Halle sucked down half the contents of her refillable water bottle, watching Alastair as she did so. She wanted to inform him that she wasn’t merely a local bumpkin, that she’d in fact spent her junior year of college in Glasgow. But it wasn’t her job to tell a client off. This was Jeremy and Adeline’s friend, so ending the tour here and now was out of the question. And her overdue utility bills demanded she complete the job and get the paycheck. But while she’d play the gracious hostess as best she could, she didn’t have to take Alastair’s attitude. He was on her turf. This was Texas, and she was born and bred by one of the most outstanding Texans ever to live in these parts. Stinging tears tore at her already wet eyeballs at the reminder of her father. She drew in a shaky breath and steeled her spine.
“Excuse me, Alastair. We grow our bugs a bit bigger in Austin than you do in Glasgow. Same for our countryside—it’s easy to think you know where you are, that you’re on the path you started out on, and that you’re safe. But the hills and desert can turn life threatening in a blink.”
“I’m sure they can.” Spoken like the wealthy man he was. Her internet search last night had yielded that Alastair had surpassed “wealthy” a decade ago. He was indeed one of the richest men in the UK. Halle didn’t give an armadillo’s ass. Rich or destitute, all men put their Wranglers on the same way. Although not all fit as well as Alastair’s jeans.
Another reminder that since her father’s death she’d been too busy to date, to contemplate being in a man’s arms. The thrum that Alastair’s good looks spiked in her core underscored her unwitting sexual fast.
“The best equipment in the world, the finest trail horse, the most proficient riding technique—none of them matter if you get lost in the desert, or stranded by a lame animal. It always boils down to wit and humility.” She didn’t mean to sound so bossy but something about the tall Scottish dude and his burr was making her crazy. He looked at her as if she was irking him, too.
“Got it.” His gaze flickered to his mount. “And your best horses are these two? Won’t we need a third for the camping gear?”
Heat rushed her face. “All of the horses at Bluewood are exceptional. I rotate the workload amongst them, and several are in need of a rest. Buster and Buttercup will serve us well. I’ve packed as lightly as possible, with enough for the two of us for four days and three nights. I always take a little extra in case of an unexpected event. I can guarantee you that we’ll be hungry when we get back at the end of that last day, and we’ll have a hearty meal here.” Her other horses were having annual checkups while they were out. Even though her veterinarian gave her a huge discount, it was going to be another costly bill. She’d had the lousiest luck with the timing of ranch and animal maintenance expenses lately. As if someone or something was trying to tell her that she’d never get Bluewood Ranch up and running at a profit again. She shook off the shudder that raced down her spine. Superstitions were nonsense. Not something she was going to share with this billionaire bronco rider wannabe, though. “You’ll have a great ride with Buster.”
“How do you know these two won’t fall ill?”
“They’re perfectly healthy. My vet checked them over last week.” She patted Buttercup’s side and watched Alastair as he smoothed his large hand over Buster’s spotted neck. The pinto was still a bit of a handful but Alastair had insisted on him over Buttercup. Elvis was behind her in the paddock, where Charlie, her ranch hand, had put him as she’d spoken to Alastair. While she would have loved to take Elvis today, he’d just finished up two daylong trail rides in a row. And Buttercup was in need of exercise.
“You’re anxious to let off some steam, aren’t you?” Alastair’s brogue was low and sexy as he spoke to Buster. Something shifted in Halle’s defenses. A man who cared about a horse he’d only just met couldn’t be all bad.
He’s a client. Nothing more. It was sad that she had to talk her hormones down from the ledge that would have her jumping on Alastair in an Austin minute.
Client. He’s a client. It could be her new mantra.
“How long have you known Jeremy, Alastair?”
“Long enough to trust his business judgment. He says Austin is the new Silicon Valley—the place for tech.”
“Yes, but you’re smart to check out the rest of Austin.” The real Austin, as far as she was concerned. Away from the congested city and ever-expanding suburbs.
“Am I?” His patronizing expression galled her. Again she wanted so badly to set him straight, tell him that she knew a hell of a lot more about the socio-economic status of a city in which she’d held down a high-level corporate job, but she shoved it down. With what she earned this trail ride, she might be able to pay off the remaining bills for the cedar rail fencing and the latest round of vet expenses.
“Well, then, let’s get moving.”
“After you.” He took his cowboy hat off and used it to emphasize the sweep of his arm toward the start of the trail. A trail etched on Halle’s heart long ago, worn smooth by rides with her father. She looked at the sky to confirm what she already knew—the weather wasn’t on their side today.
“Thank you, Alastair. Normally I’d spend a little more time going over our itinerary with you before we set off, but with the cold front coming in I think it’s best we get a move on. We want to pitch our camp ahead of the rain.” She waved toward the thin silver line visible across the mostly flat parcels of land. Before they made camp the clouds would grow, the wind increase. Winter was coming in its usual, no-nonsense Texas manner.
“A gal after my own heart—I wouldn’t mind making camp sooner, either, as I have some work to do. On my phone, of course.”
