Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas

by Kim Redford

  “You don’t have to say anything. I know how that sounds. Like I said earlier, I haven’t had time to come up to speed, and it hasn’t been a priority.”

  “I get that, but still—”

  “This ranch has been doing well enough without me, so I figure it can keep going the same way for a couple more months.”

  He took another breath, trying to slow himself down because he was beginning to want to wade into the deep end for her, and that’d be nothing but trouble on top of trouble. He’d only just met Belle—and he was already caring way too much.

  “Don’t you agree?”

  “No.” He watched as she absentmindedly slid the tip of one long finger with a peach-tinted nail around and around the top edge of her mug. Sensuous…no other word for it. It made him hungry for a lot more than cookies and coffee.

  “No?”

  “If you don’t keep control of the reins, you can have a runaway ranch in no time.”

  “That’s Kemp’s job.”

  He knew he should let well enough alone. He was here to make trouble, not solve it. But still… “Daisy Sue is missing, isn’t she?”

  “I doubt if she’s missing. She’s just in another pasture.”

  “She’s missing.”

  “Oh, all right. She’s missing, maybe.” Belle picked up a cookie and played with it. “As soon as I get hold of Kemp, we’ll know where she is right now.”

  “You’ve got a missing cow. Now you’ve got a missing foreman.”

  “I doubt they’re related events. And I doubt they’re even missing.”

  “Okay.” He set down his ceramic cowboy boot. The coffee was good, but the mug was a pain to drink out of. He stood up, not about to get more involved in persuading her to take a closer look at her problems. If she had any kind of trouble, that was all to the good. He just wished he could get himself to believe it.

  “Are you going back to work?”

  “I’d better get to it. We’re burning daylight.”

  “If you need anything or have any questions, let me know.”

  “Will do.”

  “And I’ll let you know when I reach Kemp.”

  “Right.”

  He walked away without a backward glance because he could feel her looking at him, evaluating him, wondering about him…about what it’d be like with nothing but bare skin between them…just like he was wondering about the same thing with her. And yet he already knew. It’d be dynamite. They had so much chemistry they could start their own lab—and burn it down with the heat they generated with their friction.

  He kept right on walking, one foot in front of the other, forcing his body to go where it didn’t want to go. He’d like nothing better than to turn back, take the coffee mug out of her hands, push the cookies to one side, left her up on top of the bar, spread her legs, and go deep. He turned white-hot at the image.

  He jerked open the front door and slammed it shut behind him. Cool air helped ease his heated flesh. He desperately needed something—anything—to take his mind off Belle Tarleton.

  When he gazed around, there was plenty to take his mind off her. He wasn’t sure where to start. Maybe he could simply move piles of stuff around so that they were in different places to make it appear like he’d been working.

  Material had been delivered for a new roof, as in shingle stacks, tar paper rolls, nail rolls for nail guns, ribbon boards, metal drip edges, and rolls of thin metal flashing. The shingle stacks on wooden flat crates had been delivered and placed by tractor on the grass beyond the outer edge of the driveway. They were too heavy to move by hand except in individual packages, so he’d leave them alone. He picked up a roll of flashing and carried it to an empty area near the shingles. After he set it down, he moved another roll and then another until he had all the flashing organized near the shingles. He saw a guttering system, so he stacked the lengths near the shingles so the roof material was in one place.

  That’s when he realized he was doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do—instinct had taken over, and he was getting done what should be done, not what he was there to do. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to change it. In fact, he kept on going, telling himself a little organization wouldn’t hurt his primary slowdown job. After a bit, he stepped back and liked how he’d removed some of the chaos.

  Anyway, he figured the roof was perfect for his goal because it could really use a crew of at least two people to get the old shingles off and the new shingles up. There were two layers of old roof, so the time was more than doubled to get them scraped off with a shovel. He walked over and checked the edge of the roof in front again. Two layers. The bottom layer would be original to the house, so by now heat and age would have turned it to dust, crumbly bits, and loose nails when it came down on a tarp. If there was deck damage, it could be replaced and repaired to make a strong base for the new layer of shingles. Bottom line, the roof would look real fine when it was complete.

