Making Room for the Rancher

by Christy Jeffries

  “Just because you figured out how to dress the part—” her eyes slowly traveled the length of his body to his boots and then back up again. The tilt of her mouth suggested she appreciated what she saw and his jeans suddenly felt tighter “—that doesn’t make you a real cowboy.”

  Now he was the one whose skin was heated. Except, instead of blushing from embarrassment, his blood was pumping from arousal. He returned her earlier appraisal of him, allowing his eyes to scan just as slowly from her bulky jacket to her long legs encased in fitted denim. As he lifted his eyes back to her, he took a step closer. “I’ve never pretended otherwise.”

  “Have you ever worked at a ranch before, Connor?” Was it his imagination, or did she step closer, as well? Her face was tilted at an angle to look up at him while his head was lowered close enough that the brims of their hats threatened to collide.

  He opened his mouth leisurely, taking his time with a single-word response. “No.”

  He was rewarded with the thrill of satisfaction when Dahlia’s gaze dropped to his lips. And stayed there as she asked her next question. “Ever been in the saddle before?”

  Oh, if she only knew.

  Before he could tell her exactly how experienced he was, though, Amelia returned and Goatee reminded the two adults that he was the only thing wedged between them and full-body contact. The girl must not have noticed her mother jumping away as though she’d been startled.

  Amelia pulled a muffin out for the dog before handing the white bag to Connor. “I got you blueberry. That’s my daddy’s favorite kind. He eats them all the time when he’s on his tour bus and then his fingers turn all blue and so does his guitar strings.”

  Tour bus. Guitar. Deacon. Everything suddenly clicked together as he watched the girl feed the dog still balanced in the crook of Connor’s arm. “Is your dad—”

  Dahlia quickly interrupted. “We need to get to school, Amelia. You don’t want anyone feeding the hamsters before you.”

  “Wait,” he said to Dahlia, but her expression had gone blank, her mask already back in place. “Are you married to Micah Deacon?”

  The last thing Connor wanted to be doing was standing on a public sidewalk in the middle of his newly adopted hometown publicly lusting over a famous musician’s wife. Or anyone’s wife, really.

  “No, I’m not.” Dahlia pulled her hat lower on her brow.

  “Mommy and Daddy got dee-vorced when I was a baby.” Amelia’s casual response was the exact opposite of her mother’s tense one. “We do co-parenting. Just like Peyton’s family. Except Mommy and Daddy don’t ever yell at each other like Peyton’s parents do.”

  Dahlia stiffened and took a step back. “Okay, well, on that note, Amelia, we really do have to be off to school.” She managed a polite wave at Connor, but it didn’t take a psychic to know that the whole dynamic between them had shifted.

  Amelia gave him a fluttery little wave, too. “Bye, Connor. Bye, Goatee.”

  As Connor watched the duo walk away, he wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or confusion. If Amelia’s assessment was correct, it was great that Dahlia and her ex got along so well. For their daughter’s sake. But if they did, in fact, get along so well, then why hadn’t they stayed married?

  Not that any of it was his business. But if there was still some unsettled business between them, it did explain the woman’s standoffishness. She probably didn’t want people speculating about her and her famous ex-husband. Then again, maybe she was holding out hope of reuniting with the man and keeping her family intact. She certainly wouldn’t be the first woman to do so.

  Speaking of which, Connor probably should call his mother this afternoon and check in. His mom loved to remind him of how many times she’d given his father a chance to prove that he’d changed, that things could be different for the three of them once Steve sobered up. His mom also loved to remind him of how wrong she’d been to believe in such a pipe dream.

  Connor had grown up determined to be a better man than his father, which meant he wasn’t about to make a promise he couldn’t keep. He’d also grown up determined not to be like his mother and fall for someone who couldn’t love him back.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on between him and Dahlia, but whatever it was, he’d better walk a fine line of not breaking either of his childhood resolutions.

