Have Cowboy, Need Cupid

by Rita Herron

  Mimi grinned. “Just that he was only giving you riding lessons to convince you not to support that mall project. Of course, you know the old saying, ‘Me thinks he doth protest too much.’”

  “I’m sure he meant what he said,” Suzanne said. “For some reason I don’t think he likes me.”

  “What’s not to like?” Mimi said, wide-eyed. “He’s a man and you’re a positively scrumptious woman. He’d be crazy not to be attracted to you. I don’t know why you didn’t go over and just talk to him. I never thought of you as being shy, Suzanne.”

  “It’s not that,” Suzanne said. “But I don’t want him to think I’m stalking him.” She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Besides, I’m buying ingredients to make a cake, and I didn’t want him to see me with this recipe book.”

  “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  Another tiny tidbit she’d sort of fudged yesterday. “I can’t. At least not much. But yesterday I told Rafe’s mother about this wonderful chocolate cake, and somehow she got the impression that I baked it myself. I guess I forgot to mention that it was our third housekeeper, Mrs. Atkinson, that actually cooked the darn thing.”

  Mimi’s mouth twitched. “Uh-huh. You wanted to impress Rafe’s mother?”

  “I…I guess so.” Although she had no idea why impressing Mrs. McAllister had seemed important, but it had at the time, so she simply hadn’t corrected her assumption. Now, she’d dug herself into a hole. But it wasn’t like it was a big lie, really, and what could it hurt to make a sweet, sick woman a cake? Rafe’s mother had been so cordial yesterday, so full of Southern hospitality. Besides, Suzanne needed to learn to cook sometime, so why not practice her culinary skills while she had a few days to relax in Sugar Hill? How hard could it be to make a cake? All she had to do was follow the directions.

  “Well, keep me posted,” Mimi said. “We’ll see you at the next town meeting.”

  Suzanne nodded and raced through the store to gather the ingredients listed in the recipe, battling nerves. She could handle major mergers and acquisitions, entertain the wealthiest entrepreneurs and close million-dollar deals. Baking a cake should be easy. After all, she’d certainly served plenty of cake at receptions before.

  She read the ingredients. What exactly was cake flour? Perplexed, she scoured the shelves and discovered more varieties and name brands than she could ever have imagined. Wheat flour, white flour, self-rising flour, all-purpose flour. What in heaven’s name was the difference between them and which one was she supposed to buy?

  A frown pulled at her mouth. And what in the world was a sifter?

  HIS NERVES STRUNG TIGHT, Rafe strode into the bank. Though Slim Wallace had turned down his loan, he hoped he’d cut him some slack on the second mortgage payment. A few minutes later he paced across Wallace’s office, his hands jammed in his pockets to keep from pounding the man’s snotty face into the stack of papers on his desk marked Past Due—all bills of Rafe’s, thanks to his irresponsible father.

  “Look, Wallace, it’s barely turning spring. Just give me a few more weeks, and I’ll have part of the money. I have some beef cattle I’m about ready to sell—”

  “I’ve heard it all before,” Wallace said. “From your father and now you.” Wallace stood, hands planted on his desk. “Listen, Rafe, I feel for you, I honestly do. But you’re in way over your head. You’re so far past due that I’m not going to have a choice soon. I’ll have to collect or foreclose.”

  God, no.

  Sweat beaded on Rafe’s forehead. “You can’t do that, Slim. This land has been in my family for generations. It would kill my mother to have to leave her home.”

  Wallace sighed, twisting a cigar end with his fingers. “Maybe you should tell her the truth. She might be stronger than you think.”

  “No.” He fisted his hands by his side. “Don’t you tell her, either. She hasn’t been in the best of health, and I don’t want to add to it by heaping more stress on her.”

  “Think about selling part of your land to Landon, then. He’s been after it for years.”

  “He’s part of the reason my father got in so much trouble.”

  “Well, your only other option is to sell to that developer.”

  Anger mounted in Rafe’s chest. “I won’t let the Lazy M become another shopping mall.”

