by Wendi Darlin
COWBOY GAMES
Wendi Darlin
DEDICATION
For Mike, for a million reasons. And for my family and friends, who support me no matter how long it takes! I love you all. Chris and Neville, you’re the best!
Wendi Darlin
Prologue
“I’m sorry Mrs. Ryder, we did everything we could.”
He couldn’t be dead. Rebecca Ryder stood in the emergency room staring at the doctor, barely hearing anything beyond those first words.
“…aneurism…” the doctor said.
Todd couldn’t be gone.
Her tears caught the fluorescent overhead light and held it, blurring everything but the pain. How could a man like Todd have an aneurism? He was thirty-four years old, healthy and strong as an ox. He worked out every day, ate right. He hadn’t missed work for a legitimate sick day in over four years. The only time he had called into the office and said he was sick was when she refused to let him out of bed in the morning.
Ten years of marriage hadn’t dampened her desire for him. Just this morning she had tried to keep him home, but he had a meeting he couldn’t miss. He was up for a promotion and the last couple of weeks had been filled with meetings and training seminars. She joked with him that she’d had to take an imaginary boyfriend because he wasn’t around enough.
“Who is this lucky man?” he asked her.
“A cowboy.” Her voice was husky, the one she used to pull him back to bed. She draped his tie around his neck and clenched each side of it in her fists. “And he never takes his hat off.”
“Never?” Todd’s lips barely moved, the word coming out on his breath. The want in his eyes, obvious, spurring her on.
“Never.” She ran her hands down his chest, teasing his nipples through the smooth fabric of his shirt.
“You like that do you?” He reached for her, pulled her hips against his.
“Uh huh,” she said, hoping she could get him to cave, to crawl back into bed with her and make love until she screamed. “There’s just something about that hat,” she breathed.
Todd slipped his hands beneath her camisole and nuzzled the thick locks of dark hair that buried her ear. “I’d give you a cowboy if I could, but right now I’ve got to get to the office.”
Her nipples tingled then tightened beneath his touch. She sighed. He couldn’t stay, not today, and it only made her want him more.
“Maybe you could pick up a hat on the way home.”
He brushed her hair back to kiss her high on her neck in the exact spot that drove her wild. “Anything else your cowboy does?” His mouth found her skin.
She gasped. “He calls me darlin’.”
“Alright, darlin’ tonight you get your cowboy.” He kissed her again and pressed his hips into her, teasing her with how hard he’d grown.
“Can’t you just be a little late?” she pleaded, running her hand over the front of his pants.
“Not today.” He gripped her shoulders and held her away. “But I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
“Promise?” She knotted his tie and slid it into place.
“Promise.” He kissed her goodbye, picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. “I love you, darlin’.”
Rebecca wiped away a tear. He couldn’t be gone. Not Todd.
Chapter 1
A year later
The line for baggage check-in at CharlestonInternationalAirport moved, and Rebecca wheeled her suitcase forward another foot. At six a.m. the line should be shorter, but apparently everybody and her sister got up at the crack of dawn on the first day of spring to jump on an airplane. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her carry-on and took a breath to quiet the butterflies in her stomach. It was a pretty safe bet not a person in line was going to the same place she was.
“Todd would think this is funny. Don’t you think?” Rebecca asked.
“Who wouldn’t? This is hysterical,” Melinda said, her eyes glued to the full-color glossy brochure for Fantasy Ranch. “Listen to this: Are you ready for the ultimate ladies’ vacation? Come on darlin’, kick off your boots and stay awhile at Fantasy Ranch where the cowboy of your dreams is yours. That’s right, for one romance-filled week on an authentic ranch with one of the most spectacular views in Wyoming, a real-life cowboy will be yours and yours alone. Not only can these boys wrestle steer to the ground, they will wine, dine and treat you like the lady you are.”
“Can you imagine who comes up with this stuff?” Rebecca asked.
