Taming Angelina: The Temptation Saga: Book Four

by Hardt, Helen;

  Why was she so damn gorgeous? She wore her hair down today, and those silky waves tumbled over her bare shoulders clad in nothing but a pink tank top. He wanted to bury his nose in those tresses and inhale.

  Rafe nodded. “I remember. I was there.”

  “We haven’t talked about it.”

  “So?” What was it with women and talking?

  He sighed. He did owe her an explanation. He had overstepped his boundaries with her twice, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

  “So? That’s all you have to say?”

  His turn to clear his throat. “No. I do need to say something.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

  Her lips curled into a snarl. “Sorry?”

  Clearly not what she thought she’d hear.

  “Yes, I’m very sorry, Angelina. I won’t deny that I’m attracted to you, but I’m a professional, and I violated my work ethic. If you want to find another riding instructor, I understand.”

  “Find another instructor? Are you serious?” She paced back and forth. “Chad handpicked you for my father. He’s insisting I learn to ride, and so far all I’ve learned is how to clench my butt in a chair.”

  And what a finely-shaped butt it was. He itched to caress the contours of that perfect feature.

  “You’ve learned how to sit on a horse. You’ll see the value of that tomorrow when we have our lesson.”

  “What if—” She stopped abruptly.

  “What if what?”

  “Oh never mind!” She stormed off.

  He shook his head. Now what? She didn’t actually want to continue their liaison, did she? They were dynamite together, no doubt, but she’d made it crystal clear that she considered him beneath her socially. Wait until she found out he’d grown up in a trailer park and his father still lived there.

  How beautiful she’d been when she came for him. Whispered his name as he held her afterward. He stiffened. How she affected him physically. Even emotionally on some level. He sighed. If only things were different, maybe they’d have a chance.

  But he could never marry, and a girl like Angie deserved marriage and a family. Even a spoiled brat deserved more than he could offer.

  He checked his watch. Almost quitting time. Thank God. He needed a drink.

  * * *

  “Catie!” Angie waltzed right into her sister’s house. “Where are you?”

  “In here,” her sister called from the kitchen.

  Angie walked to the back of the house and found her sister at the table. “Hi, Cheryl,” she said to the cook.

  “Hi, Miss Angie,” Cheryl said without turning around.

  “Smells great.”

  “Lasagna in the oven,” Catie said. “One of Chad’s favorites.”

  “Where is Chad? I need to talk to him.”

  “He’ll be in soon. You want to stay for dinner?”

  Angie nodded and sat down. “Thanks. I’d love to if you don’t mind. I’ve been following Harper around on the ranch all day and I’m starved.”

  “You don’t look like you’ve been ranching all day.”

  “I went home and showered. Harp yelled at me for knocking off early, but I told him to fuck off.”

  Catie laughed. “You told Harper to fuck off? That’s great, Ang. Bet that went over like a ton of bricks.”

  “Yeah, he wasn’t too pleased, but I don’t rightly care. I’m exhausted.”

  “What are you doing over here then?”

  “Came over to talk to Rafe.”

  “Yeah? How are the lessons going?”

  “Great. So far I’ve learned how to sit in a chair.”

  Catie laughed again. “So he’s teaching you to ride without reins? Good for him. That’s what’s best for the horse.”

  “It’s not how you learned.”

  “No, not at first, but I eventually learned to use very little rein. I still keep the reins handy, just in case, but I don’t rely on them at all.”

  Angie rolled her eyes. “Well, goodie for you.”

  “If you came over here to be a bitch, you can leave,” Catie said.

  Angie sighed. “I’m sorry. I came to speak to Chad, actually. It’s just been a rough day.”

  “Yes, I know. Rough day of ranch work. Stuff Harp and I have been doing for years.”

  “I know, I know. God, am I really that awful?”

  “You’re spoiled, no doubt.”

  “That’s what Amber said too.”

  “Amber’s right.”

  “What happened to me? Why not you? Why not Harp?”

