Harvest at Mustang Ridge

by Jesse Hayworth

  Make that angry. And, based on the gasps coming from behind her, really not helping the situation.

  “Like I said,” she repeated pleasantly, “everything’s fine. No harm done.” To the ladies, she said, “We have an extensive herd of rescued or retired horses and cattle, and my grandfather here sees to their special needs.”

  “Ayup,” he agreed, eyeing Betty Crocker with zero affection. “We’ve all been put out to pasture.”

  “Hey, Gwen and Charm,” Wyatt said, nudging his horse up beside the two greenhorns. “Could you guys help me put Jupiter away?”

  “Really?” Charm’s eyes lit at the prospect of handling the mare, who was normally off-limits to the guests. “Come on, Gwennie.”

  “But breakfast—”

  “Won’t run out. And the Brothers Studly will be totally impressed that we got to help with Jupiter.”

  As they left, Krista made a mental note to remind the others—especially the firefighter brothers, who unfortunately might take it as a dare—about the barn rules and the off-limits horses. Wyatt had saved the moment, though—it would take him three times as long as usual to untack and groom Jupiter with the greenhorns’ help, but he’d given them something better to talk about than a loose cow on an almost-rampage.

  She would thank him properly for that later. In the meantime . . .

  Tucking her hands in her pockets and turning to look off toward the hills—Big Skye didn’t do well with a direct confrontation unless he started it—she said, “What happened up there?”

  He harrumphed. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  Maybe not—livestock got loose all the time on a ranch, and it got dealt with. And, more, the Over the Hill Gang was his bailiwick, and he didn’t take to meddling, especially coming from her. But Betty Crocker was different, and Mustang Ridge didn’t need videos of her on a rampage to hit YouTube with catchy titles like Cow In Da House and Udder Chaos. Knowing she was treading on unsteady ground, she said, “Could you use an extra set of hands up there? Maybe we should hire on an assistant.”

  “Leave it,” Big Skye ordered, leveling his hat on his head. “My herd, my problem. I’ll tighten up the fence, maybe add a second line and another gate.”

  “Like an airlock.” She nodded. “Feel free to grab Deke or one of the others if you need help.”

  “I said I’ll handle it,” he said sharply. “You want me to run the herd, then let me do it. Either that, or fire me and put me out there with them.”

  “I was just—”

  He wheeled Bueno and rode off in a clatter of hooves and a spray of gravel. Which left her standing there staring after him, not sure whether to be mad or sad for him . . . and feeling it for herself, instead. Because no matter how many times she told herself it was okay that she wasn’t his little cowgirl anymore, it still sucked eggs.

  “He’s wrong,” Wyatt said from behind her.

  “It’s fine,” she said. It was nothing she hadn’t heard from her grandfather before, after all, along with so many variations on the theme. “And it’s still better than it used to be.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  She turned as he approached. “Seriously. I’m fine.” And he hadn’t signed on for the messy stuff. “I’m used to dealing with Grumpy Gramps.”

  “Okay, then let’s say that I need a hug after the stress of dealing with your rogue milk cow.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Just let me lean on you for a minute, okay? Then we’ll get back to work.”

  Her resistance melted as his warmth and scent enfolded her. She burrowed in, rested her cheek against his chest, and sighed. “I’m sorry Betty Crocker stressed you out. She’s a very naughty cow.”

  “Lucky for me, I was on a heck of a horse.”

  Her lips curved. “Jupiter is that. Can you believe how far she’s come?”

  “I almost can’t. I even checked her over the other day, seeing if I could find signs that she was someone’s escaped saddle horse.”

  “Great minds—been there, done that. I didn’t find anything. You?”

  “Nope. I think we just lucked out.”

  It was a nice thought, and one that she needed right now. Lucky me. “You didn’t leave Gwen and Charm alone with her, did you?”

  “No, ma’am. Deke is overseeing things, and under orders to give them five minutes and escort them back to breakfast. I wanted to get back here and make sure things went okay with your grandfather.”

