Opposing the Cowboy

by Margo Bond Collins

Jonah reached out his hand to let the horse snuffle it. “Sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t bring any treats. Maybe next time.” He scratched along Blackie’s neck, and the horse tilted his head to give the man access to his ears.

  “You ride?” LeeAnn asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jonah replied. “Some of the places I survey, it’s the only way to get back to the areas we need to check out. At least at first, anyway.”

  When her back stiffened, he cursed himself for speaking without thinking. Of course she wouldn’t want to hear how Natural Shale built inroads across the land they drilled.

  How to get this conversation back on track?

  “How long have you had this guy?” he asked, working to keep his tone light. He knew how to put people at ease. It was part of what made him good at the negotiation parts of his job.

  Conversational. That’s the ticket.

  “Since I was fifteen. He was a rescue. Way too many horses get abandoned in Texas. People think they want a horse when what they really want is a pet. They think it’s going to be like a dog—a little food and water, and he’s fine. They don’t realize the commitment a horse really takes.” She paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, as if gauging his reaction to her mini rant. When he kept his gaze level and his expression interested, she continued in a more moderate tone. “Anyway, Gran took in horses all the time, rehabbed them, found good homes for them when she could. But when she brought in this pair of black geldings, my cousin Sami and I wouldn’t let her give them away. We named them Shadow and Blackie and spent every spare minute with them. Blackie was mine from the moment I saw him.” Her voice softened as she reached up to ruffle his mane. “Or maybe I was his.”

  “Where’s Shadow now?”

  “He was quite a bit older than Blackie. He died a few years ago.” Though her tone stayed steady, she bit her bottom lip and blinked several times as if to hold back tears.

  “So did you keep up your grandmother’s horse-rescuing tradition?” Jonah regretted the question immediately when her face fell even further.

  “No,” she said. “I couldn’t afford it. Too many vet fees. Too much work.”

  “But you miss it,” he said, his tone a question, even though he could see the answer in her face.

  “Yeah. I miss it.” She stared at Blackie for a moment, stroking her hand down his neck, then straightened her shoulders.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get started on this search.”

  Back to business. Right.

  “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  “You really think you’re ready for this?” LeeAnn asked.

  Jonah shrugged. “Sure. It can’t be that bad. Where should we begin?”

  That same impish grin lit up her face again. “I’ll let you decide,” she said. “Come on. I’ll show you what we’ve got to work with.”

  Uh-oh. That evil smile does not bode well.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  Chapter Nine

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Jonah peered into the dim recesses of the oldest outbuilding on the ranch—a wooden structure that creaked ominously, even in the gentle breeze that fluttered by. Giant cobwebs festooned the corners, and a thick coating of dust lay across the piles of broken chairs, old desks, and rotting trunks. “I’m beginning to think ‘hoarder’ was an understatement.”

  Behind him, LeeAnn snickered. She pulled a pair of leather work gloves out of her back pocket. “Now you see why I don’t know where the paperwork is,” she said.

  “How many more of these buildings are there?” Jonah asked. He could see another barn off in the distance, and what looked like some old stables with peeling red paint.

  “Of the ones I haven’t gone through yet? There are three barns, a stable, two attics, and a storm cellar.” Tucking her hair up more firmly under the straw hat she wore, LeeAnn moved past him to step inside. There didn’t seem to be any real path, so Jonah followed her as she picked her way past tottering heaps of junk.

  “You know,” he began conversationally, “I thought I’d seen everything. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to search for paperwork. I’ve had to sort through old storage units, attics, basements.” He paused to watch dust motes dancing in a beam of sunlight falling through a crack in the wall. “But I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

  “Well, at least it will give me a chance to see what’s in these buildings,” LeeAnn said. “I’d love to find something valuable—go on one of those antique-appraisal shows and discover that some piece of junk is worth a fortune.”

  “What would you do with it?” He lifted the edge of a square piece of plywood and peered under it.

  Her voice floated back to him as she moved behind a stack of mismatched chairs. “Split it with my cousins. Their dad blew all their inheritance in the stock market, then died of a heart attack before he could recoup any of it. I’d love to be able to make sure they got something.” When she popped back into sight, she had a smudge of dirt across her nose. “There are several trunks back here—one of them has papers in it, but I can’t tell what they are. Want to start here, or do you want to see the other buildings first?”

  He thought about it for a second. “Let’s take a quick tour so I can get a sense of exactly what we’re facing.”

  If the rest of the buildings were anything like this one, he had his work cut out for him.

  By noon, Jonah was convinced that he should have insisted another landman take this particular job, promotion or no promotion. He was also pretty sure that no one but LeeAnn would have taken a job as his assistant.

  And I practically had to blackmail her.

  Usually, tracking down mineral rights was a typical research job—he could find the answers he needed in local courthouse records. Occasionally he had to sort through a filing cabinet.

  Nothing like this.

  LeeAnn had been right. As far as he could tell, each of the outbuildings had been filled up with junk—in no particular order—then locked up and all but abandoned.

  His head ached from inhaling dust and mildew for the last few hours.

