Cowboy For Hire

by Isabelle Drake

  “Absolutely, it’s on the way. Carl is driving the truck himself.”

  It wasn’t right to take her resentment out on the girl so she mumbled thanks and hung up with Lang’s words still swirling around her head.

  A waste of time.

  Victoria gritted her teeth.

  So what.

  He’d be leaving soon. The whole episode would be done and over with.

  The clock in the front room chimed. She was not going to waste time hunting him down. There was only enough time to get cleaned up, answer those calls, then finish the rest of the cookout preparations.

  Then she’d spend the evening enjoying the company of people who respected her. Instead of stewing over a black-hearted man who thought he could chase her off her own ranch.

  —

  Lang spent the better part of the day alternating between berating himself for giving in to his need to possess Victoria and trying to figure a way to untangle himself from the rope of emotions he’d gotten twisted in to.

  Sure, Victoria said she knew what she was getting into—making love with a man who wasn’t committed to her—but he’d known she didn’t.

  Yet he’d gone ahead and acted on his own wants anyway. He’d dragged her away from the campfire like the heartsick man he was. She deserved so much more. Like a whole man for starters. Add to that a few first dates, some romance and sweet talk and he might’ve come close to what he should’ve done.

  Not that he regretted making love with her, because he didn’t. And he never would. But how she felt—that had to be a different story.

  He slipped his hat off and ran his fingers through his snarled hair. A haircut was definitely in order. He frowned. Where he was headed, it didn’t matter how long his hair grew.

  All that awaited him was an empty stretch of road leading to a stiff, lonely hotel bed. Running scared, that’s what he was doing.

  During the few minutes he wasn’t thinking about Victoria, he’d found himself questioning his actions, reconsidering his plans to head south. He’d been looking deep into his dark soul too.

  Then he’d come around to his senses. It was simply a matter of getting away from the sexy rancher who absorbed all his thoughts the way sand soaks up the sun. What man wouldn’t be tempted and tormented by the sweet but sexy combination that was Victoria Moore?

  He’d enjoyed her spirited, innocent personality at first but that had grown into much more. She’d changed and the woman he’d come to respect and admire…

  Didn’t matter how he felt. What there was left of his heart was in no shape for loving. Not the real kind that required emotions and a commitment anyway.

  The muscles in his jaw clenched involuntarily at the thought of another man enjoying Victoria. Taking pleasure in her smiles, getting a dose of her hesitant flirting, stealing a kiss…getting the same show he’d had the night before.

  If she followed through with her ridiculous idea of having flings for fun, there was no telling who she might let into her bed. A woman like Victoria was worthy of more than a series of nameless cowpokes in tight jeans.

  He wadded up his flannel over-shirt and stuffed it back into the duffel he’d pulled it out of when he’d first arrived at The Circle Cat. As he crammed a dirty pair of jeans on top of it, a bolt of recognition kicked him hard. When he left the ranch he’d be trying to get over Victoria, not the loss of everything the divorce from Lori Anne had cost him.

  Luckily, Cole hadn’t asked about the owner of The Circle Cat. His cousin had probably imagined some leather-faced farm girl. Lang snorted. The explanation of the truth was not something he wanted any part of. He was having enough trouble dealing with it on his on.

  Maybe he wouldn’t stay in Mexico long. After a few days he could head back home, see about finding some work. There had to be something there to keep him occupied and too tired to think about Victoria. He and Cole could work out some other plan.

  It was about time he checked in with his mom too. He’d call her at the first payphone he spotted. Knowing her, she was probably anxious to give him a well-deserved earful.

  After he hauled the duffel bag outside and threw it into his truck bed, he stalked back to the bunkhouse for one last look around. A lot of things had happened but he was still the same man.

  He hadn’t changed.

  He was still the same man wanting the same things.

  Right?

  Of course he was. A person couldn’t change in only a matter of days.

