Have Cowboy, Need Cupid

by Rita Herron

  AN AWKWARD SILENCE stretched between them as they rode back to the ranch. Finally Suzanne could stand it no longer. Nearly making love to Rafe had only increased her hunger for him, and raised more questions in her mind. Who was this man, really? “How did you get those scars on your back?”

  A muscle in his jaw tightened. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have plenty of time.”

  He sent a sharp look toward her. “Let’s just call them fool’s wounds.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Means I got them because I was a fool.”

  “I see.” She twisted her mouth sideways. “A woman, huh?”

  “A woman who used me to make her real boyfriend jealous.”

  “Ouch.” She grew silent again. “What about your limp?”

  His laughter rumbled in the wind. “Now, that injury came from a horse. Meanest mare I ever tried to break. Called her Hellion.”

  “She threw you?”

  “More than once. But this time, I hit the barbwire fence wrong.”

  They’d almost reached the barn. “Did you get back on her?”

  “Of course.” He slowed Thunder to a walk. “I had to let her know who was boss.”

  But he hadn’t gotten seriously involved with another woman again, she thought. Which told her he’d never gotten over that fall.

  “RAFE, COME HERE!” Bud was jumping up and down in front of the barn, waving his hands. “Hazel’s in labor. I think she’s in trouble.”

  “Who’s Hazel?” Suzanne asked.

  Rafe slid off Thunder and tied him to the fence.

  “One of my prized breeding cows. I have to check on her.”

  “Can I come?”

  He shrugged. He didn’t have time to think about the reason for her interest. If Hazel lost this calf or died during the calving, he’d be out a bundle. Shoving his hat more firmly on his head, he strode inside the barn and followed Bud to the back stall where the cow lay on her side, groaning and shaking.

  “Get some blankets,” he told Bud.

  “You want me to call Doc Blackstone?”

  “Yeah.” It would cost him an arm and a leg, but he couldn’t afford not to call the vet. He unbuttoned the sleeves to his shirt and rolled them up, grabbed a pair of rubber gloves, then knelt to check the progress. Suzanne peered over his shoulder.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Not unless you’ve delivered a calf before.”

  She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. He almost laughed at the look of fear in her eyes. But the situation was anything but funny. He had enough troubles without the possibility of losing one of his most prized animals.

  The next hour was grueling as they watched the animal struggle to give birth. He didn’t understand why Suzanne stayed, but she remained steadfast by his side, crooning soft nonsensical words to the cow. Bud had poked his head in several times, saying he’d left messages for the veterinarian but hadn’t yet reached him.

  Finally, sometime after midnight, Suzanne fell asleep, her head tucked on her hand as she lay stretched out on the hay next to the cow. As if the animal knew it had company, it quieted slightly, giving in to the natural pains of labor more graciously.

  Rafe memorized Suzanne’s features, her presence destroying his preconceived notions about her.

  Finally, around three o’clock, the labor process intensified. The cow thrashed at the hay with her back legs, and Suzanne stirred, brushing her hair from her face as she soothed the animal.

  “She’s in pain, isn’t she?” Suzanne asked softly.

  His gaze met hers. “Yes, if she doesn’t deliver soon and Doc doesn’t get here, I’ll have to help her.”

  Her finely shaped eyebrows rose. “Have you done it before?”

  “Yeah.” But it was never easy, and sometimes Mother Nature took a nasty turn.

  But he didn’t want to alarm her. Instead, he shrugged, wiping the perspiration from his upper lip with the back of his arm. It was hot as blazes in the barn and he was shocked Suzanne hadn’t complained of the heat and animal odors. She also seemed oblivious to the dirt and hay on her jeans, the flies swarming nearby and the fact that his hands were less than clean.

  Hazel grunted and roiled, thrashing her legs wildly, and Rafe grimaced.

  Bud jammed his head in again. “Doc’s on his way. Be here soon.”

  Damn. Rafe gritted his teeth as the cow’s cry grew fainter. She was losing steam, he realized. Not a good sign.