  All they had discovered was that there were probably thousands of pieces of paper in trunks and boxes, any one of which could hold the information they needed. The stables, in particular, seemed to hold an extraordinary number of cardboard boxes labeled simply “records.”

  “Let me get this straight,” LeeAnn said, climbing into his truck for the short drive back up to the main house from the outbuilding at the farthest edge of the ranch. “Any mention of mineral rights being willed to someone could be the basis for a potential legal wrangle? It doesn’t have to be filed at the courthouse or anything?” She blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes, and a puff of dust followed it.

  “Right. It’s harder to prove and less definitive, but with mineral rights, sometimes that’s all it takes for someone else to end up with the legal right to drill.”

  She shook her head, her lips twisting up. “It’s going to take ages to go through everything. You really sure your company’s going to think this is the best use of your time?”

  He didn’t miss the sneer in her voice when she said “your company,” but he ignored it. “I’m going to call them. My guess is yes, though—they want to drill here.”

  Surprisingly enough, Jonah found himself hoping he was right. Although he didn’t relish the thought of spending hours digging through the dusty, old outbuildings, the idea of spending more time with LeeAnn was oddly enticing. Even covered in dust, she was absolutely beautiful. In fact, he had spent more time watching her as she bent over to pull out boxes than he cared to admit. He had to keep reminding himself that she saw him as the enemy—and that as lovely as she might be, they were on opposing sides of this issue.

  Hippies, man. You don’t want any part of that bullshit.

  But he couldn’t help a covert, admiring glance at the way her breasts pushed forward when she put her hands on her hips and leaned backward, stretch
ing out her back. “Ready for a break?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He stood up and dusted off his jeans. “I’ll call my boss before we do anything else. And then tomorrow—”

  “No, tomorrow’s Sunday,” LeeAnn interrupted, shaking her head. “We can work again on Monday, but I’m not teaching, and I’ve got things to do around the ranch tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jonah replied, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and heading downstairs.

  More time with LeeAnn. What could it possibly hurt?

  Chapter Ten

  Monday morning, Jonah leaned against the door frame, one booted foot crossed over the other. He had expected LeeAnn’s morning class to be finished, but he was suddenly glad it wasn’t. She sat at the front of the room, her legs crossed, eyes closed, hands folded in prayer position as she murmured to the class, encouraging them to relax one muscle at a time. The soothing sound of her voice seemed to move right through him, and he felt his shoulders loosen. He could listen to her voice forever.

  The thought jerked him straight up, and he muffled a curse as he bumped his elbow against the door frame.

  Not forever.

  He was here to do a job. That was all.

  And once this job was over, he would be gone again.

  Fort Worth wasn’t home. He had an apartment out in Midland, but he mostly lived in hotel rooms, moving to follow the jobs as they showed up. Of course, the quality of the lodgings had improved dramatically since he had first started his career—careful investment in the gas and oil industry he had learned inside and out meant that he was wealthy enough in his own right, at this point—but none of the places he stayed were home.

  And if some tiny part of him regretted that? He didn’t have to pay attention to it.

  LeeAnn’s soft announcement that the students should begin to sit up drew his focus back to her. She glanced up at him through the door, her gaze steady. Then she turned back to the class and bowed over her hands. “Namaste,” she said.

  She stood up in one fluid motion and waved him into the room. More than one woman paused to stare at him as the students streamed by him on their way out of the room.

  “Why are you here?” Her tone was suspicious. “Aren’t we supposed to meet at the ranch?”

  “I thought maybe we could ride out together. Then you could bring me back when you come in for your evening class.”

  She bent over to roll up her mat. “I don’t want you to feel stranded out there.”

  The sight of her ass in the air as she gathered up her belongings hit him low in the belly, and he had to clear his voice before he could speak again. What had they been discussing? Oh. Right. “No worries.” His voice turned wry as he considered the state of the outbuildings. “I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.”

  With a shrug, she stood up straight. “Okay. Meet me out in the lobby in fifteen minutes. There’s chai tea out there if you want some.”

  Never in his life had he met a woman who could actually be ready in fifteen minutes. Jonah settled into one of the brown leather chairs grouped around a small coffee table near the entryway and blew the steam across the top of the paper cup he had filled from the dispenser. Really, he preferred coffee, but at least it kept him busy for a moment. Better than reading any of the yoga magazines on the table in front of him.

  Though some of those stretches were amazing. He began flipping through the one closest to him, but with every page, he imagined LeeAnn, bent over, stretched out, strong and lithe. It was only a small step from that to thinking of her in those same positions, naked, smiling over her shoulder at him.

  Dammit.

  He had to get control of himself.

  Just a job.

  That’s all she was.

  A bit of a nutjob, at that. Anyone who does yoga whenever she gets anxious has to be a little crazy.

  He imagined her bent over, hands on the floor.

  He shifted in the seat, uncomfortably aware of the throb of his sudden erection.

  So of course that was the moment she walked into the room.

  “Ready to go?” she asked brightly. She couldn’t have been gone for more than ten minutes. Her hair, still damp from a shower, spilled across her shoulders, and her face had been scrubbed clean.

