Branded as Trouble

by Delores Fossen

  “What happened here?” he called out.

  There was no answer, so he went back into the living room to find Carlene staring at the phone as if she might crush it in her tight fist. “Joe didn’t answer,” she said. “So I left him a message.”

  Yeah, he was betting she had. And that it wasn’t a friendly How are you doing? message, either. Carlene wanted answers, but he hated to tell her that talking to Joe wasn’t going to change things.

  At least, he hoped not, anyway.

  The papers weren’t final yet. They were on the way to the lawyer here in Wrangler’s Creek, and maybe Carlene wouldn’t put up such a fuss. He also hoped that Joe wouldn’t back down on this deal.

  Because Wynn needed this.

  Actually, he needed a life, one where he could manage the pain from his bull riding injuries and deal with the fact that he was a thirty-year-old has-been.

  “Why is all that stuff in my room?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed so he had to guess she didn’t want to jump into a change of subject when the other topic of conversation hadn’t been resolved yet.

  “I’m sure Joe will call you back as soon as he can,” Wynn assured her. Of course, that was bull. Joe was enjoying Florida and had been spending his days fishing and reading. “Now about that stuff in my room.”

  “The boxes belong to me. I moved them here after Joe left. He told me I could live here. I’ve been sleeping in the guestroom, but your room is bigger and has enough space for all my things.”

  Wynn was certain he was now the one with a gobsmacked look on his face. “Joe didn’t mention that to me. I didn’t know you’d moved in.”

  However, his uncle had said that he wanted Carlene to stay on here. Wynn had figured that meant keeping her job, but maybe in Joe’s mind that meant them sharing the ranch, too. That would go over about as well as an erupting volcano in an ice cream parlor.

  “What happened to your house?” he asked. Because, last he’d heard, she was still living in town.

  “Sold it. Mila Banchini, who owns the bookstore, bought it. She’s already moved in.”

  Hell. That meant she didn’t have a place to go. Not an immediate one, anyway. Wynn didn’t especially mind her staying there, but Carlene wouldn’t put up with that. Yeah, she’d come close to kissing him when he was flirting with her, but no way would she want him around to jab at the memories of their breakup.

  Memories of when they hadn’t been broken up, either.

  In her mind, the latter was probably worse—since some of those memories had been pretty darn sweet. No matter how bad the problems had gotten between Carlene and him, the sex had been off-the-charts good. There was zero chance she’d want to stir things up with him again.

  “Once we talk to Joe,” Wynn added, “I’m sure we can get this all straightened out.”

  She stared at him. “You mean the way you want it.” Carlene huffed, muttered some profanity under her breath. “Well, I had plans for this place, too, and Joe said he liked them. Really liked them,” she emphasized. “Now, I’m pretty sure you and I don’t have the same plans, so I smell a rat here.”

  Wynn nearly played that down. Nearly made a joke. But he gave it some thought and realized she was right.

  They cursed in unison.

  “Joe’s matchmaking,” she grumbled.

  Yeah, he was. It wouldn’t have been the first time, either, but this was taking things too damn far. “He never did want us to divorce. And I can’t tell you how many times he would call me and ask me to come home, that both he and you would like to see me.”

  Another huff. “He did the same to me. Always asking if I’d call you because he was feeling poorly.” She put that last word in air quotes. “He just couldn’t accept that you and I are never, never going to get back together.”

  There’d been no need to double up on the nevers. Wynn knew where he stood with Carlene, and he measured about the same height as hoof grit.

  He deserved that measurement.

  After all, he’d been the one to leave. The one to push her into marriage, too. A stupid thing to do, since he’d known that Carlene was grounded here in Wrangler’s Creek, and it’d been the last place he’d wanted to be. Of course, he had thought he could change her mind.

  And she’d probably thought she could change his.

  That’s how bad marriages were born. How divorces happened. Judging from the narrow-eyed look she was giving him, she remembered all of that, as well.

  She snatched up the hot chocolate and took several long sips. Other than great sex, it was the one thing they had in common. An addiction to chocolate. Clearly, Carlene still had that addiction because she made a sound of pure pleasure as she drank, and her eyelids lowered a little.

  Those were the same reactions she had during sex.

  Something he wished he hadn’t remembered.

  After she made a few more of the groin-tightening sounds, she took out her phone. “I’ll try to call Joe again.”

  Wynn would have tried, too, but there was a knock at the front door. When he opened it, he almost expected to see Joe standing there with a stupid “gotcha” grin.

  But it was Roman Granger.

  Not only did Roman own one of the biggest ranches in the area, he’d also been Wynn’s boss for the past three years. Well, until twenty-four hours ago, when Wynn had officially retired from the rodeo promotion circuit that Roman owned.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Roman greeted him.

  Wynn had already opened his mouth to ask why Roman was there, but that caused him to pause. Because if Roman hadn’t expected to see him, then that meant he’d come to see Carlene. Wynn got verification of that when Carlene came to the door. She smiled and automatically pulled Roman into a hug.

  That got Wynn’s stomach in a knot. Gave him a hefty dose of jealousy, too. And for a good reason. Roman was the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. He was rich and had the looks of a cowboy rock star—women usually took one glance at Roman and wanted to have sex with him.