  “Then consider Landon,” Wallace said, sounding weary. “At least he’ll keep the property for ranching. Maybe he can even hire you to help run it.”

  Work as a hired hand on his own ranch? Nausea cramped Rafe’s stomach. They had reached an impasse. “Just don’t do anything yet.”

  “A week,” Wallace said. “That’s all I can give you.”

  Rafe scowled, his heart pounding, and stalked out of the office. One week wasn’t nearly long enough to solve all his problems.

  SUZANNE CASHED HER CHECK at the teller’s window, then turned abruptly, in a hurry to get back to Rebecca’s apartment and bake the cake before she went to the Lazy M, but she suddenly slammed into a hard masculine body. Two strong hands caught and steadied her, and she glanced up to see Rafe McAllister, all six-three of him staring down at her with laser-sharp, dark eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I should have been watching where I was going,” she said, shaken by the intense look of anger in his eyes. Anger and some other emotion, something much more disturbing. He was really upset about something. Had he found out who she was working for?

  Then Slim Wallace stepped out of his office with a folder clenched in his hand, looking equally troubled, the mutinous stares that rippled between the two men explaining everything. They had just had some kind of meeting that hadn’t gone very well. She’d dealt with enough men in the aftermath of a deal turned sour that she recognized the signs.

  Rafe still had his hands wrapped around her arms, his expression stony. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded dumbly, slowly extracting herself. “I guess we were both in a hurry.”

  A clipped nod was his only response.

  Had Wallace warned Rafe he was going to lose his ranch?

  A man’s land is his pride. Without that, he has nothing. Rafe’s words echoed in her head, followed by his mother’s.

  That tree is where Frank and I got married. And those tulips remind me of my mother. She loved tulips.

  Sympathy welled up inside Suzanne. She didn’t know the name of her own mother’s favorite flower. Or where she and her father had married. Rafe had all those memories of his land. He woke up and looked out at the mountains where his ancestors had lived and breathed and worked for generations. How would he feel if his home was suddenly taken from him?

  She couldn’t imagine, because she hadn’t lived in the same house her entire life, the way he had. She woke up to an empty apartment overlooking a crowded parking lot where people fought for parking spaces like rabid beasts. Her place was only miles away from her father’s, but they rarely saw each other. When they did, business usually brought them together.

  “I need to get going,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “So do I.” She raised her chin a notch, uncomfortable with her own emotions.

  He started past her, and her temper surfaced at his dismissal. “What time do I need to come by the ranch today?”

  He turned around and glared at her, so hard that her insides quivered.

  “Or have you changed your mind?”

  She saw the indecision in his eyes. Rafe didn’t want to want her to come, yet he did. And he still thought he’d sway her to his side.

  “Five o’clock. I’ve got a ton of stuff to do first.”

  “Five is fine. I have work to do, too.” Like learn how to bake a cake.

  “Good, I’ll see you then.”

  “All right.”

  “Oh, and, Suzanne, you might want to wear some regular boots this time.”

  Irritation crawled through her. He was actually criticizing her clothes. No one had ever said Suzanne Hartwell didn’t know how to dress. “Don�
��t worry, cowboy. You won’t be disappointed in what I plan to wear.”

  His eyes shot up, and she realized how suggestive her comment had sounded. But the sudden spark of desire in his eyes that replaced the troubled look was so much nicer she didn’t care; she’d have to pick out something that would rattle him even more.

  After all, it wasn’t fair for her to be the only one wrestling with this crazy desire.

  RAFE PARKED IN FRONT of the Hotspot, still contemplating Suzanne’s parting remark. What did the woman plan to wear to his ranch? Something soft and seductive?

  To ride in? Not likely.

  Still, he indulged his imagination, conjuring images of her dark exotic hair spread across bare shoulders, a low top veeing down to reveal enough cleavage to tempt a man to want to see more, and jeans that rode low enough on her hips to let him glimpse her bare flat belly.

  Scrubbing his hand through his hair, he fought the images, reminding himself she was off-limits. A definite danger to his lonely libido.

  And a distraction from problems that seemed almost insurmountable.

