Resisting the Rancher

by Kadie Scott

  Will made his way around Mischief’s hindquarters. “Do you think some horses are untrainable.”

  Even Mischief looked around, eyeing her like he had a thing or two to say about that.

  Rusty chuckled, patting the handsome horse’s soft red neck under his black mane. “Of course not. If they’re not a good barrel runner, that doesn’t mean they can’t be good for something else. I know you do a lot of stock horse breeding and training.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Will murmured, but suddenly closer than she’d expected.

  She turned away from Mischief to find Will had worked his way to her while she was talking. A bit too close. She could practically feel the warmth from his body, even in the already sweltering July heat wave taking over Cheyenne.

  But she refused to show she was riled, refused to step back. Bet he’s just trying to mess me up on purpose.

  She shrugged and concentrated on finishing with Mischief. “I do my research.”

  “So, what would you most want to be involved in at High Hill?”

  Rusty paused. No one had ever asked that before.

  She finished one last stroke then dumped the brush into the bucket. “Barrel racing is obviously a passion. I’m also great with steer ropers and stock horses, of course. I’d also be happy to work with Western show horses, not so much dressage. I can do jumpers, but my experience there is limited.”

  She led Mischief into his stall and Will closed the door behind her as she stepped out. Again, too close for her peace of mind.

  “And how many can you take on at once?” he asked next.

  “I like to warm up and cool down the horses.” Before he could argue, she held up a hand. “I know that means less horses a day, but that time with them lets me gain their trust, which I think is important.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She caught the hint of amusement, but at least he didn’t smirk or laugh. Condescending males were one of her hot buttons.

  Rusty sidestepped him, irritated with needing a little breathing space. “Sorry. Dad thinks that’s wasted time, since we have grooms and folks who can do it for me.”

  Will walked with her toward the door. “Everyone has their own method. I asked what works for you.”

  “Right. Well, if I’m doing that, then I can handle as many as six, maybe eight a day. I give every horse a day or two off a week. Which means if I’m riding six a day, I can work with about seven horses total, assuming I’m taking one day off a week myself.”

  “Sounds about right,” was all he said.

  She paused and glanced at him, waiting for a comment or sign of sarcasm. Was this guy for real? She was not used to such a laid-back style. Her father, or even the boys who worked for him, would’ve butted in a hundred times by now with their own thoughts on the matter.

  She blinked in the sun as they emerged from the shadows of the barn. “Any concerns?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Not so far.”

  He must’ve caught her skeptical look because he chuckled. “I’ll try to think of a few over lunch.”

  Lunch?

  Oblivious to her surprise that they were having lunch, he continued. “None of my stock is competing today, and I assume you’re done. How about we head over to Hanovers and continue this discussion. My treat?”

  “Fine by me.” Not a date, not date, not a date. She mentally repeated the mantra to herself. She made a show of checking her watch. “I have to leave by one, though.”

  “Got somewhere to be?”

  “Quick trip to Rising Star. I need to pack up.”

  She didn’t miss the way his brows drew down in a tiny frown. Was that concern? She might be jumping the gun with this job, but if it didn’t work out that didn’t matter. She’d find another. No way was she staying with her father after his most recent ultimatum.

  She waited for the probing questions from Will.

  “Are you taking Mischief with you?” was all he asked.

  Relief trickled through her along with surprise. “No. My friend Maggie’s going to look after him. I’ll be back by tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Seriously? That was it? No demanding she take someone with her? Or insisting she needed to stay here to watch her horse, which was really his sister-in-law’s horse? No reminder that he hadn’t hired her yet, either. Huh.

  She went to turn left toward the lot where she’d parked, but he hooked her by the elbow, tugging her the other way. “I’m in B Lot,” he said.

  “I can meet you there.”

  “Nah. We can talk on the way, then I’ll drop you at your truck when we’re done.”

