Opposing the Cowboy

by Margo Bond Collins

  Well, that’s something, I guess.

  Not a full-time job sort of something, but at least not a “you’re fired” type of something, either.

  If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to start crying.

  Standing abruptly, LeeAnn nodded. “Sounds great. Thanks for letting me know. I’ve got to get over to Cowbelles. Kylie’s not back until tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad you understand,” Angie said to LeeAnn’s retreating back.

  But she didn’t understand—not really—and she fumed about it all the way over to the gift shop.

  Angie has known me for years. She knew I wanted that job, that I’ve been working toward it for ages now.

  Once again she blinked back tears, this time as she unlocked the door to the store.

  First Darrell, and now this.

  She flipped the light switches with a little more force than necessary, then made her way to the stockroom to drop her gear. A glance in the mirror showed her a face splotchy with unshed tears, so she splashed water on it in the bathroom sink. She envied women who could cry prettily—Kylie, for example, got a little pink at the end of her nose when she cried. She looked cute.

  Not me. She peered at the big red blotches across her cheeks and around her eyes. And that’s before the tears come.

  Usually, she would brush on a little powder and lip gloss to make up for the blotches—but today she didn’t even feel like doing that much. Pushing away from the sink, she puffed out a sigh.

  What a horrible week.

  Her lip trembled as she once again fought back tears.

  I have to get this under control.

  What yoga pose would work for this kind of misery?

  She squeezed her eyes closed, thinking hard.

  Inversions.

  Inverted asanas were good for bringing new light to old situations.

  I could definitely use a new viewpoint.

  Moving back into the showroom, she grabbed a T-shirt off the nearest shelf. “I’ll pay for it later,” she muttered to herself. Plopping it onto the cold, hard tile floor in the back corner of the room, she knelt down in front of the makeshift pad.

  Pay attention to body placement.

  Arms in a triangle. Protect the neck.

  Head on the floor.

  Knees up on the elbows.

  Lift the legs with control.

  Once her body was in perfect alignment, she closed her eyes and focused on her breath.

  In. Out.

  Relax into the pose.

  Om.

  The world slipped away, leaving in its wake a quiet silence, the peace that she never could find in the outside world.

  So deep was she into the meditation that she almost didn’t hear the electronic jingle of the door opening. The sound finally penetrated the wall of serenity she had constructed around herself, and she took a last deep breath in and blew it back out.

  When she opened her eyes, she gasped, her legs wobbling in the air until she leaned them against the wall.

  Squatting down in front of her was Jonah Hamilton, the tips of his cowboy boots less than six inches from her face, his own head tilted so far over that it was almost as upside down as she was.

  “Hey,” he said, one dimple flashing in a half smile. “How’s it going?”

  Well. That’s certainly a new viewpoint.

  …

  When Jonah walked into the shop, it had taken him several moments to find LeeAnn—and then it took a few seconds for his brain to fully process what his eyes were seeing when he finally saw what she was doing.

  Well, crazy upside-down hippie chick or no, he needed access to her land to get his promotion.

  After he spoke to her, she blinked a couple of times.

  “How’s it going? Actually? Pretty crappy.” Gently pushing off from the wall, she folded her legs down toward the floor in a controlled bend, forcing him to stand up and take a step back.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  Shaking her head as she grabbed a folded T-shirt from the floor, she moved toward the cash register.

  She’s about to put that damned counter between us again.

  Oh, no, you don’t.

  Jonah lengthened his stride to get in front of her and stopped, holding out one arm and bracing his hand on the wall to block her from getting past him. “I’ve had a brilliant idea.”

  “Oh, yeah?” LeeAnn ducked under his outstretched arm and kept moving. “What’s that?” Spinning on one heel, he followed her.

  “Why don’t I pay you to be my assistant?”

  The way her back stiffened when she stopped made it clear that he’d hit a nerve.

  But which one? And why?

  If only he could read her as well as his other clients. What was it about her that kept him so off balance?

  She didn’t turn around when she spoke. “Assisting with what?”

  “Going through all the paperwork out at your ranch. That way you will know everything that I know, as I know it.” He paused, uncertain if he should bring up the issue that had set her off the day before. Then he plunged ahead anyway. “If you’re my research assistant, then you won’t have to worry about what’s going on behind the scenes. You’ll know.”

  Anticipation stopped his breath as he waited for her reply.

  When she finally did look at him, a tiny frown line furrowed her brow. “You want to pay me to help you go through the paperwork that might allow you to drill on my land? To find a way to do the one thing I want to avoid at all costs?”

  Gently. Move very carefully.

  She’s skittish, but she hasn’t run away yet.

  “It’s not as crazy as it sounds,” he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. “If I don’t manage to track down the information they need, then Natural Shale will bring in the lawyers—the letter, along with the lack of any other information will give them enough leverage to make a claim against you. They’ll force you to produce all the paperwork anyway—and then you’ll either have to hire your own lawyers or accept that they’ll win.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you work for a bunch of bullies?” Her frown deepened. Again, he had to fight the urge to smooth it away, even though he knew that touching her would be the worst move he could make right now. Especially since she was finally paying attention, listening to his words rather than flying into a rage. Maybe he could get a logical response out of her after all. He had to try.