  “Which they did.”

  He didn’t argue, but he didn’t agree, either. He just dropped his chin onto the top of her head, in a gesture that made her feel small and safe, and reminded her of being in the workshop with him last night. After a moment, he said, “There’s one more thing. About tonight.”

  Disappointment thumped, but she covered it with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it—it’s no big deal. I’ll tell Jenny that you’re not up for the inquisition, and we’re going to keep this to ourselves.” He had been there when she needed him, after all. She could give him a pass on this one.

  He gave her a little shake. “That’s not what I was going to say. I was thinking we should turn those drinks into dinner. Take our time. Enjoy ourselves.”

  Her heart bumped in her chest. She didn’t look up at him, didn’t dare let him see that it really was a big deal to her. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to—”

  “I’m sure.” He tightened his arms around her. “I’ve already done the meet-the-parents thing. How bad can your sister and best friend be?”

  17

  Between schedules and guest stuff, it was Saturday night before the triple date actually happened, which meant that the parking lot of the Rope Burn—a cowboy bar with all the trimmings, from the neon beer signs to the hitching rail out front—was jam-packed full. With a whole lot of blue collar spilling out onto the front porch with beers in hand and Aerosmith pumping through the open door, it was just the sort of place Wyatt would be happy kicking back with a brew to do some unwinding. In fact, he and Sam had done just that once or twice.

  Tonight wasn’t about unwinding, though—it was about Krista. Meeting her sharp-edged twin wasn’t exactly tops on Wyatt’s wish list, but it was important to her. And for all that her family loved her and vice versa, he had noticed that nobody really did much for her at Mustang Ridge. Sure, her gran did the food-is-love thing, and any of them would pitch in to help with the chores and the guests when Krista asked, but she always had to ask. Which made him think it might be lonely at the top of Mustang Ridge some days.

  At the moment, though, she looked far from lonely. Wearing a ruffled blue skirt and a calico button down shirt with a subtle fringe, with her hair down and a layer of pale pink lipstick that made him want to home in and take a nibble, she grinned at him as he parked Old Blue in the far corner of the dirt lot, between two other equally disreputable farm trucks. “They’ll behave, I promise.”

  “Why? Did you threaten to interrupt the cookie pipeline?”

  “That only works on Jenny. But I told Foster that if he gave you any grief, I would book back-to-back Singles Weeks next year and then take a vacation and leave him in charge of everything.”

  “Evil,” he observed as he came around and got her door for her, handing her down from the cab. “I like it.” Taking her hands, he drew her in for a kiss that she returned with interest. They had spent time outside of work every day that week, riding out together, working on the hot tub, and just enjoying each other. They had even played around in the workshop, though the Doorknob Kiss, as they had dubbed the piece they had made together, was the only thing that was even vaguely worthwhile so far. The rest had just been tinkering. And each night, she spent an hour or so in his bed and then slipped home—no fuss, no drama, no expectations beyond what they had already agreed to. Now, determined to give her a nice night out, he eased the kiss, tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm, and said, “Shall we?”

  She patted his hand. “Thanks for this. You’re a good sport.”<
br />
  “Remember that when it comes time for my quarterly job review.”

  “Your performance gets an A-plus from me, cowboy. Especially that thing with the chocolate sauce the other night.” She blinked innocently up at him. “Or wasn’t that the performance you meant?”

  “Sassy. I like it.” He dropped a kiss on her nose, and they headed for the Rope Burn.

  The place was Saturday-night loud and crowded, with bodies piled two and three deep at the bar, a bearded DJ on the stage transitioning from Aerosmith to George Strait, and a two-step happening on the dance floor.

  “Come on!” Krista yelled over the din. “We usually grab a booth in the back.”

