With a Stetson and a Smile & The Bridesmaid’s Bet

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “When it’s time.”

  “Huh?”

  Jo choked back a burst of laughter.

  “It’s all about light, Dick,” Quinn continued. “I have to wait until we have the perfect light. I’ll know it when I see it. Might take months, might be in two weeks. Better buy that exercise bike and start jogging.”

  “Yeah. Guess so. Well, see you around, Brian.”

  “See you, Dick. Oh, and about your vegetable garden. Do you think, under the circumstances, that you could—”

  “Hey, I don’t really give a damn about the garden. I’m a meat and potatoes man, myself.”

  Quinn lifted an eyebrow. “And it shows. I’d suggest you switch to broccoli and carrots if you want to lose that spare tire.”

  Dick reddened. “I guess the cook can plant another garden. It was probably too early, anyway. No problem. Forget it, Jo.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.” Jo managed to contain herself until Dick closed the front door and headed toward his truck. Then she collapsed into a chair and clutched her stomach while she laughed until the tears came.

  Emmy Lou joined her, stopping every now and then to pound on the table with glee.

  Finally Jo glanced at Quinn, her voice choked with laughter. “You’ve just given me the best laugh I’ve had in months. Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “If I ever get depressed, I’ll just think of Dick pedaling away on that exercise bike to get rid of his spare tire. And forcing down broccoli.”

  Emmy Lou took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. “Or jogging in his boots. I’m sure that boy doesn’t own a pair of running shoes.” She chuckled. “Good thing Dick doesn’t know any more about making movies than Quinn, here. Monthly rushes. I almost lost it.” She shook her head. “Here’s my first bit of advice, Quinn. Don’t ad-lib. Before you go to bed I’ll get you some of my back issues of Premiere magazine to study.”

  “I think your best bet is to keep me mostly out of sight. I can do mysterious.”

  “That’s no fun!” Jo said. Then she gazed at him. “I really do appreciate this, you know. I realize you didn’t want to do it.”

  “I still don’t, but I couldn’t resist going a couple of rounds with your ex. Don’t take this personally, but if he’s any indication, you have lousy taste in men.”

  “I like to think I was having an out-of-body experience when I agreed to marry him.”

  Jo felt a noble impulse coming. Try as she might, she couldn’t sidetrack it. “Quinn, you can still leave tomorrow morning if you want. Now that at least one person believes you were here, I can use that to convince the bank the deal is on. I’ll just say you were suddenly called away.”

  Quinn rubbed the back of his neck and stared into space. Finally he met her gaze. “I’ll stay a few more days.”

  “Spoken like a true hero,” Emmy Lou said.

  Jo had to agree. And heroes had been in short supply in her life recently. As she looked into Quinn’s eyes her heart took on a jerky rhythm she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She wondered if she was risking more than she realized, if in the process of trying to save her ranch she was in danger of losing her heart. “I promise we won’t be too rough on you,” she said.

  “Oh, I can take rough.” He grinned. “The way this is shaping up, I’m just hoping I make it through alive.”

  QUINN WOKE with a start. The house was dark, but somebody was knocking on a door across the hall, which must have been what woke Quinn in the first place.

  “Jo!” called a man in a loud whisper.

  Quinn threw the covers back and got out of bed. He’d heard that locking the house wasn’t always done out here in the neighborly west, so maybe neighbor Dick was back. Maybe Dick didn’t know the meaning of the term ex-husband. Jo was probably out like a light after being up so many hours straight. Emmy Lou slept in a bedroom downstairs, but this joker had obviously slipped right past her. Jo’s safety was in Quinn’s hands.

  Treading softly, he opened his door as quietly as possible and peered into the hall. Sure enough, a man was opening Jo’s bedroom door. Talk about nerve.

  Quinn crept across the hall and through Jo’s bedroom door just as the creep leaned over Jo. “Oh, no, you don’t, lizard breath.” Quinn launched himself at the intruder’s knees.

  The guy let out a screech, followed by a loud yell from Jo as both men tumbled into bed with her.

  “Don’t worry, Jo!” Quinn wrestled with the guy as best he could, considering it was very dark and he wasn’t sure which arms and legs belonged to which person. “I’ve got him!”

