by Mandy Baxter
“There’s a few hundred head in that far pasture.” He pointed out to a smaller fenced-in field about two miles or so from the main ranch. “We need to move them from where they are to the corrals at the ranch.”
Lara stared at him, waiting for the punch line. They’d need at least five more bodies to move that many cows, wouldn’t they? But instead of following up his statement with a “Gotcha!” or a round of laughter, he clicked his tongue a couple of times and shook out the reins, urging his horse down the hill.
“You’re kidding, right?” Lara called as she spurred her own horse after him.
“Nope.” His voice bounced in time with each step of his mount. “And there are probably fifty or so calves in that bunch. Best not leave any of ’em behind.”
He might have dazzled her with his, “Behold, my kingdom!” moment at the top of the hill, but she wouldn’t be so easily fooled again. This entire weekend would be about nothing other than retribution. Her humiliation as payment for his. She’d never run cows before in her life. Where would they even start?
Lara’s horse, a five-year-old gelding named Samson, negotiated the hill with ease, picking his way down the incline as sure-footed as any mountain horse. Granted, the rolling Texas hills weren’t treacherous by any means, but all it would take was a single misstep on a rock or gopher hole to send both horse and rider toppling down the hill. One hand gripping the reins, the other on the pommel, Lara leaned back in the saddle, helping Samson with her weight displacement. When they neared the bottom of the hill, he picked up his pace and headed after Ryder as though he knew his job and couldn’t wait to get to work.
As she gained ground on Ryder, he turned in his saddle and called, “Get the gate, will ya?” and motioned to a section of barbed wire fence that had been fashioned into a makeshift gate. Well, he’d said she was there to work. Apparently, Ryder was planning on taking advantage of the situation. She steered Samson toward the gate and eased him to a stop. Ryder veered down the fence line to her left, looking over the rest of herd while he waited on her to open the gate for him.
Lara hopped down from the saddle and Samson took the opportunity to graze on the tall field grass. She eyed the fence and took one of the sections of wire in her hand, wiggling to test its strength. Ryder sure didn’t scrimp when it came to building fence. The damned thing was taut, held in place by a section of wire that looped over a fence pole. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to pull the fence posts close enough together to create the slack she’d need to lift the loop of wire and release the fence.
No way would she ask for help, though.
All the money in the world at his disposal, and Ryder Blackwell chose to use an antiquated homemade gate for his pastures? Lara took a deep breath, dug the balls of her feet into the ground, and wrapped her hands around the gate’s fence post. Leaning all of her weight into the motion, she shoved the gate’s pole closer to the fence’s anchor pole, until she’d created just enough slack in the wire to lift it off the fence post. She reached for the wire and jimmied it up the pole, but it took away some of her leverage and the tension in the fence increased, keeping her from working the wire the rest of the way up the post. Damn it.
Attempt two at opening the gate ended much the same, with her panting, her arms shaking from the effort, and the fence mocking her with its very presence. A soft chuckle from behind her steeled her conviction, though, as she refused to let Ryder Blackwell get the best of her. She might not be strong enough to open his damned gate on her own, but she was smarter than all of his muscles combined were strong.
Ignoring him, Lara walked over to Samson and swung up into the saddle. She grabbed a length of rope and wound it around the fence’s post before wrapping the other end several times around the saddle’s pommel. She nudged her heels into Samson’s flanks and his head bucked up before he took a step back, and then another, pulling the two fence posts together. Once the tension in the rope was taut, she hopped down from the saddle, counting on the horse’s training to do the rest. A good roping horse knew when to stay put, and Samson did just that.
With more than enough slack in the wire, Lara lifted the loop off the fence post and gave a tug on the rope. Samson took a couple of steps forward and she threw the rope to the ground as she guided the barbed wire fence-gate wide open and let it fall to the ground. “After you,” she said to Blackwell with a wide sweep of her hand.
