Taming Rafe

by Susan May Warren

He could hardly believe he’d taken Kitty to Gilly’s Bluff yesterday. He hadn’t meant to open up his own wounds, but he found himself saying things around her . . . things he hadn’t told anyone else.

  “Yep,” Rafe answered his sister. “Kitty’s real nice.”

  “What are you two up to today?” Stef said, sitting next to him. “I’m going to be working with a couple of new horses down at Maggy’s; you could bring her over, and we’ll show her how we break them.”

  And help her gather another harebrained idea for her so-called Hollywood dude ranch? But maybe, if done right and if Stef and Nick agreed, the idea could work. And, yes, some people would pay good money—really good money—to see him ride. Only, he didn’t ride anymore. But his friends did. . . . He hoped they were still his friends after his recent all-around less-than-friendly behavior.

  “Stef, I saw this ad in a magazine—something about the Silver Buckle being a dude ranch for rich people. Do you still think that’s a good idea?”

  She gave him a long, very strange look. “Oh, thanks for bringing that up. I don’t think it’s very nice of you and Nick to laugh at my ideas. For a long time I was the only one trying to keep this ranch together, and I was grasping at straws.” She threw out her coffee. “You might want to remember that if it weren’t for my dude ranch then Piper wouldn’t be here, would she?”

  “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “I think you should focus on how you can help Kat get out of the mess you got her in.” Stef stood up and stormed into the house.

  “Stef!”

  The door banged again, and she came out, jangling her keys. “I think you need to wipe that giddy, teenage, love-struck smile off your face and start facing your responsibilities.” She marched down the steps.

  What burr did she have under her saddle? “Stef, what did I say?”

  “You know, you’re not the only one with big dreams, Rafe!” Stefanie got into her pickup, slammed the door, and drove off.

  What big dreams did Stef have? He knew his—or had known them until Kitty walked into his life. Maybe his big dreams just looked different suddenly.

  And did Stef say love-struck? A guy couldn’t fall for someone in a week’s time, could he? Besides, Kitty just wanted him for her project. Her friendship, his feelings, weren’t real.

  None of it was real. Not the warmth in Kitty’s smile as she drove up and got out of the Jeep, looking like a dream with her long brown hair. Nor the crazy way his heart leaped when she said, “Hey, you going to teach me to rope?” Not her sweet, clean, freshly showered aroma as he coiled the rope and fitted it into her hand, showing her how to hold it.

  No, it simply wasn’t real, the way she looked at him with those incredible eyes and softly said, “Can you show me?” Nor the sudden desire that rushed into his chest, filled his throat, cut off his breathing as she said, “I think this should definitely be included in the dude ranch list of activities.”

  As long as none of this was real, then neither were the ramifications of his stepping close behind her, wrapping his arm around her, holding her hand, and showing her how to flick her wrist so the loop twirled around her head. She giggled, and he swallowed hard at how well she fit into his arms. She came to about his nose in height. If she were to turn . . . just a little . . .

  Kitty threw the lasso, and the loop landed around one horn. “I caught him, Rafe!”

  “Good throw,” he said, stepping back and shaking some sense into himself before he got them both into trouble. What was he thinking? They should go watch Stef and Maggy work the horses . . . and he’d stay on the other side of the corral.

  “A man’s gotta think before he acts, Rafe. Life isn’t handed to you on a platter. You have to work for it.”

  Bishop’s voice found him from across time, and Rafe was again sitting in the detention hall as his father picked him up at school. Disheveled, with a trickle of dried blood on his split lip, he knew that the other kid looked a lot worse. Just once, he wished his father might look beyond the troubled kid he saw to the one inside who’d been trying to keep the fourth-grade bully from scaring the second graders.

  But Bishop never looked that far. He shook his head and told his ten-year-old to get in the truck.

  Rafe had learned one thing from those days: pretty girls like Kitty didn’t pick the runt of the litter. No matter how he masked it—with his charm or his bravado—someday she’d figure out he was more trouble than he was worth.