  Chapter Five

  Dahlia usually worked the lunch shift at the bar, then flipped the closed sign at two o’clock so she could pick up Amelia from school. As business had steadily grown over the past year, she’d hired another bartender to cover more of the evening shifts. However, Dahlia usually liked to be downstairs when the weekend manager clocked in to go over any details that needed her attention.

  Since Fridays were paydays for most ranch hands, Dahlia was currently adding more beer mugs to the custom-made glass chiller installed under the old-fashioned bar—right next to the very modern ice machine. Amelia sat on a bar stool across from her, her iPad propped open against her Shirley Temple as she FaceTimed with her dad.

  “And then Miss Violet pushed Uncle Marcus into the pool while he was still wearing his policeman’s uniform and everything. Aunt Finn said he needed to cool off, anyway, and me and the twins laughed and laughed because he looked so silly, Daddy.”

  “Aw, man, I wish I could’ve been there to see it. Did you practice your backstroke while you were at the pool?” Micah asked his daughter. He’d taught her to swim over the summer and had been instrumental—both vocally and financially—in getting the city council to add an indoor pool when the town voted to renovate the old rec center.

  “Yep,” Amelia replied. “I practiced real good. Even after I got water up my nose. Aunt Finn got me some new goggles. Hold on, I’m gonna go upstairs and get them. Talk to Mommy while I’m gone.”

  Her daughter quickly angled the device toward Dahlia before rushing up the stairs to their apartment. “Hey, Micah,” she said as she straightened the screen so that her ex-husband was vertical.

  “Oh, wow, Dia, the new shelves turned out nice.” Micah nodded toward the thick halves of reclaimed pine logs holding up the colorful bottles of premium liquor.

  “Thanks. It was touch and go with the install, but you were right about using the iron brackets. Anyway, did you see that email from the school about how they printed the wrong Spring Break dates on the upcoming calendar?”

  “Yeah, I forwarded the correct dates to our tour manager so she doesn’t schedule anything for the band that week. Listen, I have to run into a doctor’s appointment right now. Tell Amelia to text me a pic of her in those new goggles. I’ll call her after her riding lesson tonight.”

  Dahlia gave Micah a thumbs-up before disconnecting the call.

  “I can’t believe how well you guys get along,” Rena, her weekend manager, said as she breezed in from the swinging kitchen door. Rena was the same age as Dahlia, but she was petite and outgoing and had way more experience when it came to dating. She was also enrolled in the online program at UW working on her masters in hospitality, so Dahlia valued her professional opinions even more than her relationship advice.

  “Really?” Dahlia shrugged. She couldn’t imagine not getting along with Micah. Probably because there weren’t any unresolved feelings lingering between them. Just mutual respect and a common goal—to make sure their daughter was happy.

  “Does he know you have a new man?” Rena asked. “’Cause things might change when the old guy finds out about the new guy.”

  Dahlia’s stomach dropped and she tried to sound as casual as possible when she asked, “Who says I have a new man?”

  Rena double knotted a short black apron around her tiny waist. “Everyone is talking about you and that dude from the Rocking D and how you guys can’t take your eyes off each other when you see him in town.”

  “Pfshh.” Dahlia picked up a discarded white dishrag and twisted it in her
hands. “I barely know the guy. We’ve only met a handful of times.”

  “Uh-huh,” Rena said, her tone full of doubt. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  As if to prove Rena right, though, Dahlia ran into Connor four more times the following week and then five the week after that. Not that she was keeping count. Fortunately, Amelia was always with her, which prevented another close encounter like the morning in front of the bakery when she’d gotten so close to the man she could smell the minty toothpaste on his breath and the woodsy sage-scented soap on his skin. On the other hand, having her daughter there as a de facto chaperone meant Dahlia couldn’t keep her personal business from spilling out of Amelia’s mouth, either. And right there on the public sidewalk for anyone to hear.

  Whether it was at the market or the hardware store or even once in front of the vet’s office, Amelia and Goatee seemed to have a second sense about each other, zeroing in on each other before the adults could take cover and hide. Not that Dahlia would actually hide from anyone. But she’d been known to slip into the bank or the post office or even the sheriff’s station if she saw someone coming her way and wasn’t up for conversation.