* * *
Ryder had dated—well, more to the point, slept with—all sorts of women: wannabe cowgirls, rodeo queens, debutantes, hard-core business types, a cocktail waitress or three, and an elementary school teacher up in Lubbock, but there was something about watching Lara Montgomery open that gate that heated his blood to volcanic proportions. In tasking her with opening the gate, he’d hoped to give her no choice but to ask for his help. Hell, on a good day he had a hard time pulling those posts together himself. But the fiery vet refused to back down, and it was damned smart of her to get Samson to do the heavy lifting. He’d have to remember that trick the next time he was out here alone.
“So, why are we moving this group and leaving the others down here?” Lara asked as she maneuvered Samson into the pasture.
Her cold tone did little to cool his jets. On the contrary, it made Ryder more determined than ever to melt her icy exterior. “We separated this group last week. Most of these cows will be calving in the next few weeks. I want them closer to the main house. They’re easier to take care of that way.”
Ryder pushed his hat up on his forehead and turned in his saddle. A few miles wasn’t far to ride, and even without Lara’s help, he could have moved the herd with little to no trouble. They’d been moved back and forth between these pastures for years, and the cows knew what to do when he opened the gate. But he didn’t want Lara to know that.
“Okay, so where do you want me?”
He couldn’t ignore how her voice dropped a couple of decibels with the question, almost breathy, and Ryder thought of several places he wanted her, one of which was straddling his cock, riding him like she did that horse. Jesus, the way her ass came off the saddle and settled back down was enough to knock the air right out of his chest.
“Come around and flank the left side.” Ryder’s voice was strained, but it was nothing compared to the erection straining in his jeans. He cleared his throat and shifted in his saddle. “It’ll push them out of the pasture and get them headed toward the ranch.”
She shielded her eyes with her hand as she steered Samson toward the sun. Ryder pulled his Stetson from his head. He walked his horse, Dakota, up beside her and tossed the hat. “Here. You’re gonna need it.”
Without even a pause to consider the offer, Lara put his weathered Stetson on her head. It was a little big, and slid down her forehead, but Ryder couldn’t deny that she looked damned fine in it. Seeing his hat and shirt on her body drove him crazy, scrambling his thoughts to the point that the entire herd could get away from him right here and now and he wouldn’t give a single shit about it.
As if he wasn’t even there, Lara steered Samson around the pasture, pushing the cows and calves out through the pasture gate and into the next field. He didn’t know what he found more aggravating, the fact that she ignored him, or well, the fact that she’d ignored him. If Jase was here right now, he’d have fallen off of his horse laughing. What did he have to do to get a second glance from her?
Ryder never went into any situation half-cocked, though. He’d orchestrated the purchase of October Sky, knowing it would get Lara out here. He never left anything to chance. And as soon as the herd filed out of the gate, he sat back in his saddle and waited for Lara to lose that cool she so easily maintained.
“Whoa, where do you think you’re going, little fella?”
Ryder smiled as one of the calves took off ahead of the group, frolicking toward the far fence line where the rest of the cattle grazed. Samson took off at a canter, showing off his training as he moved to cut the calf off and steer it in the ri
ght direction. Lara turned back to face him, a triumphant smirk curving her full lips when two more calves broke ranks and headed in opposite directions. Ryder couldn’t have planned it better if he’d trained those little buggers to take off like that.
“Better round ’em up, doc. You wouldn’t want one getting stuck in a fence somewhere.”
She shot him a glare that further stirred his lusts as she maneuvered Samson toward the closest calf first. Wrong move. She should have brought the farther calf in line first to encourage the other to fall into step. Again, perfect.
“Dang it,” Lara muttered as another calf kicked his back legs up and skittered off toward a patch of green grass on the outskirts of the herd. The mama released a drawn-out bellow as she stopped the flow of the herd in order to follow after her baby. “Come back, little guy,” Lara crooned. “You’re worrying your mama.” She spun Samson around and sent him headlong into the middle of the herd.
“Damn it,” Ryder ground out between clenched teeth as the once-ordered group fell quickly into chaos. So much for a well-orchestrated plan. There wouldn’t be much use in trying to seduce Lara if she was trampled by a stampede first.
