“Lacy,” she corrected.
“What?”
“You can call me Lacy. And since I never go back on my word it appears you’ve got yourself another head.”
Cade’s husky chuckle filled the room. “The only trouble with that is that I’m in need of hands. Cows are referred to as heads. People are hands.”
“Oh.” She knew that. Warmth flooded her cheeks. What was it about this man that seemed to turn her brain to mush?
“Where are you staying?”
“I hadn’t gotten that far yet,” she admitted.
“We’ve got a spare room you can use while you’re here and dinner is served promptly at six. You’re not there, you don’t eat. Same with breakfast. Breakfast is at five-thirty.”
“Five-thirty as in a.m.?”
“Morning is when most folks normally choose to eat breakfast.”
Lacy groaned. “Trust me, you really don’t want to see me at five-thirty in the morning. I’m not what you’d call a morning person.”
Ignoring her protest, he said, “Hope you brought something other than heels and miniskirts to work in.”
Lacy looked down at the shoe dangling from her toes. Slipping it back onto her foot, she reached down and drew the elastic strap back up over her heel. “As a matter of fact I did. What is it, exactly, I’ll be doing?”
“Oh, the usual, gathering eggs, milking cows, cleaning stalls.”
“Cleaning stalls?” she inquired anxiously.
“Shoveling shit of them to be precise,” he replied.
Her mouth fell open, eliciting a husky chuckle from Cade.
“I can see by your horrified expression that this agreement is going to last all of five minutes, if that.”
“Think again.” She rose from her chair. “I have every intention of seeing it through.”
“Then we have a deal.” He held out his hand.
She extended hers only to have it swallowed up in his much larger one. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
“I hope you’re right. Now, if you’ll return my hand, I’ll be going.”
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. A soft ‘oh’ passed her lips as she pulled her hand from his. She reached for her briefcase and placed it on the table. “Let’s get started.”
“Started?”
“With the interview,” she replied as she reached into the case for her laptop.
“Can’t,” he said, putting that thought to an immediate end. “I’ve got to fix that fence before I can run cows out there.”
“Alright, we can start tomorrow.”
He nodded, his expression becoming more serious. “Just make sure I get to look over whatever it is you write about me before you send it off to your editor. I’ve had more than my fill of twisted words.”
She stiffened at that remark. “I don’t twist words, Mr. Tyler.”
“Cade,” he corrected with a frown. “And I didn’t mean to imply that you do, but I’ve had the truth stretched about me plenty of times before. It’s just something reporters do, I think.”
“Not all reporters.” However, there were plenty of journalists who wouldn’t think twice about going for a man’s throat when covering a story. And it was apparent Cade had experienced that particular tactic first hand.
Whether he believed her or not, she couldn’t tell. He simply dropped his hat back onto his head and said, “See you back at the ranch.”
She watched him go until he disappeared from sight, stepping back out into the rain. Sighing softly, she sat staring at the door. Cade Tyler was a very complicated man. If only she’d had time to dig deeper into his past before leaving Denver, but there hadn’t been. ‘Mac’ Cooper had called her back with his offer two hours after she’d gotten home from meeting with him about the opening for the Rodeo Romance column. Apparently, the magazine’s owner wanted the interview with Cade Tyler set up A.S.A.P. and his other writers were busy working on other stories.
Well, she would get him that story and in return Cade would get the publicity he needed to up the interest in his rodeo bulls. More importantly, she’d have her column. It was a win-win situation for all involved. She just had to get Cade to believe that as well, contrary man he was.
“He tends to have that effect on a lot of women.”
Lacy turned to find the woman from behind the bar standing there, two unopened wine coolers clutched by their bottlenecks in her hand. “Excuse me?”
The woman inclined her head toward the door. “Cade, he leaves a lot of women staring after him that way.”
“I wasn’t staring. I was thinking.”
“That’s odd,” she replied with a grin. “Most women find it impossible to process any sort of thought after being around Cade for any length of time.”
Lacy laughed. “Are we talking about the same man? Cade Tyler?”
The barkeep raised a thin brow and then her smile widened. “Finally, someone else immune to his charms.”
“Completely.” There was no way she was going to allow herself to get caught up in the man’s ruggedly good looks.
The young woman dropped down onto one of the chairs across from her and slid one of the bottles she’d carried over with her to Lacy. “Thought you could use another.”
Not much of a drinker, her first inclination was to refuse it, knowing she’d need a clear head to deal with Cade once she got back to the ranch. But this woman seemed to know a great deal about Cade Tyler. Maybe she could provide her with better insight into the man himself.
“Thanks,” Lacy said, reaching for her purse.
The woman put a hand out to stop her. “No charge. It’s on the house.”
“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” Lacy argued. Someone would have to pay for the drink and she didn’t want it coming out of the other woman’s paycheck.
“It won’t be a problem,” the woman assured her with a warm smile. “I’m Katie O’Brien. I own this place.”