  Not that Connor seemed to be the type to hide, either. He always appeared happy to see Amelia and patiently listened to everything she said, no matter how embarrassing it might be. However, two nights ago, when they ran into him picking up one of the famous chicken pot pies at Biscuit Betty’s, Amelia had invited him to join them for dinner and he’d been especially quick to make an excuse about having to run off and do whatever it was he normally did in the evenings.

  What did he do with his free time when it got dark on the ranch? Did he call his girlfriend back home? Did he watch sports on TV or sappy Lifetime movies? Did he go for a jog or lift weights? Dahlia imagined him shirtless, tan, perspiration trickling along the ridges of his muscles as he did biceps curls—

  “Can’t we just stop by for a second?” Amelia interrupted Dahlia’s inappropriate thoughts from the back seat as they passed the turnoff for the Rocking D the following Friday afternoon.

  “Not today, Peanut. We’re already late for your riding lesson as it is. Last time we were late, Uncle Rider made us muck the stall, remember?” And frankly, Dahlia was much too old to relive her least favorite childhood chore, even if it supposedly built character. In fact, she was seldom late for that very reason. While growing up, the only saving grace was that Finn often got the same punishment for talking back, which meant her twin sister shoveled a lot more manure than she had. Dahlia still grinned at the memory.

  “But Connor said Goatee has been getting too close to Private Peppercorn lately and isn’t allowed in the corral no more when they’re working. He probably could use an extra cuddle so he doesn’t feel left out.”

  Left out. It was exactly how Dahlia felt right that second. She didn’t remember hearing Connor say any of that the last few times they’d seen him in town. In fact, she didn’t even know that he’d hired anyone else to work with him on the ranch. “Who’s Private Peppercorn?”

  “His new horse. Mr. Connor said when he got him, the paperwork said Colonel Peppercorn but he hadta give the horse a dee-mo...a dee-mo...”

  “A demotion?” Dahlia prompted.

  “Yeah, a demotion ’cause Peppercorn is too young. Connor said that when he was a Marine, only the old people were colonels and they hadta work real hard for it.”

  When did he say any of that? Dahlia was sure she would’ve remembered it. Especially since the military reference confirmed her earlier suspicion that he’d served in the armed forces. “Was I there when he was telling you about Peppercorn?”

  “I think so. But you were busy talking to Mr. Thompson about beer.”

  Woodrow Thompson, better known around town as Woody, had gone to high school with Duke, Dahlia’s favorite brother. He used to say that Woody would’ve easily beat him out as the class valedictorian if he’d actually shown up for classes. Micah used to love it when Woody would randomly stop by and jam with the band who practiced in Micah’s garage. He could play any instrument he picked up, but would never show when they were hired to play at an actual venue. In fact, Woody had kept the same part-time job at the Pepperoni Stampede for the past thirteen years and lived in an old Airstream behind his grandma’s house off Moonlight Drive. He volunteered once a month at the vet’s office, but otherwise didn’t do much of anything. Nobody understood how someone so smart and so talented could be such an underachiever.

  When Dahlia took Amelia to the library after school yesterday, she’d seen Woody checking out books about yeast and hops, and he mentioned that he’d been brewing his own beer in a kettle on his cookstove. For some reason, Dahlia had always felt an odd kinship with Woody. Maybe because people seemed to expect more of out of guys like him when they were perfectly content with their lives as they were. So she’d asked him to bring a few bottles by Big Millie’s and he’d left. When she’d caught up with Amelia, she was giving Connor and Goatee a tour of the new audiobook listening center in the children’s section.

  It was also the same time that the no-nonsense librarian whispered a stern reminder to Connor that only service animals were allowed inside the building. Dahlia never even got the chance to ask him why he’d been in the library in the first place. Probably looking for a copy of Horseback Riding for Dummies.

