Cowboy Up

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  That kind of parental devotion used to set off a wave of longing in Clay, but these days he was more philosophical about being an orphan. After all, he’d been taken in by the Chance family ten years ago. He might have started off life at a disadvantage, but he’d wound up pretty good.

  And although Emmett wasn’t technically his father, the guy filled that role in everything that mattered. He’d latched onto Clay from the get-go, and from that point on, the foreman always had his back. Emmett seemed to recognize that Clay needed an advocate. But maybe Emmett had needed Clay, too, as a stand-in for his absent daughter.

  So now Emmett was asking Clay to take Emily riding. That was a gesture of trust, no doubt about it. Sarah’s suggestion that Emily help him with party chores was a decent idea, too.

  He could be gracious and take her with him out to the meadow. She could carry the benches and find rocks for the fire pit. It wasn’t so much to ask that he include her after all the support Emmett had given him over the years.

  He turned to Emily. “I’d appreciate it if you’d help me with the chores I have, and then we should be able to take a short ride later this afternoon.”

  Her answering smile dazzled him more than it should. “I would love that. Thank you, Clay.”

  “You’re welcome.” He looked away before she could see the effect she had on him. Heat shot through his body and settled in his groin. The rush of sexual awareness left him so shaky that he dared not pick up his fork or his water glass in case somebody might notice how he was trembling.

  Good God, he wasn’t some inexperienced teenager anymore. In the ten years since they’d first met he’d had two serious girlfriends and several who would have liked to become serious. These days he knew his way around a bedroom and a thing or two about pleasing a woman once he got her in there.

  And yet, one brilliant smile from this California girl had reduced him to the hormonal kid he’d been ten years ago. She hadn’t wanted him then, but he had a strong suspicion that she wanted him now. He wasn’t sure why, because she sure as hell wasn’t interested in sticking around Jackson Hole, and he was here for the duration.

  Curiosity, maybe. She’d never indulged herself with somebody like him and had decided now was as good a time as any. The semen collection might have set her off. It was, after all, a sexual subject.

  But none of that mattered. Nothing would happen between them. Emmett’s trust guaranteed that. Clay would sooner cut off his right arm than betray the man who’d encouraged him to be the person he was today.

  Emily wasn’t sure how she’d managed to eat anything at all as the meal progressed, and several times she’d almost dumped food on herself. Sitting next to Clay was like sitting next to a ticking bomb. He’d showered and changed before coming to lunch, and she almost wished he hadn’t. His pine-scented cologne was nice, but she preferred the raw energy of his sweat-soaked body.

  She wasn’t sure who was generating the most sexual heat as they sat side-by-side eating lunch, but she sensed he was as turned on by her as she was by him. He was nervous about that, though, and she didn’t blame him. He clearly idolized her father, and anyone with half a brain would be able to tell that Clay was a principled guy. He wouldn’t want to do anything that would upset her dad.

  She didn’t want to upset him, either, so her fascination with Clay was a tricky business. As much as her dad wouldn’t want Clay seducing her, conversely he wouldn’t want her seducing Clay, especially if she had no intention of sticking around. And she didn’t.

  She liked the ranch better this time than she ever had before, but that only meant she considered it a good vacation spot. There was really nothing for her to do here. She didn’t possess the particular skill set that would make her a… what had her dad called Clay? A top hand.

  No, she was a far cry from being a top hand. So far she hadn’t figured out what she was good at. She loved to surf, but not enough to make a pro career out of it. Fashion design was out, and retail sales bored her to tears.

  But she wouldn’t solve her career dilemma hanging around the Last Chance. Once her visit was over, she’d return to her receptionist position at a medical complex in Santa Barbara. Maybe she’d go out with the cute doctor who kept asking her for a date. She hadn’t been seriously involved with anyone since last year, when a surfing buddy had proposed.

