Taggart could’ve told Emily-Ann, she had no cause to worry about her figure. It was nice. Hell, it was more than nice, he thought. She was curvy in all the right places and he had no doubt she’d feel soft in his arms. Just the way a woman ought to feel.
The unsettling thought forced him to clear his throat. “Do you ride horses?” he asked.
She nodded. “When Camille and I were much younger we rode all over the ranch,” she answered, then went on in a pensive voice, “Because she was my friend I got the chance to do things that I couldn’t have done otherwise. But now, working and taking classes doesn’t leave me much leisure time. And with Camille living at Red Bluff things have changed. But then you already know that. I mean, you’re here because Matthew runs Red Bluff ranch now.”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. To try to fill his boots,” he said wryly. “It’s not going to be an easy job.”
She smiled at him. “If Blake and Maureen believe you can do the job, then I’m positive you can.”
He was thinking how the confidence in her voice made him feel just a bit taller when Matthew and Camille turned back to them.
“Sorry about that,” Matthew said. “Everyone wants to talk. You’d think I’d been gone for five years instead of five months.”
Camille slanted a loving glance at her husband. “Shows how well you’re thought of around here.”
The first time Taggart had met Matthew and Camille, he’d not missed the affection that naturally flowed back and forth between the newlyweds. It was obvious they were deeply in love and though he was happy for them, seeing them together was a constant reminder of all that he’d lost. All that he’d never have.
“My wife is trying her best to give me the big head,” Matthew said with a chuckle, then gently nudged Camille onward.
The four of them moseyed on through the crowd until they reached the long bar constructed of native rock and topped with rough cedar boards. Behind the rustic counter, Jazelle, a young blond-haired woman was pouring a hefty amount of tequila into a tall pitcher of margarita mix.
“Oh, I’ll take one of those, Jazelle,” Emily-Ann spoke up.
“Same for me,” Taggart added his request.
Jazelle poured the concoction over two iced glasses and handed them over, while Camille continued to study the large assortment of refreshments lined up on the counter.
“I can’t make up my mind,” she said after a moment.
After giving his wife an indulgent smile, Matthew said to Jazelle, “I know what I want. Just give me plain ole coffee.”
Camille groaned. “That’s too hot. I want something sweet and cold.”
“We know Camille can’t have alcohol so just give her tomato juice,” Emily-Ann joked. “Or water.”
Pulling a face at Emily-Ann, Camille said, “Don’t listen to her, Jazelle. She doesn’t know about cravings. She’s never been pregnant.”
“No. I haven’t been pregnant,” Emily-Ann replied. “And I’m beginning to think I’ll never be.”
“Oh, come on, Emily-Ann,” Jazelle teased, “I wouldn’t be saying anything like that. You caught Camille’s wedding bouquet. You know what that means.”
Somewhat puzzled by the whole exchange between the women, Taggart watched a dark blush steal across Emily-Ann’s cheeks. The added color made her face even prettier, he decided.
“All right, that does it!” Emily-Ann muttered. “As soon as I down this margarita, I’m going home and tearing that damned bouquet into shreds and throwing it in the trash can.”
Instead of getting angry at her friend’s ominous threat, Camille burst out laughing. “Sorry, Emily-Ann, but you’re not going anywhere—except to the dinner with your friends. Tag, just grab her arm if she tries to leave.”
Taggart had no way of knowing what exactly the women were arguing about, other than it had something to do with a wedding bouquet. The word had seemed to set off a mild explosion in Emily-Ann. And why had she said that about never being pregnant? Was there a reason she couldn’t have, or didn’t want, children? Maybe she was one of those women who decided motherhood is not for her. But Taggart seriously doubted that. Her body moved with a sensuality that said she was made to make love to a man.
“I’m not sure I should try that,” Taggart said. “She’s a redhead. She might slap me.”
Camille laughed again, while Emily-Ann gazed over the rim of her frosted glass at him.
“I’m sorry, Tag,” she said, then smiled impishly. “I’m not really bad-tempered. Until I get around my old friend.”
He was about to tell her that he wasn’t thinking she was bad-tempered when Blake suddenly appeared at his side and clamped a friendly hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry to interrupt, Tag, but there’s a group of men from the cattlemen’s association who are anxious to meet you.”
“Sure,” he said, but as he walked away with the ranch manager, he wondered if he’d get a chance to talk with Emily-Ann again before the night was over. And wondered, too, why he’d want to.
Copyright © 2020 by Stella Bagwell
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ISBN: 9781488069611
Fortune’s Greatest Risk
Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Marie Ferrarella for her contribution to the Fortunes of Texas: Rambling Rose continuity.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Fortune's Greatest Risk (The Fortunes 0f Texas: Rambling Rose Book 4) Page 20