  “I did it again!” Kitty yanked back on the rope, now having encircled both horns with her lasso. She fairly glowed. “Did you ever try roping in a rodeo?”

  He shook his head. “I left that to Nick. He won the National High School Rodeo Championship in team roping.”

  “So you decided to ride bulls instead? Isn’t that harder? more dangerous?”

  “Maybe that’s the point.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and he let that statement, that very vulnerable, why-did-he-say-that-again statement hang there without comment. He was turning into a regular gusher of information around her.

  Kitty turned back and wound up the rope, getting ready to give it another go. “Now hold still, little fake steer.”

  Rafe shook his head, but she glanced at him, her eyes twinkling. She nailed the dummy steer again, and he felt the strangest leap of joy.

  “I think I’m ready for something tougher. Maybe some steer wrestling. Or bull riding.”

  “Uh, I don’t think so, cowgirl.” He reached out to take the lasso from her.

  “Why not? If you can ride bulls, why can’t I?”

  He gave her a pointed look. “Well, are you tough?”

  “I’m tough.”

  “Can you take a little pain?”

  Kitty thought about it for a second, then nodded.

  “Are you afraid of a challenge?”

  She grinned. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  His mind went back to their first meeting. Yes, she had some spine.

  “Did I ever tell you that my dad was a bull rider?” Kitty looked away from him. “His name was Bobby Russell.”

  Katherine Breckenridge was Bobby Russell’s . . . daughter? Rafe tried to register this information. This beautiful woman was the daughter of his hero? “You’re Bobby’s daughter? Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t know it would matter. Besides, I didn’t want to mention that he was in your profession.”

  “I know he died. I was a huge fan.”

  “Really? So you saw him in action?”

  “Yeah, a couple times. He even signed . . . my poster.”

  She giggled, apparently pleased by this. “I met John Kincaid; evidently, they were good friends. My dad even worked on his ranch back in the early days.”

  “I didn’t know that. Hey, you wanna see Bobby’s poster? I had it signed when I was six. . . .” Oh, brother, he sounded like he was still six-years-old. The eagerness in his voice made him want to pull his hat down over his face.

  “Oh, I’d love to!” Kitty’s enthusiasm made him feel as if it might be okay to still be a child and infatuated with a hero.

  She followed him into the house and moved behind him patiently as he dragged himself up the stairs. Rafe had never let a woman see his room before, and he hesitated at the door, glad he’d given it a once-over this morning. Still, it felt odd to let Kitty see the trophies, the ribbons, and—oh no—the tumble of Westerns by the side of his bed that betrayed his lack of a social life.

  Kitty stood quietly in the doorway, staring at the poster of Bobby above his bed.

  He definitely felt like a kid again, but he was profoundly glad he’d never taken the poster down. Then again, last time he’d been home for any length of time, he’d been sixteen and lived and breathed bull riding.

  “Bobby Russell was an incredible rider,” Rafe said, standing slightly behind her and resting his hand on the doorframe. “I have a videotape—”

  “Of him riding?” Kit
ty turned slightly to look up at him. “Can I watch it?”

  She consumed his thoughts, and the fact that she was Bobby Russell’s daughter . . . well, she had bull riding in her blood too, didn’t she? Besides, she smelled so good and stood close enough to . . .

  Rafe couldn’t stop himself. He leaned down and kissed her. Gently, just enough to satisfy his curiosity and the desire he’d been avoiding all week.

  Kitty didn’t move or kiss him back, but she didn’t pull away either.

  Rafe closed his eyes, losing himself in this moment, feeling that painful longing he’d lived with for so many years ease. She tasted of coffee, her lips soft and sweet and opening slightly. . . .

  Kitty. Sweet Kitty. He braced his hand over the door, using the other one to cup the back of her neck as he deepened his kiss. Yes, this was a thousand times better than any meaningless kiss from a fan. This was real, and something—

  She put a hand on his chest and pushed just a little.

  Rafe pulled away, his breath tight, a smile tipping his lips until he saw her eyes wide, her face nearly white.