“If I didn’t know you, I couldn’t imagine who would actually go to this place.” Melinda pushed the brochure over to offer her sister another look at the dozen cowboys seated on a fence. Hats, boots, rugged good looks and lazy smiles on every one of them. Snowcapped mountains stood in the distance behind them. “They’re hot as hell, but you’re still out of your mind,” she said.
“Life’s a game, might as well play it.”
“Roulette’s a game too, but you won’t catch me playing that,” Melinda said. “And this is the worst false advertising I’ve ever seen.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“First of all, these guys have to be models,” Melinda said. “There’s no way they all work in one place, and second of all, Fantasy Ranch is probably a front for some perverted serial killer’s garage.”
“What kind of serial killer targets women who have a thing for cowboys?”
“One who always had to be the Indian when he was a little boy.” Melinda’s lips curved into a smile. “I have two psychology classes under my belt. I know what I’m talking about, and there is no way this place really exists. Not like this anyway.”
“Have a little faith,” Rebecca said. “You don’t trust anyone or anything.”
“With plenty of reason.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.” Rebecca placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “But seriously. It’s not too late to get a ticket, and there’s plenty to go around. Look at this one.” She pointed to an olive-skinned hottie, with movie star eyes. “Says he likes riding bareback, sleeping under the stars and taming mustangs, but when it comes to the ladies he’s got velvet hands.”
They both laughed.
“It’s probably another identity theft scam,” Melinda said. “A creative one. I’ll give them that.”
“It’s not.”
“You have to give them all kinds of personal information for the required background check, don’t you?” Melinda asked.
“Yeah, but I did my homework.” Rebecca pulled her suitcase forward another couple of feet and closed the gap in the line. “I called the Canyon Creek, Wyoming Chamber of Commerce.”
“And…”
“And,” Rebecca continued. “The lady that answered the phone laughed, but she said Fantasy Ranch is owned by two local cowboys named Garrett and Gavin Carter, and they’re very easy on the eyes.”
“She say anything else?” Melinda asked with renewed interest.
“She said the staff changes regularly, but she’s never received any complaints about them. They’re running a legitimate operation with a steady stream of customers flying in from all over the place.”
“Do they have their own little cowboy out there pointing out ‘da planes’ when they land?”
“Everybody left that island with what they came after,” Rebecca reminded her.
“It says you can ride horses and picnic alongside ‘a pristine mountain stream.’” Melinda twisted her lips, looking anything but convinced, and turned to the next page of the brochure. “At least you won’t need to pay extra for the riding lessons.”
Rebecca had been riding horses since she was five. Somewhere in her attic at least fifty ribbons from jumping competitions were collecting dust.
She still spent weekends at the stables exercising the horses whose owners didn’t make enough time for them.
“I already did.” Rebecca’s smile was purely wicked. “It ought to be fun having a cowboy show me how to do it his way.”
“I’d pick that one.” Melinda shoved the brochure toward her and pointed to a man with smoldering green eyes, an easy grin and jeans that lay nicely over the muscles beneath them. It was hard to tell with his hat on, but Rebecca guessed he was blond. “Which one did you pick?”
“I’ll have to take whatever’s left. I booked on short notice.”
“It’s like getting to the meat counter during the last hour of the sale,” Melinda said.
A woman behind them in line chuckled.
“They all look beefy enough to give me what I’m after. Remember the real stuff will be up to me anyway.” Rebecca laughed and lowered her voice. “Fantasy Ranch, rule number one: NO SEX.”
After skimming past the legal gibberish, the contract was simple. A background check was required of all guests, and there were two stipulating clauses: 1) No sex; and 2) No contact or attempted contact after the week is up. Clause number two was accompanied by a clear warning: Any attempt at contact will be considered ‘criminal stalking’ and treated as such. A sure sign the cowboys were very good at making women think they had fallen in love.
“Whew, the price is hefty.” Melinda scanned another page. “You didn’t tell me it cost this much. You sure you don’t want to go out with Ray first? Kind of ease back into the dating pool and keep some of your money in the bank?”
