Want Me, Cowboy

by Sinclair Jayne

  And now that Luke was a part-time rep for the IBR, the International Bull Riding circuit, he’d be traveling to different ranches throughout the state during the week. Staying in different towns with different motels and different bars and a whole lot of the same sexual opportunities the rodeos offered. Tanner was not standing in any man’s line. Nor would she be a forgettable roll in the hay.

  But Luke Wilder did make it a challenge to remember her rules.

  Her ranch was her life. Her bulls were her life. Luke Wilder was one rung on her ladder of getting her bulls into the IBR. Then there’d be another rung. And another. Triple T bulls competing at the highest level, at the finals in Las Vegas. Fifty-point scoring bulls. One hundred percent bulls. That was the dream. Not Luke Wilder.

  He just looked like a dream man.

  But not hers. A dream man would be a forever man. A man she could talk to about her day, about her bulls, about her concerns. A man she could joke with, who would work with her on the ranch, who’d massage her lower back and legs when they ached in winter. A man who would think she walked on water. Not a man gone all the time and fielding offers from buckle bunnies on a daily basis.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Just thinkin’,” she drawled to stall, since once again her imagination had jumped three fence posts ahead of her consciousness.

  Then she smiled even wider thinking how shocked he’d be if she shared her thoughts. Would he blush?

  It was then that she noticed the swelling along one perfect cheekbone. She frowned. Punching that perfection was an art crime.

  “’Bout?”

  “The other guy probably cut his knuckles on that pretty cheekbone of yours.”

  “Unfortunately not, lucky bastard.”

  Tanner laughed. “Win some, lose some.”

  “Definitely lost that one,” he said ruefully, a small smile playing around his perfectly kissable, bitable mouth.

  “There’s always next time.”

  She loved his honesty and would not have thought a man so innately masculine would have it in him. The day seemed shinier and she laughed again. Life was unfair. Luke Wilder was beautiful, sexy, skilled with a bull, and a quick wit. Luke Wilder slayed the chances of mortal men.

  “Luke Wilder,” she said.

  “Guilty.” He closed the distance in a few strides, but it was enough for Tanner to notice how fluidly he moved.

  One more nail in her coffin of determination to think of him in a purely professional frame of mind.

  “Tanner McTavish.” She stuck out her hand, and he took it, handshake firm, total business.

  So there was no reason for her tummy to flip and to hold on longer than was socially acceptable. She resisted the urge to tuck her hand into her pocket as if that would somehow make the warmth and sensation of his touch last a little bit longer.

  “I’d hate to see the other guy,” she said.

  He shrugged, self-deprecation in every line of his spectacular body. “Not my favorite introduction to a new town.”

  Tanner looked at him more speculatively.

  “You’ve never been to Marietta?”

  “No.”

  Huh. That sounded pretty final. She’d figured he was related to Sam Wilder. Not that common of a name, and Luke hadn’t grown up here, but everyone in town knew Sam Wilder. He had one of the biggest spreads in the area. And he’d had a daughter who’d left town in a blazing scandal years before Tanner was born. Luke could be Sam’s grandson. But maybe not.

  “Let me get you some ice for that. You’re competing this weekend?” She raised one eyebrow.

  He nodded and she tried not to notice the strong, tanned line of his throat, and the outline of his Adam’s apple. The fact it was turning her on was all kinds of wrong. Her sister Tucker would be more his type than she was. Still, no woman should be this sexually deprived at twenty-seven. And since her sexual dry spell had long ago desiccated into a drought of dust and neglect, her hormones should have shriveled to compliant silence as well.

  Damned hormones. They were only useful in bulls and horses. She stalked off towards the largest barn where she kept a refrigerator stocked with antibiotics and drinks.

  He kept pace beside her silently. He moved so fluidly, all long, wiry, coordinated limbs. Her heart pinched a little, so she stomped on it to shut it up.

  “You’re a few hours early.” She told him, feeling like she was losing her authority by being so gaga around him.