  Sure enough, in the relative peace and quiet of the far back room—which was still pretty loud—a couple of tables had been pulled together to accommodate a crowd. There was a tough-looking guy on the end with his leg encased from crotch-to-ankle in a hospital brace, and propped up on a chair. Beside him was a pretty, dark-haired woman in a vivid red shirt, with buttery black leather thrown over the back of her chair. Next came a lean, tanned guy with shaggy hair and a capable air that suggested he’d be equally at home doing intricate surgery on a house cat in a sterile clinic or a water buffalo out in the field. And beside him was Jenny, who might not be glaring daggers at Wyatt like she had at the lottery, but didn’t look all that welcoming, either.

  “Cookies,” Krista singsonged, dropping into the chair beside her twin. Then, as Wyatt took the last empty seat, she said to him, “You’ve probably put it all together, but the guy in the soft cast is Foster, and the bombshell beside him is Shelby. That’s Nick, who’s our go-to guy when the horses do what horses do and try to kill themselves in the most expensive ways possible, and you know Jenny.”

  “Hey,” her sister protested. “I’m a bombshell, too!”

  “Of course you are, but saying it feels weird, because that’s the same as saying it about myself.”

  “Not even, blondie.” Jenny tugged Krista’s hair.

  “Anyway,” Krista continued, “that’s everyone. And everyone, this is Wyatt. Be good.”

  Bull by the horns, he thought, and said, “Nice to meet you all, but I figure there’s no point in playing games.” Looking at Jenny, he added, “You got something to say, go ahead and say it. I care about Krista, and she cares about you, and I don’t want her caught in the middle of anything if I can help it.”

  There was a moment of surprised silence. Then the waitress bopped over, wearing a checkered shortie apron over an even shorter pair of cutoffs, and said brightly, “Welcome to the Rope Burn! What are we drinking tonight? And can I recommend our Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down appetizer special?”

  “That depends.” Wyatt nodded to Jenny. “What do you say?”

  Her lips twitched. “I came in thinking I might want the He’s Not Worth It nachos, but now I’m not so sure. Give me a Corona Lite and an order of chicken fingers.”

  “They don’t have a cutesy name?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Nick said drily, “the I Wouldn’t Push Your Luck nuggets.”

  The waitress frowned. “I’m not sure we have those. Do you want me to ask the cook?”

  When everybody laughed and Krista squeezed his fingers under the table, Wyatt decided that might’ve been the right way to go, after all. After some “I’ll get that if you split yours” negotiations, he ordered nachos for him and Krista to share, along with a Coke.

  “Not much of a drinker?” Jenny asked as the waitress skipped off with a jingle from the pair of roweled spurs she wore on a pair of low-cut boots that probably hadn’t ever made it near a horse for anything more than a calendar shoot.

  “Now and then. Figure on keeping my wits about me tonight, at least for starters.” He slung his arm over the back of Krista’s chair, grateful that she was looking more amused than annoyed by the back-and-forth.

  Jenny leaned in. “I went to school with Kai Vitelli.”

  On a scale of one to what-he-was-expecting, that scored pretty low. He searched his memory banks. “Multimedia artist-slash-ski bum. I did some welding for him last winter.”

  “That’s the one. I asked him about you.”

  That was the downside of Damien’s PR machine. Enough Web searching and the degrees of separation plummeted. On the upside, he didn’t think there was much Kai could say about him that went beyond the stuff in his official bio. “And?”

  “He said you’re one of the most down-to-earth people he’s met in the Denver scene. Honest. Hardworking. Reliable.”

  “Coming from him, I’m not sure that’s a compliment. As far as he’s concerned, an artist isn’t the real deal unless he’s on the edge.”

  “Maybe not, but when you’re dating my sister, it’s a good thing. Especially given the history.”

  “Jen-ny,” Krista said in warning.

  “No,” he said. “It’s cool. I’d rather get it out there.” This was something he could give Krista. Something she would never ask for. To Jenny, he said, “You ever do something that you thought about long and hard at the time, and were sure you were making the right call, only to look back later and realize you’d been a hundred percent wrong?” When Krista shifted beside him, he squeezed her shoulder in what he hoped was reassurance that this would be over soon, and the rest of the night—and going forward—would be better for it. “I was a jerk to leave the way I did—no argument there. But that was a long time ago. I’d like to think we’ve all learned some lessons since then.”