He whistled sharply, the sound echoing off the distant hills. The sound seemed to break Lara from her single-minded task and she looked up and around to find herself adrift in a sea of agitated cattle. Dust swirled up around her and she waved her hand in front of her face as she coughed. Samson reared up, none too happy about being pushed around, and damned near threw Lara from her seat.
Ryder chanced a quick look toward the ranch, relieved to see a streak of black-and-white fur racing down the hill, toward them. Pepper, the best cow dog he’d ever owned, bounded down the hill with a yip, clearly excited to show the herd who was boss. As the cows grew more agitated, their cries became a cacophony of sound, drowning out Lara’s voice as she called out over the din.
Well, it wasn’t how he’d imagined getting her close, but Ryder decided that improvisation had its merits. He pressed his heels into Dakota’s flanks and sent him into the melee of cattle. Dakota pulled against the reins, throwing his head from side to side. Lara should have known better than to steer a horse into an agitated group of cows like that. Dakota grew nervous, stomping his hooves and raising his legs high as though worried he was about to get stepped on.
“Whoa, boy. Take it easy,” Ryder crooned in his ear as he placed a comforting hand on the stallion’s neck and maneuvered him right into the thick of the chaos. Samson spun wildly as he searched for a way out of the stampede and Lara’s eyes were as big as silver dollars, her expression one of barely veiled fear. Through the press of cattle, Dakota soldiered his way through like any battle stallion worth his salt. No pesky cow was going to push him around and he gingerly picked his way through the stamping feet around him, ears perked and head held high.
Samson bucked again and Lara lost her grip on the reins, instead grabbing onto the pommel to stay in the saddle. Before he could try to pitch her again, Ryder maneuvered beside them and grabbed Samson’s discarded rig before he wrapped his other arm around Lara’s waist, pulling her onto his saddle. “You’re lucky he didn’t throw you,” Ryder growled close to her ear. “Damn it, Lara, you could’ve been trampled.”
He didn’t mean to be so harsh with her. After all, he was the one who’d set her on that fool’s errand. Ryder’s heart beat wildly in his chest and his muscles tensed with unspent adrenaline. And what really rattled him—scared the ever loving shit out of him—was the fear he felt watching her out there and being almost too far away to help.
Talk about uncharted territory.
THREE
Lara’s heart felt like it might explode out of her chest at any second. Her hands trembled at her sides and she gripped onto Ryder’s shirt as he guided them away from the fray and clear of danger. Behind them, Samson skittered to one side, still a little rattled and out of sorts. An excited yip sounded from somewhere beside them and Ryder called out, “Round ’em up, Pep!”
A dark flash of color darted into Lara’s line of sight and she turned to see a black dog with a white speckled band of fur around its neck and shoulders circumvent the agitated cows, nipping at ankles as she rounded them up into an orderly group.
“Good girl, Pepper,” Ryder called out as the dog wagged her tail, pleased with the compliment. “Get ’em moving.”
It only took Pepper a few moments to bring order to the chaos Lara had managed to create. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Ryder’s arm wound around her torso to hold her body tightly to his. Great. Ryder Blackwell’s dog is a better ranch hand than I am.
“That was stupid,” Lara stated without looking back. If she had to admit to his face that she had no idea what she was doing she doubted she’d ever live it down. “I should have known better.”
His voice was a low, sensual purr next to her ear when he said, “Round-up skills aside, doc, you sure know how to open a gate.”
It shouldn’t have made her insides turn to Jell-O when he called her “doc.” And likewise, she shouldn’t have wanted to lean back and rest her head on his shoulder. Lara shifted—saddles weren’t made for more than one butt after all—and only managed to wedge her body between the pommel and Ryder, pressing her up against his groin in a way that made her very aware there was a well-built male right behind her.
They sure did grow ’em bigger in Texas.
