When Things Got Hot in Texas

by Lori Wilde

  If he was Becky’s Honey Bee, she’d given him more than scraps. “Maybe Becky likes him.”

  “That’s doubtful. Especially after what I saw this morning.”

  He cringed. He certainly hoped the sweet little woman hadn’t witnessed some of the things he’d read about in the diary.

  “When I pulled up to the ranch this morning to deliver the muffins,” she continued, “there was a huge pile of stuffing and fur right in the middle of the road. I got out to investigate and found a ripped-up teddy bear with a note attached to the ribbon around its neck.” She lifted her almost invisible eyebrows. “‘You can’t ignore me forever. You’re mine. Rich.’ Now if that’s not a stalker’s note, I don’t know what is. And if I’d received it, I would’ve done exactly what Becky did. I would’ve ripped that thing to shreds and tossed it in the road.”

  Obviously, Rich wasn’t Honey Bee . . . unless they had gotten into some kind of lover’s quarrel. It was possible with Becky. That woman could provoke a saint.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he said. “It sounds like Becky can take care of herself.”

  “That’s what she wants people to believe, but every woman needs help now and—” An overhead thumping had her looking at the ceiling. “What in the world?”

  Mason got to his feet and headed for the door. Outside, he stepped over the sleeping cat on the porch and moved down the steps. Two men crouched on his roof with sagging tool belts. “Can I help you?” he called up to them.

  One of the men got to his feet and moved closer to the edge of the roof. “Miss Becky sent us over from the Earhart Ranch to fix your roof. It shouldn’t take us more than a couple days. Three tops.”

  “I don’t want my roof—” The other man starting hammering and drowned Mason out. Exasperated, he headed for the ladder propped on the side of the house. But before he could reach it, a car came barreling up the drive and stopped in a cloud of dust. A young woman jumped out. She wore more makeup than a televangelist’s wife, but there was nothing holy about her skintight top and short shorts.

  “Well, Becky certainly wasn’t lying when she said you were hot.” She ran her tongue over her brightly painted lips. “You’re sizzlin’.”

  “It had become Valentine’s amusing pastime to see just how annoyed she could make the mayor of Tender Heart.”

  Chapter 4

  “I can’t believe you set Winnie Crawley on that unsuspecting dude.” Dirk Hadley flipped a hamburger on the cooktop and pressed it down with the back of his spatula. “I’ve been on the receiving end of Winnie’s desire, and believe me, it’s not fun.”

  Becky sat on a barstool at the prep counter and munched on a crispy French fry. Since it was after the lunch rush, no one was in the diner except her and Dirk. “Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you. You love being the subject of a woman’s desires.”

  Dirk shot a sexy smile over his shoulder. And the man had one sexy smile. He would make a great Honey Bee. He was smoking hot and had no desire to get married. It was too bad Becky wasn’t interested in his stinger. An image of Mason’s stinger popped into her head—something that happened a lot lately. But he was not a Honey Bee. He was a snake. A poisonous snake that she needed to stay away from.

  “If you and Gracie wanted the property so badly, why didn’t y’all buy it sooner?” Dirk asked. He spoke with an East Texas twang. Although no one was sure where he came from or what he was doing here in Bliss. He’d just shown up a few months back and started doing odd jobs for the townsfolk. With his devilish charm and ability to do any job well, he quickly became a town favorite. He had worked for Cole on his ranch, Zane and Becky on theirs, and now worked as a short-order cook at Lucy’s Place diner. He had been a darn good rancher and was just as good a cook.

  Becky dabbed another French fry in catsup and polished it off. “Because I have a daddy who thinks if I get too much money before I outgrow my wild streak I’ll spend it on high-strung horses, fast motorcycles, and rundown ranches. All my profits go back into the ranch or into a trust fund that I won’t get until I’m twenty-five.”

  Dirk laughed. “Smart daddy.”

  “More like controlling daddy. He still sees me as his little girl who can’t wipe her nose without his or Zane’s help. Which is exactly why I want my own ranch. I’m tired of never being consulted when they make decisions about the ranch. With my own ranch, I’ll be the boss.” She tapped her chest. “I’ll make the decisions.”