  “Harp’s a boy, and Daddy got him started with work at a young age, I guess. As for me, I came along so much later and I loved horses and the ranch so much, it just naturally fit my personality.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. You’re just a different kind of girl than I was, Ang. It’s okay.”

  “It’s Daddy’s fault, really. Why didn’t he insist I learn all this stuff earlier? Did you know he’s threatened to cut me out of the will if I don’t learn about ranching?”

  Catie’s eyes widened. “Really? No, I didn’t know. But Angie, you can’t seriously blame Dad for you not learning this stuff.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not his fault. You’ve been hanging around here since you got out of college. That was ten years ago, for God’s sake.”

  “I’ve done stuff.”

  “Preparing me to be rodeo queen doesn’t count.”

  “I’ve prepared a contestant every year, I’ll have you know. Some of them even paid me.”

  “Dad pays for your living expenses and everything, doesn’t he?”

  She warmed. Surely her cheeks were turning crimson.

  “You haven’t worked either. You went to school, and then you married Chad.”

  “If you think I don’t work around here, you’re crazy. I do a load of work every day. I’m up with the birds taking care of horses and taking care of this house.”

  Angie rolled her eyes toward Cheryl. “You have a cook, for goodness’ sake.”

  “It just so happens that my cooking stinks. That doesn’t mean I don’t pull my weight around here.”

  She’d hit a nerve with her sister, clearly. “Where can Chad be?”

  “He’ll be in. What did you want to talk to him about anyway?”

  Easy. She wanted to tell him that his ranch hand, Mr. Rafe Grayhawk, had behaved unprofessionally toward her and she wanted to have him fired. Chad would do it for her, wouldn’t he? If not for her, for Catie. He’d lose his job, and she’d be the catalyst. No one treated Angelina Bay the way Rafe had treated her. Not without consequences, that was for sure.

  An image flashed in her mind—the horrified look on Judy Williamson’s face when she’d botched Angie’s color and Angie had threatened to run her out of business. Judy’s cheeks had reddened, and fear had washed over her eyes.

  Angie’d been horrible that day. An emotion tugged at her—not quite sadness, not quite guilt.

  Shame.

  For the first time, she felt ashamed of her behavior. Ashamed of how she’d treated Judy that day. Ashamed of what she’d come here to do.

  She bit her lip. She could have Rafe fired in a minute, but was that what she really wanted? If Rafe left, who would teach her to ride? If Rafe left, how would he earn a living?

  And if Rafe left, she’d never see him again.

  That thought niggled at her, bit at her like a pesky fruit fly.

  He’d taken her to paradise and back. If he were gone, she’d never experience that ecstasy again.

  No, he needed to stay put. For his own good and for hers.

  His ethics still proved problematic. That’d be a challenge. Course Angelina Bay could seduce an ethical ranch hand sure enough. She’d already done it.

  She hadn’t yet had her fill of Rafe Grayhawk. One-morning stand be damned! She’d have as many morning stands as she wanted before she—and she alone—decided it was ov
er.

  “Hey, sugar.” Chad McCray sauntered in. “How long till dinner? I need a shower somethin’ awful.”

  Angie wrinkled her nose at the aroma of dirt and steer. He sure did need a shower.

  Cheryl turned from the counter. “About fifteen minutes, Mr. Chad.”

  “That’s plenty of time,” Catie said. “Go ahead and wash up. Angie’s staying for dinner. She wants to talk to you.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s up, Ang?”

  Angie cleared her throat. “It’s nothing important. Nothing I can’t handle alone, actually. Let’s just have a nice dinner.”

  “Sounds great to me,” Chad said. “See you in a few.” He headed upstairs.

  “Spill it,” Catie said. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I promise. But before Chad comes down, I want to know every single thing you can tell me about Rafe Grayhawk.”

  * * *

  Angie still cringed. Every hair on her body stood upright.

  Rafe Grayhawk was twenty-five years old. Seven years her junior! And he’d grown up in the trailer park on the south side of town. The south side, a step below the west side, which was the bad part of town.