“I can guarantee you there won’t be any Wi-Fi where we’re headed, and cellular signal strength isn’t dependable.”
“Ah, ye of little faith, Ms. Ford. I have magic in my pocket that will take care of that.”
“Halle. Call me Halle.” She choked on her words as she really, really wanted to add a playful comment about what exactly the sexy Scotsman had in his pocket but didn’t want to risk that he’d think she was coming on to him. Or that her tourist business offered anything more than a foray into Texas Hill Country. She almost laughed out loud at the thought of her company becoming an escort service.
The morning sun cast long shadows of their figures upon the rolling hills outside the corral. Since Alastair said he knew how to ride, she’d given in to allowing him to ride Buster, her tallest horse by far at seventeen hands. She hated to admit it but his tall, lanky frame fit Buster’s muscular structure perfectly. Alastair Buchanan looked like every woman’s dream of a sexy, chiseled cowboy.
Not her dream, of course. She didn’t care whether her client was attractive or not.
“Jeremy mentioned you’re here to scout out Austin. Are you planning to start a business here?”
“Yeah. Maybe. Something like that.”
She hadn’t meant to sound nosy. “What kind of horse do you ride in Scotland?”
“A big one.”
Halle couldn’t help the glare she knew she shot him when she glanced his way. The crinkles around his eyes made her want to dig her heels into her mount and take off for the hills—the hell with impressing Jeremy’s important friend.
Alastair let out a short laugh. “I’m sorry, Halle, but you’re so serious. I understand that you probably deal with a lot of beginner riders out here as well as wilderness newbies. I’m not that person. I meant it when I told you that I’m interested in seeing as much of the countryside as three days allow me to. There’s no need to put on your regular show for me, or to be so polite with the cocktail banter. Please, can we be a bit less formal?”
“Sure. For the record, though? I don’t put on a ‘show.’ What you see is what you get. I’m interested in anyone who’s thinking of adding to our area. I love this land and make no apologies for it.”
“I’d expect no less.” There he was again, being all polite and sensible, almost gallant. She snorted. Alastair’s voice might sound like she imagined a knight’s would have five centuries ago, but he had very modern sensibilities. Billionaire instincts.
They rode for a few minutes, silent save for the creak of their saddles. Alastair kept looking at his cell phone, which he’d rested on the front of his saddle in some kind of contraption that she’d seen a few clients bring along. She’d required them to put their phones away, for safety. But since Alastair claimed he was an expert rider, she said nothing. If he ended up on his butt because he missed a rough spot in the trail, so be it. As long as he didn’t injure her horse. Or blame her for the fall.
Halle cleared her throat. “So what do you want to know about Austin?”
He switched off his screen and she found herself the sole object of his attention. It was at once intimidating and stimulating. “What brought you here, Halle? To Bluewood, Shadow Creek?”
“That has nothing to do with your exploration of the area, Alastair.”
“It does. You’re young and can manage a ranch. Why not use your talents in another business, something more lucrative?” So he had noticed the worn-down ranch, her inexpensive riding gear.
“I grew up on this ranch. The only time I left was for college, after which I worked for several years in the city. I returned here to run the ranch for personal reasons.”
“What did you do in the city?”
She paused. Alastair was a client, period. She owed him no explanation for who she was, why she was doing this. Working the ranch that had been her father’s heartbeat.
“I’m a CPA. Corporate business.” She looked at her interrogator. “If it’s all right with you, since you’re an experienced horseman, I’m going to take the lead. The horses will appreciate a good workout.”
“Lead on.” Again, the gentlemanly nod. It would look ridiculous if it were any other man doing it, but Alastair Buchanan didn’t strike her as any other man.
* * *
Alastair didn’t mind the rear view he had of his fearless tour guide as he and Halle trotted, galloped and strode over mile upon mile of rough, Central Texas ranch land. It seemed he didn’t mind any view he’d had of her since they’d met. How was it that this woman, a complete stranger to him before this morning, was absorbing all of his attention? He was single and enjoyed dating as much as he could while running the family whiskey and investment business. This had to be a result of knowing he was going to be alone with her for several days, with no interruption. He trusted Jeremy implicitly—his friend wouldn’t steer him wrong as far as suggesting he get to know more about the Texas countryside with Halle. And Jeremy had encouraged him to flirt with her.
It wasn’t Jeremy’s fault that Alastair had fought against his boner since meeting Halle.
Telling himself to get a grip, Alastair forced himself to concentrate on the countryside instead of Halle’s ass. If only for a minute. Or thirty seconds.
It was different from any other kind he’d seen before. Flatter and far less green than his family properties in Scotland, but stunning in its plain ruggedness. And the unexpected copses of trees in Texas—they were unique, as were the several creeks and rivers they’d rode around and through all day. The sun was warm and the breeze almost crisp. He had a hard time believing it was due to storm anytime soon, as the skies were bluer than Loch Ness in September. Save for the line of clouds at the very edge of the northwestern horizon. He already felt connected to this land, something he didn’t experience with every business deal, to be sure. Alastair enjoyed travel and prided himself on learning about local cultures wherever Clyde Whiskey had interests. But Texas already felt far more important, far more significant to him than a place to invest in tech. His gut told him his fearless tour guide might have something to do with it, but it wasn’t just about sexual attraction.
