Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders)

by Lorelei James

There was a moment of awkwardness when they faced each other. But then Rory said, “This is ridiculous,” and leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the mouth. “We’re adults. We can be professional about this.”

  “Agreed. So at the risk of offending your professional status, do you need help unloading?”

  “No. I’ve got it.”

  “Cool.”

  They were ready to go at the same time.

  “Do you have a preference what I show you first?” Dalton asked.

  “Natural boundaries. Then where you’d supplement with fencing. Proposed feed and water sites. And if there’s a section not covered in snow, I’d like to look at the native grass and vegetation, although I realize it’s not an accurate representation this time of year.”

  “All right. Since I know the terrain I’ll lead, but if you have any questions or need me to stop or slow down, just honk.”

  “Will do. But a slower pace is better for me.”

  After adjusting their clothing, heading into the wind, Dalton started down the easiest path. He tried to catalogue the area as Rory might. It did appear a little desolate in this section. No cover at all. Rocky. There was enough vegetation in the summer to run maybe twenty head of cattle but he wasn’t sure what that translated to as far as head of elk. But this wasn’t the area where he’d concentrate the feeding grounds.

  As if she’d read his mind, Rory honked. He stopped and she pulled up alongside of him.

  “In your application, you didn’t plan to utilize this area for anything?”

  “No,” he shouted over the engines. “Too close to the road. I’d add higher fencing, but where I envision the habitat starting is down a little farther.”

  “Thanks. Let’s go there.”

  When they arrived at the first section, about halfway into the piece of land, with the natural boundaries, they left the ATVs and walked.

  Rory didn’t say much. She took out a small notebook and wrote in it. She’d ask a question or two. Do the silent survey thing and they’d move on. Seemed they walked most of the bottom half of the property. She was very thorough—he’d give her that.

  The wind kicked up and snow started coming down harder. Pretty snow—huge flakes that swirled like a white tornado in the gusts of wind.

  She moved closer to him. She’d worn coveralls and a heavy jacket, just like he had, but even three layers wasn’t much protection. “Getting nasty out here. Let’s head back.”

  The trek back to the ATVs was uphill and straight into the wind, making conversation impossible. By the time they reached the vehicles they needed to catch their breath.

  Dalton faced away from the wind, resting his backside on the back end. He tugged Rory against him. “Lemme be your windbreak until we’re ready to go.”

  “Thanks.”

  Maybe it made him a sap, or stupid, but it felt right in that moment. Holding Rory while the snow blew around them. She anchored him in a way he’d never imagined.

  She stepped back. “Okay, my lungs stopped burning.”

  “Mine too. I’ll lead the way.”

  Even with all the stops on the way down, it still took them longer to get back up to the flat land.

  After they’d loaded their respective four-wheelers, he said, “Wanna sit in my truck while your vehicle warms up before you head back?”

  “That’d be great. I have some more questions anyway.”

  Rory ditched the hat and the hood before she loosened the scarf and pulled off her gloves. “Man. I didn’t know we were supposed to get a snowstorm today.”

  “We’re not.” He removed his gloves and grabbed the thermos from the bench seat. He twisted the cup off the top and unscrewed the lid.

  “Is that…hot coffee?”

  “Yes ma’am. Don’t know how hot it is anymore.” Dalton poured the steaming liquid in the cup and passed it to her. “Have the first sip. We’ll share.”

  Rory tipped the cup and drank. Then she moaned. “Still hot enough. God. This is heaven.”

  “Few things are better than a cup of hot coffee after you’ve been out workin’ in the cold.”

  “True.” She gulped the remainder and passed the empty cup back. “Your turn.”

  He poured himself a cup and couldn’t help but sigh after the first sip. He reached over and cranked the heat higher. “You said you had more questions?”

  “Biggest one is why do you think you can keep elk within the boundaries?”

  “Because they’re dumb. Give ’em food and water in the same place and they’ll stick around. No different than cattle really.”