  He was descended from the Comanche on his father’s side, Irish and Lakota Sioux on his mother’s. Nearly a full-blooded Native American. That part hadn’t surprised her. He sure as heck looked the part. Put him in a pair of buckskins with a feather in that long black hair and place him atop a pinto and he’d be the picture of a young warrior. He’d steal the heart of every girl in the State of Colorado.

  His mother had passed away about three years ago, though Catie didn’t know how. His father still lived in the family trailer in Echo Gardens, the trailer park on the south side. A Mexican woman named Lilia lived with him and kept house. She worked part time for Jason McCourt, a realtor in town. Rafe’s father had retired from construction work on disability due to a hip injury, and he had chronic asthma and had a hard time with Colorado winters. Rafe had a brother, Tom, about two years older and divorced. He worked as a mechanic for Joe Bradley in town. He and Rafe shared the small two bedroom apartment above Annie McCray’s vet office. Rafe, to Catie’s knowledge, had never been married.

  No wonder Angie had never seen hide nor hair of Rafe or his brother. She and Harper were too old to have known them in high school, and Catie, at nearly twenty-two, too young.

  When Chad came down to dinner, Angie’s appetite had waned. She excused herself and left. She pondered all Catie had told her as she drove to her house on her father’s property.

  Had she not been intimate with the man, she’d have called him trailer trash. It was a term she used often, though less since she’d stopped hanging around with Dallas McCray’s ex-wife, Chelsea. That bitch had been a bad seed, no doubt. A few years ago, she’d poisoned Dallas’s cattle. And all that after he’d given her a seven figure settlement! Why she hadn’t taken the money and run, Angie had no idea.

  She sighed. Chelsea had been fun to shop with for sure, but the woman possessed no real depth.

  But did Angie? Was she headed that route herself? She’d certainly never poison anyone’s livestock.

  Trailer trash?

  Rafe?

  He spoke well. She’d only heard him say “ain’t” once, though that meant nothing. The McCray boys habitually used that word, and they were all intelligent and highly educated.

  Rafe and Tom had both finished high school but hadn’t gone to college. No doubt their parents hadn’t been able to afford higher education. They lived in a trailer, after all.

  So she wouldn’t marry the guy. He was a ranch hand, for goodness’ sake. That didn’t mean they couldn’t screw each other’s brains out. Truth be told, he was better in the sack than any she’d had, including Zach McCray.

  He’d shown her a passion, an intensity, that no other man had. And though it’d been five years since she’d had any, she’d had plenty in her younger days for comparison.

  But a trailer? Angie couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the concept.

  Abruptly, she stopped her car and turned around. The evening was sunny and warm. The sun hovered right above the mountains, magenta clouds surrounding it. A beautiful sunset was on the horizon. Why not take a drive?

  And why not check out Echo Gardens trailer park?

  Chapter Seven

  “You feelin’ up to a drink at the Bullfrog?” Rafe asked his father. “Tom told me he’s working tonight.”

  The door of the trailer jiggled and in walked Lilia. “Hi, Rafe,” she said in her Mexican accent. “You staying for dinner?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Rafe said, “and after that, I’m takin’ Dad for a drink. You want to join us?”

  She shook her head. “You two go ahead. I’m beat. I’m going to warm up some tamales and then hit the sack.”

  “Homemade tamales?”

  “There’s no other kind.” She smiled.

  Lilia was a pretty woman. Not beautiful, but pleasantly pretty with an attractive curvy figure. Her olive skin and dark eyes provided a nice contrast to the pastel hues she always wore. She was thirty-five now. Thirty-five and still happy to be keeping house for Jack.

  Rafe said a silent prayer of thanks for her. She could easily go out on her own and find better paying work than answering phones for Jake McCourt. He and Tom had made it abundantly clear that she owed no debt to either them or their father. Yet still she stayed in the trailer park, making sure Jack was fed and his home clean.