  Bud gave him a panicked look, and Suzanne’s face twisted with anguish.

  He checked her again. “She’s breech,” he said, trying to cover the anxiety in his own voice. “I’ll have to turn the calf.”

  Bud grabbed hold of the cow to help hold her down in case she balked. Rafe dug deeper inside Hazel to get a good grip on the calf, then struggled for several seconds and managed to latch on to the rear. He twisted and worked, sweat beading on his forehead as he felt the calf finally moving in the correct position. The cow’s breathing sounded erratic, but he finally pulled the calf. Fluids covered the animal, and it lay alarmingly still. He quickly checked it for life, the silence in the barn almost deafening.

  “Is it all right?”

  He held his breath, but the calf finally squirmed and moved its legs.

  Suzanne and Bud cheered out loud, a car engine sounded outside, and Bud raced to greet the doctor. Rafe sat back on his haunches and prayed the mother would be all right.

  SUZANNE WATCHED IN AWE as Mother Nature took its course and the cow cleaned her baby. But Rafe’s worried look alarmed her. He gestured for her to follow him outside while the veterinarian examined calf and mother.

  “They’ll be all right, won’t they?” Suzanne asked. “I mean, the mother didn’t go through that agony for nothing.”

  “Sometimes it happens,” he said, not ready to offer details. “Why don’t you go on home, Suzanne. There’s nothing more you can do. You look exhausted.”

  “So do you, Rafe. You need some sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I know Hazel’s all right.” He rubbed his hand over his growling belly, then realized he was a mess. Oddly, Suzanne wasn’t balking or running as he would have imagined.

  “I want to wait and see what the doctor says,” Suzanne said.

  He started to argue, but Bud suddenly appeared with two cups of coffee. “Here, figured you guys could use this.” He grinned at Suzanne, and she smiled, wondering what he thought about her tagging along in the barn. But he didn’t comment; he simply headed back to the kitchen, probably to get himself a cup of coffee, too.

  Rafe leaned back against the fence and sipped the coffee, his dark gaze unreadable as he stared up at the stars in the sky. If he lost the cow, would it cause a financial strain on him?

  Sympathy swelled within Suzanne and she squeezed his arm. The simple movement brought his head down, and his dark gaze locked with hers. “What are you doing here, Suzanne?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. She had no idea, but it was the first time in a long time that she wasn’t in a hurry to be someplace else. The first time in forever that someone meant more to her than her job.

  And that someone was Rafe.

  Thankfully, Dr. Blackstone emerged from the barn before she had to reply.

  His expression was grave but hopeful. “I think she’ll be fine. The next twenty-four hours will tell.”

  Rafe nodded. Suzanne slipped inside to get another glimpse of mother and baby while Rafe conferred with the doctor. For some odd reason, tears pricked her eyes as the calf cuddled up to its mother to nurse. A few seconds later Rafe walked in. She hurriedly blinked away the moisture, unaccustomed to such emotions.

  “I guess I’d better go,” Suzanne said, afraid to look Rafe in the eye.

  He caught her hand, the troubled look in his eyes mirroring her own feelings. “Thanks for staying tonight.”

  Stunned by the gruffness of his voice, she raised on her tiptoes and kissed him. A
long, slow, tender kiss that promised of things to come. Then she turned and said goodbye.

  He wouldn’t thank her if he knew the real reason she’d come to Sugar Hill. The truth about why she’d accepted the riding lessons.

  No, he’ll hate you.

  All the way back to the apartment, she struggled over how to handle the situation. Should she just come clean now and tell him about her job? Should she try to convince James to look for another site for his development? He was counting on her, and she was counting on the promotion….

  What should she tell James about his proposal?

  Chapter Eleven

  Laughter sputtered over the phone. “You helped deliver a calf?”

  Anger bubbled inside Suzanne. She’d finally phoned James and he was laughing? “What’s so funny about that?”