  But, damn, this close up he was potent, and he wasn’t even trying. She’d bet he couldn’t even tell what color her eyes were. His were a beautiful, caramel brown. Almost golden like an eagle’s if she let her imagination party. Again, like Colt’s. Tanner frowned.

  “That a problem?”

  “Only if you aren’t willing to run over with me to the Whispering Winds Ranch. I need to pick up some of my stock as well as Sam Wilder’s to take to the rodeo grounds.”

  “Why’s some of your stock over at Wilder’s?”

  His question and tone were casual, but Tanner wasn’t fooled. Luke Wilder was smart. Her inclination was to deflect the question, but she wanted to do business with the IBR so she and Luke needed to play ball. Naked. Okay, she did not just think that.

  “Bit of a favor,” she said. Short. Honest.

  She couldn’t tell what he made of that. She was used to silent, shrewd men but, still, Luke Wilder was a challenge to read. He slowed his ground-eating stride.

  Tanner bit back the urge to swear. Her limp, a constant reminder of a devastating fall during a barrel racing final when she’d been fifteen that had ended her dominance in the junior circuit of the sport. She’d moved on emotionally and had discovered a love of biology, genetics, and animal science. She was bringing her family ranch into an age of technology and financial success that it had never experienced with her father’s management. So why did her limp still have to be a thing? And why, after more than ten years, wasn’t she totally immune to the graceless, screaming “look at me and my flaw” of it? Her sensitivity irritated her, which made her careless.

  “You and Sam Wilder related?”

  His remote face shut down even tighter.

  Way to go, Tanner. She definitely needed to leave the charm offensive to her sister, although the kind of charm Tucker would use would have nothing to do with negotiating supplying bulls to the IBR and instead supplying her sister with a certain silent, sexy cowboy in her bed until Tucker got bored and moved on, although Tanner couldn’t imagine Luke boring anyone. He seemed calm and thoughtful. Kind. Interesting with hidden depths that Tucker would never appreciate, besides his obvious assets.

  And Tanner needed to start ignoring his obvious assets like ten minutes ago. Tanner deliberately hastened her steps and pulled open the massive sliding door leading to one of her barns with far more force than necessary.

  “Sam Wilder can be a bit touchy,” she said. “So if you’ve got a beef with him, I suggest you come back around three so you can see my operation.”

  “I got no beef.”

  “Good. And you’re fired,” she told her Australian cattle dog, Ryder, that had continually followed at Luke’s heels, one blue eye and one brown eye gazing up at the cowboy adoringly.

  She hadn’t even barked when he’d driven up.

  “Traitor,” Tanner mumbled under her breath.

  *

  He hadn’t wanted to come to Marietta. He’d avoided the Copper Mountain Rodeo for years, apparently for good reason. He hadn’t been in town more than a couple of hours and he’d freaked-out one woman, been in a bar fight, tossed on his ass and banned from the best bar in town, pissed off his mother, learned he had an older brother. His mother had never once, not one, single, solitary time intimated that she’d had another child she’d given up for adoption. What the hell? She’d been eighteen when Luke had been born. Hadn’t she heard of birth control or saying no occasionally? And what kind of a jerk had his biological father been to impregnate a minor, dump her, a
nd return a year later just to do the whole thing all over again? Damn. No way was he passing on his genes. He’d been handy with a condom since he was sixteen. With his mother and father’s pattern of behavior, he could have dozens of half brothers all over the world, although his mom had told him his dad had been in prison so maybe not.

  Just Kane. And now another. A full brother this time. Whoopdidoo! Worst decision ever to come to Marietta. He needed one hundred percent focus on the rodeo. The slightest distraction could get him seriously injured. And he couldn’t make any errors on inking his first IBR deal on his own.

  Get your head in the game.