  He glanced around again, assessing the material. She must’ve requested that the outside be repaired and repainted because he saw five-gallon containers of paint along with wood boards for corner trim, window trim, fascia, and tubes of caulk. All in all, it wasn’t that big a job. She basically wanted the outside redone except for the brick. It could be completed by Christmas…except it wouldn’t ever get that far. He felt a pang of regret at what could be—and what wouldn’t be, even though he’d like doing it. He sighed. Why did he always have to get the short straw? Unlucky didn’t begin to describe his life, particularly now that he’d met Belle.

  He decided he might as well organize all the material. It’d look like he was doing something, and he would be. It’d make him feel better about the entire situation. Still, pretty quick he’d have to invent a problem that would take time to resolve while the clock ran out.

  For now, he’d organize the material and think about how he’d go about completing her job even if he was never going to do it. He wondered what colors she’d chosen for her house. She could do a lot better than white trim and pale gray roof, although the current shingles had probably faded in sunlight and once were a darker gray that contrasted with the pale brick.

  He liked the idea of helping restore her house. It felt good to do something positive for her…kind of like, well, what a husband would do. He froze with one hand on top of the paint container. Husband? How had he gotten so fast from “Hello, good to meet you” to “Let’s get married”? If it was summertime, he could explain that he’d been too long in the sun. He had no excuse, not now…except she just did something to him that he wanted long term. Now that he’d met her, he couldn’t imagine life without her. Women didn’t fall that fast. Men knew instantly, one way or another. And he knew now—deep down in his bones. But she wouldn’t know—not yet.

  It wasn’t smart, any which way he looked at it. He had obligations to his community. She had obligations to her business. They were set on a collision course. And still, he could feel a poem building inside him. Maybe it’d be about forbidden love because he had a big secret that stood between them. And if it ever came to more and she ever found out about his true intentions, the poem would be all about loss. He’d be a fool to go anywhere near that kind of pain, and yet—

  “Rowdy!” Belle called.

  He glanced up. She stood framed in the entrance, arms outstretched with a hand clasping the edge of each open door. She sort of shimmered in the shadow of the porch, or maybe that’s the way he saw her now as not completely of this earth. She took his breath away.

  “I got hold of Kemp. He’s on his way.”

  Rowdy tried to wrestle his mind back to business, but his thoughts skittered away to her image, her sheer presence that could inspire a man to create poetry in her honor.

  “Rowdy, did you hear me?”

  “Yeah.” He finally got the word out, but his mind lagged behind because he was thinki
ng, A cowgirl dressed in gossamer dreams. Daytime. Nighttime. Anytime.

  “He’ll be here in a moment and tell us about Daisy Sue.”

  Rowdy hated to leave the poem unfinished, but reality most often trumped fantasy. “He couldn’t tell you on the phone?”

  “He didn’t…wouldn’t…or couldn’t.”

  “Odd, don’t you think?”

  “Is it? He’s the foreman, so he does what he thinks is best for the ranch. Isn’t that why he was hired by my family?”

  Rowdy nodded, not agreeing or disagreeing, as he glanced down at the smear of paint on top of a container. Blue-green or deep turquoise. It’d be a vibrant contrast with the peach brick. She was definitely going to change the place to suit her own personal taste. Creative…how he loved creative women because they could surprise you and awaken you to all sorts of new possibilities.

  And his mind slipped back to his poem. A cowgirl blessed with soaring wings. Daytime. Nighttime. Anytime.

  “Here he comes!” Belle pointed at a four-wheeler coming around the side of the house.

  Rowdy felt his hackles rise at the sight of another man entering his territory. His territory? No, not his turf…not at all. He was getting way too protective of the whole situation. As foreman, Lander belonged on this ranch. Rowdy was the interloper—here today, gone tomorrow.

