Wildcat Cowboy (The McCabes of Texas #2)

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Wildcat Cowboy (The McCabes of Texas #2) Page 8

by Cathy Gillen Thacker


  Were they afraid Wade would take his drilling contract to another independent? ’Cause the truth was, without Big Jim here to run things personally, now or at any point in the future, he just might. Any independent operation was only as good as the wildcatter in charge. And generally speaking, Big Jim was worth waiting around for, he was so good at finding oil.

  Wade looked at Josie, who was still typing away vigorously. Instinct told him that Josie was at the center of whatever was going on here. To uncover the deception—and he was more certain than ever there was some deception going on here—he was going to have to get close to her.

  Figuring there was no time like the present to accomplish that, he perched on the edge of her desk and cut straight to the chase. “Where did you go to school?”

  Josie kept typing and refused to meet his eyes. “In Austin, at the University of Texas.”

  Wade had the sudden impression he wasn’t just being held at arm’s length. He was being pushed away. For good. The thought was damn disturbing. And yet here he was, following her around like a lost puppy. What kind of spell had she put on him? And why was it so important he figure her out, anyway? When he could have very easily just said to heck with it, closed the whole drilling operation down and walked away. It wasn’t like him to want anything to do with someone he was fairly sure was deceiving him.

  “What did you major in?” His voice was soft, conciliatory.

  Her reaction was not. She seemed to get even further away from him emotionally as she recited in a low, battle-weary voice, “I received a liberal arts degree, with a concentration in humanities. But,” she added almost defiantly as she punched save, “I took as many geology classes as I could fit into my schedule.”

  It was easy to see she had a chip on her shoulder when it came to her latest job choice. And there was absolutely no reason for it as far as he could see. “Why not just major in geology, geophysics or petroleum engineering if you were interested in this as a career?” Wade asked curiously.

  Josie’s soft, bare lips twisted wryly. “It would have been the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

  Frustrated she was not more talkative, Wade clasped his hands loosely between his spread thighs and leaned forward. “So why didn’t you?”

  Josie uncapped the bottle of spring water on her desk and drank deeply from it. Her eyes lasered into his. “Because at the time I was more interested in finding my Mr. Right, getting married and settling down and having a family of my own. And I didn’t think a career as a wildcatter was compatible with that,” she said matter-of-factly, not at all shy about admitting her previous, highly romantic dreams. “So I took a job in a Dallas high-rise, and met all manner of eligible men.”

  Wade didn’t want to think of her in anyone’s arms but his. Any more than he wanted to think of her being unhappy. “What happened?” he asked softly.

  Josie tugged her T-shirt and wiped off the rim of the bottle with the hem of her shirt. “Five years passed. I didn’t find the man of my dreams, and was no closer to having the big happy family I’ve always wanted.” Shrugging, she offered him the bottle. As he took it, their hands brushed lightly.

  In the soft morning light of the trailer office, her classically beautiful features—high, sculpted cheeks, full lips and wide deep-set eyes—were more pronounced. In deference to the hard hat she’d been wearing earlier, her glossy dark brown hair was caught in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. But wispy tendrils escaped to frame her face.

  Josie watched as he lifted the bottle and placed his lips where hers had been only moments before. “I decided it was dumb for me to wait around for Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet,” she continued as he drank deeply of the cool spring water.

  Josie picked up a pencil off her desk and tapped it restlessly against the stack of papers in front of her. “Now I realize it’s up to me to make my dreams come true. And if I don’t do that,” she said firmly, “if I don’t take the risks and follow through—I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”

  “Ever think about going back and getting a degree in petroleum engineering—if you’re so interested in this?” Wade asked curiously. He was beginning to see she’d make a damn fine oil woman someday. Heck, she might even be talented enough and knowledgeable enough to go out on her own. Especially if they struck oil here and she added that to her résumé, he thought.