Despite the clothes that separated their skin, Lara could feel every well-sculpted muscle of his body and then some. Her backside brushed up against his fly with each one of Dakota’s steps, creating a friction that made her wonder what it might feel like to have Ryder Blackwell naked and thrusting into her from behind. So much for keeping her distance. She’d only been at the ranch for a little over an hour and already she was plastered up against him and thinking of ways to get closer still.
Samson seemed to have calmed down, his gait lazy as he walked behind them, but Ryder still held onto her, one arm wrapped protectively around her waist. His proximity made Lara’s spine about as stiff as a cooked noodle, and the longer she stayed put, the more she wanted to nestle up and let her body mold itself to his. “I’m okay to ride now.” Too bad her voice didn’t echo the conviction of her words. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me starting another stampede. It looks like Pepper has the situation under control.”
She felt more than heard the deep rumble of laughter in Ryder’s chest. A tremor that traveled the length of her body and settled low in her core. Lara sat bolt upright in the saddle, scrambling to hop down before she threw caution to the wind and straddled that cowboy like she had his horse. What was wrong with her? Lara had to remind herself that she was here for one reason and one reason only: to get back October Sky so she could rebuild her family’s stables and reputation.
Ryder Blackwell did not figure into that equation.
As though reluctant to let her go, his fingers slid across her belly as she maneuvered one leg over the pommel until she was sitting sidesaddle. The contact sent delicious shivers over her skin and her abdomen clenched tightly with lust.
“Give me your hand.”
Ryder’s voice was as smooth and rich as Kentucky bourbon, every bit as heady too, because all it took was a few words in her ear to make Lara feel positively drunk. She reached her right hand across her body and his fingers brushed her palm before he gripped her hand in his. Her breath stalled in her chest as their eyes locked, their lips almost close enough for a kiss.
The rumor around town was that Ryder Blackwell could give a woman an orgasm just by smiling at her. His eyes crinkled at the corners as his lips spread into a sensual grin and for the first time since she’d heard it, Lara thought that the rumors might actually be true. “Watch your step, doc. I can’t have my new ranch hand laid up on the first day of work.”
Her brain went blank. She couldn’t think past that smile, or the heated look in his eyes. “True,” she said after a spell. “And I really wouldn’t want to give t
he local hens anything to cluck about.”
Rather than let her go, Ryder’s grip tightened around her with those words. Something hardened in his gaze and he cocked his head to one side as he regarded her. “Is that why you’ve been giving me the brush-off? Because you’re worried about what people might say about you?”
His expression was almost hurt and though it puzzled Lara to see him react this way, what did he expect? “Oh, come on, Ryder. You have to know that once a woman spends the night with you, she’s the talk of the town by the next day. I’m trying to build a business here. A good reputation. No one will bring their animals to me if they don’t respect me. Being one of your conquests doesn’t exactly look good on a resume.”
He released his grip and she slid down from his horse so unexpectedly that she almost didn’t land on her feet. “What the hell do you care what people say, anyway? And besides, unless you’re the one planning to spread the gossip, why does anyone need to know what you do in your spare time?”
Lara dusted her palms against her pants as though she could banish the lingering sensation of Ryder’s touch and stalked over to Samson, grabbing up the reins. “Are you implying that I’d run around town and brag about spending the night with you?” As though a one-nighter with Ryder Blackwell was like winning a blue ribbon at the state fair.
“You said it, doc. Because I can guarantee you that any stories about what goes on in the privacy of my own bedroom aren’t being spread by me.”
Yeah, sure. What man didn’t brag about his conquests? Especially one with the bragging rights Ryder supposedly had. “Knowing the damage it would cause, what woman in her right mind would go around blabbing to the entire town that she’d hooked up with you for the night?” She might have sounded disbelieving, but Lara had to admit that the biggest complaint from most of Ryder’s former flames was that he rarely came calling a second time. And though it was totally unfair to lay all of the blame at his feet—it took two to tango, after all—Lara needed whatever flimsy excuse she could muster in order to keep her distance.
