How the Cowboy Was Won

by Lori Wilde

  The tables have turned, Sparky. She wasn’t the only one who enjoyed matchmaking machinations.

  “Do you think that was fair to Fiona?” Ember sank her hands on her hips and tilted her head in that listen-to-me way of hers.

  “What?” he asked, playing dumb.

  “Inviting the entire cast and crew on your date.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Palmer and Fiona have taken a liking to each other.”

  Ember pooched out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “It wasn’t supposed to work out this way. I was prepping Fiona for you.”

  “Fiona’s not a pawn, Ember. She’s a real person with feelings. You don’t have to keep throwing her at me. I like her, but that’s all. We’re not a love match, and Fiona feels the same about me.”

  “I know.” Ember chuffed, and her shoulders sagged, defeated. “I thought I had this whole matchmaking thing worked out.”

  “You can’t control fate,” he said tenderly, caressing her with his eyes, mentally sending her, I’m your fate messages, but she wasn’t picking up on it. He wanted to just come out and tell her what he was feeling, but he was terrified she’d blow him off. Or worse, tell him she did not feel the same way. Suddenly, he was filled with doubt about this whole make-Ember-jealous game he’d enlisted Dawn to play.

  “It was supposed to work.” Ember tucked a curl of that beautiful bouncy red hair behind one ear and looked perplexed. “Why didn’t it work?”

  “People are fickle and unpredictable and often can’t see what’s right in front of them.” He stared at her pointedly, willing her to get his meaning.

  It soared right over her head. She knotted her chin and her fists. “Okay, I messed up with Fiona, but I’m on it. I will find the right woman for you.”

  “Why do you even bother to match people up? What’s in it for you?”

  “Because I want to see my friends happy.”

  “And they have to be in a relationship to be happy?”

  “Everyone is happier when they have a soft place to land,” she murmured.

  “Friends can’t be that soft place?”

  “Of course.” She cocked her head at him. “But everyone needs a little passion in their lives too.”

  “You can have passion without having a relationship, and you can have a relationship without passion.”

  “Ah, but can you truly be happy with just passionate sex?”

  When it came to Ember? No. But he wasn’t happy with just friendship anymore either, and Ranger knew if he ever made love to Ember, he could never be satisfied with just a sexual relationship. He wanted it all. Their entire future was on the line.

  “About Fiona—”

  “She likes Palmer,” he said firmly.

  “Palmer is for Chriss Anne.”

  “Palmer likes Fiona back.”

  “Palmer just doesn’t know he likes Chriss Anne. He hasn’t given her a chance.”

  “And you know what Palmer likes better than he does?”

  “I’m trying to keep him from making a mess of his love life.”

  “Like you made of yours?” Ranger asked, and the second the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

  “Back to Fiona,” she said brusquely, hiding her wounds with a razor-thin smile. “I can bring her around to you again. She liked you before Palmer.”

  “Leave Fiona be,” he said. “I have someone else in mind as girlfriend material.”

  “You do?” Ember gulped visibly. She was worried.

  Ranger suppressed a grin; he had her on the ropes. “Yes.”

  “Making your own matches now, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Who is she?” Her eyes widened and her lips parted, and she stopped breathing.

  So did he.

  Emphatically, Ranger drilled Ember with his eyes, praying she would finally get the hint, and fall into his arms and he could forget this whole charade, but his dear, sweet, stubborn Sparky missed the point.

  Again.

  “It’s Dawn, isn’t it?” Her voice was as clipped as a putting green.

  He did not confirm that, because it wasn’t true, but he let the silence stretch out leaving a long blank space, which she readily filled in with her own assumption.

  “Of course it’s Dawn. Why wouldn’t it be Dawn? She’s gorgeous. What I can’t figure out is why you allowed me to believe your research partner was a man.”

  “That was your interpretation,” he said, keeping his tone as mild as Ivory soap.

  “Which you allowed me to perpetuate.”

