What Happens at the Ranch...

by Christy Jeffries

  He walked his gelding back to the oak tree where he and Tessa had hid out yesterday from the helicopter. Grayson called in his location to the agent on communications duty, but, as expected, there was nothing new going on at the ranch. Despite her attempts to claim they were coworkers, the truth was that he was stuck out here on babysitting duty, his job talents being wasted on a woman who could clearly take care of herself.

  He almost wished another helicopter would show up. Or that some desperate paparazzo would crash through the barricade at the gate. Anything that would provide some sort of action, something that would require him to prove himself as a trained law enforcement officer.

  His muscles were coiled together much too tightly and he needed an outlet.

  He could only work out at the gym so many times a day. Some of the other agents were going to go into town tonight after their shift, and Grayson decided he might tag along and give his adrenaline a little excitement. Not that he was one who got a kick out of going to small town bars and drinking with the locals, but it would be too dark to go rock climbing and Finn King had already chewed them out about racing their ATVs too close to the cattle pastures.

  “You getting a little stir-crazy over here?” Tessa asked, practically reading his mind.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your fingers are twitching and you keep rocking on the back of your heels. Plus, you’re no longer pretending to be talking into your earpiece.”

  “I wasn’t pretending...” He let the words trail off when she put her hands on her hips, her challenging stance only serving to draw his attention to her narrow waist. He gulped before forcing his eyes upward. “I keep expecting something to happen. But it’s just so quiet out here. Not that I mind the quiet. Patience is normally one of my best qualities.”

  “Normally?” She quickly seized on the word. At this point, nothing about Tessa King’s skills at observation should surprise him.

  Being patient was one of the things that made him so good at his job, but admitting that would make him sound cocky. And he didn’t need Tessa thinking he was both cocky and overprotective. Instead, he asked, “Are you planning to ride for much longer? The command center will want to know our ETA so they can brief the next agents coming on duty.”

  “We can head back now so you can finish your shift.” She put her foot into the stirrup and easily swung up into the saddle. “At least you can leave the ranch.”

  She began to trot away and he had to heft himself into his own saddle, wincing at his sore backside before following after her. As his horse picked up speed, he realized they were almost at a gallop and he had to hold on for dear life. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from rattling around inside his head as he bounced at full speed down the trail.

  He’d wanted an adrenaline rush, but the looming risk of falling off a horse and breaking his neck wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind. Plus, Tessa’s riding skills had suddenly returned and she was yards ahead of him, her rear end moving rhythmically as she leaned forward over her mare’s neck.

  So far they’d established that he wasn’t a babysitter or a cowboy. So then where did that leave him when it came to doing his job? This damn assignment was more than testing his patience.

  By the time he caught up with her, she’d slowed her horse to walk the rest of the way to the stables, and her chest was rising and falling more rhythmically than her butt had been a few seconds ago. One look at her parted lips and Grayson had to adjust the way he was sitting in the saddle.

  Maybe it was sexual frustration or maybe it was how he’d seen his life flash before his eyes when the dirt trail had narrowed over by the canyon a few seconds ago. But before he could stop himself, he said, “You could leave the ranch, too, Tessa. You’re not a prisoner.”

  In fact, his job would be way easier if she left. If she returned to DC.

  Her hair had come completely loose and she shoved a handful of curls behind her ear. “That’s the first time you’ve used my name.”

  He cleared his throat and sat straighter in the saddle. “Sorry about that—”

  “Don’t you dare call me Miss King,” she interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “I think we’re well beyond that.”

  Perhaps she was past that. But he needed to go back to the formality. He needed those boundaries. “I’ll talk to SAIC Simon. I’m sure there’s somewhere in town that we can secure in advance so that you can get out of here for a little while.”

  She waved off a young cowboy who’d eagerly run up to assist her out of the saddle. Tessa King didn’t need a man to help her and she was making sure everyone knew it, including him. “Good idea. Tell him I’m going to Big Millie’s.”