  “No,” he said. “What I’m saying is that there’s a good chance you’ll have to do this work anyway—you might as well get something out of it.”

  “What do you get out of it?” She turned her back again and headed toward the counter. Her tone suggested that she didn’t care about his answer one way or the other, but every line of her body said otherwise.

  Why does this suddenly matter more to her now than it did yesterday?

  Jonah hated working without all the pertinent information.

  “If they bring in the lawyers, I lose any chance at a bonus,” he said. It wasn’t the whole truth, but he wasn’t about to tell her he had a promotion riding on this deal. And he didn’t even want to admit to himself that part of the appeal of his plan was spending more time with this infuriating woman.

  “What if we discover that the drilling rights belong to me after all?” She still wasn’t looking at him, dammit. He needed to see her eyes.

  Well, at least she can’t see how much it matters to me.

  Best not to examine that thought too closely, either.

  “Then I’m out a little cash, that’s all.” He tried to put the accompanying shrug into his tone, even though she wasn’t looking. It took everything he had to keep quiet after his statement, to wait for her to make up her mind.

  “And if we find evidence that allows your company to drill?” Her voice was so low that he almost couldn’t hear it.

  The urge to comfort her swept through him, and taking a step forward, he reached out as if to place his hand on her shoulder.


  What the hell am I doing?

  Be businesslike. Act like a professional, dumbass. “Then you would have to accept that. But as the landowner, you would still have certain rights that will help you protect your ranch. If it comes to it, there are people who can help with that element.”

  She’s going to say no. He knew it with the kind of certainty that had served him through hundreds of negotiations, and he began marshaling further arguments to try to convince her.

  After a long, silent moment, she nodded.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Closing his mouth on the words he was about to say, he stared at her in disbelief. He should have felt relief. Instead, the defeat echoing through her voice felt like a punch to the stomach.

  What had he just done?

  Chapter Five

  What did I just do?

  Saying that single word—okay—made her head spin and her stomach clench, as if by merely agreeing to examine the documents, she had betrayed her gran, the ranch…her entire world.

  But at least this way she would be able to pay the taxes.

  Another year without taking out a mortgage. The ranch was hers, free and clear—exactly as she had promised Gran.

  So why did she feel so awful?

  “What’s next?” she finally asked, once again turning to face Jonah Hamilton. Looking at him sent irrational shivers up her spine, made her want to say yes to anything he suggested. She had kept her back to him through most of the discussion, knowing that if she faced him, she’d be lost.

  But now?

  Time to put on my big-girl panties.

  I don’t have many other options, and this will allow me to pay the taxes. So I need to accept it. I’ve made a deal with this devil.

  An amazingly handsome devil.

  “I thought maybe we could set up a time to talk later today. When do you get off work?” Jonah’s smile nearly blinded her. Although she understood why he would want to beat the lawyers to the punch by finding any paperwork that might exist, she had no idea why he trusted her to play fair, or how he thought paying her would benefit him if the precious paperwork he wanted didn’t exist.

  “Are you usually a gambler?” she asked, rather than answering his question.

  Those dimples flashed into existence again. “Only when the stakes are right,” he said.

  What does that mean?

  Rather than follow that line of thought, LeeAnn said, “I want to talk about this a little more, if it’s okay with you.” When he nodded, she continued. “I have a yoga class tonight. We can meet after—eight thirty? There’s a coffee shop on Main and Exchange. But talking isn’t going to do any good. Gran left everything to me. You’ll see.” The electronic bell over the door jingled, and LeeAnn turned toward it.

  “Maybe so,” Jonah said. “But it’s my job to verify that.” He tipped his hat as he passed the woman who had entered the store, then, turning back to LeeAnn as he pushed open the door, grinned and said, “And now it’s your job, too.”

  …

  Jonah was waiting outside the coffee shop when she arrived. An entire day of trying to come up with alternatives to his plan had left her exhausted and distracted, and the way his figure drew her eyes didn’t help her concentration.

  The driver of the bright red pickup coming out of the parking lot wasn’t paying any more attention than LeeAnn was as she stepped onto the asphalt entrance that crossed the sidewalk. She didn’t even notice the vehicle until Jonah reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her up against him.

  The squeal of brakes was almost instantly replaced by the revving of the truck’s engine, and the truck peeled out of the lot, the driver scowling at LeeAnn and Jonah as he drove past.

  “Are you okay?” Jonah asked, his grip tight on her upper arms.

  Still working to catch her breath, LeeAnn blinked up at him. Crushed against him, she could feel every inch of him—and of the reaction her closeness was eliciting. Her nipples tightened in response. The heat of his body pressed up against her seemed to steal her voice, and she cast around frantically for something to say.

  Something besides, “Oh, my, what big arms you have.”

  And other…things.

