, to her tummy. “I don’t know why mine always tastes so bad.”

  He added jam to his toast and salt and pepper to his eggs with more than necessary care. “Did you make it this morning?”

  Josie nodded.

  Wade forked up eggs and munched on them. He looked like he had a lot more than cooking on his mind. “I’m guessing you didn’t use the right ratio of coffee to water.”

  “Oh.” Josie flushed, embarrassed.

  “But you didn’t come here to talk about how to make coffee,” he reminded, his gaze raking the length of her before returning to her face. “You want to talk about the drilling problems. And as it happens,” he told her heavily, “so do I.”

  Josie didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. Telling herself not to appear panicked, she dug into her breakfast, forced herself to swallow some of the delicious, fluffy eggs.

  Wade drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve got to tell you, Josie. If it were anyone else but the Wyatt Drilling Company on this project, I’d pull the plug. Right now.”

  Josie’s heart skipped a beat. The bite of scrambled eggs she’d just eaten lay like a hunk of wood in her stomach. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “But you’re not going to do that, are you?” she whispered hoarsely.

  Wade shrugged and continued to regard her steadily. “That all depends.”

  Josie swallowed hard around the growing knot of emotion in her throat. “On what?”

  “On whether or not you plan to start being honest with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Josie stammered.

  “Yes, Josie,” Wade said, still eyeing her with a depth of male speculation Josie found very disturbing, “you do.”

  Josie jumped up from t
he table and moved about the kitchen restlessly. “I’ve been frank with you about the problems we’ve been having on the site.”

  Wade pushed away from the table, too. He stood with his feet braced slightly apart. He jammed his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes.

  “But you haven’t been frank with me about your role in the project,” he told her smoothly. “It’s obvious to me—and would be to anyone else with half a brain—that you’re a lot more than an entry-level gofer or record keeper on this project. You’re integrally involved with—if not actually in charge of—all the decisions that are going on, with possibly even more say than Gus.” He paused, looking her up and down from the top of her mussed hair to her toes. “What I don’t understand is why you’re pretending you’re not.”

  One very good reason, Josie thought uncomfortably, her dad knew nothing about this entire project And would, in fact, probably kick her butt from here to Abilene if he were to find out before they actually hit oil. After... well, after she could only hope that her dad and everyone else would understand why she’d done what she had. Otherwise, she was going to be in very big trouble indeed.

  Doing her best to keep a level head, Josie shrugged. She folded her arms in front of her matter-of-factly. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, even as she struggled to get a handle on her soaring emotions.

  “This is still a business dominated by men. There are a few women actively involved in the wildcatting business, but for the most part it’s still a boy’s club, especially here in Texas.”

  “And you want to join,” Wade guessed, searching her eyes with his.

  Josie nodded, relieved to be able to candidly confess, “Enough to have swallowed my pride and taken a ridiculously low entry-level position with Big Jim just to get a toehold in the business.” It still galled her that that had been necessary.

  Wade studied her. “Does Big Jim know the extent of your ambitions?”