The Reluctant Texas Rancher (Harlequin American Romance)

by Thacker, Cathy Gillen

  “I got kicked out of the kitchen and hurried on over here.”

  He turned to her, his eyes eating her up, before he shut the door. “Over your protests, I’m guessing.”

  “Because of my indiscreet behavior this morning, we’re under the microscope now.”

  He stepped closer. “First of all, it wasn’t just your behavior. It was ours. Second,” he murmured, his breath brushing her temple as he gently gathered her in his arms, “they seem to be accepting the notion of us as a couple again.”

  I’m the only one who isn’t.

  Liz drew a deep breath. “Which is not as it should be,” she said, splaying her hands across his chest to wedge a distance between them.

  His eyes became shuttered. “It isn’t?”

  He looked as if he wanted to kiss her. She knew if that happened, they would end up near his bed. And if they were near it, they would soon be in it. Naked. Liz prayed for strength. She looked Travis straight in the eye and in her firmest, most professional tone said, “Your legal situation has to take precedence over all else right now. At least until after the depositions on Saturday.”

  Travis recoiled as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. “You’re right. Of course.”

  Feeling bereft that he hadn’t said to hell with the consequences and kissed her anyway—at least once—she lifted the laptop she’d brought over with her and set it on the table. “So let’s get down to it.”

  Two hours later, they sat staring at all the emails and restaurant receipts they had compiled.

  Travis picked up the closest thing they had to a smoking gun and swore. He read the email in his hand, dated two days before Olympia had signed on as his client at Haverty, Brockman & Roberts. He had written, I still think full disclosure is the way to go.

  Liz picked up another, from Olympia and read, “It’s really not necessary at this point and may never be.”

  Travis sat back in disgust and muttered, “And we both know that can be interpreted any number of ways.”

  Liz couldn’t argue with that. “You never prepared a sample document that would have disclosed your relationship with her? Just for her to look at?” Please tell me you did.

  He shook his head grimly. “There was no point.”

  Liz stayed strong and focused on the positive. “At least we have, through the restaurant receipts, text messages and various emails, confirmation of your social engagements with her and the exact dates of your relationship. That’s a start. And we have the wildcatter’s testimony that you did everything you could to persuade him, to the point you were a major nuisance to him.”

  Travis raked his hands through his hair, then he stood and began to pace. “That could be used against me, too. Olympia could assert that it was my overzealousness that caused her to lose the deal.”

  “Overzealousness prompted by her emails,” Liz corrected, trying not to notice how handsome and sexy Travis looked in the muted light of the cabin. “We have proof of how hard she was pushing you to close a deal with Dobbs.”

  “True,” Travis allowed brusquely. “But we’re going to need more,” he continued, a brooding looking on his face.

  “And we’ll find it,” Liz promised firmly.

  “How?”

  The sound of the dogs’ fierce barking had him abruptly leaving his seat. Liz was right after him. By the time they reached the porch, the two mutts were racing toward the barn, where quite a ruckus of bleating and baaing was going on.

  Liz and Travis gave chase, too. “I hope a predator hasn’t found its way in with the goats!” she panted.

  As it turned out, that wasn’t the case.

  The twelve goats were gathered in the barn, with two in the center butting, shoving and biting. The others were watching, sometimes pushing forward, sometimes stumbling to get out of the way. The dogs were still barking, adding to the commotion, though the two battling angoras paid no attention to them.

  Travis stared. “What the…?” He whistled at his dogs and they swung toward him immediately. He pointed authoritatively toward the door. “Sit.”

  They both complied.

  Meanwhile, the drama with the goats continued, as Buck, the lone male in the group, fought off Queenie, the biggest female in the bunch.

  The bleating and baaing escalated, until the buck went end over end.

  The female stood triumphant.

  All commotion stopped. The buck got up and, seemingly unhurt, wandered off as if nothing had happened. The rest of the herd dispersed, many of them going over to get a drink of water. Others went to lie down.