Katie O’Brien was naturally pretty with her fiery red hair and vibrant green eyes. Her skin was flawlessly fair with just a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Was this the kind of woman Cade Tyler went for? Was that why Katie O’Brien had approached her? To check out the competition which, of course, she wasn’t.
“Thank you then,” Lacy said, accepting the offered drink. “I’m Lacy Dalton.”
“I take it you’re not from around here.”
“Denver.”
“Welcome to Deep Creek,” Katie said. “We don’t get many big city folk around these parts.”
“Your town is very...” She searched for the right word to describe it. Deep Creek was one of those places that if you blinked while driving through it you’d miss it. No Starbucks. Not even a McDonald’s. Just some place called Granny May’s Café, a few small stores, and The Blarney Stone. “...quaint,” she finally concluded.
Katie tossed her head back in laughter. “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly regaining her composure. “It’s just that I would have expected you to say it’s about the size of a thimble or something. But quaint?”
“Okay, I admit, it’s a lot smaller than what I’m used to, but there’s something to be said about the slow pace of country life.”
Katie appeared to be surprised by that revelation. “There is?”
“Sure. No fighting the traffic. No swarm of people to get caught up in on the sidewalks. Everything is just so laid back.”
“Except Cade.” Grinning, Katie stood and walked over to the juke box where she fed in several quarters, looking right at home in her faded blue jeans and fitted red and black tapered western shirt.
Lacy glanced down at her own short skirt, high heeled sandals, and painted toenails. It was like wearing a Hawaiian print shirt in Utah. She stuck out like a sore thumb.
She watched as Katie’s fingers skimmed the buttons on the juke box, no doubt knowing the numbers of the songs she preferred to listen to by heart. Lacy wasn’t sure she could come up wit
h one single country music song title. She’d grown up listening to big band music, her grandmother’s favorite and some classical music.
Her attention went back to Katie and those long legs. The kind she imagined a man like Cade would go for. Not that it mattered to her. It didn’t. But part of doing a story on his life was finding out about his likes and dislikes. Katie O’Brien would probably be on the likes list. Lacy didn’t even have to ask Cade to know which list she fell into.
Katie spun around and returned to the table. “So,” she said as she settled back into her chair and reached for her drink, “how long are you staying for?”
Despite the warm welcome Katie O’Brien had given her, Lacy had to wonder if she was this curious with all of her new patrons or just those associated with Cade.
Fingering the foil wrapper on her wine cooler, Lacy replied, “A week, maybe two.”
The woman hesitated as if digesting the information and then said, “I guess I’ll be seeing you around. Any friend of Cade’s is more than welcome here.”
Friend? Lacy shook her head at the misconception. “Cade and I aren’t friends.”
The look on Katie’s face bordered on confusion. “You aren’t?”
“Not exactly. Cade and I only met today.”
“Oh.” Katie O’Brien sat back, studying her as she sipped at her cooler.
“I’m here to do a story on him for Bustin’ Loose Magazine,” Lacy explained, breaking the silence.
The second the words left her lips, Katie O’Brien’s demeanor changed. Her shoulders stiffened. Her green eyes narrowed. “Does Cade know why you’re here?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s still talking to you?”
Did everyone in this town think reporters were blood-sucking vultures? “I would guess he’d have to.”
Katie set her wine cooler down on the table and leaned forward, pinning Lacy with her gaze. “Why?”
“How else am I going to find out enough about him to do the story justice?”
“Let me give you one piece of advice,” Katie said, her voice low, no doubt to keep other patrons from overhearing what she was about to say. “Don’t twist things around to make Cade look bad. Because if you hurt him, you’ll have more than me to answer to for it.” That said, the bar’s proprietor stood and walked away.
So much for her warm welcome.
Lacy stood, slung her purse strap over her shoulder, grabbed her briefcase and then headed for the door. It was going to be a very long two weeks.
* * *
By the time Cade arrived back at the ranch, the storm had blown over and the sun was pushing out through the remaining clouds. While there were plenty of things he should have been concentrating on regarding the ranch, all he had thought about his entire drive home was that sassy little reporter who, in no time flat, had succeeded in twisting his carefully guarded emotions into knots.
“Lacy Dalton,” he sighed.
Pretty name.
Pretty reporter.
Why couldn’t they have sent a man out to do the story? He hated the flicker of desire she sparked inside him. Desire he didn’t want to feel. Hadn’t felt, in fact, since his wife died, despite the opportunities other women had given him to let something happen.
If he’d had a choice in the matter Lacy would be staying at a hotel instead of at his ranch, but there were no hotels in Deep Creek. She’d have to get up far too early to drive in to work from another town. And seeing as how she’d ended up there thanks to his best friend’s meddling it was the least he could do.
After making a pot of coffee and downing two cups of it, Cade reached for his hat and headed out to find Burk. He needed some sort of distraction. Anything to take his mind off of...
The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires stopped him dead in his tracks. Looking down the winding drive, he watched as the sleek, red convertible made its way up to the house.
Lacy.
He moved to the edge of the porch. “I see you found your way back.”