  “But why does it have to be the Reed place? You’ll be twenty-five soon. Why don’t you just buy another piece of land to ranch?”

  She hesitated for only a second. With Gracie in Dallas, Dirk had become her confidant and friend. She trusted him and felt comfortable letting him in on her and Gracie’s secret. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell a soul.”

  Dirk turned from the stove and handed her a plate with a cheeseburger on it. “Let me guess. This has to do with the final Tender Heart book. You found another chapter. It seems everyone in town is looking for that book.”

  It was the truth. The entire town had been searching for more chapters since Gracie had found the first one. As far as Becky knew, another one hadn’t turned up. “No. But it does have to do with Lucy Arrington.” She dug into the cheeseburger, which was cooked a perfect medium, while Dirk turned back to the stove and started scraping off the charred burger remains with his spatula.

  After a while, he asked, “What about Lucy?”

  Becky chewed and swallowed. “She had a lover. A lover she used to meet in the Reed house.”

  Since he hadn’t grown up in Bliss and had never shown any interest in the series, she didn’t expect him to be overly excited. But she didn’t expect him to be angry either. But that’s exactly how he looked when he stopped scraping and turned. His easygoing smile was gone and his pretty gray eyes were narrowed. Obviously, he was a bigger Tender Heart fan than she’d thought and didn’t like the idea of Lucy being anything but pure.

  “And what makes you think that Lucy met her lover in the Reed house?”

  “Gracie and I found her diary in the floor of the house, and it’s filled with stories about her lover Honey Bee. Which means that the house is a historical landmark. It shouldn’t belong to a man who probably hasn’t even picked up a Tender Heart book. It should belong to one of Lucy’s relatives.”

  Dirk’s eyebrows lifted. “You.”

  “And Gracie.” She took another big bite of burger.

  “Except Gracie really isn’t an Arrington by blood.”

  Becky wasn’t surprised he knew about Gracie being adopted. He and Gracie had gotten close before she left. “It doesn’t matter. She loves the Tender Heart series more than anyone.”

  “Have you talked to her since she started therapy? How’s it going?”

  “I talk with her daily, but she refuses to tell me how her therapy is going. She even asked her doctors and therapists to keep her progress from Cole, which leads me to believe that it’s not going well.”

  Dirk stared down at his scuffed cowboy boots. “Damn. I had hoped . . .” He let the sentence drift off.

  No longer hungry, Becky set her cheeseburger down. “We’ve all hoped that she would walk again. But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, and Gracie must be crushed. Before the accident, she was so independent. I know she hates the thought of coming back and being a burden to her brother. Especially now that he’s married to Emery.” She rested her chin in her hand and heaved a sigh. “I thought that if I could buy the Reed place and give her something to come back to that it might make her feel like less of a burden. Like she had a purpose. I really believe we can turn that place into a great ranch.”

  Dirk glanced up, and he got a resigned look in his eyes. “Fine. How can I help you get rid of the guy?’

  After finishing lunch, Becky headed back to the ranch. She needed to check the pond in the south pasture. With the heat wave, water levels were dropping rapidly, and she might have to move the
herd to the north pasture where there was more water. If the drought kept up, they’d have to pipe in water from the municipal system. She prayed it would rain soon.

  The scrolled iron entrance to the Earhart Ranch always made her feel proud. She liked that the ranch was named after the one in the Tender Heart series. The original Arrington Ranch had covered thousands of acres, but her father and his two brothers had gotten in an argument about how the ranch should be run. When they couldn’t solve their differences, they split the ranch up three ways. Her cousin Cole’s father had kept the name Arrington for his ranch. Her cousin Raff’s father had chosen Tender Heart for his ranch’s name. And Becky and Zane’s dad had chosen Earhart.