  At the moment, Wynn wanted to punch him in the face.

  Hell.

  Was that what was going on here? Had Roman come over for some morning sex?

  “You smell like chocolate,” Roman said to her.

  It sounded intimate, and so was the smile he doled out to her. In all the years he’d worked for Roman, Wynn could count on one hand how many times he’d seen his former boss smile, and every time it’d been in the presence of a woman on his to-bed list.

  “You look pissed,” Roman added, and Wynn realized Roman wasn’t just talking to Carlene but to him, as well.

  “Carlene didn’t know Joe had left me the place,” Wynn explained in a grumble.

  Roman flexed his eyebrows in an ah, that expression. He certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Joe called me last night and asked me to come out and talk to Carlene, to tell her what he was doing and why. Sorry,” he added to Carlene, “but I was in Dallas and just got back. I didn’t figure Wynn would get here this fast.”

  “Well, you figured wrong,” Wynn informed him. There was nothing pleasant about his tone, and that’s why it surprised and riled him when Roman smiled again.

  This wasn’t his ex-boss’s panty-dropping smile. This was more akin to, You’re acting like a jackass, and I know why.

  “Why did Joe ask you to come and tell Carlene?” Wynn pressed.

  Roman lifted his shoulder in a shrug so casual that only he and a Greek god could have managed it. “Carlene and I are friends. I guess Joe thought it’d be better coming from me. I told him it wasn’t going to be better, no matter who she heard it from.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “And now Joe’s not answering his phone because he probably hopes I’ll calm down before he has to talk to me.”

  Roma
n made a sound of agreement. “Joe’s also trying to get you two back together,” he added. “But I’m guessing both of you figured that out. Joe will realize it was a bad idea once he sees what a mess this has made of things.”

  “A mess?” Wynn repeated. “Carlene and I haven’t even had a chance to sit down and talk things out. Yes, we both have plans for the place, but that doesn’t mean they can’t mesh.”

  “You want to raise rodeo bulls out here. She wants to add a sustainable farm,” Roman explained. “You don’t have enough acreage to do both, and there’s not any adjacent land you can buy. I know this because I own the adjacent land, and I’m not selling. My brother would smother me in my sleep if I sold any part of the Granger ranch.”

  Carlene looked at Wynn, no doubt to verify that it was indeed his plan to run bulls. He looked at her to verify the farm thing.

  They both nodded.

  Well, hell.

  If Joe had told them both that he liked their plans, then his uncle was getting senile or else was so bent on this matchmaking that he didn’t give a rat’s butt whether it was logical or not.

  “You want some coffee?” Carlene asked Roman. Obviously, she was past the shock enough to remember her manners. Or maybe Roman was just so important to her that he nullified life-altering shocks and such.

  Yeah, Wynn was definitely jealous.

  “No, thanks, but if you’ve got any spare eggs, Anita would appreciate it.”

  She nodded. “Let me go to the henhouse and get some fresh ones for her.” Carlene headed out without so much as an explanation as to who Anita was, why she wanted eggs or why Roman and Carlene were so chummy.

  “Anita?” Wynn asked after she’d left.

  “My housekeeper at my place in San Antonio. She’s allergic to regular eggs because of the antibiotics in them, so whenever I’m near Carlene’s, I bring her back some.”

  “Your house is nearly an hour from here. That’s a long way to come for eggs,” Wynn grumbled.

  Roman chuckled, went to the sofa and sat down, making himself at home by stretching out his legs and tucking his hands behind his head. “I always thought you still had feelings for Carlene, and this proves it. Your brown eyes are turning green.”

  Wynn started to say he wasn’t jealous, but the words sort of stuck there in this throat.

  “You’re jealous,” Roman confirmed a moment later. “But there are good reasons why things didn’t work out between Carlene and you.”

  Yeah, there were, but Wynn didn’t appreciate hearing that from Roman. “Did you have sex with Carlene?”

  Roman gave him that bad-boy scowl he was famous for. “No. This might surprise you, but I don’t have sex with every attractive woman who crosses my path.”

  “That’s not what I heard.” But Wynn waved that off. It was definitely the green-eyed monster talking. “Carlene said she was seeing Birch Davidson.”

  “She was. Don’t think Birch has been over here in a while, though.” Roman paused. “Personally, I don’t think Carlene ever got over you.”

  That caused some of the jealousy to evaporate, but it didn’t make him feel good. Because Wynn had always thought that, as well. He didn’t want her sad, though. That said, he didn’t want her with a guy like Roman. Or Birch, for that matter.

  Wynn sank down on the chair across from Roman. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for leaving.”

  “No,” Roman agreed—a little too fast for Wynn’s liking.

  Wynn frowned because it was true. And he didn’t want it to be. Hell. He still had feelings for Carlene, as well.

  “We got married too young,” Wynn continued. Not that he knew why he felt the need to clarify this to Roman, but he did. “Barely twenty-two. And we made it last for five years. But then I had all these dreams of being the best bull rider in the state, and she didn’t share that dream.” He paused. “I figured she had a lot of bad things to say about me after I left on the bull-riding circuit.”