  “And this is you making up for it?” Jenny wagged a finger between them.

  “No. Me filling in for Foster was, in part. Krista and me getting involved has been something else entirely.”

  “Which would be what?”

  “Our business. I hope you’ll respect our privacy and let me leave it at that.”

  She grumbled but dropped it. Wyatt was tempted to look under the table and see if Nick’s foot was atop hers, bearing down. Figuring they might as well go around the table at this point, he asked, “Anyone else?” To Foster, he said, “How about it? I know you and Krista have been friends a long time. You want to take a swing at me?”

  The wrangler—who seemed the quiet, thoughtful sort—said, “That depends. How’s the gray mare coming along?”

  “She’s good. Smart as a whip and taking to the tricks like nobody’s business. She keeps going this way and we’ll have a chance at the finals.”

  Foster nodded. “Just don’t push things too far, too fast. You do that, and the two of us are going to have a problem.”

  And suddenly they weren’t talking about the horse anymore. “I don’t intend to push,” Wyatt said. “Not like that.”

  “We’re good, then.”

  The waitress appeared, her bounce diminished by a loaded drink tray. A server trailed behind her bearing appetizers. “So,” she said brightly, “who ordered the Let’s Move On Already fries?”

  *

  By eight that night, Krista was wrapped in a warm glow that came partly from a couple of beers with dinner, but mostly from good food, good friends, and a lively conversation that bounced from horses to advertising to TV and back again. By nine she was giddy, watching Wyatt and Jenny go head-to-head in a game of nine-ball that she suspected he was keeping closer than it needed to be. And by ten, after the others had called it a night and Wyatt claimed a slow dance before they left, she was floating.

  The dance floor was still full, but it was no hardship to snuggle up against him, with her head on his shoulder and his arms forming a protective barrier between her and the rest of the jostling dancers. His scent seeped into her pores, his heat into her bones, and her belly tugged with the knowledge that they’d be heading back to his place soon.

  “Thank you,” she said against his throat.

  His arms tightened around her, pressing her close in a full-body hug, and his wonderful voice rumbled in her ear. “I don’t mind dancing, especially with a beautiful woman in a long, swishy skirt.”

  “Not for
the dance. For dealing with Jenny the way you did. It made tonight a thousand times better than it would have been if we were all trying to avoid the elephant in the middle of the room.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a mechanical bull.” But he kissed her temple. “They’re good people, and they love you. A guy’s got to respect that.”

  Not all of them would, though, she knew. And very few of them would have handled the situation the way he had. “Still. Thanks. You ready to get out of here?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” But he kept holding her close, swaying to the music. After a few beats, he said, “Will you stay the night?”

  She thought about her guests and her family, and said. “Why not? I don’t think I’ve ever officially done the walk of shame before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” he said solemnly.

  Yes, there was. For the first time, she was in a relationship for the pure fun of it—not because she was thinking about a ring and a baby, or because she was trying to prove a point, but because she was exactly where she wanted to be. And how awesome was that? Grinning up at him, she patted his cheek. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s take this dance horizontal.” She didn’t have to ask him twice.

  18

  Rustlers Week galloped past with a Singles Week on its heels, and suddenly they were down to three weeks before the finale, when the contestants were invited to show off their horses in the annual Summer’s End Parade. First thing that morning, Wyatt loaded Jupiter and Lucky into the trailer, and he and Krista hit the road for Three Ridges.

  She looked pretty as a sunrise in green chaps that were studded in silver and edged with an iridescent fringe, paired with a big, flashy belt buckle she had won at a long-ago rodeo, and a gleaming white shirt that was fringed in green and silver, and had the ranch’s name and logo splashed on the back. With her hair in braids and her snow white hat dressed up with a tooled leather band and a peacock feather, she looked bright and vivid, and like she was ready to take on the world. She grinned over at him as they drove. “The others are going to eat their hearts out when they get a load of Jupiter.”