  Liz scanned the flock, then headed for one goat in the corner and knelt down next to it. “I think this one might be sick.”

  “TRANSPORT STRESS,” veterinarian Kurt McCabe said half an hour later, after he had finished examining the lethargic gray goat.

  He put his stethescope and thermometer away.

  “Fortunately, there’s no sign of pneumonia or shipping fever yet. But she is dehydrated, so I recommend giving her water spiked with molasses, goat Nutri-Drench and some probiotics, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Should we separate her from the herd?” Travis asked.

  Liz knelt down to pet the ailing animal. Although they hadn’t had goats since she was in elementary school, she remembered a lot about caring for them. As well as how docile they usually were. “That would only increase her anxiety,” she said.

  Kurt snapped the latch on his bag and nodded in agreement. He looked at the other eleven goats, which were alternately roaming the barn and huddling in the aisle. “Best to keep them all together while they adjust to their new surroundings.”

  “What about the fighting?” Travis asked in concern, keeping an eye out for the largest female, who still seemed ready to rumble. Luckily, Liz noted, none of the other goats wanted to get rowdy with Queenie.

  “It should settle down in a couple days, once they establish the hierarchy of the herd,” Kurt said.

  “That happens whenever you get a new group of goats together, or diminish an existing herd,” Liz explained.

  “Right again,” Kurt said warmly. He turned to Travis and slapped a companionable hand on his old school chum’s shoulder. “Got to say, Anderson. Never expected you to be herding goats.”

  Nor had Travis, Liz thought, catching his grimace.

  Of course, if Travis hadn’t made a mistake with a client, he wouldn’t be back in Laramie County, never mind here bartering ranch work for legal services.

  Liz fell into step beside the two men as they left the barn. “Given a choice, I am sure he wouldn’t be,” she felt obliged to say in defense.

  Another mistake. Travis didn’t seem to appreciate her aid.

  Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Are you two…an item again?”

  Liz flushed. So much for privacy. “What makes you think that?” she asked, damning herself for having given her feelings away.

  He shrugged. “Body language. The way you’re looking at each other.” He reached his truck. “An air of intimacy or solidarity between the two of you. Take your pick.”

  Suddenly all possessive male, Travis smiled, clamped a hand on Liz’s shoulder and pulled her to his side. Proudly, he told their old friend, “We’re back on again.” He paused to playfully ruffle her hair and kiss her brow. “My only regret is that it ever ended.”

  “DID YOU HAVE TO TELL Kurt that?” Liz demanded irritably when the vet had left, and she and Travis headed for the kitchen to get some molasses. “Now it will be all over town.”

  He watched her mix up a bucket of water and several tablespoons of concentrated sugar. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not interested in you.”

  Liz went to rinse some sticky dark brown sugar off her finger. “The case—”

  “Is about me not being one hundred percent truthful about my relationship with a woman.” Travis joined her at the sink. He stood with his back to the faucet, hips against the counter, brawny arms crossed in front of him.

 
; She tipped up her head and met his gaze, seeing both the heat and the tension there, and her stomach quivered.

  “Had I not agreed to hide my involvement with Olympia before she signed on as a client, at least half this mess I am in would be a nonissue.”

  “It’s not the same,” Liz argued, her voice far too unsteady to convince herself, never mind him.

  He slid an arm around her and pulled her close, brushing his lips across her temple. “It’s exactly the same.” He dipped his head and lightly pressed his mouth to hers.

  Liz moaned in dismay. “You make it impossible for me to think when you do that.” But she didn’t step back. Not yet anyway…

  He tugged her even nearer, leaning his body into hers. “Actually, I believe it’s the other way around,” he murmured. “I think when we’re kissing—” he emphasized the word with a quick, breath-stealing caress “—is the only time either of us think clearly.”

  Without warning, Tillie appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was followed by other family members. “There you are! What did the vet say?”