Used to trusting his intuition in business, he was thrown off balance by how strongly he felt about Halle and Texas. It was more than a good hunch; it was more like a soul moment.
The jet lag must have caught up to him. He’d faired fine over his first week, but now, in the Texas wilds, his circadian rhythm was doing a quick two-step.
“Let’s stop over there for lunch.” He heard her suggestion with great relief. Food, that was what he needed. Sustenance. Halle’s profile was partially hidden under her cowboy hat as she spoke over her shoulder. He tore his gaze from her body, a body that filled out weathered blue jeans in a way that made it easy for him to imagine her naked. Halle sat in the leather saddle as if it were a part of her. He reluctantly looked at the trees she pointed to.
“Looks like the perfect spot.” He guided Buster to the shady area under several willows. They dismounted and he followed Halle and Buttercup. In the few short hours they’d been riding, he learned that in Texas, where there were trees, there’d be some water nearby. Unlike his native Scotland, where lochs and rivers were liable to spring up without any surrounding forest. Sure enough, a small creek gurgled just past the slight rise of mossy ground, beyond the willows.
“We’ll let them get their fill first.” Halle’s voice was quiet, almost contemplative. Alastair stood next to her, their horses providing a sense of privacy on either side.
“It’s amazing how a ride in which your animal does most of the work has the same effect as several hours in the gym.”
Her sharp amber gaze raked his face as if surprised. “Yes. When I lived downtown, I belonged to a gym and hated it.”
“You prefer the outdoors?”
Her eyes widened and he wanted to check himself. Why did everything he said to her sound like a cheap come-on?
“I don’t mind a fun class with lots of loud music, but when the day’s done, I’m most at home here.” Her guard was back up. What made her so wary, so suspicious?
“Do you ever feel threatened out here? With your clients?”
“I have Adeline run a background check whenever I get a request for a private tour. As for you? I trust Jeremy and Adeline. The Kincaids are good people. They wouldn’t send me anyone who I needed to be afraid of.” Her tongue flicked out and licked her lip right before she bit into the plump skin. Instant erection. Holy hell, what was he, a teenager? He tried to recall his most recent dates. He’d only left Scotland a little over a week ago. That meant he’d been away from a woman’s company for what, ten days, a fortnight? Not enough to be losing his cool in front of a sexy Texas babe.
“Er, no, I’m certain they wouldn’t, either. About where we’re spending the night—will there be a shelter of some sort?”
Halle snorted. “I’ve brought two quick-setup tents, one for each of us. This isn’t the Appalachian Trail, Alastair. We don’t have lean-tos out here, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I assure you I can manage. And I’d prefer to sleep under the stars sans any tent or structure. I asked about the shelter to offer it to you.” And to see if they’d be alone the entire four days. He was finding he rather enjoyed the prospect of alone time with Halle Ford.
Save for his work. It seemed he was never without work, never had a break from worrying about his investments. Hiking in the wilderness had always been his way to let go of his responsibilities. He’d camped often as a boy, and enjoyed it through university. When Jeremy had suggested he do this with Halle, Alastair had relished the idea of sleeping on the ground again. What he hadn’t anticipated was such an attractive companion. He’d mistakenly thought he’d regret that anyone was with him, as Alastair’s solitude was his most precious possession. Somehow, Halle didn’t intrude on that for him.
“I’m sure you’re quite the camper, from what you’ve said.” Her tone indicated she didn’t believe it in the least.
“Before you judge me, I have to tell you that there are some business items I still have to take care of, ev
en out here. Is this a good time for me to send off a few emails?”
“Suit yourself.”
He walked to the far side of the shady area and pulled his phone off his saddle. He felt guilty, as if he were infringing on the serenity of their surroundings, on the delightful companionship he was finding with Halle. His gut kept tugging at him, telling him that for some inexplicable reason his time with Halle Ford was precious.
He sighed and started to take care of business. The sooner he was done, the sooner he’d be able to fully enjoy Halle’s company.
More than for calls or texts, his phone was a minisatellite reception tower, all in one unit that fit in his pocket. Being a billionaire had its perks, one of which included solid Wi-Fi in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. He’d lied to Halle, too. He wasn’t checking email—he was checking the London Exchange, and the New York Stock Exchange. One thing that he’d inherited from the long line of Buchanan men who’d turned a farm distillery into a single malt Scotch global empire was his killer business instinct.
And right now, someone was trying to kill his life’s work, his legacy. Someone, either an entity or group of investors, was attempting a hostile takeover of Clyde Whiskey. It was strange, as it had popped up only since he’d arrived at Bluewood. He didn’t have the solid proof yet to alert his team, but he knew it the same way he knew why his family’s Scotch recipe was singularly the best of the best.
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