  Josie frowned. For the first time that day her eyes took on a troubled glimmer. “I’ve got to try out the life-style first, figure out if I am as good at this—at drilling discovery wells—as I think I’m gonna be,” she said softly.

  Finished, Josie switched off her computer. “I’m going to get an apple. You want one?”

  Wade shook his head. “Not right now, thanks.”

  Wade’s gut told him there was still a lot she was holding back—a lot he’d be wise to be concerned about here. Aware Josie was still watching him closely as she stood and moved away from her desk, Wade glanced around him at the office.

  Odds were there was an answer or two in the trailer, if only he had the time and opportunity to go through it without Josie knowing. Considering how much money was at stake, he figured he was well within his rights to get those answers—and uncover any deceptions—any way he could.

  “Is that offer to use your office still good?” he asked casually. “’Cause I’ve got something I could fax to my office back in Houston. And a few phone calls to make about the party for my folks.”

  “No problem,” Josie said, looking relieved. “I’ll go get that apple. And maybe check on the guys, see how they’re doing, while I’m at it.”

  TO WADE’S FRUSTRATION, a quick look around the on-site office netted little more than his cursory search of the trailer where Josie was sleeping the night before. Nothing but a lot of papers bearing the J. L. Wyatt signature. There were also a lot of notes and records—all in Josie’s much-neater, more-feminine handwriting. That could have meant everything, had she been the one giving the orders, Wade knew.

  Or nothing, if all she were doing was simply recording what was going on so Big Jim could go over it later.

  To Wade’s frustration, there was nothing that hinted at any sort of fraud going on. Nothing to indicate the operation was anything but aboveboard, except for Big Jim’s absence.

  And that was peculiar. Wade had never known Big Jim to leave one job for another the whole time he had hired Big Jim Wyatt to drill wildcat wells on any of his various properties.

  Then again, Wade couldn’t recall Big Jim ever having the opportunity to take his whole crew and “consult” on what could possibly be a major find in the South American jungle, either.

  Big Jim had probably felt the well was in capable hands when he’d left it to Gus and Josie and the others. And if they hit oil shortly, as everyone here was hoping and predicting, then Wade had nothing to complain about.

  Meanwhile, he had Josie Lynn Corbett to contend with. The first woman ever to work for Big Jim, in any capacity, she was a handful all right: cute in her pink hard hat, and a regular know-it-all when it came to computers, all sorts of geographical data and record keeping. She was a smooth-as-silk negotiator, too: she had talked him into keeping the drill going when he’d been determined to shut it down.

  No wonder Big Jim had capitulated and given her a job, despite her sex and minimal qualifications. She not only appeared to have a love for the business in general, but she was also good at dealing with people.

  Especially land owners like him. And the guys on the team listened to her, too.

  “Find what you were looking for?” Josie said coolly.

  Wade grimaced. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t heard her come in. He continued searching the open drawer in front of him. “I was looking for a pen.” Among other things.

  Josie strode forward, half-eaten apple in hand. “There are half a dozen of them right in front of you.”

  “So there are.”

  She pressed her lips together mut
inously. “What was it you wanted to fax?”

  “I, uh, hadn’t typed it up yet.”

  “I see,” she said tightly.

  Wade stood and reached for his Stetson. “Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I should just use my own computer back at the ranch house.” It hadn’t taken him long to figure out this spy business was not for him.

  “Maybe you should.” Her voice dropped another icy notch.

  Wade shoved a hand through his hair and settled his hat on his head. He hated the thought he had hurt her feelings. “Any word today from Big Jim?” he asked curiously.

  “None.” Josie took a big bite of apple. Her expression was as distracted as it was furious. “As I told you, there are no phone lines, no cell phone towers, nothing at the site.” She suddenly pitched her apple core in the trash and strode toward him, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans as she went. “Now, tell me what you were really doing just now. And give me the truth.”

  Wade knew how he’d like an argument like this to end—in bed. But given the fact they still barely knew each other, that was not likely to happen. “I was snooping,” he said calmly.

