by Em Petrova
Buck studied his brother. For Lane—for all of them—he needed to earn that money.
“Where the hell’s the crew?” Wynonna asked, and their mother gave her a tight look down her nose at her choice language.
“Channing’s distracting them.” Buck waved at the window. He had no idea how she was doing it, but so far so good.
“Your fiancée is quite the team player considering she won’t really be a Calhoun,” Ma said evenly.
They all jerked, and Buck suddenly felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. “What?” he managed.
“You don’t have to tell me that something’s off between you two, Buck. I know my son, and I know that girl.”
“Did she…say something?” Channing had ample opportunity to confide in their ma.
She shook her head. “She doesn’t need to. I see the strain on her. When were you going to tell me you two had called it off and you’re just putting on this charade for the show?”
Too many eyes fixed on him. A growl bubbled in his throat but he cut it off. Of course, his siblings knew but he’d underestimated his mother. Hadn’t given her credit.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, Ma.”
“Well? What the hell happened?”
Wynonna sniggered at their mother’s own potty mouth. They’d all learned how a well-timed curse could hold weight in a conversation.
Buck yanked out a chair and collapsed into it, looking at his ma across the table. “I don’t rightly know. Things just…stopped working.” Except lately he and Channing were totally on.
“And when production expects us to throw a big weddin’ here on the ranch for the season finale?” His mother’s disapproval hurt. He didn’t want to let her down—or any of them. And it wasn’t just about the money. They loved Channing and they’d all feel a real loss if things really took a downward turn.
Channing wasn’t through with him. She isn’t acting, goddammit. I’d know.
He pushed out a breath and drew a bigger one in, prepared to speak. But at that moment a holler and a loud squeak sounded from outside. Steps on the porch and the sound of furniture being knocked over. More shouts.
They all exchanged a look. “What the…” Ryder went to the window and peered out. More squealing that could only be a pig. Buck went still. Surely Channing hadn’t—
Yes, she had.
In a flash they were all outside, watching the scene unfold. A disheveled and sexy as hell blonde woman running all over the yard, zigzagging back and forth as cameramen followed her progress. Some of the crew had set down their cameras and were chasing pigs too. Andrew fell flat on his face, and Buck couldn’t help the laugh that exploded from him.
Channing looked around at the sound and tossed him a grin. She increased her speed to lunge at the fat pig feet in front of her.
“Get yer rope out, Buck,” Ryder drawled.
“She’s resourceful, I’ll give her that,” Wynonna said.
The Calhouns all clustered on the porch, admiring the woman who may not ever belong to their family. But dammit, she should. She belonged here.
Chapter Six
When Channing walked into the barn and saw Buck leaning heavily against the wooden stall, his hand planted on his horse’s neck as if seeking comfort, a feeling of dread slithered through her.
Slowly, she approached him, her boots quiet taps on the barn floor. “Buck? What’s wrong?” She touched his arm.
As if a drowning man, he whirled to her and grabbed on to her. Holding her like a raft that would keep him afloat. He buried his face against her neck.
Heart pounding, she wrapped her arms around him. “What’s happened. Nobody’s hurt, are they?”
“No.” His voice sounded as though he’d swallowed some horse tack and washed it with the whiskey he and his brothers preferred.
More seconds ticked by. Whatever was upsetting him, it was bad. She’d never heard his heart drum so fast. She tried again. “Buck?”
“It’s Asher.” All at once he released her. When he’d put a step of space between them, he said, “He can’t make Jacksonville.”
She pushed out a breath, feeling more than his physical distance. Whatever Buck Calhoun was made of—denim and leather and grit—it kept him from sharing his burdens. It kept them from being a true pair.
About Asher, she’d been afraid of this very thing from the start. A man like Asher lived for the rodeo but first and foremost he was a family man.
“So he can’t leave the kids with their grandma?”
“No. Apparently Reese’s mom is sick and his parents are on a cruise. Hell, what bad timing. I need this win.” The lines around his mouth deepened.
She’d heard about the family meeting after they’d all praised her for letting the pigs loose. Each of them was trying to lead personal lives while avoiding the hell out of the cameras, only letting them see what the Calhouns wanted them to see.
Furiously, her mind worked over ways to help Buck. The only way to get Asher to Jacksonville was to make him confident that his kids were cared for. She gasped. Buck looked at her.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I can stay back and keep his kids.”
Buck’s expression lightened and then a cloud broke over it. “I need you with me in Jacksonville.”
Her heart did a wild flip of joy. There was no camera rolling right now—he couldn’t be acting.
As he reached for her, she felt the strange rhythms of excitement and worry rolling off him. “What if he takes them to Jacksonville and you can babysit them there?”
Two small children in crowds should be a challenge, but she could manage. Though she couldn’t earn a dime of her own, and that troubled her. Still, Buck—and even Asher—needed her. Their cash streams were much more important than hers.
Hopefully Luke had gotten work and would start paying back his debtors on his own too.
Masking the whirlwind of crap going through her mind, she nodded. “I can watch them in Jacksonville.”
