What Happens at the Ranch...

by Christy Jeffries

  Remembering the press and the reason he was there, Tessa sucked in a quick breath to shore up courage. “Listen, I’m sorry for taking off without an escort earlier. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a protective tail, but I still know the rules.”

  “Luckily, nobody was in any danger. This time.” His warning hung in the air between them.

  “Anyway, I just needed to get out of the house and clear my head. I hadn’t meant to be gone so long. But, like I said, everything out here looks so much different since I moved away. You could’ve spoken up sooner if you’d known I was lost.”

  “And risk being called...oh, what was it you said in the staging center tent yesterday? An ‘overbearing, overcompensating a-hole with a hero complex’?”

  Tessa flinched. Last night, Marcus warned her that one of the local law enforcement officers in the staging area yesterday had been wearing a body camera on his ballistics vest and inadvertently recorded the whole thing. She still hadn’t seen the footage and, unfortunately, with everything else going on yesterday, she couldn’t recall the exact words she’d used. “Look, I’m sorry if anything I said offended you.”

  “I wasn’t offended,” he replied, his smile long gone. She watched his jaw tighten before he continued. “I was doing my job, by any means necessary.”

  “I never wanted to be part of your job, though,” Tessa said, pushing her shoulders back. She needed him to see that she could protect herself. Of course, how could she convince him of that after she’d been so quick to run and hide behind his broad, muscular back as soon as the helicopter showed up? Don’t think about his back! Tessa straightened her spine. “I never asked for any of this.”

  He didn’t respond for a few moments and Tessa figured he was back in his silent protector mode. Then he cleared his throat. “Your family made a few comments this morning about you having a history of panic attacks and something about a stutter—”

  “Oh no!” Her hand shot to her mouth before she could stop it. “I didn’t stutter in that video yesterday, did I?”

  He tilted his head to one side, as though trying to figure out how to answer her question while still drawing more information from her. It was a tactic she’d used herself when she interviewed guests on her show.

  Tessa tried a different strategy. “You know what? Forget I asked that. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Like the weather?” Grayson looked up toward the cloudless sky. “It’s fifty-eight degrees and sunny. Very unusual for Wyoming this time of year. What do you want to talk about next?”

  I want to talk about you! Tessa wanted to yell. Tell me everything about Special Agent Grayson Wyatt. Of course, she was better trained than to lead with such an open-ended and personal question. Instead she asked, “How about you tell me where you got that ugly shirt?”

  He chuckled, but walked several more steps before finally answering. “I borrowed it from Agent Doherty, the guy with the Red Sox hat who was running the projector this morning during the briefing.”

  “But you’re so much bigger than...” She paused when he turned his head toward her, as though he was suddenly very interested in having this particular conversation. A tingling sensation raced through her.

  “Not that I was checking out your body or anything,” she quickly said then felt the heat return to her neck. “I mean, it just seemed like the shirt was a little small on you. Not that it matters. Some people like tight clothes.”

  Lord, she needed to shut up.

  Grayson’s eyes traveled down the jeans she’d found in Finn’s closet, the ones that Tessa had to wrestle over her hips a few hours ago. Everything suddenly felt tighter, including her own skin, as she waited for him to answer.

  She was one second away from grabbing the saddle blanket and wrapping it around herself like a shield when he finally responded. “My boss wanted us to try to blend in with the other ranch employees and I only packed suits and workout gear because I thought it’d be a short trip.”

  She suddenly had a vision of the man in running shorts and a sweaty T-shirt, his massive chest rising and falling with each exerted breath—

  “I had to borrow everything I’m wearing, too,” she blurted out in an effort to shut off the fantasy playing through her mind. “Except my underwear, of course. Oh geez! Please forget I said that. My powers of speech never fail me when I actually need them to.”

  “I will definitely add that to my list of things I need to forget about you,” Grayson said, however, his slow, appraising stare suggested he was doing the exact opposite. That he was, in fact, committing every detail about her to memory.

  Unable to withstand the heat from his gaze, she began walking again, ignoring the trickle of sweat between her shoulder blades. She bit her lower lip to keep from saying anything else as they approached the stables. Next time Tessa went for a ride, she would ask the female agent to accompany her. Agent Lopez at least dressed as though she knew her way around a ranch and horses.

  But if she made that request, would everyone think that something had happened between her and Grayson today? That could make the situation worse.

  Ugh, Tessa screamed inside her head. Why was she suddenly overthinking every little thing?

  Maybe she shouldn’t go riding again at all, she thought as she unsaddled Phoebe inside the stables. Duke might be willing to go with her, but he flew jets for a living and thought horses moved too slowly. Which meant that if he went with her, then she’d have to play that stupid fighter pilot video game he’d found in the den. Her brother might be the peacemaker of the family, but only because he was a brilliant negotiator. And as much as Tessa loved spending time with Duke, she wasn’t about to pick up a game controller and get virtually shot down by someone who’d been trained on actual jets.

  Maybe instead of riding, she could just use the home gym, or go for a long run to stretch out the muscles she’d overused today.