  He’d kissed plenty of women, but none of them had ever acted as if he’d done something to be strung up for. “I’m sorry, Kitty. I just . . . I lost myself there. I didn’t think . . . I’m . . .” He looked away, running his hand through his hair, kicking himself. He should have asked, shouldn’t have assumed that those smiles meant anything beyond . . .

  What had he been thinking?

  He’d do better next time. Much better.

  “I think I should go.” Kitty ran down the stairs.

  “Kitty, wait! I’m . . . sorry.”

  She was already gone, evident by the squeal of the front door. Clearly, there wouldn’t be a next time.

  The door banged shut, and he jerked, bringing himself firmly back to reality.

  So much for happily ever after.

  CHAPTER 9

  KAT MADE IT as far as the Jeep before she stopped to let her heart catch up. What had she done? She felt sick, traitorous, and horrified, because for a moment there, she nearly put her arms around Rafe and kissed him back.

  Oh, did she want to kiss him back. To free herself in the embrace she’d been wondering about for days. To feel that smile on her lips, those arms around her. To be held in a way she imagined Rafe might hold a woman—like he meant it. Most of all, she’d never had the world stop, never felt herself tingle from head to toe when she kissed Bradley.

  Bradley’s kisses were tame. Controlled. And while Rafe’s kiss had been even more so, the feelings it evoked in her had been anything but tame. Apparently she had more of her mother in her than she realized.

  Guys like Rafe equaled trouble. Aside from his propensity to crash into things, like buildings, the ground, and bulls’ hooves, he lived and breathed danger. Rafe belonged in the guts-and-glory world of bull riding. After spending the past few days with him, she didn’t buy his I’m-not-going-back line for a minute. Everything in that scenario screamed broken heart! No, thank you.

  The only kind of bulls in her world were a good day on Wall Street. Kat had a nice, calm, safe life. And a sort of fiancé!

  But she saw the way Rafe looked at her. Especially when he thought she wouldn’t notice. It warmed her, clear down to her toes. No one, not even Bradley, had ever looked at her like that, and it made her feel free. Cute. Brave. Special. Desirable.

  The fact that such a look came from Rafe Noble, of the smoldering good looks, dangerous smile, muscled arms, and sweet brown eyes, made her truly feel like Kitty Russell, cowgirl.

  Yes, she needed to leave—not just the Silver Buckle but Montana—and hightail it back to reality in NYC.

  “Kitty! Don’t leave.”

  See, this is what hesitation cost her. She shouldn’t have stopped by her Jeep to assess the damage to her heart but instead jumped in and floored it. Because the minute she took one look at Rafe as he half limped, half hopped after her, she knew she’d be sticking around. She wasn’t exactly sure why.

  “Kitty!” He touched her arm and turned her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I just . . . you . . . you’re so pretty and you’re here, and you . . . you’re Bobby Russell’s kid!”

  “You kissed me because you like my father?”

  He opened his mouth, then frowned and shook his head. “I, uh . . . no . . . I mean . . .” He sighed. “Listen, let’s start over. You surprised me; that’s all. I’m sorry. I saw your smile and the way you looked at those posters, and I wanted to—”

  “Impress me. I know.” Kat smiled at him and he smiled back.

  His eyes found hers, and she saw a tinge of embarrassment flood over him.

  Imagine that. She’d discovered a guy who just wanted the girl to like him.

  “I don’t suppose that kiss impressed you at all?” Rafe looked at his boots, then at her.

  “Oh, honestly, are you in junior high?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, okay, it was nice. Sort of impressive.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What does a guy have to do to impress you, Kitty?”

  Stop being the man you think I want and be the man inside. Only, wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing? She lifted a shoulder. “I’ll know it when I see it. But that kiss is not happening again.”

  He held up the Boy Scout sign. “I promise to behave myself.”

  “Oh, sure. This from a man who rides bulls for a living and drives his truck through my favorite hotel.”

  His smile dissipated. “You ever going to let me live that down?”

  Kat gave a small, slow nod. “I am. Right after we raise half a million dollars.”