A grin broke over Buck’s face and lit him like a firework in the sky. He kissed her hard on the lips. “You’re the best, darlin’! I’ll call him right now and let him know.” His happiness was infectious and she was glad to be the cause of it.
Maybe he really would realize she was always here for him. Right now, with Buck’s smile still warming her heart, it was easy to let herself pretend things were okay between them. Her own smile faltered a little.
As he exited the barn, a cameraman came in. She shot him a look and rearranged her features. Automatically, Channing drifted to one of the horse stalls and started a dialogue about Buck’s horse, Havoc. The animal had been with him forever, a gift from his pa for his eighteenth birthday when Buck Sr. had told his son it was time he had a good horse for speed.
When another crew member entered the barn, trailing Ryder, Channing took the opportunity to escape. Good thing, too. She didn’t know how long she could hold in her tears.
* * * * *
Channing entered the kitchen looking as if she’d been mashed by a steamroller. Her usual vibrant appearance was dulled and when Buck looked closer, he noted the dark half-moons under each eye.
He’d been restless last night too, and well before dawn he’d climbed out of bed, hoping she’d sleep heavily without him disturbing her. But she didn’t seem to have gotten any rest either.
As she approached him, he drew his brows together. Holding out his arms, he waited for her to walk into his embrace.
She skirted around him and reached into a cupboard for a mug. She went on tiptoe, trying to reach one. He and his brothers all used mugs that held huge amounts of caffeine, so all of the smaller ones were kept in the back.
“Let me help.” Buck reached over her head and plucked the mug out. He handed it to her, looking into her eyes. She really was under strain. He didn’t like the idea of her worrying about her brother so much. And as soon as he got her alone he’d insist she take some of the money he’d saved to hel
p Luke.
She started to reach for the coffee pot, which was always on and fresh, and Buck gripped it first. He lifted it over her cup.
“I got this,” she snapped.
He stared into her eyes. “I want to do this for you.”
“Why? Why now, Buck? You’re taking this fiancé thing too far.” She wrenched the pot away from him and poured a mug of coffee. As she settled at the table, sipping her straight-up black coffee, he eyed her warily. What had really made her explode?
He racked his brain for their last interactions. She’d agreed to help out with Asher’s kids. They’d gone to bed without much talk about their days, but they were both exhausted.
“I’m going out to work the herd in a bit,” Buck said.
She ignored him but her fingers tightened around the mug.
“Channing—”
“Why are you telling me this? Why are you hanging out waiting for me to wake up? I need some space, Buck.”
Her words slammed him. He pushed out a breath. Gaped at her. “What the hell, Channing?”
She set her mug down too hard and coffee sloshed all over the table. She jumped to her feet. “Don’t use that tone with me, Buck. You think because you’ve taken me to bed more often lately that you have a say over my feelings?”
“Jesus, no. What’s gotten into you?”
“This!” She swept the empty room with an arm.
Except it wasn’t empty. They weren’t alone. Two cameramen were filming this from opposite sides of the kitchen.
He made a slashing motion to get them to shut off their cameras. He had no idea what was wrong with Channing, but he needed to deal with it in private. In this state of mind, she could say anything—blow their cover.
He took a step toward her. She picked up a bottle of water left on the counter and hurled it at him. He ducked, and it struck the wall behind him. He straightened with a growl and continued toward her. “You’re going to sit down and talk to me about what’s bothering you, darlin’.”
“Don’t you dare darlin’ me with that Southern drawl of yours.”
He cornered her, opening his eyes a little wider to impress on her that they weren’t alone. Her spine went as straight as a cattle prod and she threw a wild look over his shoulder.
“I think you need a day of pampering, Channing.”
“If you’re going to suggest I go get a pedicure, you’re crazy,” she shot out.
The corner of his lips twitched but he daren’t smile or she’d hit him with more sass. “I wouldn’t dream a country girl like you would get a pedicure to unwind. I was going to suggest that I saddle your horse for you and you take a nice, long ride.”
He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, leaning in close enough to inhale her sweet scent. His body stirred.
“You don’t need to saddle my horse. I got it.” She tried to move, but he blocked her escape.
Hovering close, he murmured, “What I think you need is a nice, hard spanking, alternated by my fingers in your pussy until you’re begging me to come.”
With each word he felt her softening, going boneless until she leaned against his chest. He closed his arms around her, holding her as if she were a wild colt about to break for it.
A small movement ran through her, too small to be called a shiver. “I’m tired of pretending we like each other,” she said so softly not even the high-tech camera mics would detect it.
Using his knuckles, he nudged her chin up and carefully bundled her hair in his other fist, tugging just enough to let her know this wasn’t over between them. Their attraction and connection in bed was too real not to be.
“I’m not pretending, darlin’. I do like you.” Before she could respond, he released her. Then he walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone to deal with her reaction in front of two cameras.
Outside, he was hit full-force with cameras. He looked around the yard and found more people than normal. “Did they multiply?” he asked Lane, who was coming out of the barn with a sack of feed over his shoulder.
Lane gave a snort. “Seems like. I guess they’re upping production.”
“Good—maybe we can get this over with faster.”
“Fat chance.” Lane paused to talk, one arm looped around the feed. “They’re looking to add some more weeks onto the schedule.”