  Not easy when the image of his face on another man, glaring and bewildered, was branded on his memory and playing on an endless loop. His brother had left the bar without speaking, without looking back, blonde in tow, and his mother had lit into Luke, blaming him for attacking his brother. She’d been unwilling to listen to his more reasonable explanation of events, nor had she been willing to budge or quiet her voice until the bartender had picked her up and carried her out to the sidewalk. She’d cursed him out, remembering him from high school or something. God, small towns.

  He was sure people had already heard about that scene all over town by now. Samara Wilder had finally returned to Marietta with her fist-fighting, rodeo cowboy son. And now another one. He hadn’t even caught the bastard’s name. All he knew about his brother was that he was built like a bull, was definitely a better fighter, and protective as hell over the blonde, whose hands had walked all over Luke, not the other way around.

  “Here, stop acting like such a tough guy,” Tanner said, handing him an ice pack. “I’ve seen you ride broncos and bulls so you don’t have to be all brooding, testosterone-poisoned definition of masculinity. Use this.”

  Judging from the way her mouth had gone all narrow, her unusual, pale green eyes sparked and had gone squinty, and her arms crossed across her chest like he was going to reach out and try to pluck one of her nipples for a snack, he’d done something to piss her off. What the hell? He’d never claimed to have his brother Kane’s charm with women, but he was clueless as to what he could have done to Tanner when all he wanted to do was study her stock and breeding program. But no, she wanted to bring him to the one ranch he’d wanted to avoid despite his mother’s machinations. And then they could talk business.

  Fanfuckingtastic.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re going to need that stitched.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, cowboy. This is not my first rodeo. I’ll give you fifty-fifty that it will split open first round.”

  “What do I get if you’re wrong?” Luke found himself rising to the challenge in her voice.

  Why did she think he was such a whiny pansy he couldn’t go the full eight without a kiss for a cut. Actually a kiss would do a lot to sooth his mood.

  But he didn’t mix business with pleasure. Ever.

  “You can take me to dinner.”

  He stared at her, even though he’d been speculating about a kiss. This was a business visit. What kind of bet was that?

  “And if I’m wrong?”

  “You pay.” She stared at him hard, and he felt like he was missing something. Then she shook her head and laughed. “Relax cowboy. You’re safe. I wouldn’t eat a corn dog with you unless it’s business.”

  “A corn dog is business?” Now she was just being mean. Or awkwardly flirty. “I can definitely do better than that,” he said easily before he could stop his instinctual comeback.

  Her pupils flared, and her breath caught and a faint pink color crept across her freckled cheeks. He moved the icepack so he could see better. She had a crazy amount of freckles. Almost like Mars dust had been sprinkled on her face. He’d never seen so many freckles. They were pale and looked soft against the creamy white of her face. He’d bet she hated them. Yet they were fascinating. Like a map of constellations.

  “I bet you can.”

  Her voice was a whisper and caught on the last word, and he looked at her more closely. Was she flirting with him or just naturally friendly? Must be friendly, and he found himself relaxing a bit. Either way, a little friendliness felt good about now and even harmless flirting was so much easier to navigate than anger and agendas and his mom’s dramas. His life currently played like a telenovela plot. A bad one. One he would have turned off. And thrown the remote across the room.

  “Here,” she said, taking a step closer so he breathed in her soft floral scent mixed with dust, grass, sun, and animal, which teased his senses. “Let me look.”

  Her hands were soft and gentle as she lifted the ice pack.

  “Hold on a sec.” She walked over to a shelf near a tack room and pulled out a large, white metal, first aid box. She grabbed a few supplies and then went to a fridge and pulled out two bottles of water.

  “Have some water,” she said. “I’ll lie and say you were totally a tough guy who wouldn’t take anything for the pain.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, resisting the urge to bat her hand away.

  Somehow the no nonsense kindness, the care, made him feel a little strange, off balance, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Just… he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d always taken care of himself.

  She dabbed at the wound and he felt a sting. Then she applied some ointment and paused. “I can stitch it for you,” she said. “I’ve stitched far worse on myself and on some of our ranch hands.”