  But the following morning, after a heated argument between Marcus and Marcus’s ex-girlfriend—who had agreed to be MJ’s attorney for his drunk and disorderly charge—Tessa found herself heading straight for the stables again to get away from the drama.

  This time, though, she didn’t have to wait for an agent to come find her. Grayson was already inside waiting for her.

  Chapter Seven

  Just like the day before, Grayson followed Tessa at a respectable distance after they set out on Phoebe and Ross, a gelding with a black coat and a spiky mane. Chandler had thankfully returned to the stables on his own yesterday—just in time for the evening feeding—and snorted his annoyance at Grayson before grudgingly taking an apple as a peace offering. The stable foreman assured him the older stallion would be fine after his adventure, but should probably rest another day or two before going on any more rides.

  They were only half a mile onto the trail when Finn and Duke raced by on another pair of horses, causing Grayson’s and Tessa’s mounts to draw closer together. He could practically feel the gears in Tessa’s mind shifting, as though she was contemplating breaking their mutual silence. As soon as her lips opened, Grayson beat her to the punch. “So, uh, how long has your family owned this ranch?”

  Of course Grayson already knew everything there was to know about Twin Kings. It was in his preop briefing notes. But maybe if he could get her talking about something other than his sister or his job or why he was still there, then he wouldn’t slip into talking about himself. Like he had yesterday.

  Tessa took the bait and nudged her mount along. “The King family first settled in Wyoming in the late 1890s. But it wasn’t on this ranch. My dad used to tell the story about his great-grandmother, who was on a train heading to Oregon to teach at a school in a mining town there. But her train was delayed in Teton Ridge because US Marshals were looking for several members of the Black Hills Bandits who were reported to be stowaways trying to leave the state.”

  Grayson
might’ve grown up a city boy in Baltimore, but he was a sucker for a Wild West adventure story. “Never heard of them.”

  “They were a gang of robbers out of Deadwood, South Dakota. Trains, stagecoaches, banks—these guys weren’t picky. Anyway, she fell in love with the town and, after the marshals interviewed everyone on board and sent the train on its way, she stuck around. The story my dad didn’t tell the public was that his great-grandfather was actually one of the Black Hills Bandits and Big Millie—that would be my great-great-grandmother—had discovered the youngest and most charming member of the gang hiding in her travel compartment on board the train. She’d felt so sorry for the handsome bandit, she didn’t alert the conductor. In fact, when it was her turn to be interviewed, she told the marshals that she and the young man had been travelling together since Laramie, which wasn’t a total lie. So, she fell in love with the town as well as a notorious criminal who promised that he could change his ways with the love of a good woman.”

  “And did he change his ways?” Grayson asked.

  “Only for the first year. He left her with a baby to raise by herself before he skipped town. Since only single women without children could be schoolteachers back then, Big Millie turned to any means necessary to support her daughter.”

  “So that explains how Big Millie’s Saloon in town got its start,” he said before taking a swig from his water bottle.

  “Actually, it got its start as a brothel.”

  Grayson choked on the water.

  “Aha, I bet you didn’t read about that little tidbit in your top-secret King Family file.” When she smiled, she had a dimple on her left cheek that somehow made her look softer, less standoffish.

  Easy, Wyatt. Dimple or not, Tessa King was still an assignment.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I definitely would’ve remembered those kinds of details. So your great-great-grandfather was a train robber and your great-great-grandmother was a madam. Was King even their last name?”

  “Who knows? People reinvent themselves all the time. Luckily, this all happened way before the worldwide web made public records so accessible.”

  Grayson didn’t want to think of the other things—or pictures—that could easily be found on the internet. “So I’m guessing your great-great-grandmother eventually decided to go straight and bought the ranch?”

  “Nope. Although, when Prohibition started, she was making so much money selling bootleg, she closed down the upstairs rooms. Little Millie, her daughter, took over the daily operation of what was then the most popular speakeasy in Wyoming. See, Little Millie had fallen in love and gotten pregnant by a local boy who’d died in France during World War One. But since she and the local boy hadn’t married before he’d gone overseas, his family refused to accept my grandfather as their heir.”

  “Hmm,” Grayson murmured. He knew he should offer a more sympathetic comment, but he’d save that emotion for after he met with the family’s PR team and was convinced the rest of the Kings weren’t in the habit of denying responsibility for their actions.

  “Anyway, Little Millie, wanting her only son to have more than a brothel-turned-saloon as his legacy, won a thirty-acre cattle ranch in a poker game and put it in Hank’s name. When Hank’s wife gave birth to a pair of boys, they renamed the ranch Twin Kings.”

  Grayson pointedly looked around at the wide expanse of meadow and mountains around them. “This is a lot bigger than thirty acres.”

  “Fifty-five thousand, eight hundred and twenty-two at last count,” Tessa confirmed. Grayson didn’t own so much as a houseplant, so he couldn’t relate. “Over the years, Hank bought out the neighboring ranches and when his sons came home from Vietnam, they steadily acquired more acres and built the ranch to what it was today. My dad was the businessman and the networker, while Uncle Rider was the foreman and the cattle expert.”

