A lanky figure ambled around the end of the trailer and paused as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to get any closer. Melanie scrunched her face in confusion. “Brady?”
“Hi, Mel.” Shawnee’s sometime roping partner raised his hands in a gesture of both innocence and surrender, tossing a help me look in the direction of Wyatt, who opted to prop his elbows on his open car door and enjoy the show. “I swear,” Brady said. “Shawnee didn’t tell me you weren’t expecting us until it was too late to turn around. And she swore you wouldn’t murder the messenger.”
“Us?”
“Me and, um, them.” He gestured toward a large nearby pen where she could make out two bulky shadows.
Melanie’s jaw dropped when she realized what he was saying, then snapped shut so hard she nearly chipped a tooth. “She sent horses? Without even asking me?”
“Uh, yeah. Seems like it.”
Melanie gave her head a shake. Even for Shawnee… “What am I supposed to do with them? I don’t have a saddle. Bridles. Anything.”
Brady flattened a palm on the door to the rear tack compartment. “Everything you need is in here. She went out to your ranch and got it.”
“It’s…she…what?”
Brady took a step back, as if ready to make a run for it. Melanie caught the glint of Wyatt’s smile.
Since he was closer, she turned on him. “Was this your idea?”
“Nope. First I heard of it was tonight.”
Damn. She believed him. She’d seen his surprise at Brady’s phone call, and besides, he wouldn’t bother to lie. Which meant if she was going to vent…
She yanked out her phone and punched in the number, then paced in impatient circles as it rang, and rang, then went to voicemail. She immediately hit Redial. This time Shawnee picked up.
“It’s after ten o’clock here. Do you have any idea what you’re interrupting?”
“Yes. And I hope by the time I finish chewing your ass, Cole has rolled over and gone to sleep.”
Shawnee gave a smug laugh. “You forget who I married. He’s way too OCD to let a little interruption stop him from following through with the plan.” There was a rumbled complaint in the background, and Shawnee’s voice faded. “Hey, I meant that as a compliment, sweet cheeks.”
“If you’re trying to make me gag, it’s not working.” Melanie’s circle had widened, taking her nearer where the horses were penned. In the faint glow from the trailer lights she could only see that one had dark mane and the other a white blaze. “What the hell, Shawnee?”
“From here on out, we’ll be on the road almost straight through the summer. I can only take a couple of extra horses with me. No sense leaving those two standing in the pasture when you finally have time to rope.”
“So…what? You sent me a couple of damn colts to train?”
“I wouldn’t do that.” A slight pause. “Well, not now, when you’re so rusty. I figured you could use something more reliable.”
More… Melanie stepped close to the fence. The nearest horse lifted his head, a chunk of hay sticking out the side of his mouth, his distinctive golden coat unmistakable even in the dim light.
Melanie sucked in a stunned breath. “That’s…Roy.”
Shawnee’s treasured buckskin was still for a moment, looking Melanie over, then went back to munching calmly on the hay.
“The one and only. What you need right now is quality time with a man who’ll never let you down.”
“Are you sure you didn’t mean to send Cole instead? You never let Roy out of your sight.”
“It was a toss-up, but I can let you ride Roy without having to beat you to death. The other one is the heading horse Cole started over the winter, so you’ve got both ends covered if you want to do some team roping.”
Melanie had a sudden need to sit down, but that wasn’t possible, short of plopping her butt in the dirt, so she sagged against the fence. “You are out of your mind.”
“Not yet, but if you’d shut up and let Cole finish—”
“Enough! Gah.”
Shawnee laughed triumphantly. Melanie hung up. She started as Wyatt materialized out of the darkness to stand beside her, studying the horses.
“What am I going to do with them?”
“I’ve got plenty of room here.” His smile glistened like a blade in the darkness. “And the saddle club where Grace practices is just down the road.”
Melanie groaned, her stomach dropping even as her heart did a giddy swoop. Damn Shawnee. How was she supposed to make sensible choices about her future with the siren call of the arena ringing in her ears?