Buck jutted his head forward in an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look.
“Updated contracts to sign, I hear. In the meantime, they’ve sent us more minions, and these ones don’t seem to be as competent as the original crew.” Lane twitched his jaw in the direction of the corral, where one man was hopping around, one foot in the stirrup, while the spooked horse tried to dance away.
Hope this means more money.
He looked at the house again, thinking of Channing. She wasn’t one to snap at anybody, and her stress level must be through the roof if she had gone off on him. He made a move to head back to the house when all hell broke loose. The cameraman-turned-rookie-cowboy had finally lost his footing and was being dragged behind the horse.
Shouts followed, and Buck ran for the corral. Ryder was there first, catching the reins and bringing the animal to a stop. The older man was red-faced and sweating.
“Let’s untangle you,” Buck said, working his brand new boot out of the stirrup. Damn, they were all going to be killed out here on the Oklahoma plains if Buck didn’t put a stop to this immediately.
“Everyone, come here please. Gather ’round.” He waved at them all to move into the corral. When he looked from face to face, his gaze landed on one he wanted to see the most—Channing’s. She stood between his brothers, her hair freshly brushed and looking a bit more alert from her morning coffee.
He gave her a slight nod and she returned it with a wobbly smile. As soon as he put a stop to any more shenanigans with the cattle, he’d talk to her.
“We can’t have anybody getting hurt here. If you don’t have official training with horses, and I don’t mean you rode one once at the county fair, then you’re on foot or in your vehicles. Most of the places we travel by horse are accessible by 4x4 truck if you don’t mind getting stuck once in a while. Good thing is, we’ve got plenty of people to push you out if that happens.”
Several laughs. Damn, this was odd as hell. He wasn’t a spokesman by any means, and suddenly he was giving the Calhoun equivalent of the Gettysburg Address.
“And I want to know when y’all were going to inform us of more crew and a more episodes.” He looked at the manager.
“We’ll have a round-table right now, if that’s okay with everyone. Crew, take half an hour break while we meet.”
People scattered, leaving his family and a few production people. Buck took the opportunity to pull Channing aside. He didn’t want her blowing up during the meeting and he had to make sure she was okay. He was counting on her in so many ways, but mostly he just hated seeing the strain around her eyes.
Catching her hand, he pulled her close. “You okay?”
“Yes. Buck, I’m sorry for that. I’m tired and wrung out from all of this. I didn’t realize how much work it would be having a camera aimed at my face day and night. I can’t even check a text from Luke without—”
“You got a text from Luke?” He caught her other hand. To anybody looking at them, it would seem as if they were two lovers having an intimate moment, not discussing personal crises.
“Yeah,” she whispered, glancing around. Nobody was near, though. They were all walking toward the house. “He says the car was enough payment for them to leave him alone for a little while but he’s sure they aren’t going to be satisfied for long. When do you think we’ll be paid here?”
He was reminded of the black cloud hanging over the ranch and how Ennis was the puppet master, pulling all of their strings. “We’ll find out,” he assured her and led her to the house.
Half an hour later, they’d all signed updated contracts for five additional shows. Channing wouldn’t get her money to help her
brother for at least a month, yet she was smiling.
Buck had a sneaking suspicion that the thought of the wedding being delayed made her happy.
Chapter Seven
Channing was losing her damn mind. Wait—she was losing two little girls. Where the hell could they have gone?
She threw herself on the motel carpet, skin crawling at the thought of what filth the fibers held. “Are you under here?” She peered under the king-sized bed where she’d spent the night, not with her pretend fiancé but pinned by a three-year-old and a four-year-old. She had so many bruises from being kicked in their sleep that Buck would probably have something to say about it. And her eye socket was strangely tender this morning, making her believe she’d taken a fist—or foot—to the eye.
No little girls under the bed. Nothing but a strange old sock. Repressing a shudder, she ran around the room, whipping back curtains and even looking inside her suitcase.
“Where the hell did they go?” She’d gone into the bathroom for two minutes and come out and they were gone. Nobody had a key but her, so it wasn’t possible that Asher had come looking to take his little girls to breakfast.
A muffled giggle sounded, and she whirled. “The little shits are outside!” She was only wearing a bra and panties. Hell, were they even dressed? She grabbed the first thing she saw—Buck’s T-shirt, and threw it on while jerking open the door.
Two little dark-haired imps stood on the sidewalk like the twins from The Shining. At this point, they seemed as evil.
Channing dragged in a deep breath, almost asphyxiating herself on the exhaust from an idling truck and trailer not far away. At that moment, one of the competitors, Chip, came around the corner of his truck and spotted her.
She wasn’t wearing pants. Was this how mothers felt? If so, she didn’t relish the thought of starting a family.
“Get your little bodies in here,” she whispered angrily to the little girls, who just laughed as they ran inside.
“Howdy, Channing.” Chip lifted his hat to her.
“Hi, Chip.” She couldn’t turn around—Buck’s T-shirt probably wasn’t even covering her ass. Sliding her foot to the side, she did a funny shimmying step back to the door. But she’d forgotten her key inside and Asher’s spawn had locked her out.