Rancher In Her Bed

“Sure.” Ryder lifted his beer. “If I don’t see you inside, I’ll definitely catch up with you at the gala, son.”

Nodding, Xander scooped up his hat and replaced it on his head before leaving the dining pavilion.

Outside the arena, he could see the flag bearer lining up on horseback with her attendants. A few rodeo clowns waited with them, part of the processional that would kick things off soon. Inside the open arena with its high metal roof and dirt floor, Xander could see a couple of kids in cowboy hats riding the sheep used for the mutton-busting competition. The crowd was cheering, cowbells rang and the event announcer narrated the action.

He’d been to plenty of rodeos, from the big Houston Livestock Show to the local Friday night events like this one, and he enjoyed the small-town, grassroots competitions far more. While he appreciated the national spotlight that the multibillion-dollar rodeo industry brought to ranching, he had more fun at the community affairs that celebrated the hardworking men and women who made their living off the land.

Ranching was tough, but there was something cathartic about putting in the hard manual labor day after day and seeing the results firsthand.

“Hey, boss!” someone shouted from behind the chutes.

Peering over that way, Xander spotted a throng of soon-to-be competitors congregating, black-and-white numbers pinned to their Western shirts. A bowlegged cowboy was flagging him down, waving the end of his lasso.

Xander recognized Reggie Malloy, a longtime member of the Currin Ranch team. He headed that way, sidestepping a few families retrieving their kids after the mutton-busting event.

“Good to see you, Reggie.” He clapped the senior-most herdsman on the shoulder. “Just came down to wish everyone well before the competitions start.”

They moved out of the way of the stock contractors bringing in the calves for the first round of roping events. Out in the arena, the procession to kick off the rodeo began. Purple spotlights circled the venue, casting streaks across Reggie’s face as they spoke.

“We’re all fired up down here,” Reggie told him with a wide grin, his cheeks red from the heat. He wore a championship buckle that broadcast his experience in roping. “My money’s on the new kid, Wyatt, to do the ranch proud tonight. I’ve been working with him off and on since Christmas, and he’s come a long way.”

“That’s good of you, Reg. The young guys all look up to you.” He lowered his voice as the crowd quieted for the national anthem.

Even the people backstage went still. Only the calves shuffled their feet while a local high school girl dressed in red, white and blue belted out the song. When she finished, the crowd cheered and the announcer started to rev things up.

Reggie tucked his rope under one arm and started to head back toward the other competitors in the first go-round. “Boss, you might want to stick around for the lady bronc riders later.”

“Lady bronc riders?” He’d been to plenty of rodeos before, and it wasn’t often that he’d seen women competing in rough stock events, especially at the smaller venues like this one.

“There are more and more of them,” Reggie assured him while the rodeo clowns performed a few tricks to warm up the crowd. “There are only a few signed up tonight, but our own Frankie Walsh is one of them. I’ve seen her ride and she’s not bad.”

Frankie?

A vision of the ranch hand on the back of a bucking bronc flashed through his mind. Followed by memories of Rena’s fall. He hadn’t been there the day his fiancée had been thrown, but that had never stopped his brain from imagining it thousands of times.

His gut balled up in a cold knot.

“Where is she?” Clammy sweat popped out along his brow. “Where’s Frankie?”

He needed to talk her out of it. No, he needed to lay down the law and tell her she couldn’t compete. What in the hell was she thinking to tempt fate like that? Bronc riding was a dangerous sport for anyone—man or woman.

“You okay?” Reggie’s blond brows knit. Frowning, the wrangler reached for a bottled water resting on an empty bleacher off to one side. “Have a drink. You don’t look so good.”

Swiping a hand along his forehead, he tried to shut off the images flashing through his mind.

“I’m fine. Just—” He was already scouring the arena for any sign of the saucy brunette with killer legs. “Where’s Frankie?”

Reggie pointed outside the arena. “Last I saw her, she was heading outside to give herself a pep talk. Looked to me like she was walking in the direction of the Ferris wheel.”

Xander’s boots were already in motion.

Two

Frankie paced quick circles around a broken passenger cart tucked behind the Ferris wheel, out of the way of the kids and couples in line for their turn on the carnival attraction.