  She was absolutely beautiful.

  “Sure,” he said, his voice gruff. “Give me a second.” He practically dived into the men’s locker room, then leaned against the closed door and breathed deeply.

  If her mere presence affected him this strongly, how was he going to continue to spend day after day with her? Those buildings were stuffed with decades’ worth of papers. Really, he needed a full team to sort through them.

  Work. He had to concentrate on work.

  He could do this.

  After another moment, he blew out a breath and rubbed his hands across his face. Then he pulled open the door and met LeeAnn’s puzzled glance with a smile. “Let’s go,” he said.

  …

  “Where do you want to start today?” LeeAnn asked, glancing at Jonah out of the corner of her eye. He’d grabbed a gym bag out of his truck and locked it up, choosing to ride over in LeeAnn’s car. Just as well—her Prius was the better environmental option, anyway. But she had to admit, he looked a little out of place, his broad shoulders eclipsing the small seat and the top of his cowboy hat brushing the ceiling of the interior.

  “Do you have any ideas in particular? Places your grandmother might have stored paperwork connected to the land?” His navy blue eyes stared at her steadily.

  “Hmm. I have two answers to that. There were a lot of boxes of papers in one of the guest bedrooms. Gran closed the door and put a bookcase in front of it before I was even born, I think—I never remember it being open. Those records are probably go up to the 1980s or ’90s? But I have no idea how far back they go—through Gran’s lifetime, probably, though I can’t be certain. Those are in the attic. The other place I’m certain has papers is the barn—there’s a stack of trunks with old records of some sort.” She shrugged. “So really, it’s up to you.”

  Pulling open the car door, she stepped out into the spring heat. Jonah followed.

  “One more question, then,” Jonah said from behind her. “I told you why I hired you. So why are you helping me search? There’s no guarantee that we won’t find something you don’t like. Why let me go through the records at all?”

  Why, indeed?

  Pausing on the bottom step leading up to the porch, she considered her words carefully, then moved up to sit on the porch swing. Jonah took one of the chairs across from her, leaning over with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely between his legs, eyes intent upon her face.

  “Here’s the deal. That guy I was trying to avoid in the diner the other day? My ex, like I told you.” She paused, half expecting some smart-ass comment, but he didn’t interrupt. “When we split up, it was ugly. Really horrible—primarily because he lied to me, had been lying to me for months, maybe even years. By the time he broke up with me, he was already engaged to someone else.”

  A nod from Jonah encouraged her to continue.

  She stared out at the field to the east of the house, covered in newly blooming bluebonnets. “It’s not the first time I’ve been lied to. When I was a child…” She shook her head. “Anyway, suffice to say I’m not a fan of lies. Not even by omission. If I didn’t do at least the bare minimum to help you find out who owns that right? It would be a lie. I’m not willing to do that.”

  Jonah’s snort drew her attention back to him. “I think sorting through all the crap your grandmother had in storage counts as more than the bare minimum.”

  With a laugh, she stood up. “You’re probably right. But I can’t be the person I want to be if I don’t do it.”

  When he frowned, a crease appeared between his eyebrows, making her want to reach out and smooth it away. “What does that mean?”

  She fought down the urge to touch him. “It means that if I don’t help you s
earch, I’ll forever feel like I’m living a lie.”

  “Okay, then,” he replied. “Let’s get started. I think the attic first.”

  “It’s this way.” She opened the door, leading him into the cool, shaded interior.

  With any luck at all, they would find something that proved she owned the mineral rights.

  Then he would go.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted luck to be on her side.

  Not quite yet, anyway.

  Chapter Eleven

  Three hours later, Jonah stretched, leaning backward until his spine made small popping noises. “Anything?” he asked.

  “No.” LeeAnn pulled her attention from the cord of muscle along his forearms and waved her hands at the piles of papers surrounding her. “But some of this stuff is amazing. I’ve got a whole stack of love letters here to Gran from her husband, from before they were married.”

  “Be sure to skim those,” he said. “Even a written comment about intention can make a difference in the strength of your case.”

  “Or yours.” She extended one arm above her head, then the other, shaking out the kinks that had developed after hours of sitting.

  “Right.” Jonah’s reply was distracted as he pulled another box off the top of the stack next to him. A beam of light from the dormer window above highlighted a blue gleam in his hair—one that matched his eyes almost perfectly. The jacket he’d had on that morning lay across another box, the cowboy hat atop it. Dust streaked the gray T-shirt that stretched across his chest. More dirt showed where he had wiped his fingers on his thighs. When he bent over to sift through an open container, an upside-down handprint showed on the back of his jeans.

  That perfect backside.

  Wow, he looks good in jeans.

  The night before, LeeAnn had done her own online searching through records, and after finding a number of entries about his work as a landman, she’d also pulled up a high school yearbook picture of Jonah. For some reason, that had fascinated her.

  He had definitely come into his own sometime after graduation. The picture was of a cute kid with the same dark hair and eyes—but without the broad shoulders and defined muscles. And definitely without the smoldering sensuality that simmered under the surface of the man in front of her.