  Briefly, Travis caught the ladies and J.T.—who was still there, playing cards with them—up on the latest with the goats.

  “I’m about to take the molasses water out to the sick goat now,” Liz said.

  “Before you go…” Tillie rushed out of the kitchen and returned with a FedEx envelope. “I’m so sorry, Travis,” she said, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I’ve been so busy this completely slipped my mind. This came for you earlier today.”

  “Thanks.” He looked at the return address. Liz could see it, too. It was from the human resources department at Anderson Oil. His grandfather’s company…

  “Do you-all want to play cards with us when you finish in the barn?” Reba asked.

  Liz lifted a hand. “Thanks, Mom, but we still have some strategizing to do.”

  Her announcement was met with a quartet of speculative looks. Feeling as if she had been under the microscope long enough, she picked up the pitcher of molasses water. “Let’s get going....”

  Travis tipped his hat at J.T. and the ladies and ambled out after her.

  Once on the porch, Liz paused as he opened the envelope. The look on his face was not promising.

  Liz set the bucket down. “I hope it’s good news.”

  Travis looked at her. “Depends on who’s doing the deciding.”

  Her heart went out to him and she moved closer, glancing at the open V of his shirt and the strong column of his throat. “Feel like sharing?”

  Travis gave her a thoughtful once-over. Wordlessly, he handed her the top sheet of the stack of papers.

  Liz scanned the letter from human resources. “Wow,” she said. “Seven figures plus a signing bonus and the title of vice president.” She swallowed around the sudden constriction in her throat. “Your grandfather is pulling out all the stops.”

  “Don’t forget the corner office on the top floor of the Anderson Oil building in downtown Houston,” he responded drolly.

  An office that would take him far away from her, Laramie County and the Four Winds Ranch. But wasn’t that the goal here? Forgetting that would lead to nothing but heartbreak, and Liz had suffered enough heartbreak at the hands of Travis Anderson.

  She picked up the bucket again and headed across the yard. Travis fell into step beside her even as she forced herself to conclude practically, “It’s a great offer.”

  He reached over and took the bucket from her, easily carrying with one hand what it had taken her two to tote.

  “If that was what I wanted to do,” he agreed, his warm breath brushing her ear. “It isn’t.”

  Silence fell as they continued to the barn. Trying not to think about what the future held—it was enough just to get through the present—Liz grew pensive as they went inside. Travis mixed probiotic powder into goat feed and filled a syringe with Nutri-Drench, an electrolyte, vitamin and mineral concoction.

  Together, they found the ailing goat curled up in the corner where they had left her. Liz held her jaw while Travis emptied the syringe. When the goat had swallowed, they offered the feed, and filled a small water bowl with the molasses and water mixture. They stayed by her side until they got her to drink and eat. Satisfied she was doing okay, the two of them then offered the rest of the goats the same additional nutrition, as a precaution.

  When all had finished, Travis and Liz locked up the barn for the night, and headed back toward the homestead, to continue preparing for the deposition.

  “What are you thinking?” Travis asked later, when they took a much-needed break.

  “That doing ranch work for hours on end after putting in a full day, and still having a lot of legal work to finish up really wears a gal down. And,” Liz continued, refusing to admit what was really bothering her—the fact that Travis might leave a lot sooner than she had realized, “I also think the position your grandfather has offered you is one fine backup.”

  Liz stifled the mixture of sadness and defeat welling up within her. She thrust her hands in the pockets of her jeans and stubbornly pushed on, forcing herself to be practical. “If all else fails, and given where we are with your legal situation, it just might—”

  Travis caught her arms and, pulling her hands from her pockets in the process, turned her to face him.

  Her heart racing, Liz looked deep into his eyes. “I’d understand if you wanted to take the job.”

  “I don’t want you to understand,” Travis said gruffly, gathering her into his arms for a brief, searing kiss. He ran his fingers through her hair, kissed the sensitive spot on her neck. “I don’t want you to want me to leave.”