  She meant it as a joke, but sadness filled his eyes. He reached out as if to take her hand, then dropped his arm to his side. “I’m going to help you raise that money. Even though I’ve made a few mistakes in my life, I’m not that guy anymore. Not really. So your answer is yes.”

  Yes? Yes? “Oh, thank you! You won’t be sorry!” Everything inside her wanted to throw her arms around him, but instead she did a sort of happy dance, because that seemed a million times safer.

  Rafe was dead-on. He wasn’t that man who’d stumbled out of his totaled pickup at all. This Rafe Noble—the sheepish, adorable man before her—was much, much more dangerous. An arrogant cowboy she could dismiss. A man who let her see his insecurities, his needs . . . well, that might be more than she could say no to.

  How did his life get so complicated? A week ago John was just a simple rancher, with a secret life as a Western romance writer, holding on to the unrequited love of the local diner owner, trying to sell the nearly bankrupt ranch his father had left him—okay, so maybe his life had always been a little complicated. But this morning’s news that the production team had moved their arrival date up to tomorrow, along with last week’s arrival of Katherine Breckenridge, daughter of Bobby Russell and ghost from Lolly’s past, made him feel as if his life might be imploding.

  How was he supposed to keep Katherine from discovering the truth that Lolly so desperately—he could read it all over her face—wanted to keep hidden? More than that, how would his sudden rise to fame change Lolly’s life?

  Probably the best thing for Lolly would be for him to exit her life—and fast.

  But John was a sorry man with an addiction to a beautiful blonde diner owner, so he headed for Lolly’s at his regular time, sat in his regular stool, and ordered a Reuben. No fries on the side.

  Lolly plunked down his order and a Coke and snarled, “I’m tired and it’s all your fault.”

  He wasn’t sure what to make of that as she took Egger’s empty plate and waved to the two hands from the Silver Buckle. She did look tired. Bags shadowed her eyes, but she could still make his heart stand still.

  He needed her in a good mood for the bomb he planned to drop tonight. Namely, that his Realtor had found an interested buyer for his ranch. If he took the offer, in less than a month he’d close on the property and move. To Malibu. He already had a Realtor on the hunt
for a condo—he liked the sound of that word—or a small beach house.

  Maybe he’d even buy a yacht.

  By this time tomorrow, his secret would be out. The production crew would be arriving in the morning. Just in time for the Fourth of July parade and rodeo this weekend.

  Talk about being exposed in front of the entire town. A Western romance writer . . . perhaps he could ride a bull or something right before they made that announcement.

  If he didn’t drop the news on Lolly first, it could only add fireworks to the already volatile event.

  “Great sandwich, Lol,” he said.

  “Cody made it,” she snapped, looking up from where she cleaned tables. “Why didn’t you just take that book home with you?” She moved to the next booth, then turned and pointed to her temple. “He’s in my head!”

  John put down his sandwich. “Who’s in your head?”

  Lolly came over and threw the dishrag down on the counter next to him. “Jonas, that’s who. He won’t leave me alone.”

  John barely stifled a smile. “Yeah? Uh, who is Jonas?”

  She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and flopped down on a stool. “A dumb book character. I started reading Libby’s book a couple of nights ago, and now I can’t get the story out of my head. I’ve stayed up really late every night reading.”

  “You have?” He fought another grin.

  “Yeah, ’cause I’m sucked into the story.”

  “So it’s good.”

  She sighed. “Very good. No wonder everyone’s reading it. B. J. King is a great author. Now I’ll probably be required to get all his—or her—books.”

  “I think it’s a him.” John hid a smile. Most definitely a him.

  “Well, I don’t know how a guy did it, but I felt as if he crawled inside my head or maybe my heart and probed around. And Mary and I have nothing in common.”

  “Who’s Mary?”

  “The main character. Except we do sort of think alike. And Matthias—oh, what a jerk. I can think of a few things I’d like to do to him.”

  John raised an eyebrow, hoping he could pull off casual and not stupid.