“This is a bad idea,” Cruz announced to herself.
All because she was hungry.
And exhausted.
And desperate for a shower.
And a place to sleep.
But at Axel’s house? What had possessed her to agree?
And why had he invited them?
“Just being neighborly,” he’d said, his dark blue eyes unfathomable, meeting hers without guile.
Cruz had definitely never had any neighbors like that. She hadn’t even had a family like that.
What she did have was bad luck and even worse timing. She wasn’t on the lease, so Bill Clemmens had zero motivation to get the house or the studio livable before Shell returned. Cruz had insisted on seeing the other property he’d had available and Axel, dark and glowering, had driven her there.
She’d wanted to take it, just to prove her independence, but the house had been old, rundown—a more than generous description—and flea infested. She’d felt three bites before she’d cleared the living room. The electrical seemed faulty. Two breakers flipped just when she turned on the lights in the kitchen. It was dirty, and out of town with no neighbors. And the way Bill Clemmens had stared at her as she walked through the house had given her the creeps.
“You really want to live in a house with your son and have that man have a key to the place?” Axel had murmured in her ear.
Cruz hated that Axel was right. She could practically hear him say ‘I told you so.’ Cruz had given Bill Clemmens a firm ‘no,’ and then she and Diego had hopped back in Axel’s truck. She’d started googling hotels, motels and B&Bs in the area, and was shocked that there was nothing available tonight or for longer than one or two nights during the week. And everything was packed on the weekend due to something called the Bluebonnet Festival.
After next weekend, she could get a room and so she’d reserved one with two beds, just in case she couldn’t find anything else before then.
“I don’t really want to be bed hopping,” she’d mused, scrolling through her phone. And then, despite her frustration, she’d laughed at the sharp, shocked look Axel had shot her.
“I love to hop on the bed,” Diego had chimed in.
Then as they got closer to town, Cruz had looked online for local rentals. Axel verbally nixed a few, and she’d scowled at him. She wasn’t sure what Shell and Rand would want to do, but she needed something for the two weeks they were away. Maybe by then, the house and studio would be fixed. Although after meeting Bill Clemmens, Cruz was not optimistic on that front, and she’d let Shell know.
She made a couple of email inquiries and left a voice mail for another property. But she still had nothing for tonight.
“Is there a store in town that sells camping equipment?”
“Come to the ranch,” Axel had said so coolly that her kicked-up heart rate embarrassed her. Her skin tingled and her tummy flipped, as if she was seventeen again and seeing him for the very first time. Although he’d been friendlier then. More approachable, even if he’d been out of her league, since he’d been nearly twenty and in college. “The main house is empty. You and your son can have your pick of rooms.”
So here they were, at Riverbend Ranch. The place she’d always wanted to visit—as Axel’s girl. Only that was years ago, and that dream had died hard.
She followed Axel’s large black truck through the massive iron gates. Two bronze statues of wolves stood guard on either side, and then a logo of an intertwined B and a W was welded onto either side of the fence. She wondered what the letters stood for. There was no mention of Riverbend on the sign.
A frisson of foreboding shivered down her spine. She felt like an intruder. Axel had never invited her to his home for a reason. And she wasn’t sure why he was doing so now. Hero complex? Pity?
She didn’t need or want pity. She could run her life and solve her problems just fine.
“It’s a real ranch,” Diego breathed with all the enthusiasm she lacked.
“Yes, it is,” Cruz said and felt a little sweat break out between her breasts and trickle down to the band of her white, stretchy lace bra. Suddenly she felt scandalously underdressed in her skinny jeans and T-shirt. She was horribly conscious that Axel had tucked her bras and panties in a saddlebag, of all things, that he’d had in the back of his truck. “And Mr. Wolf is a rancher, so he’ll be busy sun up ’til sun down. This is only for a day or two at most. By then, we’ll have something better worked out.” Cruz kept her voice serious.
“What could be better than a ranch?” Diego demanded. “I can help him do all the work. I wake up early.”
“You’ll be in school,” she reminded him. Diego loved school but he was wary of starting at a new one. So was she, so late in the year, but she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t want him to miss the last two months of second grade, and she needed the after-school childcare.
“And we’d be in his way,” she said. “His hands are trained, but we will offer to do chores and keep the house clean. And we’ll make dinner for Mr. Wolf and his hands, if he’d like,” she said, but flinched at the idea of something so intimate as sitting down to a homemade dinner with Axel and his crew.
But she would if he’d agree. She paid her own way.
“Do you think we’ll get to ride horses?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Diego craned his neck so far out of the window he’d rolled down, she wondered if he’d unbuckled his seat belt.
She hadn’t mean to sound so harsh. It was not Diego’s fault that even after nearly seven years, Axel still had the power to weaken her knees and cleave her tongue to the roof of her very dry mouth. Her heart still hadn’t settled into a normal rhythm while he seemed as calm and cool as ever.
He’d been quite bossy about where she should stay. He’d looked at the advertisements for the places she was going to contact—one owned by a Fredrick Coulter and another by a Hannah Dean, and had been quite dismissive. They hadn’t looked like they’d work for Shell’s family, as well as her and Diego; but still, she’d left messages.