  Shaking off the images of Suzanne, he slammed the truck door and strode into the bookstore to pick up his mother. She was standing at the register talking to Rebecca Hartwell Emerson.

  “Thanks for stopping in, Mrs. McAllister,” Rebecca said. “I hope you enjoy those books.”

  “Oh, I will, dear,” Rafe’s mother said. “And thanks for the chat. It’s lovely to see you again. Marriage certainly agrees with you.”

  Rebecca blushed. “I’m enjoying it.”

  “I keep telling Rafe that he needs to find himself a bride. Don’t you think so?”

  “Mother,” Rafe cut in, “Shouldn’t we be going?”

  “He’s so ornery these days.” She offered Rebecca a knowing smile as if the entire female population had some secret he didn’t know about, as if all the Hartwell women had decided to conspire against him. “A good woman would change his disposition all right.”

  Rebecca simply smiled at him, and he tipped his Stetson in a polite gesture, then ushered his mother toward the door, wishing for once she could move that walker a little bit faster. He wasn’t normally a man to blush, but all this matchmaking talk was downright embarrassing.

  “What time is Suzanne coming over?” his mother asked when they’d settled into the car.

  “Five o’clock. I told her to wait until I got some work done first.” He heaved a sigh and hit the gas. “I don’t have time to baby-sit her all day. I’ve got much more important things to do. Like run the ranch.”

  “Then maybe you should get Bud to give her riding lessons.”

  He clenched the steering wheel tighter. “No, that’s all right. I…the insurance might not cover him.”

  His mother pursed her lips as if fighting a smile and turned to stare out the window. But the twinkle in her eye suggested her matchmaking plan wasn’t over.

  Maybe he should relay Suzanne’s opinion about the new development, that if it was up to her, the ranch he and his mother loved would be replaced by a damn mall.

  He took another look at the syrupy smile on her face, and, remembering how pale she’d looked before, opted to remain silent. His mother liked Suzanne, and he couldn’t stand to disappoint her.

  He’d have to deal with Suzanne Hartwell himself.

  Chapter Nine

  Something was burning.

  Suzanne raced into the kitchen, waving her hands around as she fought through the smoke. She threw the oven door open, and thick black smoke swirled out like a funnel cloud. The smoke alarm suddenly shrilled, and she reached for the cake. Yikes! She burned her fingers.

  “Jiminy Cricket.” Shaking her stinging fingers, she turned and grabbed potholders, then removed the steaming cake pan. A black blobby mess oozed over the edge of the pan, and the center had sunk, forming a muddy pit.

  What had gone wrong this time?

  It was the third time she’d tried to bake the cake and failed. She’d thought the third time was supposed to be the charm.

  Wincing at the still-screeching smoke alarm, she shoved the pan on top of the oven, opened the kitchen door and tried to wave the cloud of smoke outside. The alarm continued to buzz. Her ears ringing, she grabbed the broom and beat the infuriating thing into silence.

  Good heavens, what a nightmare. Exhausted, she sat down and blew her hair from her eyes. She was a culinary disaster. A complete failure.

  How could baking one little cake be so darned hard?

  The clock on the wall chimed, reminding her she was going to be late for her riding lesson, so she tossed the cake into the trash, dumped the pan in, too, knowing she’d never be able to clean it, then ran to the bedroom to finish dressing.

  Earlier, she’d teased Rafe about wearing something he would like, so she pulled on her black lace bikini underwear and matching bra, then dressed in jeans and a black cotton shirt, leaving the top two buttons open to reveal just enough skin to tease him.

  But what about the cake?

  Oh, well, she would just stop by Mimi’s coffee shop and pick up one. If she brought a silver tray from Rebecca’s cupboard and sliced the cake, then placed some garnish in a few strategic places on the platter, no one would ever know she hadn’t baked it herself.

  After all, she had baked a cake, three cakes to be exact. Did it really matter if the one she took to Rafe’s wasn’t one of those monstrosities?