  “What about when the male elk are in the rut? Think the bulls will go looking across other pastures for more cows to breed?”

  “I don’t think so. The way to keep that from happening is limiting the number of bulls. Given the size of the farm, I’d say between forty and fifty elk is the maximum number for the herd. Then cycle the bulls out after two years. Let someone else grow bulls for size and horns. I’m more interested in keeping a healthy herd and that means calves. Isn’t the survival rate of an elk calf in the wild under ten percent, given the number of predators?”

  Rory nodded. “The whole let-nature-run-its-course argument isn’t valid. Especially not in Wyoming. The state has been supplementing feed for the Yellowstone and Teton herds since the 1930s.”

  “You know a lot about this.” He held up his hand. “Don’t take that the wrong way. I know you’ve got a master’s degree, but to be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure what your degrees were in. Now I understand why your boss selected you for the project. But you oughta be workin’ in Yellowstone or the Tetons. Hell, you oughta be running those programs.”

  She looked at him strangely. Fidgeted. “Can I have another cup of coffee?”

  Why had she hedged? “Sure.” He poured and handed it over.

  “Thanks.” After she took a drink, she asked, “So what will you do if another section of land is selected for this program?”

  “I’ve been lookin’ at land in Montana. My buddy Boden is one of those naturalists. He doesn’t stock elk on his hunting preserve, which is just a backwards way of thinking when he already feeds the damn animals. It’d be better for his business if he could guarantee an elk to the guys who pay the astronomical out of state hunting fees.”

  “You’d have an outlet to peddle your elk flesh?” she asked with a grin.

  “Yep.” Dalton grabbed her hand. “So it’s all on your shoulders whether or not I make this venture work here. If it’s a no go…”

  “What?”

  He shrugged and hated himself for the lie that was about to come out. “Then maybe I’ll have to go.”

  Rory didn’t get indignant and warn him she hated ultimatums. A shrewd look entered her eyes and vanished. “Well. Then let’s hope your land measures up in the end.”

  “Any chance you can tell me who I’m competing against?”

  “No chance. But I will say I’m at the tail end of these inspections.”

  “Saved the best for last, huh?”

  She laughed.

  “Are you comin’ over tonight?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it. Why?”

  “Because I didn’t see you last night and I’m missin’ you.”

  “Dalton—”

  “It’s fine, sugarplum, if you’ve got other plans. Your loss that you won’t get to see the romantic surprise I had for you.”

  “What kind of romantic surprise?”

  “The usual kind. I tell you I’ve got a surprise and refuse to tell you what it is.”

  Rory laid her hand on his cheek. “You are a horrible tease. But I’ll be there.”

  He pressed kisses up the inside of her wrist. “Drive safe.”

  Dalton followed her vehicle out the gate and locked it behind him, wondering what he’d been thinking, promising her a surprise.

  He had a few hours to figure it out.

  Rory had just finished her last inspection of the day and was finishing up notes, when h
er phone rang with an unfamiliar number. “May I please speak to Aurora Wetzler?”

  “This is Rory.”

  “Ah, so I see you did list that as your preferred name. This is Lonna Davis, administrative coordinator from the Cooperative Ecosystem Studies Unit in Missoula. We received your application for the opening in the Ag management division. We wondered when would be a good time to set up a phone interview with the CESU director?”

  Holy. Shit. Stay calm. She’d sent in that application four months ago. Since she hadn’t heard anything, she’d assumed the position had been filled. “I imagine the director is busy, so what would work best with his schedule?”

  “He’s free Thursday afternoon. Around three o’clock?”

  “That would work.”

  “Excellent. Is this the best number to reach you?”

  “Yes.”

  “If anything changes I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After Rory hung up she had to recheck the caller ID to make sure she hadn’t been dreaming. Yep. Montana area code.

  A phone interview was huge. She hadn’t made it past the application status with any of the jobs she’d applied for in the last six months.