  She’d realized he was far more emotionally invested than she had been and had gently turned him down. Besides, she had no business marrying someone when she didn’t know where her life was headed. She wished she could be more focused, like Clay. Spending time with him this afternoon might give her some insights. At the very least, she’d be able to enjoy the sexual buzz they had going on.

  As the meal ended and everybody stood to leave, Emily prepared to leave, too. Clay helped her from her chair, a gallant gesture she wasn’t used to from the men she knew. “Thanks.” She turned to him. “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I thought you could call me when you’re ready for me to help you.”

  He grinned. “How about if I just come up to the house and get you?”

  Ooo. Great smile. She curled her toes into the leather soles of her boots. “That works.”

  Her dad put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. “If you go riding later on, see if somebody will loan you a hat.”

  She glanced up at him. “Why do I need one?”

  “For the most part, to keep you from being sunburned.”

  “Dad, I surf every weekend, and nobody wears a hat while they’re on a surfboard. I have a good base tan and I have sunglasses. That’s enough.”

  Her father looked over at Clay. “Would you see that she puts on a hat before she goes out? I know we have extras lying around somewhere.”

  “Excuse me.” Emily inserted herself between the two men. “I will not be treated like an obstinate female who needs to be managed by the men who know more than she does.”

  Clay laughed. “Then don’t be obstinate. Wear a hat.”

  “Why should I?” She was intrigued by the fact that he was joking with her instead of getting irritated. She liked that kind of easy-going attitude.

  “Because you’re at a higher altitude here than you’re used to, so the ozone layer’s thinner and you could still burn. Besides that, if you’re going to help me this afternoon, you’re going to sweat, and the hat will keep the sweat from running in your eyes. I suppose you could wear a do-rag, instead, but personally I think the hat would look better on you.”

  Well, then. She hadn’t thought about the value of a hat as an accessory. She should have, after being conditioned in that direction for most of her twenty-seven years by her fashion-conscious mother. If Clay thought she’d look better in a hat, no further argument was needed.

  She turned to Sarah, who had been standing to one side watching the action with obvious amusement. “Got any hats I might be able to borrow?”

  Sarah nodded. “Come with me.”

  Chapter Three

  Emmett glanced at Clay. “Look, I hope she won’t be in your way this afternoon. I didn’t ask what you had on your agenda.”

  And Clay wasn’t at liberty to discuss that. “It’ll be fine.” He would make it so, regardless of his strong attraction to the golden girl from California.

  “I invited her to come with me so she could do some shopping — my treat, of course. To my surprise, she wanted to stay here, instead.”

  “Huh.” That surprised Clay, too.

  “I know. I thought she loved to shop. Three years ago when she came to the ranch, we made a couple of trips into Shoshone, but the stores there aren’t what she’s used to. So when I took her back to the airport, we built in extra time so she could browse through those fancy places in Jackson.”

  “So she was here three years ago, then. I wondered how often she made it over.”

  Emmett looked sad. “Not often enough, but I can’t blame her for that. It works both ways. Like I told h
er this morning, I could have made more trips to Santa Barbara.”

  “Yeah, but…” Clay thought of the freeways and the traffic snarls and grimaced.

  “I don’t relish that area, either, but until this time, I didn’t think she relished staying on a ranch, yet she comes to see me, even so.”

  “What do you mean until this time?”

  Emmett rubbed the back of his neck. “I took her on a tour of the barn, like always. In the past, she acted like that was no big deal. I could tell she liked the horses, but she wouldn’t let herself really get into it. I figured her mother had brainwashed her pretty damned well. But this morning was different. Apparently she’s starting to think for herself.”

  “That’s great.” Clay hoped the foreman wasn’t making too much of a passing fancy on Emily’s part. He didn’t want the guy to get his hopes up that Emily would suddenly turn into a cowgirl.

  “I know what you’re thinking, son.”

  Clay’s chest tightened with emotion. He loved having Emmett call him son, even though he knew that cowboys used that word loosely and Emmett probably didn’t mean it in a strictly literal sense. “I’m not thinking anything, Emmett.”