“He’s not my type. None of Scott’s friends are my type.”
“Ray’s not bad looking and at least he’s not made out of plastic with a battery compartment.”
Rebecca groaned. “I’d probably have better sex with my vibrator.” The man in front of her took a quick glance over his shoulder, and Rebecca covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“You’re not going to find Todd in Wyoming or anywhere else.” Melinda softened, and dropped the brochure to her side. “You need to at least open your eyes to other possibilities.”
“I did.” Rebecca gave her a weak smile. She pulled the brochure from Melinda’s hand and flipped it open to the image of the green-eyed sex pot Melinda had already pointed out. “That one.”
Melinda took the brochure back and studied the picture. “If you’re going to go crazy, he’s the one to go with,” she said. “And for the record, you’re definitely going crazy.”
“You really should come. Go crazy with me for once.”
“Scott and I need some time together.” Melinda sighed and flipped over to the next page. “I don’t think a cowboy would help matters.”
“Might not hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine.”
The man in front of Rebecca stepped up to the baggage clerk and another slot opened up. Rebecca handed over her bag, her tickets and her ID.
“One bag. Charleston to Dallas. Dallas to Yellowstone Regional Airport, Wyoming.” The clerk attached the baggage labels and hefted Rebecca’s suitcase onto the conveyor belt behind her.
Just before the security line, Rebecca pulled Melinda in for a hug. “Thanks for bringing me to the airport. Call me if you need to talk.”
“I’ll be fine,” Melinda said. “But Becca, are you sure you’re ready for this?”
The year since Todd passed away had eased the pain but the emptiness inside her had only grown. She still missed him everyday, his laugh, the light that flashed in his dark eyes, his undying love for her. She ached for his touch, the feel of his body, and the way they made love.
“It’s time, Mel. I need to see what it’s like to have other men around, and I know I’m not ready for a real one. I figure this will be easier, you know? It’s just a game and I don’t have to play any harder than I want to.”
“I hope you have a good time.” Melinda exhaled sharply. “But you call me if anything at all seems fishy and I will have you escorted away from that place by a S.W.A.T. team if I have to.”
Rebecca adjusted the grip on her carry-on. “Todd would think this is funny, right?”
“You two would be playing cowboy ‘til you had saddle sores,” Melinda said softly.
Rebecca wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled.
“Well, if you’re really going to do this, you better get in line.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Rebecca hugged her again. “I’m going to go out there, do a little horseback riding, let some sexy cowboy wine and dine me, and when I come home, maybe I’ll be ready for a real date.”
* * * *
“What am I up against?” Gavin Carter kicked his Nike runners up on the broad pine desk across from his brother. He tilted his head back and ran his fingers through his dark blond hair, a little longer than was respectable on a cowboy, but the ladies liked it.
“Rebecca Ryder,” Garrett read from the file in his hand. “Thirty-two, biotech consultant from South Carolina. Widowed.”
“When did her husband die?”
“It’s been a year,” Garrett said, flipping over to the following page.
“Good.” Gavin reached into his desk for a tennis ball. “An easy week.”
The worst of the grief was behind her. What they did was a lot like therapy for many of the women who booked a vacation at the ranch. Most of them just needed a boost of confidence and a little attention from the opposite sex. A few needed to know men could act like gentlemen, even men who were strong enough to wrestle a steer to the ground.
For the most part the job was easy, the guest entertainment part of it, anyway. He was more than happy to be what a lady needed, as long as she only needed him for a week. In another year, he and Garrett would have too much on their plates to spend time entertaining guests, but for now it made business sense.
Fantasy Ranch was a business, a growing business, and there was plenty to be done to make sure it kept turning out a profit and continued to adjust to the changes necessary for it to grow. To lower overhead and maintain an authentic feel, the resort office was in the big house, and it was the only room other than the dining hall and downstairs bathroom that was open to guests and employees. Gavin and Garrett’s bedrooms were upstairs, the same ones they’d grown up in. Aside from basic updates, the rest of the house hadn’t changed since they were teenagers and they liked it that way.