  “I think you’ve got me!” Jo yelled. “How many of you are there? Let go! Ouch!”

  “Help!” cried the man, flailing wildly. “Help, murder, police!”

  “Murder sounds like a great idea,” Quinn said, gasping. He made a grab for where he thought the guy was and encountered warm bare skin. Wonderful soft skin.

  “Whoops. Sorry, Jo.” He tried for the intruder again and caught the guy’s leg.

  “What in hell is going on?” Panting, Jo struggled away from both of them.

  “I’m protecting your honor.” Quinn got hold of the guy’s belt as he tried to squirm off the bed. “And where do you think you’re going, buster? What makes you think you can—oof!” Quinn lost his grip as the guy kicked him in the privates. Groaning, he sprawled across Jo’s legs.

  The overhead light flashed on. “Everybody freeze or I’ll shoot!” Emmy Lou bellowed.

  “Go ahead,” Quinn said. “Put me out of my misery. But save a bullet for your friendly neighbor, here.”

  “Don’t shoot, Emmy Lou!” the guy cried.

  “She can’t, Benny.” Jo sounded thoroughly disgusted.

  “That shotgun’s not even loaded.”

  “You’re not supposed to tell anybody that,” Emmy Lou said.

  “It’s okay to tell Benny,” Jo said.

  Quinn’s pain subsided enough for him to lift his head and gaze at Jo. She wore a plaid flannel nightshirt, which had become sort of twisted around as he’d tried to save her, and the effect was rumpled and very sexy. “Who’s Benny?”

  “Me,” the guy said.

  Quinn raised himself on one arm and glanced to the other side of the bed where someone who was definitely not Dick lay half on, half off the bed, staring at Quinn apprehensively. “Who the hell are you?” Quinn asked.

  The guy flinched. “Benny,” he said again. “Emmy Lou, can I move now?”

  “You can all move,” Jo said. “I don’t remember inviting a single one of you to join me in bed this evening.”

  “I thought Benny was Dick,” Quinn said. “I was saving you.”

  “That’s very sweet. But Benny is not Dick. Benny is my wrangler.”

  “And Fred’s the foreman,” Benny said. “He’s got a beard.”

  “Thanks for the info,” Quinn said. “If he happens to show up at your door tonight I’ll know who he is.”

  Jo glanced at Benny. “So I’ve figured out that Quinn is here because you’re here. But why are you—oh, my God!” She threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. “I’ll bet it’s Clarise!”

  Benny nodded. “It’s Clarise. Fred sent me. He said you told him to get you if it was time. I didn’t know you had a movie star in your house.”

  “He’s not a movie star, Benny. His name is Quinn. But I want to be with Clarise. Thank you for coming to get me.”

  Emmy Lou snapped into action. “Foaling time. I’ll make coffee.” Shouldering the shotgun, she headed downstairs.

  “I’ll go help Fred,” Benny said. He glanced at Quinn.

  “You sure look like a movie star. Sorry I kicked you in the—”

  “It’s okay, Benny.” Quinn had figured out the guy was somewhat of a lightweight in the brains department. Quinn almost felt bad for scaring him, except that he had a kick like a mule, which took the edge off Quinn’s regret.

  “I’ll just go downstairs, okay?” Keeping a wary eye on
Quinn, Benny eased out the door and pounded down the stairs.

  Quinn climbed off the bed, suddenly aware that he wore only his briefs. “I, uh, really thought—”

  “I’m sorry he kicked you.” Her gaze drifted to that part of his anatomy. “Are you…okay?”

  “I’ll live.” In fact, as she continued to look him over, his injured parts became full of life.

  “I imagine you will live, at that.” She looked at him with amused tenderness. “You thought somebody was about to do me wrong, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So with no weapon, and having no idea what you might be up against, you came charging in here to protect me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her gaze warmed even more. “I haven’t had a man risk his own safety for my sake in a long time. It feels nice.”

  His pulse started to hammer.

  She sighed. “We’d both better put on some clothes. My mare is about to foal, and I want to be there.”

  He was encouraged by that sigh and the interest in her brown eyes. “Of course.”