Axel just needed to get on with his sexy cowboy life and leave her to figure out her situation on her own. But instead, here she was, following him home.
What could go wrong with that?
She’d probably jump him.
“Why would anything go wrong?” Diego asked. “Axel’s nice. He said he had a pool and he’d teach me to ride.”
Dang, she’d spoken out loud. She needed to watch her mouth. And then the rest of what Diego said hit her.
“He said what?” She swung her head around and glared at Diego smiling in the back seat. “You won’t have time for that. Axel doesn’t have time for you. We are only here for tonight. I am going to figure out something. I bet the hospital will have some suggestions. After all, they have locums workers in and out quite often.” Cruz spoke with an authority she didn’t have.
Diego’s face fell. She turned back around. Better harsh with reality now than to have hope and be disappointed later.
She braked hard.
That was something her father would have said.
Dammit.
She rested her head on the steering wheel.
“Sorry, sweetie. That came out wrong. I’m just a little stressed. Mr. Wolf is very kind, but he’s also very busy.”
“Why don’t you call him Axel? He calls you Cruz. You call Shell, Shell.”
“Ummm.” She tried to formulate a rationale that would make sense to Diego. She could hardly explain why she was desperate to create a canyon of distance between them.
“He said I could call him Axel.”
She blew out her breath the way she’d learned in the few yoga classes she’d tried with Shell. Shell had stuck with it. Cruz had hit the gym instead and ran often before the sun was up. Yoga was so not her.
“I’m just saying that this is temporary. Axel won’t have time to teach you to ride because he works long hours and you will be in school.”
“He promis
ed.”
He should have talked to me.
“Axel and I will have a discussion,” she said sweetly, hoping to soften the blow.
She took her foot off the brake and continued to drive. Axel had stopped his truck, probably wondering what was wrong.
Everything.
The road climbed up and around. Massive oaks lined the road along with some jacaranda trees. The fields were already thick with bluebonnets and on a distant hill, she could make out some longhorns grazing. Her heart leapt. Texas Hill Country. She pointed the animals out to Diego, and he bounced in excitement.
“I’m going to ask Axel to teach me to rope a calf.”
Nothing like determination. Cruz remembered being the same way when she wanted something as a kid.
“We’re here one night,” she reminded him, as much to reassure herself as to mitigate Diego’s dreams. She’d seen Axel rope. She’d seen him steer wrestle. And she’d seen him ride. And all of it had made her hotter than Hades. Nope. Not going there again. She was building a career, and a new life. A quick hookup with an old flame was not in the cards.
Definitely not.
*
What was he doing?
Axel glared out the windshield of his still-new Ford F-250 truck. Cruz’s elusive warm floral scent lingered in the cab and it was driving him crazy. Did he really want a chance with her again?
Hell, he hadn’t totally recovered from the first time. She’d fascinated him from the beginning. He’d loved her strength, her ability to flip crap back at cowboys, her mad skills on her horse, Misty River, her competitive nature, and the way she moved—on and off a horse. She’d been too young at first, so he’d tried to ignore her. It had been impossible. So he’d offered to be her friend…but that hadn’t worked. His brother August was the one who could charm people to do stuff and his younger brother, Anders, could ‘ah shucks’ people into forgiving anything.
His phone buzzed with a text and he glanced down—he’d driven up this two-mile stretch of road to the main work barns on the ranch long before he could legally drive. He could do it blindfolded. Which was a good thing, since he was far too fascinated with watching Cruz following him.
The giant bear in the back of his truck had been run twice through the local car wash, earning him lots of ‘are you crazy?’ looks.
Probably.
Even the bear looked like it was mocking him with its face pressed against his back window.
“You probably need a pressure wash, buddy.”
Damn. Now he was talking to an insanely large stuffed animal.
He could tell, by looking in the rearview mirror that Cruz was talking too, or singing. That girl could sing. He’d loved to drive with her. She’d crank up the radio, take off her boots and prop her long, toned legs on his dash, singing along with every song on the radio. The memory made him smile.
He got another text. He relaxed a little, although he was still questioning his sanity, not to mention, his motives. He was going to need August’s charm and Anders’s ability to make peace if Cruz ever found out what he’d done. He just wished he knew why he was doing it.
Hannah Dean had sent him a ‘fine,’ followed by a series of question marks that he imagined were quite snippy. Another text followed from Fredrick Coulter, demanding to know if he’d lost his mind. And then he’d bargained for first cut of beef this year and one of his wild turkeys at Thanksgiving.
His grandmother had introduced the turkeys to the ranch, and with the abundance of water sources, they’d thrived. Axel received many requests from people wanting to hunt on his ranch. But he hadn’t allowed it. Too much could go wrong, but he did gift a few turkeys at the holidays. Otherwise, the ranch would have been overrun.
He blew out a breath and watched the stand of oaks in the small valley between the main house up on one of the larger hills and the bunkhouses at the base of another hill get touched with the first fingers of pinky gold as the sun started to dip lower. The view never got old.