  And yet he didn’t feel that way. He’d gone on high alert. Lander needed to be watched in case he was taking advantage of his position without previous supervision and now with Belle here alone. Besides, she was too distracted with the upcoming party to spend any time or effort learning about this ranch and how it was handled by Kemp. He didn’t blame her. He understood priorities. She was doing what she considered best for her situation.

  She didn’t need to know it, but he was going to watch her back.

  Chapter 9

  Belle had this uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that all wasn’t going exactly—or maybe anywhere near—as planned. Folks kept turning up on her doorstep like the Buick Brigade, but they weren’t there to help her. They were looking out for Wildcat Bluff County folk like the so-called unlucky Rowdy.

  She wasn’t one of them. That fact was only too clear. And yet…she suddenly wished she was exactly that special person who belonged here because it felt like home in a way no place ever had before, even her family’s ranch.

  Of course, she was Belle Tarleton of Lulabelle & You as well as part of the Tarleton family of East Texas. That wasn’t small potatoes. But still she felt a strong yearning tug at her heart to belong here. And with that tug came renewed determination to make everyone proud of what she did with her special ranch. Maybe then—and only then—would she really be welcome in the county.

  First she had to deal with her ranch foreman. Rowdy was right that she needed to get in control of the situation, but first she had to focus her time and energy on getting ready for Christmas. Lulabelle & You Ranch could do so much good for so many youngsters and others that she shouldn’t dilute her focus. And yet she couldn’t let a problem creep up on her either.

  She wished Rowdy was her foreman because she instinctively trusted him. She looked over at him standing there so strong and steady, as if he were rooted deep in the ground, making it possible to pull up vital earth energy and help her achieve her goals. She sighed, knowing she was getting fanciful and he had his own life but also knowing it was simply the way he affected her.

  When she heard the whine of a four-wheeler’s engine, she turned in the direction of that sound.

  Kemp Lander rounded the corner of the house, stopped near her, and stepped off his ATV.

  Rowdy took long, purposeful strides and joined them.

  Kemp raised his beige-felt cowboy hat with a smile on his face.

  “Thanks for joining us.” She took a good look at her foreman. He was tall and muscular with the self-confidence she appreciated in those who worked for her. He wore a green-plaid Western shirt that emphasized the green of his eyes and set off the darkness of his thick hair worn a little long. Faded, ripped Wranglers emphasized the length of his legs. He’d broken in his dusty, scuffed cowboy boots a long time ago. Unlike Rowdy, she got no zing from him, but it didn’t mean other women wouldn’t find him attractive.

  “You wanted to talk with me, so I’m here.” Kemp set his hat back on his head.

  “It’s about Daisy Sue,” she said.

  “Right. You left a message.”

  “Storm of Steele Trap Ranch is concerned about the cow since she’s not in her former pasture.”

  Kemp lifted one corner of his full lips in a wiry smile. “That bull of hers has a way with gates.”

  “Fernando.” She felt as if she was missing something here, but she couldn’t imagine what. “I’d prefer not to create friction between ranches.”

  Kemp stiffened and spread his feet farther apart as if preparing for battle.

  “She’s wondering about the location of the cow,” Rowdy said.

  “That’s right.” She noticed Rowdy move in just behind and to one side of her. His action felt protective, but she must be wrong. She never needed protection…or she hadn’t before coming to this county.

  “That bull wouldn’t leave your cow alone,” Kemp said. “The Steele family didn’t control him, so I took action.”

  “This situation is much more than a bull and a cow,” she said. “Fernando is famous…and Storm has made Daisy Sue famous, too.”

  “I’ve been doing my best to protect the livestock,” Kemp said.

  “If not handled properly, it could turn into a promotional nightmare.”

  “I get it.” Kemp took off his hat and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Guess we’ve got a problem then.”