“I’m glad it’s your week,” Garrett tossed across the desk at him. “Last widow I had cried every time I touched her, then cried when I didn’t.”
“That’s because, big brother, you don’t touch a woman like I do.” A slow smile crept across Gavin’s face. He bounced the ball off the pine timber walls and caught it when it ricocheted back.
“I’d rather not touch them at all,” Garrett said with a grin.
“Lucky you.” Gavin threw the ball again, not looking forward to another week without a soft, warm body beneath his. “I’m horny as a bull and I’ve been so busy around here lately I haven’t had a chance to go out and even look for any relief.”
“You can always join the boys in the bunkhouse.” Garrett’s grin erupted in a laugh.
“No thanks. You fellas are pretty, but not my type.”
“Just don’t so much as breathe on your guest this week,” Garrett warned him. “I’m just waiting for the Sheriff’s office to send out an undercover.”
“Heard anything from the lawyers yet?” Gavin grabbed the ball out of the air as it shot toward him.
“Ms. Cardin recanted her story once she learned we have camera surveillance in the cabins. Travis will be cleared to come back to work as soon as the case is officially closed. If he still wants the job, and I don’t blame him if he doesn’t.”
“Thank God she didn’t read the fine print of the contract. If she’d known about the cameras, it would have been just as easy to say he attacked her in the barn or on the trails.” Gavin ripped the ball against the wall again. “It’s unbelievable what people will do
to shove a buck in their pocket.”
“A lawsuit like that would have shut us down.” Garrett stacked Rebecca’s file with the ones for the rest of the guests arriving the next day and lined up everything on his desk at right angles.
Gavin had to give his brother credit. He never would have believed that Fantasy Ranch would be as successful as it had turned out to be. Sure, he knew what women needed to hear, but he never thought so many of them would be willing to pay so much money to hear it. He was on his way to a very early retirement.
“Are the guest rooms ready?” Garrett asked as he turned off his computer and stood to leave.
“Fresh flowers, chocolates on the pillow, and wine in the chiller. Everything a lady might want when she doesn’t have a cowboy wrapped around her pretty little finger,” Gavin said.
“Good. I’ve got a theatre meeting. I’m going to need you to meet the last flight at the airport.”
“How many are on it?”
“Two. Yours and Clayton’s.”
“If you don’t have anything else for me this morning,” Gavin said, dropping his feet to the floor and depositing the tennis ball back in his desk drawer. “I’m going for a run.”
“Don’t stay out too long,” Garrett said. “The first group’s coming in on an early flight. And they don’t ever picture the cowboys in running shoes.” He picked up his empty mug and carried it around the desk.
They left through the living room and crossed in front of the walk-in fireplace with the antique bison mounted above it. The glassy-eyed bull looked like it had charged the wall and gotten stuck at the base of its neck, with just the slightest bulge of shoulders breaking through. Gavin had plenty in common with the old beast, his head in one place, his body in another and his heart cut out completely. Work was the only thing that really mattered anyway, and maybe this would be a good week on the job.
At thirty-two, Rebecca Ryder was a lot younger than most of the guests. Maybe that meant she’d be up for some of the more physical stuff the ranch had to offer, and he wouldn’t have to stand around taking square dance lessons for the umpteenth time.
* * * *
A green paisley duffel with the pink yarn pompom made another round on the baggage carousel at Yellowstone Regional Airport, but Rebecca’s suitcase was nowhere in sight. Nearby, a young couple sat down on the floor and canoodled, seemingly content to make the most of their wait. Within seconds they were lost in a kiss. Rebecca shivered and goose bumps scampered across her bare shoulders. Probably just her body sending another sign that she had stone-cold lost her mind. The evidence was stacking up.