  He said nothing, adding more blank space. He really didn’t know why he hadn’t been clear that Don was Dawn. Maybe it was because for a couple of months when he first arrived in New Zealand he’d thought maybe he and Dawn would hook up. They’d even kissed once, but the whole time his thoughts had been on Ember.

  Here was the truth.

  Ranger had not been with a woman since Ember divorced Trey. Their timing had been off all their lives. One of them was single when the other was in a relationship, then vice versa. In the back of his mind, had he been thinking that if he stayed out of any romantic entanglement, he’d finally be free at the same time Ember was?

  And then he’d taken off for a year.

  Why?

  Who knew? That was one for the psychologists.

  “I thought we told each other everything.” Her voice dipped and softened. She was hurt.

  Ranger put a hand to his mouth, camouflaging a wince. He hated hurting her, but a small amount of pain was necessary to his endgame. Happily-ever-after with Ember. “You didn’t tell me how bad things had gotten with Trey.”

  “That’s different,” she said. “I was ashamed.”

  “Maybe I’m ashamed too.”

  “Of Dawn?”

  No, of not being there for you when you needed me most. Of not knowing your marriage was shit. For not saving you.

  He should have known Ember’s marriage was rocky. That she was barely keeping her head above water. He should have been more attuned to her needs. But they’d drifted apart in the three months she’d been married to Trey. Mainly because of Trey. The man had resented their friendship, so Ember had backed off to appease her husband. But that was no excuse. Ember was his best friend. Had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. He should have known she was in trouble. Should have whisked her away from the jerk.

  As if Ember would have allowed that. She was tough and independent and she hated to appear weak and she loved being in charge and he admired all those things about her.

  “Well?”

  “Huh?”

  She knocked lightly on the side of his head with her small fist. “Where did you go, Professor?”

  “Just thinking.”

  “About Dawn and why you’re ashamed of your relationship with her?”

  “I’m not ashamed of her.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me something was going on?”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Not yet,” Ember said.

  Again, he did not reply, kept drawing those blanks, so she could fill them in. He wanted her to get jealous. To want him. To fight for him.

  “Oh gosh!” she exclaimed. “Is it really 1:05?”

  “Yeah,” Ranger said, not even looking at his watch because he was too busy staring at Ember. Her gorgeous red hair was mussed, windblown from her time outside. She wore a green visor pulled down low, a matching green V-neck T-shirt that clung nicely to her breasts, and a snug pair of stretchy skinny jeans. He wanted to wrap his arms around her so badly he had to clench his hands to prevent himself from doing just that.

  “That’s crazy. It was just fifteen till.”

  Time flies when you’re with the one you love, he wanted to say, but didn’t. If he tipped his hand too soon, this whole thing could blow up on him. He had one shot at convincing Ember they were meant to be together, and he couldn’t risk blowing it. He might be a gambl
er, but he was shrewd, and if things didn’t feel right, he’d walk away from the table and come back another day.

  She tapped the face of her watch as if that would alter facts. “We’re late.”

  “You’re the director. I’m the lead actor. They won’t start without us.”

  “Let’s go.” She took hold of his hand.

  Ranger steeled himself against the impact of her touch. How could she not know how much she affected him? Couldn’t she feel it in his body? The tension, his yearning.

  “C’mon. You know how I hate to be late.”

  Opposites attract, he thought. Time could slip away from him like a catfish off a poorly cast rod and reel.

  Ember towed him from the cantina tent, across the desert, past cactus and sunning lizards back to the bunkhouse salted with cameras, cast, and crew. Ranger let her pull, savoring the moment of her hand locked around his wrist.

  Would he ever get to manacle her in a totally different scenario—say naked in his bed with a safe word of her choosing?

  Hold the course, man. Play the game. You’ll get there, you’ll get there.

  But would he? Would Ember ever let herself see him as anything more than her best friend? Was this scheme with Dawn over-the-top? What would he do if she didn’t get jealous? If she just wished him well and told him to have a happy life?

  Doubt cut into him for the first time.

  What if in the end, she simply did not feel for him the same deep-rooted feelings he felt for her. What then?