  “Into our operation?”

  Wade regarded Josie steadily, realizing he wanted to know a heck of a lot more about Josie Lynn Corbett than that. And he had all along. “Into your private life.”

  THAT, SHE HADN’T EXPECTED. Josie swallowed, aware Wade McCabe had kept her feeling off guard since the moment he had walked onto the site, and given the exceedingly unpredictable way things were going that wasn’t likely to change.

  “My private life!” she echoed, astonished.

  “I wondered.” Determined to keep her off her guard, Wade blurted out the first—and perhaps most important—question that came to mind, “Are you seeing anyone special right now?”

  Josie lifted a brow. “You’re telling me it makes a difference to you one way or another if I have a boyfriend,” she reiterated dryly.

  “I don’t go around kissing women who are betrothed or otherwise hitched up to someone else.”

  Josie sighed and tried to look sympathetic to his plight. “I guess, considering what happened to you and Sandra, you wouldn’t.”

  “No,” Wade agreed. “I wouldn’t.” He paused. “So is there someone?” Wade asked persistently.

  Josie swallowed. “No.”

  “Has there ever been?”

  “Yes.” Josie averted her gaze. “A very long time ago. But I don’t want to talk about that. So, if you don’t mind,” she said archly, “I think you’ve been underfoot enough.”

  He tipped his hat at her and headed for the door. “For the time being, I guess you’re right. I’ve got a lot of work to do regarding the party on Friday in any case.”

  “I imagine you do,” Josie retorted dryly, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

  “But I’ll be back tonight,” he promised.

  “Tonight? Why?”

  Wade winked. “For that dancing lesson I owe you,” he said.

  “DIDN’T THINK I WAS SERIOUS about this, did you?” Wade drawled some six hours later as he breezed into her trailer and set down the portable stereo and stack of compact discs he’d brought with him.

  Josie’s pretty eyes widened with amazement. “Not in this lifetime, no,” she murmured, agitated.

  Wade struggled to keep his matter-of-fact mood. It wasn’t easy. Josie had recently showered and changed into white jeans and a blue T-shirt that hugged her slender but curvy frame with disturbing accuracy. Her hair was damp and clean and scented faintly with a floral shampoo. Her face bore the golden glow of the sun, her lips the soft clear sheen of gloss.

  “Let’s get started,” Wade said.

  Her eyes glinting stubbornly, Josie shook her head. “I’ve got core samples to study tonight,” she said.

  Investment or no, Wade knew she had already worked hard enough for one day. He bent to plug in his stereo. “That can wait till tomorrow,” he told her easily. “You’ve got to get ready for Friday night.”

  “I agreed to the lessons,” Josie reminded.

  And only, Wade thought, to prove him wrong—to prove that she was not capable of being turned into the grand Texas lady he felt she could be, if she only put forth some effort.

  “I did not agree to be your date Friday night,” Josie continued in righteous indignation.

  Wade plucked a disc from its cover and slid it into the stereo. He thought he knew where her emotion was coming from. “There’s no reason to be afraid,” he soothed, all too aware he at least had been waiting for this moment all day.

  “I’m not afraid,” Josie shot back with a toss of her head.

  “You’re gonna do fine,” Wade continued confidently.

  Unfortunately she didn’t do fine. Her steps were awkward and awful. And she looked down her nose at him even as she trembled in his arms. “See?” Her mouth twisting in frustration, Josie stepped on his toes and pushed away. “I told you I was no good at this.”

  He caught her wrist with his free hand before she could escape and anchored her implacably at his side. “You’re not trying,” he said softly. But she would—before the night was over.

  Suddenly Josie was having trouble drawing air into her lungs. “You don’t have a clue how hard I’m concentrating,” she murmured back, suddenly looking genuinely distressed.

  Wade had never met a woman who had so little grasp of the beat of music, Wade admitted reluctantly to himself. Was it possible, he wondered, that she really was every bit as bad at dancing as she seemed? That just like when it came to anything else remotely domestic or feminine, Josie really had no clue?