Chapter 14
She was watching him again.
Wyatt could feel Melanie’s gaze like a laser sight between his shoulder blades as he stood in the training ring, drilling Dante on how to step past a charging bull. For the moment, the part of the bull was being played by Scotty, pushing a wheelbarrow with a set of horns mounted on the front.
“On your toes!” Wyatt barked, sharper than he’d intended. That self-conscious itch was driving him nuts. He’d never had trouble focusing—until now. He glanced over his shoulder. She gave him a quick twist of a smile that said, Yep, got my eye on you.
He jerked his head around. Why was she watching him? Shouldn’t she be defining their target demographic or developing their brand strategy, churning out spreadsheets and pie charts like all the other marketing professionals he’d ever dealt with? But no. She’d come out to feed the horses and stayed to watch, lounging against the fence beside Grace in a denim jacket and jeans, a West Texas A&M cap pulled low over her eyes and her hair in a single braid down her back—a long, tall drink of distilled cowgirl.
Watching him.
Dante rocked onto his toes, knees bent. Wyatt signaled and the “bull” charged. Dante immediately stepped backward, the loose sand catching his feet, throwing his shoulders back and his weight onto his heels. He stumbled, and the dummy bull plowed into his thighs, knocking him on his butt.
Wyatt swallowed another bark and reached down. Ignoring the hand he offered and Scotty’s grin, Dante scrambled to his feet. Wyatt gestured for Scotty and the wheelbarrow to back off, then took Dante’s place in front of it. “Imagine I’m a running back and the bull is a linebacker. If I move straight back, I’m toast. I have to take it to him with some kind of move that’ll make him miss. Like this.”
At Wyatt’s gesture, Scotty charged again. Wyatt feinted left, then stepped back to the right, letting the wheelbarrow zip harmlessly past.
“It’s like takin’ the ball to the hoop,” Philip said, miming a crossover dribble, two long steps, and a layup. “You gotta fake out the defense.”
“Exactly.” Wyatt gestured Dante forward. “Try it again.”
They repeated the drill, each of the men taking his turn as the bull and the bullfighter, until they were all breathing hard and sporting at least a few bruises from well-timed swerves of the dummy bull’s horns. They all seemed to be getting the gist of it, although Dante continued to struggle, having to think through every move.
If he was going to face real bulls, he had to learn to react. There was no time for thinking in bullfighting.
Dante braced his hands on his thighs as he sucked in air. “That’s great when you’re bein’ chased by a wheelbarrow. But if it’s a big-ass bull tryin’ to run you down…”
Wyatt swiped an arm across his sweaty forehead. “First off, unlike linebackers or Scotty…” The redhead met his glare with a wide-eyed Who, me? look. “…a bull will hardly ever anticipate the fake. And second, they literally weigh a ton. That’s a lot of momentum working in your favor.”
Dante squinted at him. “Say what?”
“They can’t turn on a dime,” Melanie drawled. Every head swiveled in her direction. She grimaced and made a zipping motion in front of her mouth. “Sorry.”
�
��You know as well as anyone,” Wyatt said.
Dante cocked his head. “Your girlfriend is a bullfighter?”
Wyatt opened his mouth to say no, she wasn’t. A bullfighter. Or his girlfriend.
Melanie cut him short. “I used to step in once in a while at the Jacobs practice sessions.”
Wyatt blinked. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Her eyes gleamed, laughing at his astonishment. “I’m a pretty decent pickup man, too.”
Now that wasn’t a surprise. After all, she was Violet’s best friend. They’d both grown up in front of and behind the chutes at Jacobs Livestock’s weekly practices, where up-and-coming cowboys tested their mettle against the ranch’s young horses and bulls. Violet had been fetching riders off of bucking horses since she was barely out of junior high. It was only natural that Melanie would give it a try.
But fighting bulls?
Her mouth dented in at one corner in answer to his silent question. “They dared me.”
“Well, let’s see your moves, mama.” Scotty gave a wiggle of his hips.