  The thought was unacceptable, so Ranger did what he always did when emotions got too thick. He stepped onto the bunkhouse steps, became Edward Beale, camel commander, and got lost in a dreamworld.

  Chapter 12

  “It is not every man’s fate to marry the woman who loves him best.”

  —Jane Austen, Emma

  It was five forty-five, and most everyone from the set was packed into the back room at Chantilly’s, rapid-fire ordering drinks before happy hour ended at six.

  Ember considered the day a success, despite the many takes. They’d finally managed to film the scene to her satisfaction. She’d stayed behind to wrap things up, and she was one of the last to arrive.

  The line at the bar was so long she figured she’d never make it to the counter before happy hour was over and instead went to look for a place to sit. She’d almost skipped out on what was fast becoming a party in honor of Dawn’s arrival, but she didn’t because she knew Ranger would text her and ask her where she was, and she had a matchmaking mess to untangle.

  Her to-do list went like this: 1) Get Palmer next to Chriss Anne; 2) Get Zeke away from Chriss Anne, who was buzzing around her like a fly; 3) Get Fiona next to Ranger; 4) and most important of all, get Dawn out of the picture completely.

  She wasn’t quite sure how to maneuver that last part, but she was working on the other three. Getting rid of Dawn might take some time, seeing as how she had a fellowship at the observatory, and Ranger seemed glued to the woman.

  Pensively, Ember glanced around the room, looking for someone to hook up Dawn with. It really didn’t matter who it was. She wasn’t trying to make a love match for the woman, she just wanted to clear the way for Fiona.

  “Em!” Dawn called gaily, rose on her gazelle legs and gestured wildly like she was trying to signal a landing plane. “Over here.”

  The ballsy Kiwi was taking liberties with her name. Ember gritted her teeth. She put up with being called Em only by her family and Ranger, and now, apparently Dawn, as well.

  She picked her way through the crowd, found Ranger and Dawn sitting at a long table. Zeke was next to Dawn, but the spot beside Ranger was empty, except for a frosty mug of beer.

  Dawn waved her toward the empty chair. “The beer’s for you, love.”

  Dammit, why did the woman have to be so likable?

  Ember glanced around for Fiona, Palmer, and Chriss Anne. She found Chriss Anne and Palmer pitching darts. Ahh, at least someone was cooperating with the match she had in mind. Now to find Fiona.

  “Where’s Fiona?” she asked, linking the strap of her purse around the back of the chair and easing in beside Ranger. Her foot accidently bumped against his, but he didn’t move away. Neither did she.

  Instead, he smiled on just one side of his mouth, all Humphrey Bogart, and said, “‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’”

  Ember felt her cheeks heat. She wasn’t a blusher. There wasn’t a coy bone in her body, but damn if she wasn’t feeling all hot and flustered underneath her skin. They were both Humphrey Bogart buffs, had watched together every movie he’d ever made. “‘Play it!’” she quipped.

  Dawn, that impossible thing, started humming “As Time Goes By.”

  “I debated ordering you a margarita,” Ranger told Ember. “Since my acting inabilities put you through your paces.”

  It wasn’t his acting abilities, or lack thereof, that had slowed filming, rather it was the zero on-screen chemistry between him and his costar. Whenever they acted together, Ranger and Fiona came off flat and unbelievable as a couple. Ember had finally settled on a rather lukewarm take, knowing it was the best she was going to get out of them, and crossed her fingers that things would improve as they settled into their roles.

  “You have that margarita look in your eyes,” Ranger said, flagging down a server. “I should have listened to my gut and gone with the margarita.”

  “The beer is fine.” She shook her head at the server who popped over. She didn’t even really want the beer. “I’m good.”

  “You sure?” Ranger studied Ember with narrowed eyes as if trying to read her mind.

  “Thank you for thinking of me.” Ember took a big gulp of beer to show her appreciation, but she was feeling out of sorts and small and she couldn’t really pinpoint why.

