Taking Catie: The Temptation Saga: Book Three

by Hardt, Helen;

  She chose a white cotton with pearl snaps. It hung on her, but when she inhaled the clean crispiness of it, she felt like she’d come home.

  She walked out of the bedroom and decided to look around the house. Huge, as she’d realized last night, but in broad daylight, the Colorado sun streaming through the windows, it was gigantic. She walked through the living room, the dining room, all the time fantasizing about being mistress of this manor, showing guests in, smiling and laughing, Chad by her side, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders. She waltzed into the shiny kitchen and imagined preparing a hearty ranch breakfast for Chad and their children, shuffling them off to school, and then going about her daily chores. Chad would come home at noon for a hot lunch she’d prepare, and then, before he went back to work, he’d take her to the bedroom and love her because he couldn’t wait until the evening.

  Yeah, that’s how it would be.

  She shook her head. Damn, Chad was right. She was a silly little kid. Playing house like a schoolgirl.

  She headed back to the bedroom and replaced Chad’s shirt in his closet.

  How was she going to get home?

  Chad had brought her on Eclipse, and the walk back to her house was ten miles at least. She sighed as she slipped into her own shirt.

  A piece of garbage caught her eye by the wastebasket, and she reached to pick it up. Chad’s condom.

  Her heart skidded to a stop.

  There was a tear in it.

  Chapter Eight

  Driving to the south barn, Chad called Annie and then swore to himself as he pushed his cell phone back into his pocket.

  What the hell had he been thinking, asking Catie to call the vet? As if he’d never had a calf birthing before. He’d always called the damn vet himself. He didn’t need someone else to do it. She wasn’t his helpmate. It wasn’t her problem.

  He shook his head.

  The whole damn night had been a mistake. But oh, how her tight little body had sheathed him. He’d barely gotten into her and she’d gripped him like a vise. He’d had to work to keep from coming then and there. Now, all he could think about was burying himself in her sweetness again.

  A spike of heat hit him low in the gut, and his groin tightened in expectation.

  Not a boner. Not now.

  Christ.

  All he had to do was imagine her pretty face, her sweet raspberry kisses, her lovely brick-orange nipples.

  The tangy scent of her heated sex.

  He was a goner.

  Like he always said about his brothers. Always said they were goners. Damn.

  This had to stop, and it had to stop now.

  Otherwise he’d break her heart, and he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he did that.

  She wasn’t in love with him. This was a little girl crush that had gotten out of hand, yes, but it was nothing more than pure infatuation. He’d help her see that. He shook his head slowly. He sure couldn’t help her see that if he was sleeping with her.

  Yep, it had to stop.

  Goddamn it.

  Raspberries were his favorite fruit.

  * * *

  When Chad didn’t return within the hour, Catie called her sister, Angie, to pick her up.

  Angie, the gossip of all gossips, flooded her with questions of why her baby sister was at Chad McCray’s house. Catie fended off the inquiries as best she could. They’d gone riding. It had been late, and they were closer to his house. She’d stayed in one of his guest rooms.

  Luckily, it didn’t occur to her sister to ask why she wasn’t riding Ladybird home. She didn’t want to talk about this to Angie or to anyone. Not now. Not ever. She was too busy ruminating about the torn condom.

  What would happen? Chad didn’t want to get married. If he didn’t want to get married, he sure didn’t want kids.

  Now sitting back in her bedroom, Catie’s tummy tumbled and threatened to empty, even though she hadn’t eaten since the party. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts. A baby? She wasn’t sure she was ready for a baby. But a sweet little boy or girl who looked just like his handsome daddy? Oh, she could make do.

  But Chad? What would Chad say? Would he marry her? Would he want to? Would he want the baby? She choked back a sob. She might be alone in this. She would never abandon her baby, but could she raise a child alone? Women did it every day. She was certainly as capable as anyone else.