  Grayson nodded. “Okay, this part I know. Rider stayed in the original cabin on the other side of the stables and bunkhouses while Roper built a house fit for royalty.”

  “Technically, it was my mom who insisted on the house built for royalty. She really likes to play up the last name King.” Tessa rolled her eyes.

  “Is that why your first name is actually Contessa?” Grayson didn’t mention that he’d learned that bit of trivia in the briefing file after overhearing her mother call her that in the family kitchen.

  “Hardly seems fair that you know so much about me and my family yet I know so little about your background.” Tessa slowed her horse when they approached the same stream where they’d stopped yesterday. “Speaking of which, how did your sister’s surgery go?”

  Grayson swallowed his surprise. Tessa had been so animated talking about her family’s history, he hadn’t expected her to shift gears so suddenly. And he especially hadn’t expected her to remember anything about his family. Really, they shouldn’t be talking about families at all. Or anything else, for that matter. But as she dismounted, her blue eyes were full of curiosity and remained fixed on his face. He couldn’t dismiss her question without seeming like a heartless jerk.

  “It sounds like the procedure went as expected. She’s on a lot of pain meds and the recovery is going to be pretty rough. They won’t know how successful it was until she’s able to start her physical therapy.”

  This was the part where Tessa would nod politely and start doing those yoga stretches again, her question forgotten as soon as she’d asked it. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, her loose ponytail brushing her shoulder. “I read that sometimes the spine will refuse to completely fuse to the rod. Do the doctors have a backup plan in place in case that happens?”

  “You read up on my sister’s procedure?” It was difficult to hide the surprise in his voice. So he joined her on the ground before leading his own horse to the water.

  “Well, I have a tendency to read up on everything. My dad used to call me his research archaeologist because I like to dig for information.” Tessa shrugged, causing a strand of blond hair to come loose and frame her face. “I’ve always been interested in neurological conditions, though. And, last night, it was either listen to my mom and Freckles argue about the trans fat levels in chicken-fried steak, or go to my room and do some research.”

  “Oh,” was all Grayson could manage to respond, keeping Ross’s reins firmly in his hand as the horse drank from the creek. He didn’t need another runaway horse on his record.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that your sister needed a backup plan. Obviously, you should stay positive and I’m sure that everything will be fine.”

  “No, we’re being realistic about our expectations. It’s just that...” Grayson paused, trying to think of the most delicate way to put this without disclosing his family’s limited finances. “Well, we’re taking her condition one day at a time. It’s difficult to plan ahead since a lot of the procedures that could ease her conjectures are experimental and not covered by insurance.”

  “Of course,” Tessa said, finally looking away. In his experience, people didn’t like to be reminded about uncomfortable things like diseases and disparities in wealth. Just when he’d thought he’d found the way to keep her from asking anything else about his family, she asked, “Has your mom been with Maddie since yesterday?”

  His sister’s name rolled off Tessa’s lips so casually, Grayson had to resist the urge to pretend he was receiving an important communication in his radio earpiece. His toes twitched inside his hiking boots as he forced himself to stay put and not literally run away from the question.

  “Would you rather not talk about this?” she asked, concern etched across her forehead. It was one of those pitying looks the hospital staff used to give him and his mom. One of those looks that suggested the Wyatt family wasn’t strong enough to go through something so difficult.

  His shoulders drew back. “No, I was just surprised that you remembered my sister’s
name.”

  “You know the names of all of my siblings.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my job to know everything about you.” Heat burned behind his ears and he had a feeling they matched her red woolen jacket. “I mean about your family. You guys are my assignment.”

  “Are we back to that again? I’m just a job to you?”

  He exhaled deeply. “I’m trying to remain professional.”

  “Then treat me like another professional. Hell, treat me like your coworker. Just don’t treat me like I’m some snot-nosed kid you’re babysitting.”

  “Fair enough,” he conceded. “We’re just a couple of professionals with the same goal—to keep you out of the public eye.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded, her chin seeming more stubborn than ever before. “Now, as your coworker, do you have anything going on in your personal life that might be a distraction from you effectively completing your duties?”

  “I always complete my duties.” His feet moved into a wider stance. “I don’t get distracted.”

  Tessa lifted one perfect brow. “Even when your sister is in the hospital and you’re worried about who might be there taking care of her?”

  As much as he resented being on the other side of the interview chair, he respected her tenacity. She must be damn good at her job, because Grayson knew she wouldn’t relent until she got an answer to her original question. “My mom is with Maddie in the hospital.”

  Technically, his mom hadn’t been allowed to stay in the hospital overnight, so Grayson had booked her a room at a nearby hotel. But he had a feeling the bed hadn’t even been slept in. As much as Noreen Wyatt needed the rest, she’d probably paced the floor all night, calling the nurses’ desk every two hours for a status report.

  Yet Grayson wasn’t going to offer any additional information about his family. And to keep her from following up, he put his palm over his earpiece and said, “Excuse me while I radio the command center and give them a status report.”