The Texan's Little Secret

by Barbara White Daille

  Now, that statement he sure could argue with her over. That day at the barbecue, he’d let it go. Just as he had when she’d made an attempt to pick a fight by tossing her accusation at him.

  You don’t need to make nice with the boss’s daughter.

  “Make nice, well, hel—” He cut himself short—too late—and shook his head. “Sorry, baby. Daddy told you he’d work on not using that language around you, didn’t he?”

  Rosie grinned up at him. She was very forgiving.

  Not like Carly Baron, who would never forget what had happened the last time they’d seen each other years ago.

  He U-turned the truck, jouncing across the uneven land, making Rosie giggle.

  After a while, he could see civilization again—the arena Brock had set up on the ranch, where he and his family kept up their rodeo skills. The barns and outbuildings. The ranch house. And, farther along, the small house he and Rosie shared, where Tammy would be waiting to take over babysitting duties so he could get to work.

  If he had some good luck, he wouldn’t cross paths again with Carly, who would also never forgive what she thought he had done to her years ago. Back then, she hadn’t bothered to ask him about his intentions before lobbing her accusation at him.

  That was one thing he had to give her credit for—being able to hit him where it hurt without his seeing it coming.

  Not anymore, though. He wouldn’t go anywhere near Carly without having his eyes wide-open.

  Even better, he wouldn’t go anywhere near Carly at all.

  * * *

  A HUNK OF METAL had nothing on a real, live, stinkin’, snortin’, stompin’ bull.

  Heart in her throat, Carly fought to keep her butt where it belonged. The animal her brothers used for practice wasn’t having any of that idea. Her hundred-twenty-plus pounds in jeans and sturdy boots were no match for twelve hundred pounds of playful bull.

  Twister flicked his heavy haunches and tossed her as easily as Anna tossed greens for a salad. Carly landed in the dust of the arena, splat, like a thrown tomato. Again.

  The hands she’d convinced to clown for her got Twister a safe distance away. To her embarrassment, it took her longer than the past several times to haul herself over the top rail of the fence.

  She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Savannah she was getting soft sitting around the ranch house. After today’s short session with Twister, every muscle in her body seemed stretched like a worn-out rubber band. Worse, every bone felt as though it had been worked over with an off-duty branding iron.

  Once she dropped down from the fence, her aches and pains dropped, too...all the way to the bottom of her worry list.

  Not ten yards away, her father sat staring at her from one of the ranch’s ATVs.

  Lord help us all, he’s mobile was her first thought.

  And I’m not came immediately after.

  She clamped her jaw tight and did her best to walk forward without limping—or whimpering—from the pain.

  “Carly, what the hell are you doing?” Brock shouted.

  Pal, the horse she’d ridden out to the arena earlier, stood beside the rail. His ears twitched at the sound of Brock’s roar. She patted the horse’s flank and wished she could just as easily calm her dad.

  The ranch hand in the driver’s seat beside him shifted and glanced away, looking as if he wanted to disappear. It reminded her of what she had said to Luke the afternoon she’d first run into him again. She hadn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke. Right now, she very much wished she could.

  “I’m practicing.”

  “Looking to get yourself killed, you mean.”

  “Not by Twister, Daddy. He’s gotten too tame to be homicidal.” Beside her, Pal nickered, as if in agreement. “I’m surprised the boys get any good workouts from him.”

  Brock’s snort was worthy of one from Twister. “Don’t give me that. I saw how that tame bull tossed you off.”

  “I just had a bad ride.”

  “You’ll have a bad life if you don’t take more care. You’ve got a couple of cowhands who know next to nothing playing clown for you and nobody else around.”

  Darn Jet. When he hadn’t been able to make it out here to the arena on Saturday, she had practiced on her own. But he had said he would show up today. Where was he?

  “I’m fine, Daddy.” As long as I don’t move. She had started with a sore shoulder. Now the rest of her body had caught up to match it. “You don’t need to worry about me and my pastimes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That attitude is just what’s going to get you into hot water.”

  “Trouble’s my middle name. Didn’t you always tell me so?”

  “Dammit, Carly. If you’re going to be crazy enough to ride bulls, you need to take some precautions.”

  “I am. I’m wearing a helmet.” She held it up by the strap. “And you know getting thrown is just part of the ride.”

  On the rough track beyond the arena, a battered silver pickup truck approached. She didn’t need to see the driver’s face to know who sat behind the wheel. Automatically, she stood straighter, fighting a wave of another kind of pain.

  Brock had seen the truck, too. He gave a piercing whistle and waved his Stetson. The driver turned in their direction.

  The last thing she wanted was Luke Nobel and Brock Baron with her at the same time. Her dad would get ideas, if he didn’t have them already. Even now, she didn’t like the contemplative look in his eyes.

  And she didn’t want to see Luke’s eyes again.

  He had parked the truck and leaned into the backseat, giving her a good view of jeans stretched tight enough to make her heart trip. Once, she had loved his broad shoulders, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been equally enthralled by that nice rear end.

  What the heck was she doing thinking about Luke like that?