  She forced her thoughts to the back of her mind. This was all purely speculation. Not everyone who had unprotected sex got pregnant. Couples all over the world spent all kinds of time and money trying to get pregnant. Chances were good that nothing would happen. What were the statistics? Like eleven percent chance of pregnancy from one unprotected encounter? Still pretty good odds. And the condom might have ripped when Chad took it off.

  There, she felt better. Nothing to worry about. At least not yet.

  For now, she had a rodeo queen competition to win.

  “Angie!” she called.

  Her sister arrived, breathless. “Yeah? I was just on my way out.”

  “I’m entering the rodeo queen thing.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah, me. What’s your problem?”

  Angie, who was Chad’s age, had been crowned rodeo queen fourteen years earlier, at the ripe age of eighteen. Bakersville’s youngest rodeo queen ever.

  “Aren’t you too old?”

  “Nope. Not too old. And you’re gonna help me win.”

  “If this is just a ploy to get Chad McCray to notice you, I want no part of it.”

  Damn. Was she that transparent?

  “I can ride circles around you, and you won.”

  “There’s more to it than just riding, and you know it. You’ll need to dress the part. You’ll actually have to wear makeup, little tomboy.”

  “I wore make up last night, didn’t I?”

  “Barely.”

  “Just ’cause I don’t apply it with a putty knife—”

  “Uh, little sis, if you want my help, I’d stop with the insults.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Catie nodded. “You’re right. Okay.” She grinned. “You have to help me, Angie. I need you. I intend to win this stupid thing.”

  “That’s just my point, Catie. If you think it’s a stupid thing, you have no business entering.”

  “You’re right,” Catie agreed. “It’s worthy, actually. It showcases the equestrian talents of Bakersville’s young women, right?”

  “Yes, among other things.”

  “Like?”

  “Poise, intelligence, beauty, to name a few.”

  “I’ve got those.”

  “I’ll give you beauty and intelligence, Cate, but poise? Sweetie, you trip over your own two feet.”

  Catie cringed. She hadn’t thought of her perpetual clumsiness. “Well, I’ll have to get over that, won’t I? Besides, no one can beat me on horseback. Isn’t that most of what this competition is about?”

  “Don’t kid yourself, sweetie. It’s a beauty contest, pure and simple.”

  “No. No, it’s not. I mean, the McCray brothers are judging it. Two of them are married. What interest would they have in a beauty contest?”

  “Little bit, you are so naïve.” Angelina laughed and shook her head. “But if you’re bound and determined to enter, I think I can work with you. You’ll need to work hard with Ladybird. You’ve been gone awhile.”

  “You make it sound like I’ve been in hibernation for four years. I did manage to ride a horse or two in Europe. They have them there, you know.”

  “All right, all right. Simmer down, little bit.”

  “I think I’ve outgrown that nickname, Angie.”

  “Okay, Catie. We’ll need to think about your wardrobe, and your platform.”

  “Platform? This is rodeo queen, not Miss U.S.A.”

  “Still, you need to stand for something.”

  “I stand for the rodeo. For the art of the equestrienne.”

  “Hmm. That might work.”
<
br />   “It’s gotta work. It’s all I’ve got.”

  “We’ll work with it. We’ll take this competition back to what it’s really about. The horsewoman. Rodeo. Hmm, it’s too bad you never stuck with barrel racing. We could get Dusty to give you some pointers.”

  “Angie, I'm not going to become a champion barrel racer in a week.”

  “True. You’ll be able to do the required patterns though.” Angie paused. “You’ll do, little bit. You’ll do just fine.”

  Though she cringed again at little bit, Catie welcomed her sister’s expertise. God knew she’d need it.

  * * *

  Chad was glad to have Annie at the birth. The calf had had to be turned, and Chad hated doing that. His hands and forearms were big and caused needless pain to the cow. Annie took care of it, and the calf was born quickly and was already standing and searching for a teat.

  “Thanks, Annie,” he said at the house, while they were washing up.

  “It’s my job. No need to thank me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. But thanks anyway.”

