Country Thunder

by Cheyenne McCray

  “Sounds like a plan.” Meredith yawned. “I didn’t realize it’s so late. It’s nearly midnight here.”

  Celine laughed. “You knew exactly what time it is. You just wanted to check on me.”

  “Busted.” Meredith’s grin was clear in her voice. “Good night, Celine. I’ll talk with you tomorrow. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Celine’s smile lasted until she said, “Good night,” and disconnected the call.

  She looked at the wall across the bed while she sipped wine. She really didn’t know if she’d be able to sleep.

  Maybe she needed to start going to a shrink. Mother had always thought therapists and psychiatrists, and the best possible meds, were the answer to everything. Mother would have been livid if she had known Celine spit out the meds they had forced her to take for so-called depression.

  Celine had not been depressed. She’d been hurt, sad, in pain, and heartbroken…but mostly filled with devastating guilt. That didn’t mean she needed drugs. Some people did, and that was okay. But she hadn’t.

  However, her mother had seen to it the psychiatrist prescribed some designer antidepressant that had cost a ridiculous amount every month.

  And her mother’s voice—it rang in her head, as if she was in the room, with her correcting, criticizing, ordering, demanding.

  Take your medicine, Celine. It’s for your own good.

  Be calm and act like a lady.

  Ladies do not cry.

  Do what you’re told or you will regret crossing me.

  Don’t wear that. You look fat in it.

  A kindergartner could put on makeup better than that.

  Celine gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Stop it. Stop the mom-voice before it really gets up to speed. Her arm ached to throw her glass in the cold fireplace.

  She took a deep, calming breath and let herself relax. She imagined tension leaving every part of her body.

  In spite of brick walls she’d had to break through, she had started her own business from scratch and broke into a tough industry during a financial downturn. The success of her business had been amazing.

  Now she needed to take amazing and boost it into incredible. She needed everyone’s eyes on her designs. With a successful launch of her latest line, her designs would be in stores across the country.

  She smiled. She’d worked her butt off to get here without using the checking account Mother and Father had set up for her when she was young. She had taken what money she had used for college and repaid every cent back into that account, including interest.

  It had been so important to pay her way, create, and become successful on her own.

  And that was exactly what she’d done.

  Celine set the wine glass on the nightstand and sank into her pillows. Part of her need for success was to be able to donate to a cause that meant more to her than anything. A charity that brought Arabian horses and underprivileged teenagers together.

  She didn’t know a lot about kids, but she did remember what it was like to be a teenager, and how healing a relationship with a horse could be.

  Her heart constricted as she thought about Sky. What an amazing horse she’d been. Her best friend, her confidant. And then she was gone…and it had been Celine’s fault.

  In the future, she wanted to own a ranch that used horses for therapy with teens. She wanted kids to experience what she had when Sky was alive. And she wanted them to learn from her mistake.

  Celine didn’t drift off for a long time. Eventually she slipped into a fitful sleep. She dreamt of Sky galloping in an open field, before darkness fell. In the black of night, the only thing she saw was the word Merf, scratched into a wall.

  Chapter 2

  Bright June sunlight nearly blinded Celine and she blinked, attempting to accustom herself to it and the heat as she climbed from the dim interior of the black Mercedes. She managed to get out with her Louis Vuitton handbag on one shoulder. In her opposite hand, she gripped the matching tote that held her laptop, along with the stack of papers from Monty.

  She congratulated herself for staying on her feet after the harrowing ride. She shot a look at Charlie as he got out of the driver’s seat. He’d nearly killed them sixteen different times in sixteen different ways.

  “I’m going to murder Monty,” she muttered under her breath. Bringing Charlie to something so important, something that would be launching her new line—Monty should be shot.

  “Miss Celine.” Charlie jogged around the front of the car. “What time do you want me to take you to the hotel in Prescott?”

  Never.

  “I’ve already made arrangements.” She told him the lie while she held out her hand. “Keys.”

  Charlie looked disappointed and handed the set to her.

  She gestured toward the set. “I’m sure they can use you someplace over there. Ask Rod.”

  Go brighten someone else’s day.

  Now Charlie was Rod’s problem. Considering Rod was the one who sent Charlie to get her at the hotel in Scottsdale, fair was fair. She’d kill Monty and set Charlie on Rod—there, two vultures taken out with one stone.

  How Charlie had gotten her to the Flying F Ranch alive, she had no idea. He was a walking disaster, not to mention a driving nightmare. She was amazed he was able to pilot his drone without crashing into something.

  Celine glanced up at the clear blue sky then squinted as she looked at the chaos of the shoot, which should have been more organized. The day was already growing hot, but from what she understood, it was quite a bit cooler in Prescott Valley than the Phoenix metropolitan area.

  She took a moment to scan the country around her. Monty was right. The ranch and the surroundings were spectacular. She’d been told the ranch was at the base of the Bradshaw Mountains and the country was even prettier than what she’d seen on the ride from the airport to North Scottsdale. She had to agree.

  The mountains surged upward, behind the ranch. It was an awe-inspiring mountain range that looked as if the Almighty had placed it in the desert. She’d have to get someone to show her the entire property.