  She’d had her chance to get closer to him last night. And she’d almost taken that opportunity. Almost grabbed it—and him—with both hands.

  Thank heaven she’d come to her senses and gotten out of there. Then why did she suddenly feel regret, when she’d done the right thing, the only thing possible for her to do?

  Luke ambled across the short space, one hand touching the brim of his Stetson in acknowledgement of a lady’s presence.

  Or more likely, of his boss in the vicinity.

  “Morning. You waved me down, Brock. Something we need to discuss?”

  “A list,” her dad said shortly. “Carly’s out here on her own—”

  “But not for long,” she cut in. “I’m going to head out. I’ve got to go over to the Peach Pit. I’ll leave you to discuss ranch business with...your manager.”

  She mounted Pal and grimaced as she landed in the saddle. Everything hurt. Including her pride. Brock couldn’t have made his lack of faith in her plainer, and she didn’t want him chewing her out in front of Luke. “I’ll see you back at the house later.”

  She took off without a care that urging Pal into a gallop would only worsen the pain. Without having a single thought except getting distance from the men behind her.

  * * *

  CARLY ON HORSEBACK, her blond hair streaming behind her, was a sight to behold. Luke took his fill of it...until he caught Brock eyeing him.

  He forced his mind to business. “I’ve just been out taking a look at that fence line Wes told us about. We’ll need to reinforce all through that area. I’ve already moved the herd temporarily to the upland pasture.”

  The boss nodded without comment, seeming distracted. He sat alone in the ATV, having sent his designated driver over to help the hands at the arena.

  “That section of fencing was next on the rotation, anyhow. We’ll wrap up and move on in the next day or two.”

  Luke waited but still Brock said no
thing. Unusual for him, especially lately. Though he was always hands-on when it came to the ranch, his circumstances now had given him the time to get even more involved. Since his accident, the boss had also grown broody and short-tempered, which Luke attributed to the man’s broken leg and enforced immobility.

  After another minute of silence, he went over to his truck. Sooner or later, Brock would come out of his deep thoughts and then a list of orders would be sure to come his way.

  Or a chewing out.

  The boss hadn’t said a word about it yet, but at the barbecue last week, Luke had seen the man eyeing him when he’d sat at the picnic table talking to Carly. Maybe the boss hadn’t liked what he’d viewed as Luke hitting on his little girl.

  He carried Rosie over to the ATV, rested his foot securely on the running board and set her on his knee.

  “Bok!” she blurted, clapping her hands.

  Luke grinned. She loved the boss, and the feeling always seemed mutual.

  Brock chucked her under the chin. “This is a sweet one you’ve got here.”

  “I know it,” Luke said. “And she’s getting cuter by the day, if I have to say it myself. But I’ll admit, she’s also turning into a handful.”

  “Daughters will do that, all right,” Brock said dryly. “You’ll be in for a rude awakening down the line if you don’t get a handle on this girl of yours now.”

  “I’m trying.” He swallowed a smile. In a rare moment, the boss might moan and groan about one of his kids, but he’d move heaven and the entire state of Texas for any of them, if necessary. Just as he would for Rosie.

  This was a first, though, getting parenting tips from Brock Baron.

  Not that he minded help from any source. This single-dad business took a lot out of a man. But when his life had changed two years ago, drastically and without warning, he’d made his decisions and never looked back. The man sitting inches from him now had played a big role in that.

  If not for this job managing Roughneck Ranch, Luke didn’t know where he’d be. Chances were good he wouldn’t have the luxury of tucking his baby into her crib every night.

  “That girl of mine...”

  Luke eyed the boss warily. The look on his face didn’t bode well. Was it time for the chewing out he’d expected? Or worse?

  “What are you doing with your spare time?” Brock asked suddenly.

  Damn. Was this about the Longhorn? He’d fess up if it came down to it, but meanwhile, he’d hope like hell it wouldn’t. “I spend some of it helping my mom when she needs it. But Rosie’s my top priority. She takes up most of the rest of my time.”

  “I need to appropriate some of it.”

  “Well, sure, if there’s something you need done.”

  “Carly’s looking to get into bull riding,” Brock said. “I want you to help her out.”

  Luke rubbed his chin. He prayed the boss hadn’t seen the way his jaw had dropped before he’d found the wits to clamp his mouth shut again.

  He didn’t want to be around Carly. He had to convince the man his request was a bad idea. “I haven’t been on a bull in a long while.”

  “You’ve had a hard time of things these past couple of years, especially considering all the adjustments you’ve made.” They both knew those adjustments included giving up rodeo. “But no matter what, nobody can take away the fact you’re the best bull rider around.”

  Though the words warmed him, especially coming from Brock Baron, he shook his head. “I did all right. I’d never make it if I tried getting back into rodeo today.”

  Brock waved a hand, brushing the comment away. “That skill doesn’t leave when you’re a natural, son. You’d get back up to speed in no time. And you’ve still got the know-how. The all-important techniques. And,” he ended flatly, “I need your expertise.”

  “I’d like to help, Brock. But with Rosie here keeping me busy, and helping my mom, I haven’t got the spare time.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Free time. Work time. I don’t care when you do it. Just do it.” He had turned as cranky as Rosie when she missed a nap.