  He spotted a heap of bridles he’d taken apart to clean and scooped them up. Not that he really had to put them back together. Hank could take care of the chore blindfolded. In his sleep.

  But it was a job that needed doing and it wasn’t as if anybody cared when he got to Mexico. Lang dropped onto a bench and spread the leather straps across the table.

  No point in leaving any loose ends behind.

  —

  After Victoria slipped some freshly cut wild flowers into the vases on the table, she stood back, checking everything. The simple settings and typical Western decorations were exactly the sort of thing she had in mind for the cook-out.

  Everything was moving along as planned, even so, she couldn’t work up a real smile. Hopefully, the forced one she wore would do the job.

  Hank touched her arm. “He doesn’t seem to be in any great hurry to get going. Why don’t you ask him ’bout stayin’ on ?”

  Urgh.

  Back to that again. Why couldn’t Hank get it into his head that Lang did not want to be at The Circle Cat? Well, he did, just not with her.

  “I appreciate you trying to help but he’s made it plain how he feels.”

  After what she’d overheard, she should’ve been fuming. So why was there mostly pain settling in her heart?

  Before the old man could add anything, she stepped away. “I better go get changed. Our guests will be expecting to eat soon.”

  Hank grumbled something she couldn’t make out then asked, “Did the steaks arrive?”

  “Yep.” She paused and turned, “Carl showed up right after I called the store. I put them in the refrigerator in the back hallway.”

  “Sounds like everything’s goin’ fine. I’ll go take care of the grill.”

  Seems the old hand wasn’t in a smiling mood either. How would he feel if he knew the truth about Lang?

  Like crap, same as her.

  So she wasn’t going to tell him anything about that conversation she’d overheard. “Thanks, Hank. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  He nodded, she reached down to rub behind Promise’s ears then grabbed the broom she’d been using to sweep the cement section of the barn floor and headed back to the house.

  Later, Victoria carried several platters down to the barn where the guests had gathered.

  Next to the grill, Hank hopped about with his hands in the air while Mrs. Byrd and the Feazel boys laughed. Telling one of his Wild West stories, no doubt.

  Mrs. Byrd turned away from Hank, her bracelets jangling as she walked. “Evenin’ Victoria, everything looks fantastic.”

  “You all ready to eat?” She set the trays beside the rolls she’d brought out earlier.

  The question was answered with shouts and laughter.

  “Okay, Hank, you heard that,” she managed a grin in response. “I think we better get the food on before they stampede.”

  A low chortle shook his shoulders. “Will do, Miss M—, I mean, Victoria.”

  That got a genuine smile out of her. Victoria spent the next few minutes chatting with her guests, their excitement and enthusiasm swirling around her. She nodded at all the right times even though her heart wasn’t in it.

  She wasn’t listening for the sound of Lang’s truck.

  Really.

  Well, maybe she was.

  Because once he was gone, she’d be able to relax. Forget all about him and his stupid cooking oil shampoo.

  There was no point wasting time being mad. He’d given up, she’d won. Being
hurt by his actions was even more stupid and a bigger waste of time.

  After all, despite his best efforts to keep her at an arm’s length, she had gotten what she wanted out of him—one night of great—no, fantastic—sex.

  “Chow time!” Hank’s shout was met with cheers and the group scurried to make a line by the grill. After they got their steaks, they moved on to fill their plates with salad, rolls, roasted potatoes and a red, white and blue, Jell-O dish little Collin Feazel had insisted on.

  “Victoria?”

  Her traitorous body reacted immediately to Lang’s voice. He leaned against the side of the barn. His black hat so low she could barely see his face. Overgrown strands of dark hair brushed the collar of his brown check shirt. The width of his chest, the curve of his arms looked different because now she knew what it felt like to be wrapped close, skin to skin.

  And he knew the same about her.

  “Your guests are having a great time.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. He was right. The scene behind her could have been an ad for the ultimate Southwestern vacation.

  He stood still, waiting for something.

  What could he possibly want from her? Hadn’t he done enough already?