  Liz drew a shaky breath. “I don’t!” Desperate to protect her heart, to keep from harboring false hope, she pushed him back. “But I’m also a realist, Travis. And common sense says…” Her voice trailed off. She shook her head, afraid if she said anything more she would burst into tears.

  Travis pressed a finger to her lips and finished the sentence for her. “Common sense says…that we keep fighting for what we want, when we want it, until we get it.”

  Liz couldn’t help but agree with that.

  Unfortunately, she had the feeling that when the dust settled, and his legal troubles were over, they would still be talking about two distinctly different things.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Why the glum face?” J.T. asked Liz late the next afternoon, when he walked into her office.

  “I can’t find the pattern of behavior I’m looking for on a case.” And without it, she saw no way she could win....

  “And yet,” he guessed, “you know it’s got to be there.”

  She nodded. “Once a person starts wanting, or feels entitled to, special treatment, it’s an attitude that usually stays.”

  J.T. flashed a wan smile. “Are we talking about someone else now—like my tropical-lagoon-style swimming pool?”

  “Yours is a special case, J.T. We all know that. Which is why we’ve all been working so hard to come up with a solution.” Liz ushered him to a seat at the conference table, where plans were spread out for him to peruse.

  J.T. studied them in silence. “This pool is awfully small.”

  “But it fits in the backyard. You can easily put up a privacy fence, for safety’s sake. And best of all, it’s a design the zoning and planning commission has agreed to approve immediately, so construction on it could begin right away.”

  J.T. continued to survey the plans, along with the sketches and photos the landscaping company subcontracting on the job had supplied.

  “It would be a good compromise,” she continued.

  He rubbed his jaw. “I’m going to need to think about it for a few days.”

  Liz smiled in encouragement. “While you’re doing that, please promise me—no more picketing or threatening to get out there yourself with a shovel.”

  “I promise. May I take these with me?”

  “Absolutely.” Liz walked J.T. out. “How did the guard donk
ey shopping go today?”

  “Not well. The ones we found weren’t all they were advertised to be, so your mom passed and decided to keep searching.”

  Liz groaned. “Oh, dear. That means we’re going to have to coop the goats up in the barn again tonight.”

  “Guess they were pretty noisy last night.”

  “An understatement and a half,” Liz murmured drily.

  Queenie and Buck were jockeying for dominance, which in turn riled up all the other animals. Travis hadn’t been happy. Nor had anyone else. No one had slept well. All she had been able to think about when she awoke was Travis, and how much she wanted to help him, and how much she wished she was still in his arms....

  But common sense—and the need for privacy—had kept her firmly in her own bed in the ranch house, while he bunked down at the homestead.

  As a consequence, it had been a long, lonely night. Fraught with fantasy and regret, worry and hope.

  “Well, maybe it will be better tonight,” J.T. said optimistically.

  “I’ll find out later.” Liz squared her shoulders. “Right now, I’ve got another client coming in....”

  “Good luck with that. I’ll be in touch.” J.T. took off, looking happier and more relaxed than she had seen him since his wife died.

  Fifteen minutes later, the outer door to her office opened again and Travis walked in, with his expensive leather briefcase slung over one shoulder. He was dressed in a tan twill shirt, snug-fitting jeans and boots suitable for ranch work, but he looked like a lawyer striding into court. Strategically ready. Sexy. Confident. And determined to win.

  Getting an idea what he must be like in negotiations, Liz watched him take out several fat files. “You’ve been busy,” she said admiringly.

  “I organized copies of all the correspondence I wrote on Olympia’s behalf, just as you asked.”

  “Good.”

  He handed her another folder, his callused fingers brushing her slightly in the transfer. “The receipts for dinners and lunches out, in chronological order.”

  There were so many of them. The affair must have been intense. Liz pushed the twinge of jealousy away. She had no room for that. No room for emotion of any kind. “Also good,” she said in the most casual voice she could manage.