Buckle bunnies. That’s what some of the other cowboys called them. It was almost his due as a bull rider to have the prettiest offerings, and he’d taken what was offered when the time seemed right. No promises. No talks of commitment. It was the way it was.
It was the way he liked it.
Stoney watched as Wally stared out at the horizon for a moment, looking at the line of fence that bordered the property. This was the ranch he’d grown up on and his father before him. It was small in comparison to some of the other ranches in the area, but it earned them a good living, and it made them happy. Working together, they’d worked on expanding the ranch before the barn fire changed everything. But all those dreams died when the barn went up in flames.
“You going to tell me what her business is here?” Wally finally asked. “Or is she some well kept secret?”
Stoney began hammering away at the barbed wire against the stake. “She wants a trail guide through the Wind River Mountains. I told her to go to the reservation.”
There was a silence made unbearable by the sun beating down on him, showing no mercy. And Stoney knew what his father was wondering. How on earth had she landed here?
Stoney answered his unspoken question, finding it hard to look his father in the eye. “Gerald Hammond sent her.”
There was another strained silence. Wally cleared his throat. “That was kind of him to be thinking of us.”
“I guess.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I don’t have time for this. I’ve got too much work and with Mitch gone and...” Stoney blew out a frustrated breath and hammered with more force than necessary.
“Hammond must have thought it would be worth your while if he went out of his way to send the girl here.”
Stoney stilled. He knew exactly what was on his father’s mind. Medical bills left in the wake of Wally’s injuries threatened to take hold. Although the money Melanie was offering to pay for his services would go a long way toward bailing out the ranch, it still wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He’d weighed all their options, run the numbers backwards and forwards until his head hurt, and none of it looked good. Going back to rodeo seemed liked the answer to his prayers. A step in the right direction anyway.
The cowboy’s Christmas is what they called it on the rodeo circuit. The biggest rodeos and the best purses were up for grabs for the best of the best during the month of July. Stoney would be up against the best bull riders the circuit had ever seen. Up until a year ago, he’d been considered one of the best. He was banking on that still being true.
“This last year was worse than we’ve seen in a long time for the ranch. Taxes are higher. Medical bills are out of control. We’re running out of choices, son,” Wally said, still looking out at nothing in the horizon.
Stoney felt his chest tighten. This ranch had Buxton blood and sweat all over it. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they lost is all. “I know, Pop. That’s why I’m going back to rodeo. I made some good money before, and it’s helped the ranch. There’s no reason-”
“You know how your momma feels about you riding rodeo again. One cripple on this ranch is enough.”
Fire spit through Stoney. He straightened his spine and towered over his father in the wheelchair. Before the accident, they use to meet eye to eye. “You’re not a cripple, Pop,” Stoney said, softer than the fire in him would have allowed if he hadn’t taken control of it. Despite his obvious position over his father, Stoney felt like a little kid defending his hero. And his father had been--still was--his hero for all of his twenty-eight years. Being confined to a wheelchair had wounded his father’s heart, but not his spirit. Wally Buxton still had the power of an ox.
They stared at each other for a long while, not needing words to hear their thoughts. That’s the way it had been with them for as long as Stoney could remember. Wally was the one to break through the silence. “Come on. Your momma made some cherry pie and I’m sure Ms. Summers isn’t going to touch it, so we might as well have at it.”
He didn’t have time for another break today. He’d already wasted too much time warding off Melanie Summers and her wild ideas. His work load had doubled since Mitch Broader, their only ranch hand, left to take care of family business back east. With his father out of commission, that left the brunt of the ranch’s workload on Stoney’s shoulders.
He blew out a resigned breath, knowing it was important to his father. “Sure, Pop.”
He walked alongside the motorized wheelchair. He was getting accustomed to slowing his wide strides to keep in step with his father as the chair moved against the gravel. He stayed at his father’s side out of respect the man deserved. His father rolled into the house before him.
He found Melanie sitting at the dining room table, one long leg draped over the other, a smile that seemed curiously triumphant written on her face. His mother wore an uplifted expression he hadn’t seen in her for the better part of a year.
What the hell was going on?
Adele pushed the dining room chair aside so Wally could position his wheelchair at the head of the oak table. “Melanie and I were just having a lovely chat about her plans while she’s in Wyoming.”
Stoney eyed Melanie, a nagging suspicion floating up his spine. “Oh? And what would they be?”
Melanie averted her gaze for just a moment before lifting her soft brown eyes to him, shining a Cheshire cat grin, and giving fuel to that eerie feeling taking hold of his gut. One bat of her dark eyelashes and he knew he’d been had.
* * *
“Didn’t you hear a damn thing I told you by the corral?” Stoney said, storming out the door after Melanie. He’d held his anger in place long enough to make it out the screened door, slamming it in his wake. “You’ve got no business coming here, filling my family full of dreams that aren’t going to come true.”
Melanie spun on her boot heels, propped her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, and looked at Stoney over the wire rim. “I have every intention of fulfilling my end of the bargain.”
“No one in their right mind would throw around that kind of money. My family has been through enough to-”
“Which is why I think this business arrangement will work out well for both of us.”