  Alone in the cab of his truck. Why the heck did that have her all fluttery? She’d been alone with lots of men in trucks and never thought twice about it. Part of her wanted to dig in her heels and insist on meeting him there, but that would be silly.

  “Rusty!”

  No mistaking that voice. She and Will both paused and turned around to see Dave making his way to them at a brisk walk.

  He eyed Will as he caught up with them, but addressed her. “Your dad is looking for you.”

  She tried not to let her irritation show in front of Will. “I have a cell phone, Dave. If Dad needs to talk to me, he can call and arrange a time.”

  Dave’s mouth dropped open for a second. No surprise. Despite the little rebellions like the pink, girly clothes and calling him Daddy, Rusty usually ran to do her father’s bidding, wanting to earn his approval. Not anymore.

  “But he’s waiting,” Dave said.

  “And I have a meeting right now. He should’ve checked with me.”

  She went to turn away, only to have Dave grab her wrist. “I can’t let you leave, Rusty.”

  Will said nothing, but he stepped closer to her and Dave flicked him a wary glance. Still he didn’t let go. “I’m supposed to look out for you.”

  She twisted out of his grip. “Didn’t you hear? I’m leaving Rising Star. You’ll just have to do your job instead, and that no longer involves looking out for me.”

  Poor Dave stood there like a deer on the highway about to be smacked by an eighteen-wheeler. Which was probably close to the truth. She didn’t envy him having to deliver this message to Garrett Walker. Dave had only been doing what the boss said, after all. Even if he’d been a twerp about it.

  She patted his arm. “You could tell Dad you never found me.”

  He let out a huffing laugh. “Yes, ma’am. That might be best.” He tipped his hat to her and Will and walked off the way he’d come.

  “What was that about?” Will asked.

  She sighed, really not wanting to get into the entire drama with her potential new boss. “I think Dad is experiencing some separation anxiety.”

  Deliberately, she played it down. Her daddy issues weren’t anyone’s business but hers anyway.

  *

  Will held the truck door open for Rusty and did his best to keep his eyes off her backside, so nicely displayed in her riding jeans. Today she wore a black western style shirt with a hot pink design across the shoulders and back and at the cuff of her sleeves, with sparkles of course.

  “You sure like pink,” he said.

  She plunked that fine backside in her seat and looked at him.

  Embarrassed at letting his mouth speak before his brain engaged, Will indicated her shirt with a wave. “I haven’t seen you in another color is all, if you don’t count the black.”

  When she didn’t look like she was going to answer, he closed the door and walked around to his side of the truck.

  He’d cranked the engine when she spoke. “My father only wanted boys.”

  He paused with his hand on the gear shift to glance her way.

  Her lips pursed, like she was trying to hold back the words. Will waited. Rusty Walker reminded him of a filly he’d once worked with. She’d been abused by her previous owner and was skittish around everyone and everything. Quiet patience had eventually won her over.

&nbs
p; “You could say that he’s a man’s man and only thinks men have anything of value to offer.”

  Will could read between the lines—a chauvinist father couldn’t be easy for a girl, but especially one with strength and a backbone, like Rusty. “So the pink is you thumbing your nose at him?” he asked.

  She flicked him a wide-eyed glance, her deep brown eyes reflecting her surprise, and laughed. “Good guess. More like reminding him that I’m not a son. After my brother Reed died, Dad tried his hardest to make me into one.”

  That was right. The Walkers had had a son. He vaguely thought he and her brother had been about the same age, but growing up in Wyoming and Texas, their paths hadn’t crossed. Will’d only been doing local rodeos then, but as he’d grown his business, he’d heard something about that. “I’m sorry. About your brother…”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Thanks. He was sort of great.”

  Time to lighten things up. He put the truck in gear. “I’m also sorry you had to wear pink all the time.”

  Her chuckle went straight to his crotch and it tightened uncomfortably. He could deal with that, but what had Will a bit worried was the fact he liked making Rusty loosen up enough to laugh with him. That could get addictive real quick. Too quick.