  “Not really. Well, she did, but Carlene didn’t spread it all over town. No way would she want folks to hear just how bad she was hurting.” Roman looked at him. “Have you talked to her about all of this? I mean, have you two had a real heart-to-heart chat?”

  Wynn replayed that question, and he sensed Roman meant more than the obvious. “You don’t mean a discussion about the ranch.”

  Roman shook his head, but then stopped as if he’d said too much. He hadn’t. Roman hadn’t said nearly enough.

  “Did Carlene actually come and tell you how she felt about me or something?” Wynn came out and asked.

  “No.” Roman scowled. “Just talk to her, and maybe you’ll finally have a clue what she’s been going through for the past three years.”

  Wynn intended to do that, and he was ready to start that chat right now.

  Carlene came back inside. She had a basket of eggs under her arm, and she was talking on the phone. “No, I’ll tell him,” she said. “Thanks, Joe.”

  So, his uncle had finally returned her call, and only a few seconds after Carlene hit the end call button, Wynn’s phone dinged with a text message.

  Call me. Joe had texted. We gotta talk.

  Heck, that didn’t sound good, especially when it was coupled with a surprising expression on Carlene’s face. It was almost a smirk. She wasn’t aiming it at Roman, either. It seemed to be all for Wynn.

  “Joe apologized,” she said. “He’s sorry things have turned out the way they did, and he wants to come up with a new plan for the ranch. Wynn, you’re no longer the owner.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE SMELL REACHED her nose before Carlene had even opened her eyes. A scent she shouldn’t have been smelling.

  Chocolate.

  She stirred, forcing herself to sit up, and checked the clock on the nightstand. It was 6:00 a.m., the usual time she got out of bed, but her body felt as if it hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. Probably because it hadn’t. She’d lain there, wide awake, most of the night, thinking about the person who was no doubt responsible for that chocolate smell.

  Wynn.

  To say he’d been upset over Joe’s reversal was like saying a Texas summer was a little warm. Wynn had been furious, and she was betting Joe had known that would happen, because, after a very short conversation, Wynn had hung up, saying Joe wanted him to call him back after Wynn had cooled off. Carlene hadn’t heard Joe’s end of that discussion, but whatever he’d told his nephew, Wynn hadn’t liked it one bit. And he hadn’t cooled off. Wynn had said a crisp goodbye to Roman and stormed off to check the fences in the back pasture, he’d said. Wynn hadn’t come back until well after dinner.

  Which he’d fixed and then eaten in silence.

  Carlene had hoped that Wynn would be riled enough to move into the inn in town or else stay with friends. But, apparently, no such luck. That chocolate smell was a dead giveaway that he was not only still there, he was making himself at home.

  Of course, it had been his home since his uncle Joe had raised him after his folks were killed in a car wreck when he was barely twelve. But it felt like her home, too. Always had. And she wasn’t about to give that up—especially now that Joe had given her the green light to stay. Unfortunately, that green light put Wynn and her on course for a head-on collision.

  Carlene didn’t especially want to face Wynn or his hot chocolate, but she had chores to do, so she forced herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. The old house didn’t have en suites, but there were two full baths off the hall. Since she figured Wynn had slept in Joe’s room and used the one nearest to it, she went into the other one.

  She’d been wrong.

  Wynn opened the bathroom door just as she reached for the knob, and she ended up with her hand on the front of his boxers—the only thing he was wearing.

  Good grief. This w
as way too much of a jolt so early in the morning. Actually, it was too much anytime of day. Because she looked in the wrong direction.

  Specifically, the direction of his boxer shorts.

  Suddenly, the last three years just flew out the window, and she was his wife and lover again. Emphasis on the lover part. If it had indeed been three years ago, they would have dragged each other to the floor and had a morning quickie right there.

  And it would have been really good.

  Her body wasn’t going to let her forget that, because she got all warm and tingly in places that shouldn’t be tingling. But it wasn’t three years ago—the hurt was still there—and that’s why she stepped back.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in that damnable smile, and he had a sip from the cup he held in his left hand. Wynn and hot chocolate. The perfect storm.

  Thankfully, she thought of the one thing she could ask that would not only get that smile off his face, but would also rebuild some barriers. Hopefully, ones that warded off tingling.

  “Has Joe called you back yet?” she asked.

  Wynn’s mouth tightened, but it wasn’t in a smile. Bingo—her question had worked.

  “No. He said he was still trying to figure out what to do. He wanted to sleep on it.”

  Obviously, that bothered Wynn. He’d counted on having his name on the deed to the ranch. And his uncle had apparently promised him that, too. Part of her felt guilty for pleading her case directly to Joe, but she couldn’t lose this place. Not after everything she’d been through.

  “It looks as if you’re having some regrets,” he commented. “Or...something.”

  She wasn’t sure what he saw in her expression that prompted that, but it was too vague an observation for her to start trying to come up with an answer. Especially while he was just inches from her in boxer shorts and drinking that heavenly-smelling brew.

  “Why can’t you just drink coffee like everybody else?” she snapped.

  His smile returned. It was short-lived, though. “Never wanted to be like everybody else.”