“Now how do you figure on that? Who’s gonna do all the work around here for the next month while I’m out there traipsing through the wilderness, keeping your pretty little hide alive. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little short of hand right now.”
“With the money I’m prepared to pay, you’ll be able to hire someone to take your place. As for keeping me alive, I don’t want any special treatment. I can hold my own.”
Stoney sputtered. “That one is still open for debate. Do you even know what it costs to hire a ranch hand to work sun up to sun down for a whole month?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars is not all that much for what I’m asking,” she said. It was much higher than she’d originally intended on paying, but a lot lower than she’d consider if Stoney could do for her what Gerald Hammond said he could.
Stoney’s face hardened. “Money like that may be nothing to you, but it keeps bread on the table for working folks.”
“I didn’t mean to imply-”
“I know what you meant to do. You think you can buy me like a piece of stock at a cattle auction. I’m not for sale. And I’d appreciate kindly if you’d leave my family out of whatever death wish you have.”
She stifled a retort about the death wish and kept to the pressing issue. I can’t do that. This is much too important to me.” He shook his head and stared at her like he was looking right through her.
She was struck by his strength once again as he fought to keep his control in check. The tight set of his jaw belied his control and she got the feeling he could lift her without any effort and toss her over the fence if she pushed him.
And she’d push him, all right. It meant that much to her to prove to her father and herself that she could last a whole mon
th in the wilderness without the aid of medical intervention. Only then would her father agree to keep the funding for the Kenya project. But she knew her father. He was determined to keep her from going at all cost. And he had a lot more money than she could combat with which to do it.
“Adele told me about the hard times the ranch has had. This money could help you and your family. I’m glad to be able to do that for them. The only thing I ask is that no one knows we’ve gone.”
“What’s this all about? Why is this so important?”
“My reasons are my business.”
He crossed his muscled arms across the expanse of his chest and studied her for a moment. “You wanted for something?”
She giggled at the sidelong look of suspicion he gave her. Not only because of the absurdity of it, but because he just looked too damned cute. “You’ve got an imagination to go along with all that muscle. No, I’m not on the run for any crimes.” Only from my father and his control. But that was none of Stoney Buxton’s business, and she was determined to keep it quiet.
He eyed her, the tick in his jaw twitching, telling her he didn’t find any of this amusing.
She coughed out the rest of her laughter, knowing she wasn’t going to get very far irritating him. He was a business man. She knew how to handle business men, although most of them wore designer suits and smelled of expensive cologne, unlike the sweat and dirt she smelled on Stoney. Still, she turned on her best charm. “Look, I don’t know you.”
“True enough.”
“And I don’t know what kind of struggles you and your family have gone through. That’s really none of my business.”
“Right.”
“But it doesn’t take much more than 20/20 vision to look around here and figure out you could use a little help.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped off the porch stairs. “I’m not looking for charity.”
“You need money,” she said to his back.
Stoney swung around to face her again, tossing her a cool look. “And you’re just the person to open the check book.”
She cocked her head. “Don’t be foolish. This could help both of us. You don’t look like the type of man to shy away from honest money.”
He drew in a deep breath and could hardly look her in the eye. She knew he wouldn’t step anywhere near her request if it held the stench of a handout. Men like Stoney were as complicated as the earth was old and the ground ran deep. For him, it had to be honest and earned. Nothing less would do.
“I’m not looking for you to carry my bags or draw the bath water,” she said when he didn’t respond.
His laugh was rich and hard and he dipped his gaze beneath his dusty leather hat, shaking his head. When he lifted his head again, she saw them. He had dimples. Deep, and completely adorable. Her heart betrayed her confidence and fluttered wildly.
“Good, because you’d be sadly disappointed.”
She forced air into her lungs and placed her hand on her chest to steady her rampant heartbeat. “I’ve checked out the prices the other outfitters are charging for extended trailing. It’s only right that I pay a little more since I’m asking for a personal guide. This isn’t a handout, just a fair business arrangement. I’m prepared to make the same offer to one of the other outfitters, too. That is if you’re stubborn enough to decline.”
He took a long appraising look at her, much like a man does when he finds a woman attractive, as if he was weighing the option to pass her by or dip his head and kiss her waiting lips. It filled her with a strange sense of longing she couldn’t define.
“I may be stubborn, lady, but I’m far from dumb.”
Her eyes widened, almost afraid to believe her good fortune. “So what are you saying? Will you help me?”
He rolled his dark eyes, kicked his dusty cowboy boot in the hard, dry dirt, and said almost under his breath, “I’m gonna live to regret this.” Then looking at her straight on with sapphire eyes as dark as a moonless night, he said, “You’ve got yourself a guide.”
#
Excerpt from THE KNIGHT AND MAGGIE’S BABY
THE KNIGHT AND MAGGIE’S BABY
There were more digits in his bank account than most corporate portfolios saw in a lifetime of business. But right now, for the second time in his life, Jonah Wallace had empty pockets.