  Grayson watched as she led her horse away, her long legs taking purposeful strides, before he realized she wasn’t joking.

  Crap.

  Thanks to his big mouth, now he was going to have to make sure she didn’t get into trouble at some old brothel.

  * * *

  Why in the world had she wanted to go Big Millie’s? Tessa asked herself for the fifth time that evening. Probably for the same reason her sister Dahlia had refused their mother’s repeated pleas to change the name of the establishment. It made them feel more normal, more human, to have some connection to their family’s not so illustrious past.

  Okay, so maybe a small part of her had also been hoping to shake up the stiff and quiet Agent Wyatt by suggesting the bar outing. In fact, she’d have bet money that the guy would have declined this particular duty assignment for no other reason than to avoid her.

  She’d have lost that bet.

  Her sister normally didn’t have many customers on a Tuesday night, so it wasn’t like Dahlia was losing much business by closing early for Tessa and the ten Secret Service agents—five of whom were off duty—who’d accompanied them tonight. In fact, Dahlia was probably making more money since she’d doubled her prices and added a ten percent private party fee to each check.

  Two agents were stationed outside the front door and two were stationed by the door in the alley. Finn and Duke had hopped into the black SUV with them at the last minute, and Marcus said he’d stop by with the twins after their basketball practice. Dahlia was behind the polished walnut bar, but the only people drinking anything stronger than beer were four of the off-duty agents.

  Tessa wasn’t clear on whether or not Grayson was technically working since she hadn’t seen him take any time off. Not that she’d been watching him the past couple of days.

  Tonight, like any other time, he refused to sit down, passed on a game of darts and didn’t so much as tap a toe to the Garth Brooks’s song playing on the jukebox. In fact, Grayson spent most of his time pacing back and forth between the front and rear doors to check in with the other agents. It was hard to ignore him when he kept in constant motion.

  The man didn’t know how to take a break.

  Big Millie’s part-time cook was off tonight, so Aunt Freckles, who owned the Cowgirl Up Café in Idaho and was also going stir-crazy at the full-staffed ranch, had offered up her skills as a short-order chef. Dahlia’s five-year-old daughter, Amelia, came downstairs from their apartment and wanted to hang out with the adults.

  “Have you learned how to make a Shirley Temple yet?” Finn asked their niece who handed Tessa a basket of onion rings.

  “Mommy said it’s a state law that I’m not allowed to touch the grown-up drinks or go behind the bar with her. So I’m helping Aunt Freckles in the kitchen ’cause I’m only allowed to be down here when we’re giving away food.”

  “When we’re selling food, Peanut,” Dahlia corrected. “If we give all our food away, we won’t ever make any money.”

  “Gan Gan says we have lots of money already, Mommy. She says you could buy me a whole zoo if you wanted to.”

  Tessa, who was sitting on the same side of the refinished wood bar as Finn and Duke, lifted her br
ows at their mother’s latest attempt to sway one of her children into a different profession.

  “But I don’t want to work at a zoo,” Dahlia said simply. “I want to work here. And when you grow up, you’ll get to work wherever you want. And do you know why?”

  “Because we’re smart women who make our own choices, Mommy,” the little girl replied with an adorable smile before lifting an empty plate over her head and carrying it back to the kitchen.

  Tessa was always impressed with how great a mother Dahlia had turned out to be. She often wondered how she’d do as a parent if she had kids of her own. Or if she even wanted kids at all. Her eyes landed on Grayson across the room and suddenly her rib cage felt unnaturally tight.

  “You really were the smartest one of all of us, Dahlia,” Duke said before taking a long swig from his bottle of imported beer. “Owning your own business means you don’t have Mom calling your boss—or the Joint Chiefs of Staff in my case—to make them give you the week off with bereavement pay.”

  “Not until Mom gets the liquor laws changed in the state, which she’s probably been trying to do. But until then, Amelia’s right. Minors are allowed to be in the bar area as long as we serve food. No matter what some new guy who waltzes in off the street thinks.”