  If so, would it be possible to teach her?

  Then again, he thought confidently, his Midas touch had never failed him yet.

  “Hang on.” He let her go as swiftly as he had claimed her. More determined than ever to help her be all the woman she could be, he vowed, “I’ll find us another song.”

  HER ARMS FOLDED defiantly in front of her, Josie watched Wade punch a button. Seconds later the soft sounds of Garth Brooks singing “To Make You Feel My Love” filled the beat-up trailer. Wade turned it up slightly and came back to her.

  Josie was annoyed to find herself flushing warmly from head to toe again. She told herself it was the way he filled up the space in the small trailer or the deeply romantic nature of the ballad that caused her to react that way. It had nothing to do with him and the way he had kissed her the other night. The way he wanted to kiss her again, judging from the ardent light in his eyes.

  “You don’t have to look so hesitant,” he said against her hair as the nearness of him and the slow, breathless intimacy of the song filled her senses to overflowing. “I’m not going to step on your toes.” Then he took her resisting body in his arms.

  But I might step on yours, Josie thought, as she breathed in the deliciously clean and brisk scent of sandalwood and leather clinging to his skin. “I’m not hesitant. I’m annoyed,” Josie explained, doing her best to keep her dance steps falling between the beats instead of directly on the beats. Which was, as it happened, a lot harder than she thought it would be.

  Wade met her gaze affably and gave her another coaxing grin. “Annoyed about what?” he prodded softly, tugging her close and kissing the top of her ear.

  Josie told herself sternly she was not enjoying being held in Wade’s arms. Nor was she enjoying the feel of his lips ghosting over her skin. “Having to dance on command—with anyone,” she said.

  Wade drew back, to better study her face. “Most women I know like to dance.”

  Maybe they haven’t done enough of it with partners they care very little for, Josie thought, trying not to notice how he had splayed his hand across the middle of her back in a proprietary way.

  Deciding he was having a little bit too much fun with this—and the same thing could happen to her if she didn’t clamp down on the unmistakable chemistry flowing between them—Josie lurched into him with comical awkwardness. Then,
for good measure, accidentally-on-purpose tromped on his foot. “Whoops,” she said, lurching into him again.

  Wade grimaced as her knee thudded against his shin, but retained his light, possessive grip on her. “No problem,” he said, grunting as Josie elbowed him in the chest. “So how come you don’t like to dance?” Wade persisted, as they lumbered on, their steps completely out of sync.

  Maybe, Josie thought, because she had never danced with him. Because even with her doing her best to keep stumbling and moving in klutzy counterpoint to the beat, it was still enjoyable being held gallantly in his embrace. Every bit as enjoyable, in fact, as it had been kissing him. “I’m just not good at it,” Josie fibbed.

  Wade quirked his brow. “You just haven’t had enough practice,” he disagreed.

  Little did he know! If she was ever again closeted up in another stuffy ballroom it would be too soon, Josie thought. “Face it,” Josie said, as Garth Brooks’s voice faded and Trisha Yearwood’s voice came on. “Some women are just not cut out for fancy events and fancy dresses and fancy-women-lovin’ men.”

  Wade’s eyes darkened to a deeper brown. “Is that what you think I am? A fancy-woman-lovin’ man?”

  Josie flushed and dropped her gaze to the muscled contours of his chest. “You know what I mean.”

  “No,” he said emphatically. “I don’t. Explain it to me.”

  Josie drew a deep breath. It upset her to bring all this up, but she knew it had to be said. Wade had to start facing the fact they were and always would be all wrong for each other.

  “The kind of man who wants his woman all gussied up and waiting for him at the end of a long day whether he actually comes home or not. The kind of man who spends his life gallivanting all over Texas, chasing down one oil deal after another and doing exactly what he pleases while his woman waits patiently for him at home.”

 

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