  “Sure you are. You’re thinking that I’m an old fool who imagines his daughter is going to magically fall in love with ranching.”

  Clay sighed. “You’re not an old fool, but it would be only natural if you—”

  “Don’t worry. I made that mistake with her mother. I knew California was where Jeri wanted to be, but I thought I could convince her otherwise.”

  Something in Emmett’s expression told Clay that those wounds had never healed. That might be another reason Emmett hadn’t taken many trips to see Emily. He would have had to see his ex, too, which would have been painful if he was still in love with her.

  Clay thought he might be and wondered if Pam Mulholland had any inkling of that. The two had been dating for more than a year without making a commitment. Emmett said that was because Pam had way more money than he did, but that might not be the whole story.

  By now the dining room was empty except for Clay, Emmett, and Watkins, who had recently started helping Mary Lou clear the dishes in exchange for extra dessert.

  Mary Lou bustled over, her gray hair in disarray as usual and her cheeks pink from working in a warm kitchen. “Did you two get enough to eat? I’m about to serve Watkins an extra piece of cherry pie, and you’re welcome to have a second serving if you want one.”

  Emmett patted his flat stomach. “Thanks, Mary Lou, but I couldn’t fit in another bite. You outdid yourself again.”

  “Thanks, Emmett.” She beamed at the praise. “I do love my job. How about you, Clay? More pie?”

  “It’s tempting, but no thanks.”

  “All right, then.” She began stacking the dessert plates from each place setting at their table.

  Watkins came out of the kitchen and headed toward them. “Hey, quit doing my job, Lou-Lou.”

  Her cheeks turned a shade pinker. “Then speed it up, there, Watkins. We need to get this place cleaned up.”

  “We will, we will. Leave those for me and go cut me a nice big piece of your delicious pie. And put some ice cream on top.” The stocky cowboy winked at her as he reached for the dishes in her hand.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. If you insist.” She handed over the dishes and walked back toward the kitchen.

  Instead of stacking plates, Watkins gazed after her. “What a woman.”

  Clay watched in fascination. He’d thought something might be going on between Watkins and Mary Lou, but he hadn’t been sure until now. “Are you sweet on her, Watkins?”

  Watkins nodded, which made his handlebar mustache twitch. “Have been for years. Once I tried to get her to marry me, but she claims she’s never marrying anybody. So I backed off, but lately… let’s just say I might be making progress.”

  Emmett clapped him on the shoulder. “Clearing dishes and complimenting her on her cooking just might get the job done. Not that I’m an expert on women. What’s your opinion, Clay?”

  Clay held up both hands. “Don’t ask me about women. They’re a mystery.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Watkins glanced toward the kitchen. “Well, my pie should be about ready. Catch you later, boys.”

  After he left, Clay looked at Emmett and raised his eyebrows.

  Emmett shrugged. “He’s been carrying a torch for a long time,” he said in a low voice. “You may not believe it, but she used to be a real babe.”

  “You know, I can believe it. And I’ve always loved her spunky attitude. I—” He stopped talking when Emily walked into the room. Talk about a babe. The snug T-shirt and form-fitting jeans would make any guy take a second look, but Clay had a thing about women in cowboy hats.

  This one was tan straw, a warm-weather alternative to felt. The brim curved downward in both the front and back so it partly shielded her eyes in a sexy, flirty way. The more Emily adopted a western style, the more Clay liked what he saw.

  “How’s this?” she asked as she came toward them.

  Clay dialed back his response several notches. “It’ll do.”

  “Good choice.” Emmett’s weathered face glowed with pride. “Fits nice.”

  Sarah appeared and crossed to where they were standing. “Looks good, huh? Fortunately we wear the same size.”

  “Sarah said I could keep this,” Emily said. “But that seems silly if I’m only going to wear it while I’m here.”