  As soon as she drove onto the ranch, her cellphone rang. She glanced at the screen on her dash and rolled her eyes. She loved her mama, but talking to Misty Arrington was like talking to an alien from another planet. She and Becky were complete opposites. Misty loved all things girlie. She especially loved planning parties. Now that Zane and Carly’s wedding was over, she was ready to move on to her daughter’s twenty-fifth birthday party. She usually did a surprise party for Becky. But this year, she had decided to bring Becky in on the planning. Which was suspicious . . . and painful.

  “I’m thinking pink,” her mama’s excited voice came out of the truck speakers as soon as Becky answered. “Pink flowers. Pink tablecloths. Those pretty pink puff balls that hang from the ceiling—did you get the pink bra and panty set I sent you, honey?”

  “Yes, mama. I got it. And the other twenty sets you sent me too.”

  “Good. You’ll need pretty lingerie when you get married. It’s not easy pulling a rancher’s attention away from his cows.”

  Becky didn’t mention the fact that she wasn’t getting married. She didn’t want her mama to have a heart attack. She had started planning her only daughter’s wedding from the moment Becky slipped out of the birth canal.

  “Now what about food?” her mother continued. “Your brother insisted on barbecue for his wedding reception, but I think that’s much too messy for a young woman’s birthday. I’m thinking more of a nice seared salmon.”

  Becky hated salmon as much as she hated pink. Okay, so maybe she didn’t hate all pink. The lingerie her mama had sent her was pretty. “Whatever you think is good, Mama. I’ll leave it all up to you.”

  “Then we’ll do fish. I already booked a hotel ballroom here in Austin and I’ll get that string quartet that played for your brother’s wedding. I know how much you love classical music.” Not. “And don’t forget that you need to leave bright and early on Saturday morning,” her mama continued. “We’ll need to go shopping for your dress and shoes, then you have your hair, nail, and tanning appointments before your party that night.”

  Becky stared up at the roof of her truck. Good Lord. She thought birthdays were supposed to be about what you wanted. Not about what your mama did. But she kept her mouth shut. All she cared about was getting her trust fund so she could buy out Mason and get her ranch.

  Her mama continued to talk about the party plans, but Becky stopped listening when a faint bawling drew her attention. She stopped the truck and rolled down both windows. The bawling grew louder, but it was hard to figure out what direction it came from with her mama’s non-stop chatter.

  “Listen, Mama, I need to call you back,” she said.

  “You’d better, young lady. Last time you said that, I didn’t hear from you until the following day.”

  “I promise. Love you.” Becky hung up.

  The bawling continued, and she drove slowly along the road until she reached a point where it was the loudest. It was definitely a baby calf that had gotten lost from its mama or found itself in some other trouble. It didn’t make any sense. They didn’t keep cattle this close to the house.

  She turned off the road and headed across the field. It didn’t take her long to spot the Angus calf. It was tangled in a barbed wire fence. She stopped the truck only feet away, grabbed her gloves, then hopped out and got the wire cutters from the toolbox in the bed of the truck.

  When she reached the calf, he was struggling so much that she had to go back to the truck and get her rope. She quickly straddled him and tied his legs. When he was lying motionless, she realized he was bleeding badly and not from the barbed wire gouges as much as the deep cut on his hip.

  A cut in the shape of an X right over the heart-encircled E of the Earhart brand.

  “All Lance wanted was a relaxing day of fishing, free of mail-order brides. Instead, he stumbled upon Valentine doing her laundry in the creek.”

  Chapter 5

  By the time Mason sent Winnie Crawley and the roofers packing and helped Ms. Marble to her car, he was fit to be tied. And if there was any tying to be done, Mason was usually the one doing it. He didn’t like being manipulated, and he had little doubt that Becky had sent the townspeople to his house as part of some harebrained scheme to get rid of him. Well, it wasn’t going to work. She might be able to bend other people to her will, but she wouldn’t bend him. He intended to set things straight with her right now.

  But finding someone on hundreds of acres of land wasn’t easy. He bounced along the dirt roads of the Earhart Ranch in his Range Rover for what felt like hours before he spotted her bright-red truck.