  “What new guy?” Duke asked.

  “The cowboy who just inherited the Rocking D,” Finn replied.

  “How’d I miss this latest development?” Tessa wondered aloud.

  “He’s not a real cowboy,” Dahlia said a bit too quickly. “And you probably missed it because it’s been a weird week with other more important things going on. So what’s going on with you and your Secret Service agent over there?”

  “He’s not my agent,” Tessa said before biting into a crispy, golden onion ring. “Ouch!” She fanned a hand at her scalded taste buds before swallowing several gulps of frosty beer to ease her burning tongue.

  “Careful.” Finn scooped the basket of rings away from Tessa and offered one to Dahlia. “The onion rings are almost as hot as your agent.”

  Dahlia and Finn shared matching smirks. They’d been identical when they were girls, but sometime during high school, they’d gravitated toward separate identities and separate styles. In fact, most people were surprised to find out that the women were sisters, let alone twins.

  They may be as different as night and day from each other, but when the twins shared a common goal, nobody else in the family would dare to go up against them. And right now, their goal was to keep Tessa from having any sort of break from the ongoing speculation about her and Grayson Wyatt.

  “If I wanted to talk about my love life—” Tessa blew on a french fry before pointed it at Finn “—I’d have invited Mom to come along. Or the countless reporters camped outside the ranch gates.”

  “At least you have a love life.” Finn snatched the fry out of Tessa’s hand before dipping it into ketchup. “Mom told me I’ll never have a boyfriend if I always smell like bull manure.”

  “I usually don’t agree with Mom, but...” Dahlia scrunched up her nose. “If the boot fits.”

  Finn picked up an onion ring and threw it at Dahlia, hitting the bridge of her nose. Dahlia held up the soda spray hose from behind the bar, her finger hovering over the dispensing button. “Who needs a shower when I can hose you off right here, little sis?”

  “Well, I’m going to go make a phone call before I get hit by friendly fire.” Duke shoved his bar stool back before standing. “Carry on.”

  “Do not carry on, you two.” Tessa cast a covert glance around the room to see who was watching their immature display. She shouldn’t have been surprised to discover Grayson’s eyes on her. After all, she’d felt the weight of his stare all evening—even when he was pretending to be preoccupied with securing the perimeter. Of course, it was hard to escape his attention when Tessa was sitting in front of the twelve-foot-long antique gilt-edged mirror that ran the length of the wall behind the bar.

  “He’s a serious one, huh?” Dahlia jerked her chin in Grayson’s direction. “Does he ever take a break?”

  “Not that I’ve seen so far.” Tessa studied the labels on the long line of beers on tap. “Hey, Dia, for an old brothel-turned-speakeasy, you sure have done wonders with the place. Is that shiplap on the walls original to the building?”

  “Yes! It was buried under layers of cheap wallpaper and cigar smoke, but I think it adds a sort of rustic charm.”

  “She got you.” Finn shook her head at her twin. “Are we pretending to be on a home remodeling show now? Or can we go back to talking about Tessa’s sexy bodyguard?”

  “I’d prefer to talk about anything but that.” Tessa hooked one of the heels from her borrowed boots in the rung of the bar stool.

  “You have a lot of rules, big sister,” Finn told her. “How are we supposed to have a conversation if we aren’t allowed to talk about anything interesting?”

  Tessa looked around for Duke, who normally called his husband on speakerphone so everyone could say hi. Where was the peacemaker when she needed him?

  Just then, Violet Cortez-Hill walked in the front door. Violet had been in Teton Ridge for Roper King’s funeral and, when MJ got arrested, Sherilee had hired her as his attorney.

  Oh, and Violet used to be Marcus’s girlfriend in high school. So Tessa definitely owed the woman for taking some of her family’s attention off of her.

  “Hey, Vi!” Dahlia came out from behind the bar to hug the newcomer. “I heard you were staying in town to help my baby brother out of his latest scrape with the law.”