  “You have medical training?” he asked, thinking her schooling had been more academic than hands on.

  “No, but I’ve gelded a lot of horses and castrated dozens of bulls.”

  He jumped away from her. She laughed.

  “I’ll pass.”

  Her smile lit up her eyes and spread across her face like a sunrise. She had beautiful, white teeth that gleamed against the plump pale pink of her lips.

  “Coward.” She taunted.

  “Smart.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and examined his cut. He noticed she had brown flecks in the green of her eyes, almost as if her irises hadn’t escaped the freckle dusting. It made her eyes seem so alive.

  “She must have been very pretty and very taken,” she said. “Were you at the Wolf Den?”

  “Grey’s,” he answered. “And yeah, definitely taken, but I wasn’t asking.”

  “Someone must have thought so.”

  He scowled, remembering, but then it did seem a bit funny. The woman coming on to him, or so he thought, and him responding and then trying to be chivalrous and instead getting in a fight.

  “Actually,” he said, “she groped me. I was just being polite when I turned around to say hi.”

  “Hi, huh? That was the best you could do when faced with a beautiful woman groping you?”

  “Who said she was beautiful? How’d that happen? This is my story.”

  “Just wanting to see how creative you are.”

  “I can be creative.” He caught her hand. “When properly motivated.”

  What the hell was he doing? She was applying to be an IBR stock contractor. A client. His first client. No hands.

  “I’ve been on the road since before dawn,” he said, letting her go and taking a casual step back. “I had set up my trailer and decided to head to Grey’s for a burger and beer since I didn’t have time to stop for breakfast.”

  “Hold on. Let me get my violin.” She had a stopper full of a brownish liquid.

  “What’s that?” he asked as she untwisted the stopper on the bottle.

  “Don’t be a baby. Arnica will help with the bruising and swelling. And ‘hi’ doesn’t seem nearly exciting and scandalous enough to get you punched, so up your creative game, cowboy.”

  “In my story or the next time a woman gropes me and then runs off?” And for the first time that day, he began to enjoy himself.

  “She groped you and then ran off? Bad plot choice. Something must be seriously wrong with her to run away from such a marvelous opportunity.” Tanne
r carefully dripped a few drops onto his cut, and gently pressed a cotton ball to his brow to catch any stray healing liquid.

  “Thanks for the sarcasm.”

  Tanner laughed. “Maybe I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Yeah, your ego needs a boost.”

  “After my mom karate kicked me flat on my ass and took sides with the other guy, who plays rougher than most bulls I’ve ridden, I need more than an ego boost.”

  “Really?” Tanner pulled away and stared.

  Her eyes searched his. He found himself relaxing even more, as if it took her skepticism blended with awe to appreciate the odd humor of it.

  “I want to meet your mom.”

  “No. That’s all I need to be in the doghouse with three women.”

  “So you’ve already pissed off two women today, and now you’re starting on me? Your dog house is a bit crowded,” Tanner said. “And for that you should definitely take me to dinner.”

  Her green eyes seemed to emanate light when she was laughing at him. Gold and brown flecks mixed with the green. Was that the color hazel? It was so unusual. And her lashes were so long, pale, and curled up, no mascara. She was so natural. A true Montana cowgirl, no artifice in sight.

  “You haven’t won the bet yet.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yet,” he agreed, his eyes dipping to her lips.

  He loved the pale pink of her unglossed lips like the first promise of dawn. And the way they curved so sweetly in a smile. Tanner McTavish might be a successful rancher and a brilliant, up-and-coming geneticist with a tart, quick tongue, but she was also a kind woman. Not the one-night stand type so he’d have no trouble keeping this strictly business. For the first time today, he was glad he was in Marietta. Happy he could potentially spend some time with her on her ranch and see her again on subsequent business trips. He liked her sense of humor and her naturalness. Not the kind who’d throw herself at him and then try to follow him to the next rodeo and then the next. He was so tired of that.