  “It’s worth seeing, Quinn.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” With one last look into those wonderful eyes of hers, he turned and headed out of the room. “Meet you downstairs in two minutes.”

  THE BIRTH of a foal always stirred Jo’s blood, but with Quinn leaning over the stall door in rapt attention, the event seemed more emotional than usual. No doubt she was still affected by their encounter in her bedroom. The picture of Quinn standing there in his briefs would stay with her a long time. She’d never realized bankers could look like that. About her only experience with bankers was Mr. Doobie at First National in Ugly Bug. She’d never seen him in his briefs, but she could imagine it wouldn’t be pretty.

  Quinn, on the other hand, had made her tremble and quicken with desire. If she hadn’t had Clarise on her mind…

  “Get ready. I think we’re close,” Fred said.

  “We’re ready,” Jo said. She and Benny stood behind the mare’s rump, available to help deliver the foal, if necessary. Fred stood by her head, stroking her neck and talking to her in the gentle way he had with all animals. Some people were intimidated by Fred’s size, his bushy gray beard and his gruff manner. Jo had known him since she was a kid, and when she’d inherited the ranch from Aunt Josephine she’d been thrilled when Fred had offered to stay on.

  Unfortunately, his arthritis made riding painful for him, which left certain ranch chores strictly to Jo and Benny. That was how she’d ended up accepting help and advice from Dick, who’d even loaned her a couple of his men during roundup. But there had been strings attached. Actually more like steel cables attached. She’d felt shackled by Dick for way too long. Having Quinn step in tonight and torque Dick around had soothed her soul.

  A couple of times in the past half hour she’d glanced up and caught him watching her. She wondered if he could soothe other parts of her, too.

  The thought filled her with trepidation, because of how Dick had made her feel about herself sexually. Dick’s method of intimidation was to subtly belittle a woman until she began to doubt her worth. She’d divorced him before he could do a thorough job on her, but she still felt insecure about a few things. Like whether she was any good in bed.

  Clarise snorted and shifted her hindquarters.

  “Here it comes!” Benny said.

  “Yep.” Jo’s heart pounded with excitement as the mucus-covered nose and forelegs of the foal poked out between Clarise’s haunches. “Good girl, Clarise. Keep pushing.”

  The mare groaned and sank to her knees as more of the shimmery foal emerged.

  Fred groaned, too, as he knelt beside her. “You and me both, Clarise. After this I’m having a shot of whiskey.”

  Jo watched anxiously as the process seemed to stall. She clutched Benny’s arm. “Do you think she needs us to pull?”

  “I think she’s doin’ fine. Just fine.” Benny’s eyes shone.

  Jo loved Benny like the little brother she never had, even though he was a few years older than she was. His mental slowness made him seem forever young, but when it came to ranch duties, Benny knew his stuff.

  Sure enough, Clarise gave another mighty heave, and the foal slipped out.

  Benny leaned forward to clean its nose so it could breathe. “It’s a colt,” he announced proudly.

  “Wow,” Quinn murmured.

  “Wow is right.” Jo couldn’t take her gaze away from the new baby.

  “What do you do about the glop it came in?” Quinn asked.

  “Watch,” Jo said. “Do your thing, Clarise.”

  The mare turned and began to lick her baby clean.

  “Ugh,” Quinn said. “I’ll never eat oysters Rockefeller again.”

  Jo laughed. “Yeah, I know. If human mothers had to do this, I’d probably opt out of having kids.”

  Benny gazed at her with worship in his gray eyes. “You’d make a real good mommy, Jo.”

  “Thanks, Benny.” She gave him a smile.

  “So when are you gonna be one?”

  Fred snorted as he got slowly to his feet. “Benny, you ask too many questions.”

  Benny looked troubled. “I don’t mean to. But it’d be fun to have some little kids around.”

  “Yeah, it would.” Jo stretched her stiff muscles. Too many hours on a plane and not enough sleep had taken their toll. “But a mother needs a daddy.”

  Benny grinned and jerked a thumb at Quinn. “How about the movie star? I’ll bet he’d do it.”