  It was all far too much to process without some coffee. Good coffee. She’d forgotten to take the premium Panama blend with her to the hotel, where they’d had a mediocre ground brand.

  Lucky for her, she had an entire bag of the whole bean stashed in Monty’s trailer. With her name on it.

  “Thank the heavens.” A woman on a mission, she strode straight to the silver Airstream trailer Monty had insisted on but rarely used. Charlie, his nephew, used it more than he did.

  She avoided eye contact with anyone—she didn’t want to risk being waylaid. As a New Yorker, it was second nature to ignore everything but her destination. She knocked on the Airstream’s door, gave it two seconds, and jerked the door open. She tossed her handbag and tote onto a couch. The tote looked like it would slide off, but she glared at it and the thing stayed put.

  Yes, I am officially a witch.

  It took her all of thirty seconds to discover her coffee wasn’t where she left it. The bag should have been in a far corner of the pantry, where she always kept extra for emergencies.

  She began to plot murder.

  Her plans grew more defined the longer she looked for it.

  The door slammed open. She turned to face it and saw Charlie duck his head in.

  If he had anything to do with it being gone—

  Charlie got one look at her face and took a step back. “Didn’t mean to bother you, Miss Celine. I’ll just—”

  “Stop.” She held her hand up. “Do you know what happened to the Hacienda la Esmerelda coffee I had in here?” She pointed to the exact location. “The bag with my name on it?”

  Charlie’s throat worked. “The guys ran out of coffee. I didn’t think you’d—”

  She was certain a blood vessel would pop in her head.

  “Charlie.” She spoke in a slow, measured tone. “You had better get back to work right now.”

  She’d nev
er seen him move so fast. He didn’t even stop to close the door behind him.

  Celine turned and put her fingertips to her forehead. Just coffee. Just coffee, she tried to tell herself.

  Just one of the finest coffees in the world. Lifesaving coffee to everyone here.

  A knock at door frame of the open trailer door. Charlie?

  Celine turned and came to a hard stop. Words stuck in her throat.

  One of the sexiest men she had seen in her life—and she’d seen a lot in her career—stood in the doorway. His eyes were shadowed by a western hat, but his firm lips and lightly stubbled jaw hinted at the man beneath. A T-shirt stretched from one amazing pectoral to the other, hugged shoulders to die for, and clung to tight abs and straight down to hips made to straddle. And those Wrangler jeans cowboys tended to wear out here in the Wild West.

  Oh. My. God.

  “What can I do for you?” Her voice came out harsher than it should have.

  The man pushed up the brim of his hat with one finger and she got a good look at his ice blue eyes. She’d seen eyes like that on a male model once, and she’d thought she’d never seen a more beautiful man. She wouldn’t call this man beautiful. She’d call him a chili-hot cowboy stud.

  She almost put her hand to her heart that thudded too hard and way too fast.

  He didn’t show any emotion as he appraised her. And that was exactly what he was doing—appraising her. “Did I catch you at a bad time, Ms. Northland?” His smooth voice would have stolen her breath if she hadn’t already lost it.

  No doubt, a cowboy here to find out what she needed for the shoot.

  She straightened her stance. “Rod is handling anything to do with the set. I’m sure he can help you.” Although I wish I could.

  “He sent me to see you.” The man stepped into the trailer without invitation. “I understand you run the show.”

  Wow, wasn’t often a man towered over her. With her height, she wasn’t used to being around a man she had to look up to just to meet his eyes. With her two-inch heeled sandals, today she was six feet and he topped her by at least four inches.

  Now, here was a man to snuggle up to.

  She had to work to keep her composure. “Depends on what you need, Mr.?”

  “Jayson McBride.” He took off his hat and held out his hand, even as he continued to eye her steadily. “Call me Jayson.”

  So much for wizened old tough-as-nails cowboys.

  Celine knew she should soften her stance and her tone, but she felt caught off guard, as if in a compromising situation.

  She took his hand and shivered inwardly as a bolt of something shot through her. What the hell was that all about?

  “How can I help you, Jayson?” She drew her hand from his. She’d intended to lighten her tone, but it came out as hard as concrete.

  “You could help me a lot by packing up and leaving.” His tone was even, yet had an edge to it. “But since that is likely out of the question, I’d like you to choose a different part of the ranch.”

  “The contract you signed gives us free rein. My staff determined this as the best place to start the shoot.” She shrugged. “We’ve got a lot invested in this.” She moved past him and out the door. “We’ll only be a week,” she said as she headed down the trailer steps, and came to a full stop.

  A chestnut mare stood nearby, fully saddled, complete with a shotgun in a leather scabbard hanging on the side of the saddle. The mare had a spirited look in her intelligent gaze.

  Celine hurried to turn around so that she wouldn’t have to look at the horse. Jayson had followed. A Border Collie now stood at his side, head cocked, looking at her with warm, intelligent eyes.

  “Frankly, I don’t want you here at all,” Jayson said and her gaze shot to his. “The least your people can do is respect my property.”

  Her jaw tightened. “If it wasn’t for your gambling habit, we wouldn’t be here.”