As a flurry of people swirled around him, he stood on the crowded Harvard Square sidewalk, roasting in the blistering sun, contemplating his options, such as they were. Dragging a deep breath of humidity into his lungs, he decided it was no use. He was going to have to swallow a mammoth lump of pride to get out of this pickle.
The first time he'd been forced to admit his failings he'd been thirteen, alone, and on the run. He had made an oath then it would be the last time he found himself in such a scrape. The fact that he was standing there penniless, wearing a satin-lined tuxedo in the middle of an August steam bath of an afternoon, the sun unmercifully beating him into the concrete, only magnified his current predicament.
How had he managed to let this happen again?
A taxi horn whined loud and long at his back, signaling the driver's unrest over the hordes of people jaywalking through the Square. Every one of them was in a hurry to go somewhere. At this time of the day, they were probably all heading home, which was where he intended to go.
But first...
He dragged his gaze back to the coffee shop door. It was his last hope. Tugging on his bow tie to give him some needed room, he reasoned the fastest way to make it home and deal with his disastrous day would be to swallow what was left of his stolen pride.
That is if he didn't choke on it first.
As his hand connected with the door handle, the heated metal bit into his palm. Jonah yanked open the door in front of which he had just spent the last ten minutes standing, hoping there was no one other than the owner inside. If he had no choice but to grovel, he'd prefer it be without audience.
As he swung through the doorway, the cool air from the air conditioning bathed his face, giving him immediate relief from the heat.
He drew in a deep breath to gather some courage and scanned the empty diner as his eyes adjusted from the sudden change of light. The room smelled of sugar and cinnamon and gravy. A strangely appealing combination, he thought. But at this point, anything was appealing. His stomach protested loudly at the scent of food assaulting his nostrils. Yeah, he was starving, but first things first.
Jonah had never stepped foot inside the small coffee shop, despite the fact that he practically lived at his office, located just across the street, for the past three years. The diner was compact; just a few booths lined the outer-glassed wall. A few more tables with red and white checked vinyl tablecloths occupied the center of the room. It reminded him more of something he'd see in the North End of Boston rather than Harvard Square.
Clusters of white spotlights shone against the brightly colored walls, and it took a moment for his eyes to register the color fully. Behind the counter were rows of parfait cups lying upside down on a glass shelf along with glasses and dinnerware.
A picture on the wall by the kitchen door caught his attention. Since the restaurant was empty, he took a few steps toward the counter for a better look. The photo was of two women, one elderly and one much younger, maybe even in her early teens, standing on the sidewalk from which he'd just come, arm in arm, smiling affectionately. Draped around the frame was a tiny cross of gold on a delicate chain.
A swish of cool air blew into the room. Instinctively, he glanced up toward the source. That's when he noticed the woman standing in the kitchen doorway, one arm on the door, the other in the pocket of her apron. She let go of the door and breezed into the dining room, slipping a psychedelic purple pencil from her apron pocket, and reaching for a small notepad at the same time.
“You caught me. I was just about to close up the shop early. I think the heat has been keeping people away.”
Her voice was smooth as velvet and her smile seemed genui
ne, not just pasted on for show. Her rich dark hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail, resistant tendrils curled around her face, framing high cheekbones.
The woman motioned with her hands toward the vinyl-covered stool at the counter. “You can sit wherever you’d like.”
“I'm not here to eat. I was hoping I could ask a bit of a favor.”
She stopped short, a slow grin lifting the corners of her lips. Not the genuine smile of courtesy. This one was different, a hint of...something, perhaps mixed with a bit of surprise. Jonah wasn't quite sure.
“You're not from around here, are you?” she said, fiery blue eyes wide with interest. They were uniquely lit, not just by the canned lights positioned on the ceiling above her, but with gold streaks set into their deep sapphire color.
“Well, actually yes. My office is in the building just diagonal from you.” Jonah motioned out the window toward the street and beyond the honking horns and bumper-to-bumper late afternoon traffic. When he looked back, her gaze was fixed on him.
Her eyes widened, twinkling with a hint amusement. She flipped an errant lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail neatly behind her ear and just stared at him.
“You may work in town, but I know for sure you're not from around Cambridge, Massachusetts.”
Jonah glanced down at his black tuxedo as he slid into the stool by the counter, brushing his hand absentmindedly across the smooth, clean Formica countertop.
“I know I look rather odd given the fact that it's about a thousand degrees outside.”
“One hundred and two if you want to be technical,” she said, cutting in. She thumbed back to the double doors at the end of the counter. “I had the radio on in the office.”
Jonah pulled at the collar of his wilting white tuxedo shirt until the top button popped free. “It feels every bit of it,” he said, forcing a smile.
And it was getting a whole lot hotter. It had already turned out to be the worst day of his life. Making a fool of himself couldn't possibly make it any worse.
As Jonah drew in a deep breath, he watched the smile play at the corner of the waitress's mouth. Her full lips were bare of color, and he wondered if she'd chosen not to wear any lipstick or if working a full day and conversing with customers had chewed off what color she'd applied earlier. His mind instantly pictured her full lips in ruby to compliment her dark hair.
The Marriage Contract Page 19