  After a dinner of Lilia’s delicious tamales, Rafe dragged his father out of the house to the Bullfrog for a beer. Jack was still a nice-looking man, and there was no reason he shouldn’t get out when he could. Rafe worried about him, how he’d never seemed to quite get over his wife’s death. The wistful looks he got when her name was mentioned, or when he looked at Lilia, no doubt imagining Finola in her place. How he rarely left the trailer.

  “Come on, old man,” he said to his father as he parked in back of the bar. “Time to have a little fun.”

  * * *

  Not a bad little place, really. So it was a trailer park. The children running around for the most part looked clean and well-fed. What had she been thinking? That trailer trash didn’t take care of their children? Some of the men and women sitting outside were overweight, but all classes had overweight people. And yes, some of them were sitting on plastic lawn furniture. So what? It was inexpensive seating from Walmart. Big deal.

  Which one was Rafe’s? No way to know, really. They all looked alike. Cracker boxes painted different shades of gray and green. Nope, there was a beige one. Some of them needed exterior work, but quite a few of them were amazingly well kept. How had she been so wrong about people? She’d always assumed lower income people took no pride in their appearances or their homes.

  Rafe certainly did. He took pride in his work and in himself. He even spoke better than a lot of the educated people she knew. Truth be told, he hadn’t been out of her mind since she’d first laid eyes on him. He was always there, niggling at her. The sweet memory of their kisses, their lovemaking.

  Her heart quickened. What was she saying? She was not falling love with the man. She hardly knew him. He was way too young. She was no cougar. And even though she now knew he was much more than she’d first thought, they still had nothing in common.

  Nothing at all.

  Except dynamite chemistry in the bedroom. They couldn’t build a relationship on that.

  She sighed. Quickly she texted Amber and arranged to meet her at the Bullfrog for a drink. She wanted to drown her sorrows.

  She drove back into town, parked her car, and headed into the bar. Amber had arrived and already ordered their first round. A cosmo for her and a dry martini for Angie. She was laughing with a new bartender.

  A new bartender who looked oddly like Rafe.

  Angie walked toward them and saw it couldn’t possibly be Rafe. His hair was much shorter and had a little wave to it. It brushed his broad shoulders. The skin color, eye
s, and facial characteristics were dead on, though.

  “Hey there,” Amber said. “Meet Tom, the new bartender. And you’ll never guess whose brother he is.”

  “Rafe Grayhawk’s,” Angie returned.

  Tom let out a laugh. “Yeah, the resemblance is pretty uncanny. So you’re Angie.”

  “Born and bred.” She held out her hand. He had a firm handshake like his brother. Funny, her skin didn’t tingle at the touch. He was every bit as handsome as Rafe.

  What was going on?

  “Thanks for getting the drinks,” she said to Amber. “Next round’s on me.” The next round would be Amber’s last. Her friend never drank more than two cosmopolitans. Said she’d had some bad times with alcohol in her past. Someday Angie’d get the scoop on that.

  But not today. Today was for her to confide in her friend about Rafe.

  Course she could hardly do that with his brother standing right there. She sighed and turned to look down the counter at the rest of the bar.

  Her heart sped up.

  Rafe.

  Not all men could pull off a bright red shirt, but he surely could. It was perfect with his dark skin and black hair. And oh, his hair. He wore it loose tonight. She’d never seen it that way before. Straight, black as night, and longer than her own. It flowed down his back and over his shoulders like an ebony curtain.

  Whoever said long hair was not masculine had never set eyes on Rafe Grayhawk.

  He sat the very end of the bar with an older gentleman sporting the same dark skin and black eyes. His father?

  She took three long gulps of her drink. There was one way to find out. She excused herself to Amber and walked toward Rafe. A tequila sunrise sat in front of him. A beer in front of the other man.

  “Hello,” she said.

  He looked up. “Hi there. What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you, I’d say. Having a drink.” She gave him what she hoped was a coy smile. “Who’s your friend?”

  The older man’s eyes lit up like Christmas. “Aren’t you kind? I’m Jack Grayhawk. Rafe’s father.”

  “Dad, this is Angelina Bay,” Rafe said.