  At Hanovers, she sat across from him. They ordered from the waitress who popped by. Will changed his mind about his order when Rusty got the chicken fried chicken, because getting the same thing was way too cutesy. So he went with his second choice of steak.

  “Tell me about your operation,” Rusty said as she settled back against her chair.

  A topic that was safe ground. Will leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. “High Hill Ranch has been in my family for generations. It’s located in the Texas Hill Country, south of Fredericksburg and west of Austin. The closest town is La Colina. We run cattle primarily, but also some sheep and goats because they take advantage of some of the rougher, higher terrain in the hills that the cattle won’t climb up to.”

  “Smart,” she murmured.

  Will shrugged. “You gotta work with what you’re dealt.”

  She nodded, and he continued. “I’m one of five siblings, but only three of us have stuck around to run the ranch. My younger brothers, Autry and Jennings, both work with Dad handling the cattle side of things.”

  “Except the rodeo stock?” she asked.

  “Right. Those fall under my side of the business. I’m most focused on the horses—training in various events as well as working stock. But to get into rodeo, as you know, it helps to have the bulls too.”

  Rusty leaned in, and Will tracked the change in her demeanor. Talk about horses and she forgot to be so wary, opening up in a way that lightened her expression. For a moment, she was that woman in the truck dancing like no one was watching. What would it take to get her to be like that with him all the time?

  “Is there a particular sport or event you’re focusing on?” she asked, unaware of his mental musings.

  Damn, she was gorgeous. And so obviously didn’t realize the effect she could have on a man. Maybe that was a good thing, or she could wrap him around her little finger with ease. Will shifted, uncomfortable with that thought, and pushed it aside.

  He shook his head. “I go where the money is, if it makes business sense. Stock horses and rodeo stock are my current big-ticket items. I’m hoping to expand those, as well as branch into other areas.”

  And barrel racers made sense. It was a niche market, but depending on the stock and their reputation, they could sell green horses for around five thousand dollars, higher level riders would often pay as much as thirty thousand dollars for an almost finished trained horse, and the pros had been known to pay as much as a hundred grand for a fully trained horse. Not to mention lessons, and other opportunities. But Will didn’t ride or train barrel racers, which was why he’d pulled Holly into his operation. And now Rusty.

  He let his gaze trail over her features. Stubborn chin, slightly tip-tilted nose, kissable pink lips, and freckles dusted across her skin going with the deep red hair she currently had pulled back in a French braid. She was a petite thing, but by the way she rode, she was also all muscle.

  And damned if that wasn’t attractive as sin.

  Crap. Keep your mind on the conversation, buddy.

  The waitress picked an opportune moment, showing up with their food. Will welcomed the distraction as he tucked into his steak, then glanced up to find Rusty devouring hers.

  He grinned. “Hungry?”

  She smiled around a bite. “I’m always hungry after a ride. The adrenaline, I guess.”

  And, if she was anything like Holly, she probably couldn’t eat before, although he’d bet Rusty would never admit to nerves like that.

  “What do your other siblings do?” she asked.

  Will blinked at her, lost in the change of conversation.

  She waved her fork. “You said you had four siblings, but only two of your brothers are at the ranch. What about the other two?”

  Ah. “Cash is married to Holly. He’s the sheriff in La Colina County. She’s one of the large animal vets in the area. They live in town.”

  She kept eating, but was obviously listening.

  “Carter is the only girl. She and Cash are twins. She got all the brains and is in the middle of her PhD work in hydrologic science and water management.”

  Rusty’s eyebrows winged high. “Wow. Sounds complicated.”

  “You’ll have to ask her what it’s all about. Something to do with water distribution across the country and rights management. She says water is the next crisis.”

  Way to bring it back down to a low note. He gave a mental shake of his head.

  “Wait.” Rusty cocked her head. “Cash, Carter, Jennings…” A twinkle entered her deep brown eyes. “You’re not all named after—”

  “Classic country music stars?” Will grimaced. “Yeah.”