  “Problem?” Rowdy asked.

  “Problem?” she echoed, feeling Rowdy’s body heat as he moved closer to her.

  “You can’t have a thing like that going on with a prize cow like Daisy Sue,” Kemp said.

  “Do you mean making her a star?” she asked.

  “No.” Kemp put his hat back on his head. “Pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Belle felt her world coalesce into a tiny pinpoint.

  “That’d be one fine calf,” Rowdy said.

  “Do you mean to say Daisy Sue is pregnant?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I’d guess so. And from my angle, it looks like a whole lot of trouble.” Kemp glanced toward Steele Trap Ranch. “Think they wouldn’t do everything in their power to get that calf?”

  “No doubt,” Rowdy said.

  “But it wouldn’t be theirs to get.” Kemp looked from one to the other. “Fernando was trespassing on your ranch, so that calf, if there is one, will belong to you. Keep in mind that I’ve had your best interests at heart.”

  Belle felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Where is Daisy Sue?”

  “Well, that’s the rub,” Kemp said.

  “Rub?” Rowdy’s voice came out tight.

  “Well…yeah.” Kemp pulled his collar away from his neck as if it was constricting him. “Remember, I was protecting the Tarleton cow.”

  “And?” Belle felt a little sicker.

  “I didn’t want any of your family involved because of Fernando’s notoriety. Besides, he’s an Angus bull, and you always keep your eye on bulls. They’re unpredictable.”

  “That’s not Fernando,” Rowdy said. “He’s a smart, gentle bull…with Storm.”

  “Right.” Kemp nodded in agreement. “He’s okay with one little girl, but—”

  “That’s enough.” Rowdy leaned forward, brushing his bicep against Belle’s arm. “You know it as well as I know it. Animals have different personalities.”

  “True,” Kemp said. “But I don’t take chances. I wanted Daisy Sue safely out of the way.”

  “Okay.” Belle looked from one man to the other.
“That’s fine. But where is she? And when can we bring her home?”

  Kemp appeared even more uncomfortable.

  “This is not a guessing game,” Rowdy said.

  Kemp gave him a hard stare. “Who are you on this ranch? I’m the foreman.”

  Belle quickly stepped between the two men, not about to let the situation get out of hand. “Rowdy has kindly agreed to help me with house renovations.”

  “Rowdy?” Kemp laughed, shaking his head. “Belle Tarleton, you’ve got a lot to learn about Wildcat Bluff County.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “They take care of their own,” Kemp said.

  “Just tell me when Daisy Sue will be back in her pasture.”

  “No can do,” Kemp said.

  “What?” Belle felt as if she’d stepped into some alternate reality.

  “Like I said, my main goal has been to protect Tarleton livestock. I asked my cousin Lester to pick up Daisy Sue, haul to her to a safer location, and take care of her.”

  “Couldn’t you have simply moved her to a different pasture?” Belle felt more uneasy all the time.

  “That Fernando is one persistent bull. I wanted plenty of space between them.”

  “Okay,” she said, trying to stay reasonable. “Now that I’m here and in charge, please bring her home.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Say that again.”

  “Well, after I got your message, I tried to get Lester on his cell phone. No answer. I figure he might’ve tied one on and be sleeping it off…or he’s decided to get back on the rodeo circuit. Sooner or later, he’s got to pick up.”

  “Please tell me he didn’t sell Daisy Sue.” She glanced at Rowdy, and he gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Far as I know, he didn’t, but if Lester was short of cash…no, even if he is that cousin, he wouldn’t go so far.”

  “You’re not making me feel better about Daisy Sue.” She looked at Kemp more closely. “Have you ever even been a ranch foreman before now?”

  “Sure.” He put his hands on his hips to either side of a big, shiny, colorful rodeo belt buckle. “But I never had to deal with a bull like Fernando. Famous? Website? Fans?” He shook his head. “That’s one pampered bull.”