  “I can’t picture you on that run-down ranch in a barn with horses and cows and the smell of manure around you. You’re not exactly a farm girl.”

  “The ranch is not that run-down, James.” She closed her eyes and a beautiful landscape flashed in her mind. She saw the waterfall cascading over the rocks, the tulip bulbs beginning to sprout outside the screened porch, the magnolia tree Rafe’s parents had planted when he was born, the tree where the McAllisters had married, the old farmhouse that appeared run-down but was filled with family pictures, homemade afghans and doilies and Mrs. McAllister’s collection of thimbles.

  The house that was a real home.

  Nothing like her own condo, her father’s professionally decorated estate or James’s fancy place.

  “James, I’ve been thinking that maybe we’re wrong to harp on getting the McAllister land when he’s so opposed to selling.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft, Suzanne. Building near Sugar Hill was your idea.”

  She twisted the phone cord tighter. “I just think we should look elsewhere, explore all the options. The town is in an uproar over the project—”

  “Listen, Suzanne, we need a large slice of land to fulfill the plans for this development, and McAllister has the best location.” He sighed, and she heard him tapping a pen on his desk.

  “He’s also the most vulnerable right now to sell. This deal is important to me and to our futures,” James said, annoyance sharpening his voice. “And we have an investor that will be very upset if this doesn’t pan out.”

  A silent partner?

  “Maybe I can talk to this investor and explain.”

  “Feel free,” James said quietly. “But the man behind this deal is a real stickler for business.”

  Suzanne winced. “Who is it, James?”

  “Your father.”

  Suzanne literally slumped onto her bed. Her father?

  So, the two workaholic men in her life had joined forces. Perhaps their business alliance was the reason her father had pushed her toward James. Or had James proposed to her out of an allegiance to her father?

  Worse now, she had to worry about her family. Her father would want this project brought to fruition, but once again he would be at odds with his brother, Wiley. Oh, heavens. What would the other Hartwells think when they discovered that her dad was trying to change the little town they all loved so much and that she had helped?

  RAFE FINALLY DOZED for a couple of hours in the barn and woke up cold and stiff, his shoulders hunched, his lower body throbbing.

  He’d been dreaming that he was standing under the icy spray of the waterfall, watching Suzanne undress. She’d been only a few feet away, her skin shimmering beneath the pale glow of the moonlight, her eyes beckoning him to come nearer. Yet, he’d reached out to touch her and the undertow of the water pulling at his feet had dragged him backward, just out of reach.

  He sat up, rolled his shoulders and stretched, then scrubbed his hand over his morning beard stubble.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to analyze that dream—Suzanne Hartwell was beyond his reach.

  He pressed a hand on the hay where Suzanne had fallen asleep earlier and remembered how concerned she had been over the mother cow and calf. How she’d stayed beside him all night, never complaining about the conditions but offering her silent support. She was a strong woman, a woman of substance, not the shallow rich girl he’d originally assumed her to be.

  Would she be that supportive to a husband, especially one with trouble on his tail?

  Husband?

  What the blazes was he thinking? He did not want to get married. He certainly couldn’t afford a wife, especially one with cosmopolitan tastes like Suzanne’s.

  His mother’s matchmaking must be getting to him. That and lack of sleep. Yeah, sleep deprivation did strange things to a man’s mind.

  Something gold and shiny shimmered through the hay and he peered beneath the blades of straw, digging until he discovered a gold cross dangling on an expensive-looking chain. Suzanne’s. He’d noticed it yesterday when she had stripped in the waterfall. Lord help him, he could still see her lithe body, water cascading over the slope of her shoulders and her breasts, her nipples beading up beneath the flimsy black lace.

  His body hardened again, and he wrapped the chain around his fingers and cursed, then tried to stand. Did the necklace have some meaning for her? He’d have to ask her when he returned it.

  His ankle ached and nearly buckled, and he grabbed the stall to help pull himself up. Easing his weight onto his leg, he circled the stall for a minute, giving the old ache time to dissipate. He checked Hazel one more time and sighed in relief. She seemed fine. He limped toward the house to get some breakfast before he did his morning rounds. He’d forgotten to ask Suzanne if she was coming back today, but he had a feeling she would.