  “You’re welcome. I need to get back, though. Dallas has a meeting later today and I need to be there for the girls.”

  “You can bring ’em over here if you’ve got something to do.”

  Annie smiled. “Don’t you have a ranch to run?”

  “Yeah, but heck, I love spending time with them. You know I’ll take ’em anytime.”

  “Well…” Annie hedged a bit. “If you could, it’d help me out. I promised Catie I’d get together with her and help her prepare for this rodeo queen thing.”

  “You?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I won a pageant or two in my day.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She swatted him with the towel she’d used to dry her hands. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Nah, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I think you’re beautiful. Hell, if my brother hadn’t snatched you up—”

  “Then you wouldn’t have either, Chad. The day you settle down’ll be a day of celebration for sure.”

  He lifted his lips in his trademark lazy smile. “Won’t be anytime soon, Doc. Tell me though, because I’m morbidly curious. What’s your experience with pageants?”

  “It’s every little girl’s dream to be Miss America, isn’t it? Especially a girl who grew up in Atlantic City?”

  “Maybe, but I’d’ve bet money it was never yours.”

  She guffawed. “Okay, you got me. It wasn’t mine. It was my ma’s. She took me through several local pageants when I was a teen, and I’m embarrassed to say, I did pretty well until I was old enough to enter the regional pageants.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I had the looks, the poise, they all said. But the bigger pageants have talent competitions, and I didn’t have a speck of it. I can’t carry a tune, never took to an instrument, I look like a marionette when I dance.” She laughed. “You can’t get up on stage and perform a dissection on a fetal pig. That’s the stuff I was good at.”

  “Well, there’s no talent competition for rodeo queen. It’s just struttin’ around and making a stupid ass speech. There’s a little horsemanship involved, but it’s stuff Catie can do in her sleep. It ain’t no Miss America, Annie.”

  “She wants to do it, Chad. Quit giving her guff.” Annie wiped her hands once more and replaced the towel. “Besides, I can’t imagine you or any other guy in Bakersville having a problem watching Catie strut her stuff in a bikini.”

  “Sure. Yeah.” Chad nodded, but his gut hurt like a knife had stabbed it.

  He sure as hell didn’t want Catie strutting her stuff for anyone but him.

  And that fact gnawed at the back of his neck like a persistent mosquito.

  Chapter Nine

  Dear Miss Bay:

  We welcome you to the Bakersville Rodeo Queen competition. Enclosed please find your agenda for the week, rules and regulations, and horsemanship patterns. We are looking forward to having you join us for this week of fun and fellowship honoring the traditions of the Bakersville Rodeo.

  Who is the Bakersville Rodeo Queen? She is a young woman who wishes to be a leader in her community. She loves horses and the western way of life. She will represent the Bakersville Rodeo during the year of her reign and will also represent the town in other community activities. She portrays excellent sportsmanship, high moral character, and careful and humane treatment of animals. She must understand the sport of Rodeo in its entirety and be able to explain any part of Rodeo to onlookers. She must speak intelligently and with dignity. Although this is not a beauty pageant, the Bakersville Rodeo Queen should act, speak, and dress according to the prestige this title represents.

  You must ride the same horse all week and have current health papers and a negative Coggins test on the animal.

  Please read your agenda carefully. Be sure to contact the competition coordinator with your platform and a description of your outfit and swimwear for Wednesday night’s party so the emcee can prepare his dialogue for the fashion show. Your entry fee includes one guest entry for the luncheon on Saturday. You’re required to give a three to five minute speech on the subject of your platform at the luncheon. If you would like to bring extra guests, please contact the coordinator. Tickets are $35.00.

  Please forward a five by seven photo of yourself in western attire to the pageant coordinator.

  If you have any questions, please feel free to contact the coordinator.

  We look forward to having you in the competition.

  Sincerely,

  Dallas J. McCray, Judge

  Zachary B. McCray, Judge

  Charles M. McCray, Judge

  Judy Williamson, Competition Coordinator

  Chad’s name was Charles? Catie smiled. She never knew.