  Okay, that was mean. But seriously. What was the man always doing in town with his funny-looking dog, casually running into Dahlia and charming Amelia? He should be spending more time on that ranch of his. And she needed to find a hobby of her own to get her mind off him. Maybe Finn would let her redecorate one of the bunkhouses. Again.

  Dahlia kept her foot on the accelerator as they continued past the spot on Ridgecrest Highway where they’d first met Connor. Her daughter was being unusually tight-lipped today, probably because she hadn’t given in for once. But since this wasn’t Dahlia’s first rodeo with Amelia, she made a mental note to start thinking of excuses for why they couldn’t stop at the Rocking D on their way home. Because there was no way her daughter would simply give up on asking.

  Up ahead, she spotted several black SUVs stationed along the road just inside the entry gates to the Twin Kings. But seeing Secret Service units parked on the grounds was just as common as seeing work trucks and delivery vehicles lately. In fact, a couple of weeks ago when she’d brought Amelia, there’d been a sleek black helicopter lifting into the air and Amelia hadn’t even blinked twice.

  That was what it was like growing up as a King, the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Wyoming. The children had all been raised to expect the unexpected. Whether it meant entertaining a last-minute royal guest or foreign dignitary, or their father canceling all of his campaign events spontaneously to hop aboard the private jet and fly the entire family out to Albuquerque to visit one of his buddies from Vietnam.

  So fifteen minutes later when she saw the reverse lights on a horse trailer backing into the stables, she didn’t think anything of it. In fact, it took Amelia shouting, “He’s here!” before Dahlia felt that shiver of awareness she got every time—

  No. Her stomach sank when she recognized the distinctive red truck in front of the horse trailer. Not everything in her body sank, though. Her nerve endings betrayed her by zipping to life.

  “What’s he doing here?” Dahlia mumbled, but Amelia had already abandoned the pony to go running toward Goatee, who’d let out an excited yip the moment the driver’s-side door opened.

  Connor’s jaw was set and his expression was schooled, probably because Rider and Mr. Truong, the stable foreman, were already approaching his trailer, saying something about the stallion in the back. But she could tell by the slight widening of his eyes that he was definitely confused. When he saw Amelia, he blinked several times before his smile finally softened his face.

  Was it because he was genuinely happy to see her daughter? Or had he just
figured out exactly who her uncle was? A horse breeder trying to make a name for himself was certainly going to appreciate landing the Twin Kings as one of his clients. But Rider King, and more importantly Finn King, wouldn’t do business with the man if he couldn’t deliver.

  * * *

  Connor might’ve been trained as a tracker for one of the world’s most elite fighting forces in the world, but as soon as he pulled up to the address on his GPS, he was sure he’d made a wrong turn.

  This was the Twin Kings? Connor had only done some preliminary research about the local ranches, and while he’d known this one was the biggest on this side of the state, the owner was listed as King Enterprises, LLC. Was Rider the foreman here?

  The overly official-looking guard at the front gate asked him for his name and then checked his ID. He said something into the clear wire attached to his earpiece, a military-grade communications system, then instructed Connor to take the main road—because apparently there were non-main roads—to the big stables—because apparently there were multiple smaller stables—and then someone would show him where to back in his trailer.

  “This place is a far cry from the Rocking D,” he muttered to Goatee as he crested the hill where an enormous house sat at least a football field away from a matching stone-and-timber building that had to be the Big Stables. The dog only barked in agreement, then peeked out the window.

  A man in a straw cowboy hat came outside and made the universal hand signal to roll down the window. When Connor complied, the man introduced himself.

  “I’m Mike Truong, the stable foreman. Rider and Finn were hoping we could unload your stallion directly into the southwest chute. We have several mares separated in the adjacent stalls, but they’re not twitched yet. We like to have all our gals comfortable in their familiar surroundings so we can keep things as natural as possible for them. Two of my best handlers are with them to watch for aggressiveness and compatibility. Usually, with untried studs like yours, we have them stay overnight and act as a teaser of sorts to confirm which mares would be receptive. But we can wait and see how the courtships go. Now, if you want to back in, my guys will guide you.”