  As he neared the house, he found himself stopping to pick a few of his mother’s flowers from her garden to put in the vase on the table. Wouldn’t hurt to spruce things up a bit, add some cheer to the place for his mom and any company they might have. Maybe he’d phone Suzanne to see what time she was coming so he could make sure he’d showered before she arrived. Get his mother to use the good dishes tonight if she stayed for supper. Maybe they could even serve some of that muscadine wine.

  SUZANNE WOKE WITH A START, a shiver tearing through her as if something bad was going to happen today. She instantly reached for her cross, her heart stopping when she felt only bare skin. Panicking, she sat up in bed and searched the bedcovers, the sheets, the floor, then traced her steps back to the kitchen and the den and the phone, but found nothing.

  Tears burned the backs of her eyelids. She had never taken the necklace off, had worn it since the day her mother gave it to her.

  No, she could not have lost it.

  Nervous adrenaline kicked in, but she forced herself to retrace her steps and actions of the night before. Unfortunately, she’d been so darned tired when she’d arrived home and then so upset over the phone call with James, that she didn’t remember much except falling into bed. An hour later she had scoured every inch of the apartment, the stairs and sidewalk outside and her car, but to no avail.

  Her heart ached with the realization that the treasured necklace might be lost forever.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to remember when she had last felt it. Had she been wearing it when she’d been in the barn that night? She’d had it on when she’d gone under the waterfall….

  Images of Rafe, nearly naked, his big dark body covered in water droplets and dark hair, his muscles flexing beneath her touch, stormed back. She shook off the images, trying to focus on the necklace. Surely it hadn’t slipped off in the water. If so, she’d lost it forever.

  Heartsick, she phoned Rafe to see if he might have found it, but the housekeeper answered and informed her he was out working, so she left a message. She would have to talk to him later.

  Forcing herself not to completely give up hope, she showered and dressed, almost tripping over the hope chest when she left the bathroom. The lacy boots and hat sat like some kind of hex from her grandmother, the simple gold band that had belonged to her twinkl
ing in the early-morning sunlight shifting through the curtains. Sometimes, the simple things are best, Grammy had said.

  Was she right? Had Suzanne cluttered her life with too many material things and thrown herself into her job to avoid having a personal relationship? Had she become her father?

  She stopped and thumbed through the items in the chest again. Crocheting needles—under, over, loop around, she whispered, remembering her beginner lesson with Rafe’s mother. Would she someday master the skill and actually complete a project? Maybe a small blanket…a baby blanket?

  Oh, mercy, was she really thinking about having a baby someday? Trying to mix career and marriage and motherhood? And what kind of mother would she be? Would she know how to raise a child, when her own youth had been virtually motherless?

  And then there was the gardening book. We planted that magnolia tree the day Rafe was born. Would she and her husband plant a tree for their child one day? Would the child look like his father?

  Shaken, she raised her right hand and studied the ring James had given her, trying desperately to imagine the two of them married, having a family, planting a tree for their baby, but she couldn’t.

  Stunned by the uncanny choice of items in her hope chest and their association with Rafe and his mother, she stumbled to the kitchen for breakfast. Her briefcase loomed on the kitchen table, papers spread and files stacked inside, waiting for her attention. Her life had become her job. Just like her father.

  After her mother’s death, he had buried himself in his work so he wouldn’t have time to think about the pain, the emptiness in their house.

  And he hadn’t married for love since. Although she had hope for his new wife, Eleanor.

  James’s face flashed into her mind, along with their earlier conversation. Had he proclaimed his love to her before they’d hung up? Had he when he’d proposed? No. Did he simply want a marriage that was an extension of their business partnership?

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down to review the other land sites Horton Developers had originally considered. Maybe she could find a solution to this project that would satisfy everyone. Including her father. If that was possible.