  Frustration broke through the restraint she’d been gripping tightly and she marched toward him, the truth spilling out. “I overheard your stupid phone call. You’ve been lying to me the whole time. About everything.”

  When he didn’t respond, she crossed her arms, staring hard into his eyes. “You must be a sad excuse for a cowboy if you can’t chase a spoiled, city girl off an old, run-down ranch.”

  She blinked against the sudden heat in her eyes. It was anger, not the pain of hurt feelings. He was a man passing through on his way to nowhere, not someone who mattered in her life.

  He shoved away from the barn. The sun flickered over his shoulder as he came closer, his body moving in all the ways she remembered. He glanced down, then raised his head to meet her gaze. “I know what you’re thinking but—”

  “Sorry to disappoint you but as you can tell everything is going great. The Circle Cat is not for sale—it’s a success.”

  As if on cue, a burst of laughter came from the guests. The cheerful sound should’ve warmed her heart but that was impossible now. Thanks to the icy chill of Lang’s betrayal.

  The gentle nod of his head was barely noticeable but in the little time they’d been together, she’d come to recognize each of his movements.

  One side of his mouth lifted into a bittersweet smile. “I didn’t lie about everything.” With a simple tip of his hat, he whispered something else so soft she couldn’t hear it. She guessed it was goodbye.

  He spun on his heels and strode toward his truck.

  That’s it. He’s gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, after taking care of the chicks, Victoria slid the barn door shut just as a sleek convertible crept down the gravel drive leading to the house. The back of her shirt had come untucked so she stuffed it back into place and strode toward the huge car. It was a vintage something-or-other and a flashy one at that.

  “Howdy, ma’am. I’m looking for the owner of this place. A Miz Moore.”

  Victoria’s spine stiffened with suspicion. Could he be the person Lang had been talking to on the phone?

  The guy didn’t look like the type to scheme a ranch away from a woman but apparently Victoria wasn’t such a great judge of character. “I’m Victoria Moore,” she said, standing in the center of her driveway.

  The man parked his car and climbed out. He stood as straight as a man could but his left leg swung stiffly with each step. He offered his right hand as he said, “I’m reporter Pete Haynes.”

  Victoria went through the motions of the handshake as she studied his face. He sure didn’t resemble Lang. But they could be distant cousins.

  He chuckled as he scanned the yard and buildings. “Not expecting any media coverage this early in the morning?” he said, handing her a business card.

  “Media coverage?” What was he talking about? “I wasn’t expecting any media coverage.”

  A hearty laugh rumbled out of his round stomach and his huge championship belt buckle shook across his stomach. “Fair enough. But I had to see this place for myself. I knew the Perezes. Came out once or twice to interview the mister about his rodeo days.” His chuckles tapered off and he pulled a notepad from the waistband of his pants. “Anyhow, we locals love dust to dream stories. Tell me yours.”

  He waited with his pencil poised above the notepad.

  “You really want to hear about The Circle Cat?” she asked.

  “Sure do. That’s why I’m here.”

  Victoria’s eyebrows shot up and her heart skipped. Her ranch had attracted the attention of a real reporter? The opportunity to get the word out was fantastic yet she wouldn’t be taken seriously with dirty chicken shavings all over her arms and hands. She guided him to the porch. “Please, could you have a seat while I wash up?”

  “How about I take a quick walk around?” he said, turning on his heels, scanning the yard, zeroing right in on the side of the barn Lang had repaired.

  “That’s fine,” she hesitated, wondering what would happen if he ran into Miss Honey or worse yet found something she hadn’t taken care of yet, like cleaning the old feeder she’d bought for the chicks. “I do have some guests though, so—”

  “Don’t bother them? I won’t.” He managed to strut in spite of his limp.

  Five minutes later, Victoria stepped out onto the porch to find the yard empty. Anxiety trickled across her nerve endings. If the reporter found something wrong, anything that might make him write up The Circle Cat as a Dud Ranch instead of a Dude Ranch, she’d be history.