  And now she had two possibilities.

  She’d gotten a callback from the BLM in Cody, which she hadn’t expected. She had an in-person there next week—barring any road-closing snowstorms. So Dalton bringing up her qualifications for a job in Yellowstone would’ve been the perfect time to tell him about the interview. But then he’d made that crack about leaving Sundance if he didn’t get awarded a permit, and she was glad she’d kept her mouth shut.

  Chances were slim she’d get the Yellowstone job anyway.

  She’d looked at the job description for the assistant’s position in Buffalo and decided not to apply. Although the fulltime job paid well, it was close to what she faced every day at the WNRC—busywork that had nothing to do with her degrees.

  As much as she appreciated that Dillon had put in a good word for her with the Wyoming State Parks in Sheridan, even if she got a callback from them she’d wonder how much of that was due to Dillon’s influence.

  But this CESU job…she’d applied for that one on her own. So if she made it past the phone interview she might have a chance at scoring her dream job.

  Rory couldn’t help but squeal with excitement. But it would be nice to have someone to share her excitement with.

  “No offense, Dalton, but this is not what I’d call a romantic surprise.”

  “What? A few games of ping pong will get your blood pumping.” He bounced back and forth at the end of the ping pong table like a professional tennis player awaiting a serve. “It sure does mine.”

  Rory lobbed the ball at him. “You don’t need any additional stimulus in the blood pumping department, Mr. McKay.”

  Dalton grinned. “Come on baby. Show me whatcha got.”

  “I suck at this.”

  “No, you don’t. You did great when we played it on the Wii.”

  “Not the same. It’s like believing I can be a rock star because I shredded on Guitar Hero.”

  He lifted a brow. “Shredded? Woman, I totally wiped the floor with you. High score, remember?”

  Rory shook her paddle at him. “That’s what I mean. You are so competitive!”

  “Winning competitions is the best way to prove my manliness. To show you that I can protect you and provide for you.” He grinned. “And rock your world with a bitchin’ power ballad that makes you wanna get nekkid with me.”

  “Oh. My. God.”

  He laughed. “So we playin’ this or what?” He crouched and spun his paddle. “I’ll even let you serve.”

  “Since I’m pretty sure I’m gonna lose, I’ll only play if I get to pick our next activity.” When she saw the glimmer in his eyes, she amended, “An activity with our clothes on.”

  “Shoot, sugarplum, that ain’t no fun. Winner should get to choose.”

  “Fine. Winner’s choice. Let’s get this over with.”

  Dalton pitched Rory the ball. “Serve it up.”

  The first game didn’t last long; Dalton won by four points.

  He said, “Best two out of three?”

  The second game…Rory won by two points. She acted surprised. “Wow. We’re tied up. How’d that happen?”

  That’s when Dalton got suspicious.

  And his suspicions were justified when Rory creamed him in the third game by thirteen points.

  Her victory dance was short-lived. She had six feet three inches of bested cowboy in her face.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Rory smirked. “Think you’re the only one who can bluff, McKay?”

  The muscle in his jaw worked as he stared at her.

  She hadn’t thought this new improved Dalton would be a sore loser. “What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t expect that kind of sneaky-assed behavior from you, Rory.” The hard line of his mouth softened when he grinned. “Which is why it’s so awesome!” He picked her up and spun her around. “You totally had me snowed. I might make a poker player out of you yet.”

  She snorted.

  “So tell me how you’re so damn good at ping pong.”

  “The bar I worked at in Laramie had a ping pong table. And since I bartended there for four years…I got pretty good. Used to have guys demand to play me for free shots.”

  “How many free shots did you give away?”

  “One. But the guy was a tourist and had been a championship ping pong player in China or something. So I gave him a whole bunch of shots, got him drunk and challenged him to a rematch.” She buffed her nails on her shirt. “I beat him. Not the most stellar example of fairness, but hey, I won and that’s all that mattered to me.”