  RAFE WORKED ALL AFTERNOON breaking the new quarter horse. Progress was slow, but he’d finally coached the coppery-brown horse into dropping his defenses, and had managed to rope him and lead him around the ring a few times. His chest swelled with the pride of accomplishment as he unhooked the rope. He didn’t want to push too hard today. Salamander had already conceded to the first steps in his training. Rafe would lose ground if he pushed him beyond his limits too quickly. He had to gain his trust, a task that took time. And patience. Both of which he had in spades when it came to horses.

  Women were a different matter.

  His patience with seeing Suzanne Hartwell and not touching her had worn thin. He was almost starting to like the woman. A far more dangerous situation.

  Palo Romerez pulled his truck and double horse trailer up the drive and parked just as Rafe emerged from the barn. The young man looked sheepish as he approached.

  “Come to check on Salamander?”

  Romerez dug his booted heels into the dirt. “Actually, I came to tell you I have to move them.”

  “What?” Rafe squinted in the afternoon sun. He’d hoped to get more boarders, not lose the ones he had.

  “I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’ve found another trainer.”

  Rafe frowned. He’d known Romerez for years, had always valued his friendship. And, although the man sometimes ran short on money, they had exchanged services before. Palo helped him during spring roundup and Rafe worked with his cutting horses. Of course, Rafe still had to charge him for boarding, but his reputation as a trainer was growing. Or so he’d thought. One reason he didn’t understand why he hadn’t received calls for any new boarders.

  “What’s really going on, Palo?”

  “I got an offer for steady work over at the Four Stars, and free boarding comes with the job. Plus I get to learn from their trainer.”

  Landon. Rafe should have known the man would do whatever he could to make things more difficult for Rafe. Next thing he would be stealing Bud and Red away from him.

  Losing Palo’s boarding fees would hurt. That money had helped pay Bud and Red’s salaries.

  “I’m really sorry, Rafe, but I have to look out for my family.” Palo’s ruddy features looked weathered. “Geraldine’s pregnant, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t. Congratulations.” Rafe wanted to put his fist through something, but he understood Palo’s problem. One reason he didn’t need a wife or family himself. He had nothing to offer them. He certainly couldn’t fault Palo for taking care of his own.

  “You need help loading him up?” Rafe asked.


  Palo looked past Rafe at the corral where Salamander pranced. “No, thanks, man, I can get him. I’ll be back for the others later on.”

  Frustrated, Rafe watched Palo load the quarter horse, his hands knotted around the fence. Then he turned and saw Suzanne Hartwell in the front yard and frowned. Did she have any idea that his life was falling apart around him?

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Rafe. Suzanne had an insane urge to go to him and tell him that everything would be all right.

  Yet, how could she do that when she herself was supposed to be taking advantage of his problems?

  “You are so sweet to help me with my garden,” Mrs. McAllister said. “I just couldn’t reach those weeds to pull them.”

  “It’s no problem,” Suzanne said. “I’m not much of a gardener, but I enjoyed hearing all about your flowers.” At least she hadn’t lied about her gardening ability. But she couldn’t have faked her lack of knowledge. The first time Rafe’s mother had mentioned pruning, Suzanne had known she was lost.

  “Your mother wasn’t into gardening?” Mrs. McAllister asked.

  “She died when I was little,” Suzanne said, dumping the weeds into the wheelbarrow. “I have no idea if she enjoyed working in the yard.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, hon.” Mrs. McAllister touched the brim of her straw sunhat. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

  Suzanne shrugged. “I imagine it was hardest for my dad, raising two daughters alone.”

  “Yes, but young girls need their mothers around, too. You must have missed her terribly.”

  “Can a person really miss something they’ve never had?”

  Mrs. McAllister removed her gardening gloves, her expression so tender it moved something inside Suzanne’s chest. “I think you already know the answer to that question, dear.”

  A surge of sadness enveloped Suzanne. Why did this woman make her think about things she had never let bother her before? Why did her companionship spark such a desperate need to have known her own mother? To belong to a family.

  She had a family—her father and Rebecca. Yet both of them were newlyweds now. Both had a special person in their lives—someone who loved them. And although her father had been married several times, she sensed that Eleanor might really care for him. That this time he might have more than a trophy wife.