  He parked on the road and strode across the pasture to the fence she was working on. She was back in wranglers, the snug fit showing off her curvy butt. A butt his hand itched to smack. Repeatedly. But without the jeans. If he was going to spank her, he wanted nothing between her sweet, round bottom and his hand. Before he could let the fantasy unfold, he noticed the blood on her gloves and shirt. He broke into a run. When he got closer to the fence and saw the calf entangled in the barbed wire, he breathed a little easier. But he didn’t like seeing an animal suffer.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  She glanced over for only a second before she started issuing orders. “Hold the piece of wire so I can cut it.” He knelt to do her bidding, but doing Becky’s bidding wasn’t easy. “Not that one,” she snapped. “The one next to it.” He lifted the next wire, and she efficiently snipped it. “Now move down to the next barb and hold him steady,” she ordered.

  The calf didn’t look like it could move with its legs roped and tied, so Mason only rested a hand on its side. The calf jerked, and Becky barked, “Could you just hold him steady? I didn’t take you for a weakling.”

  Mason was not used to being insulted. Especially by a woman who was already on his shit list. His anger simmered down deep as he followed her orders and she finished clipping the wire off. Once the calf was free, she didn’t untie it. Instead, she went to pick it up. It was the final straw.

  “I’ll get him.” Mason physically moved her out of the way before he hefted the calf into his arms. “Where to?”

  “We need to get him to the ranch.” Becky headed to her truck. He expected her to fold down the tailgate so he could put the cow in the bed. Instead, she opened the passenger’s side. “You’ll have to hold him.”

  He understood why he had to hold the calf when Becky backed up and took off over the field. She drove like a maniac.

  “Would you slow down!” he barked as the truck dipped into a pothole. If he wasn’t wearing a cow as a seatbelt, he would’ve been catapulted right through the windshield.

  She glanced over and grinned. “What? Does a little off-roading scare you, city boy?”

  Mason gritted his teeth and kept his comments to himself as she continued to drive like she was at a monster truck rally—hitting more potholes than she missed. It was a miracle that they made it to the ranch in one piece. As soon as Becky pulled up front, she jumped out of the truck and started hollering. Ranch hands came out of the woodwork. One took the calf from Mason, another headed over to Becky.

  “What happened, Miss Becky?”

  “A calf got tangled in a fence in the pasture just behind the bunkhouse.”

  The man looked confused. “But we don’t g
raze the herd there.”

  Becky ignored the statement. “Just make sure that the wounds get washed thoroughly, Jess. And call the vet if they look too deep. I’m going to wash up. I’ll be out in the barn to check on him later.” She turned and headed inside without one word to Mason.

  No thanks for the help.

  No go to hell.

  No nothing.

  As a partner in his law firm and as a sexual dominant, he understood giving orders. But when his orders were followed, he made sure to show gratitude. He hesitated for only a moment before he followed Becky inside.

  The ranch house was so large and spread out that it took him a while to locate her bedroom. It looked just as he expected it to. No pretty lace. No girlie prints. The colors were bold and dark. The furniture was solid and massive. The bed was unmade, and there were clothes and boots scattered all over the floor. He spotted the pair of pink satin and lace panties she’d been wearing the night before. A few feet away was a matching bra. The sound of a shower pulled his attention to the closed door to the right. It wasn’t locked. Obviously, no one dared interrupt Princess Becky in her bath.

  He dared.

  He opened the door without knocking and walked in. She was already in the shower. Her bloody clothes were piled in a corner, and behind the shower curtain she was singing a Miranda Lambert song. Badly. Her voice was off key, and she substituted words. And even though he was pissed, he couldn’t help being amused as he stripped off his bloody t-shirt and tossed it in the corner with her clothes. He turned on the sink and scrubbed the blood off his hands and forearms. He had just finished toweling off when the shower stopped and the curtain slid back.

  He got a glimpse of small perfect breasts with pretty rose tips and a strip of dark between toned pale thighs before she turned to grab a towel. Still, the image was seared into his brain and caused him to harden beneath the fly of his jeans. He was surprised by his reaction. He had seen a lot of naked women, much more voluptuous and sexy than Becky, but none who had got him as hard as a fourteen-year-old with his first Playboy.