  Not a beauty pageant? She scoffed. Right. What was the swimwear modeling for?

  She read the letter—which had arrived via special messenger, due, no doubt to her late entry into the contest—again. She’d have to have Annie do a Coggins on Ladybird to make sure the horse was free of equine infectious anemia. She wasn’t sure she had record of the last one.

  A three to five minute speech on her platform? She chuckled. She could talk all year about horses. Narrowing it down would be the difficulty.

  Judy Williamson. The owner of the salon where Amber worked. Would that give Amber an in? She laughed out loud. No more than sleeping with Chad McCray would give her an in. In fact, she’d better keep that little tidbit quiet or she might be disqualified.

  Not too much of a problem. She’d left his house Sunday morning. Here it was Tuesday, and he’d made no attempt to see her.

  Catie put the letter aside and looked at the agenda. The party and fashion show was tomorrow night! And she had to call Judy with a description of her outfits. Help! And she’d need a photo of herself, too. Quickly!

  Annie’d be busy all day, and Dusty wasn’t much of a fashion expert. But Catie’s big sister, Angie, was. She’d get Angie to take her shopping today. Maybe they’d drive to Denver, even.

  Friday evening was the horsemanship event. Catie glanced at the patterns. Yes! She and Ladybird would have no difficulty. She giggled, wondering if Amber and her acrylic nails had ever been on a horse.

  Saturday was the big day. The luncheon was at noon, during which Catie would make her speech. Afterward, each contestant would have a personal interview with the judges.

  She froze.

  A personal interview with Chad. How would she face him? Zach and Dallas would be there, too, but still…

  She read on. She’d ride in the Grand Entry that evening, with introductions and crowning at 7:30 p.m., before the rodeo events started. On Sunday, there’d be a parade, and the new rodeo queen would lead it.

  Okay. She could do this.

  She scanned the rules and regulations quickly.

  Yeah, yeah. The age limit, eighteen to twenty-two. The horse papers and Coggins test. No stallions. Conduct yourself properly. Je
ans and a long sleeve western blouse for the horsemanship. No gloves or chaps.

  Rule number ten stared out at her, as though mocking her.

  The winner of the Bakersville Rodeo Queen competition agrees not to marry during the year of her reign. If she should marry, the title will go to the first runner-up.

  She sighed. Not a problem. The only man she wanted to marry had no interest in marrying her. Done deal. She could be the rodeo queen.

  * * *

  Wednesday evening came before Catie felt ready. As she waited for her turn to model her western wear, she stared at the other contestants. They all looked more elegant than she did. What had she been thinking? Chad was right. She was just a kid. A kid trying to act like a grown-up. Didn’t matter that most of these contestants were younger than she was. They’d started preparing months ago.

  “You’re up next, Caitlyn,” Amber said, rubbing her shoulder. “Then me. I’m so nervous.”

  Amber looked beautiful in a black satin western shirt and white leather jeans. Catie felt infantile next to her, wearing the studded red shirt she’d chosen. She’d decided against the leather jeans and wore black denim. Angie had tried to talk her into leather, but Catie hated the way it felt against her skin. Sticky and stifling in the summer heat. But her red ostrich boots looked good, and her red-and-black studded belt.

  “Caitlyn Bay!” Judy called.

  “Go.” Amber nudged her. “And good luck.”

  “Yeah, you too,” Catie said, trying not to hurl.

  She walked out to the makeshift runway that had been set up in the arena.

  The emcee’s deep voice began. “Next up is Bakersville’s own Caitlyn Bay.”

  Catie wished she’d taken Annie’s advice about Vaseline on her teeth. Her lips stuck to her gums. “Caitlyn is twenty-one years old and recently returned to Bakersville after studying at the Sorbonne in Paris for four years. We’re glad to have her back. She’s the daughter of Wayne and Maria Bay of Cha Cha Ranch.