She shook her head. “It’s been a long time—”
“Ah, come on. We wanna see what you got,” Dante chimed in, verging on a taunt.
“Ignore them,” Wyatt said. “You don’t want to—”
Big mistake. He knew better than to tell Melanie what she wanted. Her chin came up, and the glint in her eye turned steely. “Sure. Why not?”
Okay. Don’t overreact. It was just a wheelbarrow dressed up a like a bull. How much trouble—
“But I’m not messing around with that thing.” She curled her lip at Scotty. “You are a cheap-shot artist.”
He smiled angelically, a freckle-faced Opie made of good intentions.
“Bring in the cows.” Melanie shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over the fence rail. “And hand me that sorting stick.”
The boys grinned and trotted off down the alley to get the cows, and Grace went after the five-foot-long fiberglass stick with orange rubber tips, all of them acting as if Wyatt wasn’t supposed to be in charge here. Melanie hopped up and down a few times, then dropped into a low lunge to stretch. Was he the only one who could see this was a terrible idea?
“How long has it been?” he asked.
“Since I got out of college and got a real job.” She squinted, adding it up, as she switched legs and dropped into another lunge. Wyatt lost a few beats of conscious thought as the stretch pulled her jeans tight across her butt and emphasized the long, taut length of her legs. “So…twelve years? But it’s not like I haven’t been handling cows. Daddy drags me back to the ranch for all the big jobs—pregnancy testing, branding, weaning, and shipping.”
“Regular cattle aren’t quite the same thing.”
“I agree.” She angled him an amused look back over her shoulder. “I take it you don’t know where Wild Woman and the Panther came from?”
“Joe picked them up…” In Texas. Duh. “They were yours?”
“Third generation. Those two were even more than Daddy could handle, and he’s a firm believer in mama cows with protective instincts.”
That explained why Hank was such a natural. Nothing like a lifetime of sheer survival to hone your moves.
She stood, then bent over and touched her toes, the view knocking Wyatt for another mental loop. Her hoodie and T-shirt slid up, revealing a stretch of smooth, taut skin. His heart gave a little sigh of disappointment when she straightened and tugged her shirt down as the cows came trotting into the ring, snorting and tossing their heads. Melanie jogged in place, then did a few side-to-side cuts to get a feel for the ground. Grace tossed her the sorting stick.
“You two.” She pointed the stick at Scotty and Dante. “Watch the gate. Let everything out except Wild Woman. And you.” She pointed at Philip. “Back Wyatt up if I get in trouble.”
All three moved into position without question.
Shit. Wyatt yanked his jersey over his head, ripped off his protective vest, and shoved it into her free hand. Her gaze slid down to his chest and the nipples that hardened as the breeze danced over the sweat-damp polyester athletic shirt that fit him like a second skin. For an instant, she seemed to be struck dumb. Then her teeth snapped together with an audible click.
Wyatt pulled his jersey on. She shrugged into the vest, fastened the Velcro, and stepped toward the cows. As usual, the Longhorn made the first move. Melanie let her go, followed by two others. She paced closer, her gaze fixed on Wild Woman. The black cow threw up her head, shaking stubby horns that curled down and forward, broken off into blunt points just above her eyes. She looked left, saw Scotty and Dante blocking her path, then swung her head back and stood as if held by the force of Melanie’s concentration. The Panther peeled off and broke for the gate. With a few quick steps and a wave of the sorting stick Melanie made sure Wild Woman didn’t follow.
And just like that, the cows were sorted. If he hadn’t been annoyed at how easy she made it look, Wyatt might have applauded.
She tossed the sorting stick back toward Grace without taking her eyes off the cow. “Hello, Sunshine. Miss me?”
The cow lowered her head and blew snot.
Melanie laughed. “Yeah. Me too.”