  In that context, a glance at the retreating pickup almost made her giggle. “I hate those,” she finally said, pointing at the trailer hitch of the truck. Jonah glanced over his shoulder to follow her gesture.

  “Trucks that try to run you over? I don’t blame you.” He settled her on her feet and brushed his hands up and down her arms, his gaze searching as if to reassure himself that she was really okay. With a nod, Jonah opened the door to the coffee shop and ushered her inside.

  She snorted, her voice still shaky. “Those, too. But no. I meant the stupid plastic testicles hanging off the back end.”

  The landman gestured for her to choose a seat. “So is it the testicles themselves that you object to, or the fact that they’re plastic?”

  She appreciated his willingness to ignore her adrenaline-induced shakiness.

  Definitely adrenaline. Not other…things.

  “I think they’re tacky,” she said. She stared up at the chalkboard menu above the counter, then turned to Jonah. “I’ll take a chai soy latte, please.”

  His dimples flashed for a bare second, and he nodded.

  Wishing she could read his mind—what was he grinning about?—she made her way back to one of the tiny bistro tables.

  Business. This is a business meeting.

  No matter how her body reacted to him.

  Deep breath. Om.

  …

  Jonah watched with interest as LeeAnn stood up on the tips of her toes and came back down next to the small table and chair by a window. He half expected her to stand on her head before she sat down. Instead, she simply slid into the seat and settled her shoulders in a straight-backed stance.

  It was that nervous habit yoga again—at least this time she hadn’t moved into the full crane-like pose.

  Besides, she almost got run down. Give her a minute to get over it.

  He was having to work to ignore the fact that the whole incident made him want to kill the idiot in the truck, then wrap LeeAnn in his arms to make sure no one ever hurt her again.

  Minutes later, he was seated across from her. He took a sip of his plain black coffee and watched her breathe in the steam from her chai, waiting for her to break the silence.

  “If I’m really going to work for you, I need more information,” she said. “Let’s start over from the beginning. Explain to me again what it is, exactly, that you do.” LeeAnn leaned back in the coffee shop booth, her blond hair bright against the red vinyl.

  Jonah matched her casual posture, a technique he had learned years ago that helped create trust. “I’m a landman. Basically, I’m something of a cross between a lawyer and a real estate agent for mineral rights. I track down titles, sort through wills, and work to find out who owns the right to mine or drill on any given piece of land. Once that’s settled, I arrange for right-of-way and drilling leases.”

  “And you’re particularly interested in my ranch because…?”

  Her tone had turned suspicious again, so Jonah worked to keep his as businesslike as possible. “A recent geological survey indicated that there’s a good chance we’ll find a natural gas reservoir. I’ve been contracted to find the mineral rights to your land and the land surrounding your ranch.”

  “Why not drill on someone else’s land, then?” She took a sip of her drink. “Couldn’t you get to the gas that way?”

  He nodded. “You’re right. All we really need is to tap into the reservoir—under your land or your neighbor’s really doesn’t matter. Once we sink a producing well, it will draw from the entire reservoir. But we haven’t been able to track down the Abrams’ mineral rights, either, and the Stephensons, who have clear mineral rights to their land, have refused to allow us to drill on their ranch. So for the moment, that leaves you.”

  “Okay. So you track down the
rights. And then?” She watched him carefully.

  “Then I start working out an offer to lease the mineral rights, and we drill.”

  “If the offer is accepted.” Picking up a napkin, she began tearing off tiny pieces and rolling them between her forefinger and thumb.

  “Right.” He took a drink of his own coffee.

  “So what do you need from me?”

  “The easiest thing would be if you have the paperwork proving you own the mineral rights—or proving that they went to someone else.”

  “I have no idea where to even start looking.” She didn’t look up from the tiny pile of napkin balls she was creating.

  “You inherited the house and land from your grandmother, right? Did she have any legal papers?” Jonah had to fight the urge to reach out and still her hands.

  “I don’t know where that kind of paperwork might be,” she said. She paused for a moment, staring at him through narrowed eyes. “If it’s anywhere at all.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll take my chances, then. We should probably start by going through all her papers to see if we can find anything that might help trace the rights.”

  LeeAnn’s harsh bark of laughter startled him. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking. Gran was a bit of a pack rat, to put it mildly. Honestly? She could have ended up on that Hoarders television show. She had a habit of filling up an outbuilding then slapping a padlock on it and leaving it. I’ve been working on sorting through them, but I’ve barely gotten started.”

  He shook his head. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. How many outbuildings are there?”

  “Six. Plus the old stables.” Sweeping the pile of shredded napkin balls off the table and into her hand, she dumped them into her empty cup.

  “And all of them are full? Of what?”

  Rather than answering his question, she slid out of the booth and stood up.

  “I think it might be better if you saw for yourself. I’m not sure it will be worth your time, but you’re welcome to come over Saturday and check it out.” She grinned at him, and the smile went straight through his chest. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, but sure, be my guest.”

  “Why not tomorrow?” he asked.