  A shiver rolled through her as Jayson’s eyes turned hard and storm-dark. “I play poker with friends,” he said in a cutting tone. “Doesn’t mean I have a gambling problem. What I do have a problem with is how your people have taken over and how they’re doing it.”

  She pushed her long hair over her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips.

  He continued, “They’re in the way and have made everything a mess. They’ve toppled a corral, moved things around that I want to stay put, and are generally getting into things they shouldn’t be. They leave gates open. Only stupid people leave gates open on a ranch.”

  A shadow passed over them and they looked up. Charlie’s drone circled the trailers. Charlie leaned up against the rail of a corral as he used a controller to dictate the drone’s movements.

  She looked back at Jayson. His features had tightened even more. “That drone spooked my cattle and they trampled a fence. My men and I had to round them up and repair the fence line.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Get that drone down,” he said. “Or next time I see it I’ll shoot it down and have the taxidermist mount it and put it on the wall next to Big Jimmy.”

  Heat prickled her skin. “You hunt?”

  “I aim to start if I see that drone again.” He set his jaw. “The damn thing spooked my cattle and upset my horses. I won’t put up with that. I have a mare ready to foal who’s getting real nervous.”

  The moment he’d said “horses,” her skin chilled and she went still.

  “I’ll fix that for you.” Celine broke through the icy shell that had temporarily immobilized her. She moved to the mare and rested her palm on the shotgun’s stock. “May I?”

  Jayson appeared to be taken aback. “All right.”

  “Loaded?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh,” he said slowly.

  A quick few seconds and she held the shotgun, barrel pointed up. “Are your horses used to guns, especially her?” She nodded in the direction of the chestnut.

  “They’re all gun-trained,” he said in his low cowboy drawl. “Including Starlight.”

  “Good.” Celine turned and looked in the direction of the drone. She raised the recoil pad to her shoulder and sighted the drone. She waited until the thing was clear of humans and animals alike, then squeezed the trigger.

  Boom.

  The shot echoed throughout the foothills .

  The drone exploded. What was left plummeted and slammed into the dirt.

  Everything and everyone fell silent. She’d had it with Charlie and that damned thing.

  “That was a $5,000 drone,” Charlie wailed and started to come closer.

  She narrowed her gaze.

  Charlie stepped back.

  Celine turned to Jayson. “What else can I do for you?”

  He watched her as if for sudden movement. “You can get them to leave my things alone and to close the damn gates.”

  She turned to the staff that gaped at her. “Next one to leave a gate open, or get into Mr. McBride’s belongings without permission, will get an ass full of buckshot. You’ll be picking it out for the next week.” She glared at all of them. “Have I made myself clear?”

  Rapid nods from everyone.

  “Then get back to work.” Celine turned back to Jayson. “Can you get a list to me of approved locations my people can use?”

  His eyes seemed to say, Who are you and what have you done with the woman I just met? “I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you.” She rubbed her temples again, pressing against them with her thumb and forefinger. She handed the shotgun to him. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a rough couple of days.” She shook her head. “And I am coffee deprived. It’s dangerous to be around me until I have a few cups.”

  A moment of additional appraising, then the corner of Jayson’s mouth quirked as he took the shotgun. “I’ve been known to cut off a few heads before a pot of good ol’ cowboy coffee.”

  “Let’s start over.” She held out her hand. “Celine Northland. I’m the fashion designer for Celine Originals, and you know the rest.”

&nb
sp; He shifted the shotgun to his left. “I’m Jayson McBride. I own this hunk of Arizona.” He took her hand and a charge went through her that caused her to catch her breath. “I’m certain I don’t know the rest. But after that shooting demonstration, I’m sure there’s a lot more to the story.”

  It took a moment for his remark to sink in. “It’s nothing special.” She smiled. “I imagine you have a few stories to tell.” She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it just a little bit longer.

  “Why don’t you come on in for cinnamon rolls and coffee?” He nodded in the direction of the place she’d barely acknowledged when she arrived. “That is, if you can handle sludge that’ll grow hair on your chest.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally released her hand. “Sludge?”

  He flashed her a grin that would make a lesser woman’s knees weaken. “Just sayin’ I put more than twice the amount in the coffee pot than is called for. My sister, Bailey, says you can stand a spoon in it.”

  Celine grimaced. “Sounds…like it would probably get me through this before anyone gets decapitated.” She glanced at the people scurrying around them. “No, decapitation is still a possibility.

  Jayson grinned and shook his head as he slid the shotgun back into its scabbard. “Come on over.”

  She pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Give me about fifteen minutes to take care of a couple of things and get my Xena sword.”

  Jayson took the horse’s reins and gave Celine a questioning look.

  She shook her head. “Never mind. I have to get coffee before my Hyde side returns.”

  He gestured in front of them. “Ladies first.”

  She walked past. “I always heard cowboys are notorious for being gentlemanly.”

  “Notorious, huh?” He and the Border Collie fell into step with her as he led the chestnut mare. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Right now, it’s a good thing.” She glanced at him and found it refreshing to not be eye-to-eye to a man or looking down. She’d always liked a tall man, and Jayson qualified.

  Not to mention he qualified for a whole lot more.