His life had been filled with purpose since he was born. He was the oldest. The burdens had fallen to him—watching out for his brothers, helping his father, taking care of his mother, keeping the ranch running, watching out for the animals, keeping the paychecks going out to his employees so they could feed and clothe their families. Working the ranch smart so it continued to thrive, so his two remaining brothers would have their own legacy.
He could see the beginning of August’s vineyard on a far hill to the east as his truck swung around the last curve on the drive before the road forked. He frowned.
Was he hoping against hope that the boy was his? Would that give him the permission he felt he needed to court her again?
He was nearly thirty-two, and one of the most successful ranchers in the area, hell, in Texas. Why was he letting a beautiful woman tie him in knots?
Again.
Habit had him taking the left fork in the road down to the valley floor to the bunkhouses. He hadn’t been up to the main house in years. There were too many memories. Ghosts. He hadn’t rattled around up there since Anders had left at eighteen for the Texas pro rodeo circuit, and then two years later, the AEBR.
He’d wanted him to go to college.
Not Anders. He only wanted to ride bulls or broncs and work the ranch during the off-season.
Axel parked off to the side. He had four bunkhouses, each with two large rooms and a connecting bathroom and a large outdoor covered kitchen and community area with a massive table and lounging area. There was also a cabin with two bedrooms and a loft, but he’d given that to his ranch foreman last year when he’d married his wife Lucy, who was a schoolteacher in town. Jack had gone to school with Axel and had worked his way up on the ranch. He’d thought Axel crazy for not living in the house—because he’d never told anyone why.
He climbed out of his truck. Diego had already jumped out of Cruz’s Honda. It was a reliable car, but not really the best one for the ranch. She really needed a…
Whoa, cowboy! You’re way too far over your horse.
Cruz also got out, clearly reluctant and thinking far too hard.
“Are these the bunkhouses where the cowboys stay?” Diego asked, his dark blue eyes round with curiosity.
Cruz kept her aviator-style sunglasses firmly on. They suited her rather severe bone structure so well that she looked like she’d just walked out of a magazine. Her braid hung low and messy, skimming the small of her back and his hands flexed with the urge to pull out the elastic and run his hands through her long, silky hair. He’d loved playing with her hair—brushing it for her at night, touching it, braiding it, unbraiding it so it would fall all around him as he slept.
She’d let another man play with her hair and let it fall all around him while she’d brought him to heaven. She’d made a child with that man. The man who should have been him.
Stop.
“So you really don’t mind if we stay down here tonight?” Cruz sounded skeptical, but her classic features were schooled in indifference. “Do you have any hands also living down here? I can cook for everyone. It looks like a sweet kitchen setup.” She walked closer to the large covered common living area. It was open on one side and built with reclaimed barn lumber, all from their property. There was a large outdoor grill, a six-burner stove and oven run on propane, a sink, two fridges, and a farmhouse table that sat twelve, as well as a lounge area with a flat screen and several couches that Axel had pulled from the main house when he’d locked it up for good almost seven years ago.
He knew August had done a lot of remodeling up at the main house—Axel didn’t care and hadn’t asked. He’d figured August would move in once his winery got up and running, but instead, he’d moved into the apartment in town above the tasting room—the one that had just been demolished. “Yes.”
He had five hands who were single and living on the ranch, as well as his horse trainer, Hunter Youngblood.
“You won’t be staying down here.”
“Where then?”<
br />
“At the main house.”
“With you?”
The alarm in her voice irritated him. Once, she couldn’t wait to be alone with him. She’d hated the after parties and the meet and greets. He had too, but he’d needed the sponsors. Cruz had made it challenging to do the right thing, because being with her had felt like a necessity. She’d dominated his thoughts as much as his training ever had.
“No. No one lives there now.”
“It’s huge,” she said looking back up the hill where the house lorded over the land like a fortress. “Why don’t you live up there?”
“It’s huge.”
“Funny.”
He couldn’t see her spectacular eyes—obsidian—that had seemed to hold stars, private constellations for him to read, so he looked at her mouth.
The blush that tinged her cheeks warmed him down low and the ache in his body was welcome. He’d felt dead and bored for so long.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
That shocked her. She appeared to think about it for a moment. “No, we were done. You were going your way, and I needed to go mine.”
“We never talked about it. You didn’t give us a chance.”
“We didn’t have a chance,” she breathed. “You didn’t want a chance.”
“How do you know? We didn’t talk about it.”
“We talked.” Her voice lowered and went huskier than usual, which had a direct impact on his body.
There wasn’t much he could do to hide his body’s reaction, and he didn’t really want to.
By the tilt in her chin, he could see that she’d decided to take him on, and something long forgotten deep inside him stirred, rejoiced.
“Just not always with words.”
At that reminder, Axel took a step forward. Cruz held her ground, and the slight head tilt was definitely encouraging. He might get slapped. Kicked. Kneed. But it would be so worth it. Her fuller bottom lip that had always tempted him to bite, kicked up on one corner.
“Really? Seven years later and you still want to dance, Cowboy?”
“So what if I do, Cowgirl?”
“I’m not a cowgirl, anymore,” she said, and the ache in her voice caused him pain.
A Son for the Texas Cowboy Page 7