  “Much to the annoyance of your big brother,” Violet responded. “He isn’t here, is he?”

  “Not yet.” Tessa smiled at the woman she’d once expected to be her sister-in-law.

  Violet let out a deep breath as she plopped herself onto a gold-leather-covered bar stool. “In that case, I’ll take a glass of any wine you already have open.”

  Dahlia drew a bottle from under the bar just as Freckles breezed out of the kitchen carrying two double burgers loaded with every possible topping listed on the limited bar menu.

  “Hey, Aunt Freckles,” Violet said. “If I had known you were here cooking, I would’ve left the courthouse earlier. Did Mrs. King kick you out of her kitchen?”

  Violet hadn’t dated Marcus in over fourteen years, however, she apparently hadn’t forgotten about the King family dynamics.

  “No, darlin’.” Freckles wore a crisp white apron over her tight zebra-printed blouse and even tighter jeans. “I needed a break from Rider. That old coot has been getting a bit frisky lately. Trying to prove there’s still a little gas left in his tank, if you know what I mean.”

  Tessa and her two sisters all covered their ears, despite the fact that they should’ve been well accustomed to the older woman’s candid comments.

  “Aunt Freckles,” Dahlia scolded as she lowered her cupped palms. “We can’t unhear those sorts of things.”

  “You know what’s crazy?” Finn asked, as though the last few days had been completely sane and normal. “Big Millie’s used to be a place where men would come looking for female companionship. Yet now it’s full of us trying to hide out from the men in our lives.”

  “Who says I’m hiding out from anyone?” Dahlia asked a bit too quickly, using a dishrag to scrub at an invisible spot on the bar. The way she refused to make eye contact with any of them made Tessa realize that something was going on with her sister.

  And where had Duke gone? Was he hiding out from the man in his life, too? It was weird that Sherilee had pressured the Joint Chiefs of Staff to give Duke leave, but not Tom, who was also in the Navy. Especially because Sherilee absolutely adored her son-in-law and got along with him better than several of her biological children. Of course, Tom was also a heart surgeon assigned to the hospital at Walter Reed and always kept an extra blood pressure cuff on hand to assure t
heir mom that she wasn’t going into cardiac arrest every time her kids stressed her out.

  But before Tessa could subject her other siblings to the interrogation she’d just faced, Marcus’s twin boys tore through the front door and ran straight for the billiards table. Their father was right behind them, still wearing his sheriff’s uniform. His face was drawn tight, his lips pressed together. He was pissed about something and made a direct line toward Violet. Sensing another argument, Tessa and Finn stood, casually maneuvering themselves in front of their friend.

  “Now you’ve got my sisters protecting you, too?” Marcus asked his ex-girlfriend.

  “I only need protection from credible threats.” Violet rose and stepped forward between Tessa and Finn. “And you, Sheriff King, are no threat.”

  Grayson appeared out of nowhere and asked, “Is everyone okay over here?”

  “You know what this party needs?” Aunt Freckles clapped her hands together like a schoolteacher trying to get the attention of a rambunctious class. She pointed to the jukebox that was now playing a lively classic by George Straight. “Dancing!”

  “No, thank—” Tessa’s protest was cut off by a bony elbow to her ribs.

  “Remember when I taught you kids how to do the two-step?” Freckles might be in her eighties, but the strong nudge at Tessa’s back proved the woman was still a force of nature. “Tessa, you go ahead and show Agent Wyatt how to do it.”

  Grayson held up his hands in protest, which was a big mistake since a second shove from Freckles forced Tessa right into his arms. In an effort to steady herself, Tessa’s palms landed on either side of his broad chest. She raised pleading eyes to his, but his irises had grown darker, his pectoral muscles flexing under her fingers.

  “Finn, you go with Agent Doherty,” Freckles continued, though Tessa was afraid to move her head even an inch to see if her sister complied. She didn’t want to risk drawing even closer to Grayson. “And, Marcus, you and Violet can talk about whatever you need to talk about on the dance floor.”