  She stepped off the porch and spotted a cluster of guests over by the corral. All four of the Feazels and Mrs. Byrd circled the reporter. She hopped down and hurried over.

  “But the best part was the real cowboy trail ride Mr. Thompson took us on. He warned us about the tough trails,” Collin climbed off the rail and pointed to his brother, “But we’re tougher than any stupid trails.”

  John’s head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, we didn’t care about how many rocks the horses had to step over. Or how the sun kept burning down on our backs. Or how our legs turned into noodles cause of sitting in the saddle for so long.”

  “That’s right. We didn’t care about any of that.”

  Mrs. Byrd laughed at the boys and leaned toward the reporter. “They’re right. The ride was fantastic. We have mountains in California but seeing everything from the back of a horse, well, it’s completely different.” She pointed to the ground, “If Mr. Byrd was here, instead of sleeping in from all that dancing last night, he’d tell you the exact same thing.”

  Victoria leaned against the gate, listening to them rave about Lang’s trail ride. She agreed. Every second of the rugged ride had been special. Conquering the demanding trails had brought them together, made them feel like a real band of cowboys.

  Mr. Feazel wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Lang showed the boys a couple tricks with the reins. I bet with a little more time in the saddle they’ll be ready for the rodeo circuit.

  “Lang’s a natural trail leader, a fun host and on top of that he’s great with horses, wouldn’t you agree, Victoria?”

  A thin smile lifted Victoria’s mouth. They were right. All of them.

  Lang had as much to do with the ranch’s success as she did. Extra work he’d done, stuff that went beyond what he’d agreed to do for room and board. The patience he’d shown the guests as they learned the basics of riding, his tender care of the animals, even the chicks. The time he’d spent entertaining Suzie with his exasperating cowboy stories…

  None of those things would’ve helped him get the ranch from her. In fact, without his hard work she might be on her way home, back to that pampered lifestyle she wanted to get away from.

  Maybe she’d been too hasty to judge h
im. Maybe she should’ve given him a chance to explain.

  No, not maybe.

  After everything he’d done for her she owed him that much.

  Kathy and Mary meandered over from the house.

  “Hey, Victoria,” Mary raised a steaming mug, “Hope you don’t mind we helped ourselves to that coffee.”

  “No problem.” She turned to the reporter. “Would you like a cup?”

  “Nope.” He shoved away from the rails, moving toward his glimmering car. “I’ve got everything I need.”

  Victoria fell into step beside him. “You’re going to write an article about my ranch?”

  “Sure thing, Miss Moore. You won’t mind if I send out a photographer will you?”

  “No, I don’t suppose so. Will the article be…”

  Pete swung around and studied her face. “Good for business?” His laugh was loud but warm. “No doubt about it. Later this afternoon okay for the pictures?”

  “That’ll be great.” Everyone back home would see what a success she was, that she’d done everything she said she was going to do. She should be thrilled but how could she be when she’d let Lang leave like that?

  The reporter slid into his car and slammed the door. Victoria stepped closer and pointed to the midnight blue convertible. “What kind of car is that anyway? My stepmother would be turning green with envy, I think.”

  He clipped on his seatbelt and then patted the door. Sunlight sparked off his diamond pinky ring. “If she fancies luxury coupes she would. This here is a 1964 Ragtop Thunderbird.”

  That didn’t mean a thing to Victoria but she nodded with approval anyway.

  “It’s been a pleasure seein’ what you’ve done with the place. Lang told me you’d worked miracles but well,” he grinned and smoothed back the long strands of glossy hair skimming over his sun-weathered scalp, “I didn’t quite believe him, still I let him talk me into comin’ out just the same.”

  Victoria’s mouth dropped open.

  “Now don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean no offense, Miss Moore. I hadn’t met you yet.” He flipped over the ignition and the purr of the engine cut through Victoria’s stunned silence.