  Dalton laughed. Then he kissed her. “I love that you constantly surprise me.”

  “Speaking of surprises…how did you come up with playing ping pong as a romantic surprise for me?”

  “Lucky guess?”

  Rory poked him in the chest. “Try again.”

  “An odd whim?”

  Another two pokes to his chest as she shook her head. “Tell me.”

  “Here’s the truth. I’d intended to take you out for a nice dinner at Field’s. Renting a private room, hiring one of them fiddle players that walks around.”

  “You mean a strolling violinist?”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Anyway, I thought it’d be romantic, sharing a candlelight four course meal, champagne, roses, chocolate…”

  “But?”

  His gaze hooked hers. “But since you inspected my land today, I worried all that hearts-and-flowers shit might look like a bribe. Not only to you but to others in the community and I’d never put your professionalism at risk.” He blushed but didn’t look away. “So I brought you to the community center for a game of table tennis, an activity which ain’t romantic and you’d never mistake as a bribe. Especially since you whupped my ass.”

  The man was an idiot. A sweet idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. And she was so insanely in love with him it scared her.

  “So since you won our battle, you choose what happens next.”

  Rory ran her palms down his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms. On the way back up her fingers traced the cut muscles and well defined bulk. She loved seeing him in sleeveless black T-shirts, the tighter the better. He worked hard on this body, he oughta show it off. She curled her hands around the back of his neck and leaned in to rub her mouth across his pectoral. And she got that rush of want from his scent—laundry soap, sweat, deodorant and his underlying musk.

  “Rory, you keep doin’ that and I won’t be able to walk out of here.”

  “I can’t help it. Sometimes I just look at all this—” her hands slowly cruised down his chest, stopping on his abdomen above his pelvis, “—and I’m blown away that it’s all mine.”

  Dalton’s fingers on her chin lifted her face to l
ook into her eyes. “Are you admitting you own me every bit as much as I own you?”

  Her this-is-just-sex side didn’t even bother to speak up anymore. Nor did it lodge a protest when she said, “Yes.”

  “Need to get you home. Now,” he said in that low, dangerously sexy growl.

  She swept her lips over his in a fleeting kiss. “Hold that thought. I won so I get to pick the next activity.” Took every ounce of restraint to step back instead of closer.

  “I hope it’s wrestling.”

  She laughed. “Nope. But it does begin with a W.”

  “There ain’t a pool in there so it doesn’t have to do with water.”

  “It’s weight lifting. You lift; I get to watch.”

  “Why in the hell would you wanna watch me lift weights? Lots of grunting, straining, sweating.” His eyes narrowed. “Get that look off your face, jungle girl. It’s not even close to sex and it sure ain’t sexy.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I? It’ll be interesting to see you pump something besides me for a change.”

  So she’d never actually watched a lover working out with weights before. Oh, sure, she’d seen guys lifting weights in the gym. Quite a few of them had amazingly hot bodies, but it hadn’t affected her beyond her appreciation for the strength and beauty of a buffed up masculine form.

  But watching Dalton pumping iron? Whole. Different. Story. Seeing his biceps and triceps flexing and glistening with sweat. Taking in every inch of his bulky forearms. Seeing the strain across his shoulders beneath his T-shirt as he pulled on the weight and pulley thing. Watching the V ripple in his quads as he performed squats and that also caused the thick bulge in his calf to contract.

  Wasn’t like Dalton paid attention to her attentiveness to him. He remained focused on each exercise and when it ended he’d move to the next one. He didn’t watch his weightlifting form in the mirror like she’d seen so many other gym rats do. No admiring smug glances as he stared at himself.

  She knew he’d started working out in hotel fitness facilities as a way to stave off boredom before poker tournaments. It wasn’t like Dalton was overly muscular with biceps bigger than her waist or his own neck. He needed that strength in his logging job. He didn’t work out to impress anyone, although that cut, ripped and toned body was an impressive benefit. For her.