  5

  QUINN had joined in the laughter following Benny’s remark, but under cover of the joking that followed, he’d checked out Jo’s pink cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. He decided she didn’t hate the idea, no matter how embarrassed she was.

  He didn’t hate the idea, either, which was amazing. As the child of divorced parents, he was wary of the whole marriage and fatherhood thing. He’d promised himself he’d live with a woman for a long time before he even proposed, and as for kids, he hadn’t thought he wanted any.

  Yet watching Jo serve as one of the midwives for her mare, he’d had some very unfamiliar yearnings. Murray had two kids, and he’d raved about the delivery room scene. Quinn hadn’t been able to relate…until now. Maybe it was the sugar in the apple pie still affecting his brain, but he’d found himself wondering what it would be like to be a proud father at the moment of birth. He’d probably imagined Jo in the role of the mother because she was handy.

  “Stand back, everybody,” Fred said. “She’s going to get that little fella on his feet.”

  “No way.” Quinn surveyed the colt’s spindly legs and couldn’t picture it. “I don’t think he has the engineering for it yet.”

  “He has to,” Jo said. “It’s the only way he can nurse.”

  “He’s not up to it, I tell you.” Quinn grew agitated as the mare hauled herself to her feet. “Make her lie down and drag him to the right spot.”

  Jo walked to the stall door and stood near Quinn. “You can’t interrupt nature like that,” she said gently. “In the wild, a horse’s survival depends on getting upright as soon as possible. This has been going on for centuries.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.” Quinn folded his arms across the top of the stall door and frowned as the mare started pushing the colt with her nose. “She’s expecting too much, too soon.”

  “She’s acting on instinct,” Jo said.

  “She’s pushy, is what she is.” Quinn breathed in the sweet scent of Jo’s hair. It looked as mussed and tangled as it had in the bedroom. She probably hadn’t bothered to comb it in her rush to get to the barn. When she shifted her weight, tendrils of it brushed his bare forearm. If he moved his hand a fraction, he’d be able to wind a lock around his finger.

  But he didn’t want such a tame experience. He wanted to grab handfuls of her hair and let the rich silkiness flow between his fingers. He wanted to comb her hair over her naked breasts so that she looked like a brunette
version of Lady Godiva. He wanted—

  “See? He’s up.”

  “I’ll be damned.” To Quinn’s astonishment, while he’d been fantasizing about a sensuous experience with Jo’s hair, the colt had somehow balanced itself on those four match-stick legs and was sucking vigorously on his mother’s teat.

  “He’s going to fall, I tell you. You should prop something under him. A stepladder would probably work.”

  Emmy Lou walked over and patted Quinn’s arm. “Relax. These folks know what they’re doing. We’ve had lots of foals born on the Bar None, and not a one of them ever needed to be propped up with a stepladder. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll bring us some coffee.”

  Benny turned from his inspection of the colt. “And chocolate chip cookies?”

  “Of course. What would foaling be without a batch of my chocolate chip cookies? Before we came down here I took them out of the freezer.”

  “Good thing.” Quinn grinned at her. “I can’t stand a foaling without chocolate chip cookies, myself.”

  Emmy Lou gazed at him and sighed. “Are you sure you’re not Brian Hastings?”

  “Matter of fact, I am. Until somebody blows the whistle on me.”

  “That reminds me.” Jo turned to Fred and Benny. “I need to let you two in on what’s happening. In spite of what you might think, this man is not Brian Hastings.”

  Fred stuck a plug of tobacco under his lip. “Who’s Brian Hastings?”

  Quinn smiled. He’d found a friend.

  Benny pointed to Quinn. “He is.”

  “No, he’s not,” Jo said.

  “Makes no never mind to me.” Fred put his can of tobacco in his back pocket. “He can be Donald Duck for all I care. A man’s name’s not important. It’s how he conducts himself.”

  Jo glanced at Quinn. “Fred doesn’t go to the movies, and he hates TV.”

  “I gathered.”

  She turned to Benny and Fred. “Remember when that guy came by the ranch last fall looking for a place to shoot a movie?”

  Benny looked blank.

  Fred scratched his beard and finally shook his head. “Guess he didn’t make no impression on me.”