  Her smile widened. “That’s fun. Let me guess.”

  He waved at her to go ahead, and she took a second to think about it. “Johnny Cash and June Carter for the twins obviously. And Waylon Jennings?”

  She glanced at him for confirmation, and he nodded. “Jennings is the youngest.”

  “Autry… Gene Autry?”

  Will smiled. “Yup. Second youngest, and the wildest of the bunch. Watch out when you come work for us. He’d charm the skin off a rattlesnake.”

  Rusty rolled her eyes. “I’m not in the market for a boyfriend anyway.” She eyed him speculatively.

  “What?”

  “I’m trying to figure out your name. All the others use last names. But Will…” She shook her head, thinking hard. “Willie Nelson maybe?”

  “Nope. Do you want a hint?”

  She held up a hand. “I’ll get there on my own.”

  He suspected that was Rusty Walker’s personal mantra.

  She gasped. “Hank Williams? Your name is Williams?”

  Will tipped his water at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And do they all look like you?” The second the question was out, Rusty scrunched up her nose, the expression adorably irritated.

  Had she not meant to ask that? Interesting.

  “Like me?” He couldn’t resist prodding.

  She cleared her throat. “You know. Tall. Dark hair.” Her gaze trailed over him, and Will swore he felt that look like a caress. Now he was imagining things.

  “Blue eyes.” She tacked on, husky voice dropping a note.

  Then she seemed to give herself a shake. Maybe he wasn’t imagining things? He pretended not to notice, despite the way his body hardened at the thought of her reciprocal interest.

  “We all got my dad’s coloring, the Hill coloring, which apparently goes back generations—dark hair and blue eyes. Except Autry, he got Mom’s hazel eyes.”

  “I can’t imagine growing up with so many siblings,” she murmured. “I had Reed around, but he died when I was only eleven. After that, it was just me. Dad laid off
anyone who married and had a kid, insisting family men were distracted workers. So there weren’t any kids to play with on the ranch, only at school.”

  That had to be a lonely existence. “I can’t imagine life without them. Don’t get me wrong, we quarreled, and I’ve had my fair share of black eyes from a tussle or two.” Given them out too, not that he was proud of that fact. “But I know my family have my back. We support each other.”

  Rusty was quiet a long moment, toying with her iced tea, making the sweat gathering on the outside of the plastic cup bead up and drip to the coaster. “We all walk a different path, I guess. Mine made me who I am. Yours did, too.”

  Will stayed silent, sensing Rusty wasn’t too happy. With the comment or the path her life had her on up to this point, he wasn’t sure which. Maybe both.

  Finally, she lifted her chocolate eyes.

  Finding his gaze on her, she sat up taller. “You done with your steak?” She nodded at his plate.

  Will cleared his throat and also sat forward. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rusty scrunched up her nose again. What did he do this time? When she caught his questioning look, eyebrows raised, she did it again. “Please don’t call me ma’am,” she said.

  “My mama raised me right,” he replied. “And it’s just old-fashioned manners.”

  She huffed a laugh. “I’m not objecting to the manners. But ma’am makes me feel about a hundred years old.”

  The woman in front of him—vital and colorful and… beautiful—was so far from an old maid Will had to laugh. “Okay. No more ma’ams,” he agreed.

  Only she didn’t laugh with him. She blinked like she’d realized something, or had been surprised by something maybe. Either way, her stare ratcheted his own tension up another couple of notches. What would she do if he leaned across the table and kissed her right now? No excuse about helping her with a drunk, just a guy wanting to kiss a girl.

  The waitress chose that moment to pop by. “Either of you up for dessert?”

  Rusty’s eyes lit up. “What’s good?”

  “Depends on if you’re a chocolate dessert lover or fruit.”

  “Definitely chocolate.”

  “Then the s’mores pie is the way I’d go.”