  The boss’s request had turned into an order.

  And as Carly wouldn’t hesitate to tell him, he took orders from the boss.

  “You want me to help her here, at the ranch?”

  “Yes. Right here. For as long as she’s in town.”

  Luke glanced over at the arena. He would have given an eyetooth, as the saying went, to have had access to it back in the days when it would’ve done him some good. Now, it wasn’t a job perk he needed.

  Just as he sure as hell didn’t need this enforced involvement with Carly.

  Rosie squirmed on his knee. He lifted her up to his shoulder so she could inspect the area.

  The boss grimaced. “That daughter of mine likes to do things her own way,” he said, unknowingly echoing what Luke had told Rosie just a short while ago. “I doubt very much she’ll take advice from any of her brothers, and she certainly won’t want it from me. That doesn’t matter, anyhow. As I said, you’re the best. If she’s determined to go through with the idea, you’re the one I want training her. She can hardly take exception to getting tips from a champ.”

  “Former champ,” he said. But the words were drowned out by Rosie’s squeal. She was getting restless, and that would give him a reason to leave, to take her home. To figure out how the heck he could get out of this deal.

  He put Rosie back into her car seat, then returned to Brock. “I’ll be over at the barn after I get Rosie settled with Mom.”

  Brock nodded.

  The boss’s demand had thrown him as hard as he’d ever been tossed from the back of a bull.

  He didn’t want to help Carly out, with bull riding or anything else. Didn’t want to get that close to her again. Didn’t want another chance to look into those pretty blue eyes or see her scattering of freckles or her soft, pink mouth and—

  Hell’s bells. He was getting turned on by the boss’s daughter—right in front of the boss.

  He nodded a farewell and walked away, trying to ease his clamped jaw. He’d be a lot better off if he never saw Carly Baron again.

  Not gonna be an option.

  Worse, he could already see the way things would go if he refused to help Brock’s baby girl.

  Carly would do what it took to get back at him, the number-one choice being telling her daddy Luke had slept with her.

  And Brock Baron would fire him—right after he had him gelded.

  Chapter Seven

  The next afternoon, Brock’s crankiness reached an all-time high.

  Carly didn’t pay much attention to the behind-the-scenes operations of Baron Energies, but according to Julieta and Lizzie, something was up. Something connected to the merger proposal the company had received a couple of months ago. Back then, they should have known better than to try to keep the information from their resident invalid, who had eventually gotten word of the situation.

  This new development had put him in a foul mood.

  She didn’t care to ask about whatever was going on. She darn sure didn’t want to draw his fire about the fact she’d refused to work for him.

  But she felt grateful the incident had taken his mind from their meeting at the arena the day before.

  He’d kept her busy all day long, running through pages of memos and letters and directives to his staff, and she appreciated that, too. It kept her too distracted to think of Luke.

  Late in the afternoon, she plopped a stack of folders onto the edge of the desk and looked at Brock, who sat behind the desk in his wheelchair. “If we’re done with this batch, I’m going to take a ride.”

  “Out at the arena?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I meant in the truck. I think I’ll run over to the Peach Pit and see if S
avannah could use a hand. See you later.” After a quick farewell wave, she left the room.

  His question about the arena made her wonder just what he had said to Luke after she left yesterday. But, as with the situation at Baron Energies, she wasn’t about to ask.

  She wished she could close off her mind as well as she was closing her mouth. She hadn’t had many spare seconds at all today, but with every one, her thoughts had turned to Luke.

  She had come much too close to letting him kiss her Monday night. Worse, before that point in their evening, she had already fought the temptation to lean closer and kiss him.

  What a fool.

  How could she be so stupid as to want Luke when he didn’t want her? Hadn’t she learned anything since the day he’d walked away from her?

  She would never forget that day. The wranglers had all been out working the ranch. She had headed to the barn to saddle up Pal for a ride and stopped in shock at seeing Luke’s truck.

  When he told her he had come to interview for a job with her daddy, she’d felt the blood drain from her face. He hated his job at the gas station and often talked about finding something better, always swearing he would do something to get ahead.

  Something like making friends with her?

  “Is this your way of getting up in the world?” she managed.

  He didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm. “Yeah. A grease monkey isn’t exactly the best match for Daddy’s little cowgirl, is he?”

  She accused him of dating her to help him get the job.

  “How could I do that,” he demanded, “when I won’t tell anyone we even know each other?”

  Uncertainty had hit her then, but before she could respond, he had walked away.

  And he hadn’t applied for the wrangler position, after all.

  * * *

  CARLY HURRIED ALONG the hallway, as if practically running toward the kitchen could help her escape her memories. With every step, she forced herself to slow down. By the time she reached the kitchen she had herself under control.

  She crossed the room to the refrigerator. As usual, Anna had it stocked full of all kinds of goodies, including a plastic-covered crystal bowl filled with fruit and coconut and who knew what else. Her mouth watered at the sight of it. She had just finished rummaging through the crisper drawer when Anna spoke from behind her.