“Hoping I wouldn’t?” she replied, grinning at him through the open window of her car.
He frowned. “I didn’t say that.” Not that he hadn’t thought it a few times since leaving the Blarney Stone.
She stepped from the car. “I was just teasing. Are you always this sensitive? Or is it just with reporters.”
Cade stepped off the porch and moved toward his ‘guest’. “I’ve made it no secret that I don’t like reporters. You knew that going into this. So don’t take it personal.”
Closing the door, she leaned against the car and crossed her arms, keys dangling from her fingers. “It appears you aren’t the only citizen of Deep Creek share your opinion about reporters being flesh-eating vultures.”
He looked up at her in surprise. “Why? Did someone say something to you while you were in town?”
“Let’s just say a certain lady friend of yours isn’t real happy with my being here either.”
A lady friend of his? Then it dawned on him. “Katie?”
She nodded.
“She’s not my lady friend. At least, not in the way you’re thinking.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to clarify that, but he did. “She’s got a thing for Burk, not that the fool’s caught on to her feelings yet.”
“Oh. I thought...”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Dalton,” he said, cutting her off, “but you aren’t going to find any relationship gossip on me in this town or any other. There is no one in my life.”
Why that admission mattered to her, Lacy couldn’t fathom. But it did. She shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to strike that line of questioning from my list then.”
“You do that,” he replied. “I’ll let Katie know that I agreed to this interview. She tends to be a little overprotective when it comes to her friends.”
“You’re lucky to have friends like that.” She had spent so many years taking care of her elderly grandparents, and then dealing with her grandmother’s declining health after her grandfather passed away, that she had no close friends of her own.
Cade thumbed his hat further back on his head and studied her for a long moment. “Tell me something, Dalton. What does Bustin’ Loose want with a washed-up has-been like me anyway?”
“Retired or not, you were one of the best.” She didn’t follow the rodeo circuit, but she had done enough research on Cade Tyler to know that much. “The fact that you had to leave the sport in the prime of your career makes you an even bigger draw with readers. Rodeo fans are eager to know what Cade Tyler’s life is like after the circuit.”
“Bull,” he scoffed, his dark brows drawn together. “Are you familiar with that old saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’?”
“Have you ever looked yourself up on the net?”
“Don’t own a computer.”
No, Cade Tyler was not a sit behind a desk kind of man. He rose early, worked hard, even in the rain. And if his tan was any indication, he had no aversion to sweating under the harsh summer sun to do what needed doing.
“Let me assure you,” she said, “there are still plenty of people out there talking about you. Missing the excitement you brought to the rodeo.”
He frowned. “Why do I get the feeling this assignment is gonna make that old yearning to ride again return. And it’ll make Burk even worse. Because if it weren’t for my getting caught up on that bull that day he’d still be working the circuit, saving the butts of those little snots who ride today.” He let out a long sigh. “God, I feel old.”
A part of her regretted having taken on this assignment. The great Cade Tyler was clearly down on his luck and that wasn’t how she wanted to portray him in her story. A story she had to write. Her grandmother had to be her first priority. The woman who had raised her, loved her. The same one who no longer recognized her own granddaughter.
Emotion knotted up in Lacy’s throat as she looked around the run down ranch. How was she supposed to take a man’s life, which had quite clearly gone down th
e drain, and hold it up for the world to see? She couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t have what it took to be a journalist.
No, she was a damn good journalist. And she’d prove it to Mac. Even if it wouldn’t be the expose she knew he was looking for. Because after meeting Cade Tyler, she couldn’t lower herself to write the kind of exposé her editor was looking for. But she had no intention of telling Mac that or he’d pull her from the assignment faster than she could say RODEO and give the Rodeo Romance column to someone else who would give him the dirt he wanted. She just had to make sure she gave him a story that would be guaranteed to sell – without dragging Cade’s pride down with it.
“Nice wheels,” Cade said as he stepped up to the car.
Drawn from her troubled thoughts, she replied, “Thanks.”
“‘72 ‘Vette?” he asked as he ran his hand along the hood.
“Close. ‘71.”
He circled the car, admiring it. “She’s a beauty. T-tops and all. How’s it ride?
Lacy reached out and opened the door. “See for yourself.”
“What?”
She held out her keys, dangling them in front of him. “Let’s go for a ride.”
He glanced down at the key ring swinging to and fro in front of him, obviously contemplating her offer.
Smiling, she reached for his hand and placed her keys into his palm. “I have to confess. You’re going to be my first.”
The key ring slipped from his hand, but he caught it midair. “The first?” he repeated, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
Lacy rose up on her toes and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “The first person other than myself to drive this car since I’ve owned it.” Laughing softly, she turned and walked around to the passenger side. “Let’s go, cowboy.”
“Can’t,” he replied.
“Can’t? Or is it because you’re afraid to?” she taunted.
“What the hell is there to be afraid of?”
“That this beauty might be too much for you to handle?”
Capturing the Cowboy's Heart Page 3