  Dawn laid a hand on Ranger’s shoulder and zing, she pinpointed why. “Ranger is always—”

  Ranger nudged her with his elbow, cutting Dawn off. Probably to keep her from telling Ember some quaint story of his time with Dawn in New Zealand. She didn’t ask the other woman what he was always doing with her because Ember really did not want to know. What happened in New Zealand needed to stay in New Zealand.

  “Where’s Fiona?” she asked again.

  “In the ladies’,” Dawn said.

  All rightee. Fiona was in the restroom. Chriss Anne and Palmer were together. That only left Dawn to pair off with someone besides Ranger. Get rid of Dawn and she could plead Fiona’s case with Ranger.

  She spied Rhett in the corner chatting up some girl Ember had never seen before. Her mental cogs whirled. Aha. Ranger’s little brother would do nicely for Dawn.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled to Ranger, slipped out of her seat and sidled over to Rhett, who was leaning with one arm against the jukebox exaggerating one of his rodeo stories to the wide-eyed brunette.

  The sound of Jimmy Buffett’s “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw” staggered out of the jukebox and had half the bar singing along.

  Seriously, Rhett? The guy was twenty-seven, not seventeen. Would the boy ever grow up?

  Rhett whirled around as if Ember had said that out loud, which she hadn’t, had she? Sometimes she had a hard time holding in her opinion. Rhett held his arms in the air like he was being robbed at gunpoint. “I didn’t play it!”

  “I did.” The brunette looked sly. Aha, not as wide-eyed and innocent as Ember had thought. Maybe she should play matchmaker for these two.

  Um, you’re supposed to be using Rhett to distract Dawn away from Ranger so he can see what a catch Fiona is.

  “You don’t say.” Rhett leaned in closer to the brunette. Many people thought whiskey-haired, hazel-eyed Rhett was the handsomest Lockhart. Ember did not agree. He was the shortest of the brothers at five-eleven, and was a tad bow-legged from all that bull riding, and Rhett had a cockiness about him that turned Ember off, but it seemed to be a magnet for the wrong kind of woman.

  “Come
with me.” Ember took Rhett by the collar the way she used to do when they were kids, and Rhett pulled Aria’s braids just to hear her scream, and dragged him away from the brunette.

  “Hey, hey!” He wrestled away from her. “Lemme go.”

  “You’ll thank me for this later.”

  “What?” He gave a squirrelly little shake of his shoulders the way he did after a snorting bull had thrown him.

  “The brunette, she’s not right for you.”

  “Gawddammit, Ember, any girl who plays ‘Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw’ on the jukebox where everyone can hear is the right girl for me.”

  “How is it that you and Ranger are brothers?”

  “Half brothers,” Rhett reminded her.

  “Oh yeah.”

  Clearly, Rhett had inherited more of Duke Lockhart’s DNA than his older brother had. Ember had to remind herself Rhett still had time to grow up and become a man when the swagger of his prizewinning rodeo days was over. Which, from his current injury that had knocked him out of this year’s running for the PBR finals, seemed to be coming up sooner rather than later.

  “Now that you’ve so rudely interrupted my conquest in progress, whaddya want?” Rhett tipped his straw Stetson back on his head at a rakish tilt and looped his thumbs through his belt buckle.

  “See the willowy blonde with Ranger?”

  Rhett squinted across the room. “You mean Dawn?”

  “You know her?”

  “Honey, I know every pretty girl that blows into this town.”

  “Ply your wiles on her.”

  “Why? I’ve already got one woman half in my bed.” He inclined his head at the brunette.

  “Dawn’s new in town and—”

  “She’s with Ranger.”

  “She’s his research partner. They’re not an item.”

  Rhett gave her a you-poor-dumb-deluded-ninny look.

  “They are together?” A heavy, hot feeling burned the bottom of her stomach.

  “Define ‘together.’”

  Don’t panic. She had no reason to panic. Rhett saw the entire world through the lens of conquest, whether bedding women or riding bulls. She wasn’t going to let his limited worldview of Life’s a rodeo; ride it hard affect her.