  Some of the glow faded from Emmett’s expression, and Clay ached for him.

  No matter what Emmett had said about not expecting too much, it was obvious he’d allowed himself to hope that Emily wouldn’t abandon her newfound interest in the ranch once she left. He nodded. “Guess so. Wouldn’t want to let a good hat end up in the back of a closet. Well, I’d better get going if I intend to finish up those errands in town.”

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Sarah pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her jeans. “Here are a few more things I need while you’re there. Also, Pam called and asked if you’d stop by the Bunk and Grub, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d look in on my mother and make sure she remembers about the party tomorrow night.”

  Emmett glanced over the list. Then he trained that piercing blue gaze on Sarah in a manner Clay knew well. It meant that Emmett suspected something was going on and he intended to find out what. “You wouldn’t be stacking up the errands to keep me away from the ranch all afternoon because of some scheme or other would you now, Sarah?”

  “Goodness, no! Why would I do a thing like that?”

  “Because I’ve known you for thirty-some years, and you look like you’re up to something. I’m warning you, if I come back from town and a passel of folks jump out of the bushes yelling surprise, I will be one unhappy cowhand.”

  Sarah patted his arm. “I promise that won’t be happening. Besides, your birthday’s tomorrow.”

  “Which means the only way you could surprise me is to stage the party tonight. I wouldn’t put it past you, either.”

  “You are so suspicious.” Sarah gave him a big smile. “You will love your birthday party, Emmett, and it will take place on your birthday, not the night before.”

  “Time will tell if you’re putting me on or not. Anyway, I’ll see you folks later, and there had better not be any shenanigans taking place while I’m gone.” Settling his hat on his head, he left the dining room.

  Sarah gazed up at the beamed ceiling of the dining room and twiddled her thumbs as his footsteps receded down the hall leading to the living room. Only after the front door had opened and closed did she drop her gaze to Clay’s and burst out laughing. “He’s such a baby when it comes to birthdays.”

  “He knows something’s going on,” Clay said.

  “What is it?” Emily looked eagerly from one to the other. “Are you going to surprise him tonight?”

  “No.” Sarah glanced over at the door to the dining room as if worried that Emmett might
have crept back down the hall. “Emily, go make sure he’s left.”

  “Be right back.” Emily hurried out of the dining room.

  Sarah moved closer to Clay. “He really will love this cookout. But if he knew about it in advance, he’d pitch a fit because we’re going to extra trouble on his behalf.”

  “You’re right, he would.”

  “But it’s going to be so perfect. I realized this morning that you’ll need to dig two fire pits, one for the bonfire and one we can let burn down to coals for grilling the steaks.”

  “I can do that.”

  Emily came back in, her face pink with excitement. “He’s really gone. So what are you planning?”

  “Clay can explain it all. I need to go check with Watkins, if he’s still in the kitchen. His guitar was missing a string and I need to make sure he’s fixed it.”

  “He’s still there,” Clay said, “but you might want to knock before you go in.”

  “I see.” Sarah grinned. “Thanks for the warning. Catch you two later. Call if you run into any glitches.” Then she walked toward the kitchen. “Sarah Chance is on the move!” she called out. “If there’s anything going on you don’t want me to see, you’d better cease and desist immediately!”

  Emily looked at Clay. “What the heck is that all about?”

  “Just a little romance between Watkins and Mary Lou. Come on. We have tables and benches to load into the back of a pickup.”

  “Okay.” She fell into step beside him as they headed down the hall lined with windows on the right and family pictures on the left. “This visit is turning out to be way more interesting than I expected.”

  That patronizing remark set his teeth on edge. Added to her comment about not needing the hat once she went home to California, he decided to broach the subject of her attitude. “You know, this ranch may not be your favorite place in the world, but could you pretend it is, for your dad’s sake?”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Wow. You are definitely hostile.”

  He spun to face her. “I suppose I am. I love that man like a father, and you—”