She took three deliberate steps closer. The cow backed up a stride, then stopped, shaking her head again. A hoof-full of dirt clattered off the fence. Melanie grinned and stalked even closer. When there were no more than five yards between them, she made a sudden jab step to the left. As the cow lunged toward her, she dodged right and stepped past the charging animal’s head with barely an inch to spare. Wild Woman swung around, dirt spewing from beneath her hooves as she circled. Melanie led her into a left turn, gave another fake, and reached back to put one hand on the cow’s horn as she stopped hard, then did a pirouette to the right so flawless it damn near stopped Wyatt’s heart.
Wild Woman bellowed, whirled around again, and charged. Melanie made another fake, but when she cut back, her foot slipped. The instant’s hesitation was enough. The cow clipped one leg and brought her to her knees. Melanie swore and dropped into a roll, arms clasped over her head as Wild Woman rooted at her. Wyatt and Scotty jumped in from the front, slapping at the cow’s head, while Philip yelled and grabbed her tail. The cow spun around and went after him. Philip sprinted for the gate, the cow on his heels, and vaulted over the fence to land in a pile on the other side as she tore past where Dante stood near the gate.
Before Grace could take a step toward her, Melanie was up, cursing as she swiped dirt-caked snot from under her nose. She had a smear across one cheek and a partial hoofprint where the cow had stepped on the back of one shoulder—on the vest, thank God—but she didn’t seem to be injured. Wyatt blew out a huge breath of relief.
“Bring ’em back!” Melanie barked.
Wyatt spun around. “What?”
“I said, bring ’em back.” When the men only gaped at her, she snatched up the sorting stick and started down the alley. “I’m not letting that bitch have the last shot.”
The others sprang into motion, but Wyatt stood rooted to the ground, cursing even as his blood pounded with pure, adrenaline-laced awe.
God damn, she was something.
Chapter 15
Melanie groaned as she eased her aching body into the slipper tub. Every scuff and scrape on her body sang out in angry protest at the sting of the hot water.
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” Violet said, via the speaker on the phone Melanie had brought in with her to listen to music while she soaked away the pain.
“I don’t recall asking for sympathy.” She lifted one foot and examined the purpling bruise on the side of her calf. Yep. That was gonna be pretty. “I can’t believe Wyatt called Joe and tattled on me.”
“He wasn’t tattling. He was in shock. The man is used to pulling all the strings, and you ripped ’em right out
of his hands.”
Melanie slid a little lower in the water. Wyatt had a legitimate beef. Not only had she opened her big mouth when she’d intended to be seen and not heard, but by the time she was done screwing around, whatever plan he’d had for the morning had been totally shot. “I couldn’t resist.”
“And? How was it?”
Melanie grinned, admiring another well-earned bruise. “Awesome, even though I probably won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning. Those are some muscles you do not use in the gym. But it felt good to go into battle mode and take it to ’em.”
“Because you haven’t been doing enough of that lately,” Violet said dryly.
“It’s not the same when you can’t look the enemy in the eye. I prefer hand-to-hand combat.”
“Says anyone who’s ever played basketball against you.”
Melanie laughed. “At least Wyatt can use me as a bad example.”
“That’s not what he said.”
“Really?” She paused in the act of tucking a strand of hair back into the pile on top of her head, then cringed at how eager she sounded.
“I didn’t get details.” Violet made an irritated noise. “It was one of those Don’t tell her I said this conversations, and I married a man who’s big on keeping his word.”
“Well, that’s annoying.”
“Only when I’m the one trying to compromise him. All Joe would say is that Wyatt was impressed at how well you handle cattle.”
O-kay. That was…vaguely satisfying. Not that she’d set out to impress Wyatt. Had she?
No. It had been pure impulse. A challenge, and a physical outlet for the constant simmer of resentment in her gut. She wanted to attack. And—she cringed again when the thought struck—to be attacked, which gave her a chance to fight back.
An opportunity she didn’t have at Westwind.
Damn. She was glad she didn’t have to share that little gem with a shrink. Or Wyatt—although he’d probably already guessed. She scowled at the pressed-tin ceiling. He was probably kicked back in his condo on the hill, sipping a bottle of rarified water, analyzing her behavior, and reaching the same embarrassing conclusions.
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