Nerves always set in before an event like this. She’d only done half a dozen rodeos, but she recognized the mixture of butterflies and doubt that came before the exhilaration of her moment in the arena. This part—the waiting—was far more of a challenge than the eight seconds she needed to last on the back of a bucking horse.

Rock music blared from the ride’s sound system, competing with a local country band playing nearby, the pings and whistles of various skills competitions along the carnival main strip, and the shouts of carnies urging on the guests to play longer. Spend more. Every now and then, an announcement over the loudspeaker reminded the fair attendees who needed to report to the arena next for their event in the rodeo. Barrel racers, calf ropers and wranglers of all sorts took their turn.

Pacing faster as she let herself get keyed up, Frankie knew tonight would be tough. There were only a handful of lady competitors in the saddle bronc event. But she’d seen the list and recognized the names of two top-notch riders from an all-women’s tour that had made its way around Texas the year before. She’d seen those ladies live and guessed she didn’t have much of a shot against them tonight.

Then again...who knew?

The broncs could surprise anyone. And Frankie had never walked away from a challenge. Her mother had told her more than once it was her worst failing.

Not that she was going to think about her adoptive mom. Or dad. Or the home she’d run from the moment she’d turned eighteen. She’d save those worries for another night, when she wasn’t about to risk her neck.

“Frankie.”

A man’s voice cut clean through her tumultuous thoughts. Her head snapped up to see Xander Currin striding toward her.

Purposefully.

A thrill shot through her at the sight of him in his dark jeans and a fitted black button-down. His Stetson was the same one he usually wore, but his boots were an upgrade from the ones he wore for work. His blue eyes zeroed in on her face, stirring more butterflies.

“Yes?” Puzzled that he would seek her out, she listened hard to hear over her galloping heartbeat.

He didn’t look pleased. He couldn’t possibly still be mad about her taking Carmen out the other day, could he?

“I just saw Reggie.” Her boss stopped a few feet away from her, closer than he’d ever stood before. “He told me you’re entering the saddle bronc event.”

“That’s right.” Relief seeped through the awareness of him. He wasn’t here to give her a hard time about riding Carmen. “There’s a ladies’ competition tonight.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous rough stock events can be?” His voice was all sharp edges and accusation, just like the last time they’d spoken.

Defensiveness flared. How was it she could irritate this man just by existing?

“I work with horses and cattle every day, the same as you do. I suppose I know a thing or two about them.” She folded her arms, refusing to let him intimidate her here, off the Currin Ranch.

She’d worked too hard in life to be steamrollered by people who thought they knew what was best for her.

“That doesn’t mean you’re ready to ride a surly, pissed-off beast trained to buck.” His jaw clenched. “Do you know how hard riders prepare for this event?”

A burst of applause broke out at a nearby midway game while she reeled from Xander’s sexist audacity.

“Did you give Reggie the same speech you’re giving me?” She felt a flash of impatience that bordered on anger. “Or Wyatt, the greenest of your employees entering a competition tonight?”

Xander’s lips flattened into a thin line. “No. But—”

“Then don’t you think you’re being a chauvinist to call me out for doing an event that I have spent time preparing for and that I’m actually good at?”

His expression shifted slightly, some of the tension around his eyes easing a fraction. He seemed to force in a deep breath before responding.

“You have a reputation as a very hard worker around the ranch, but if you’ve been training for this, it’s the first I’ve heard,” he acknowledged, dialing back the confrontational tone.

And taking a bit of the wind from her sails along with it.

“Well, I don’t have much spare time to train given my schedule.” Some days she ached so much from the physical grind of the labor she did, she could barely force her arms to shovel food in her mouth before showering and heading to bed. “I take as many hours as I can to make ends meet.”

She lifted her chin, daring him to find fault in that. There was no shame in hard work.

The country band playing nearby launched into a crowd-pleasing favorite, eliciting whistles and shouts from the dancers on the other side of the Ferris wheel. Neon lights blinked in varying shades as the spokes of the ride spun past them.

“I don’t want you in that arena tonight,” Xander informed her, his eyes utterly serious.

She reminded herself she worked for him. That she didn’t want to land on the wrong side of the powerful Currin family. But damn it, who did he think he was to call the shots for her tonight?

“That’s too bad,” she found herself saying anyhow, “because I’m not on the clock now, which means you can’t order me around.”

Xander glanced away from her and then back again. More gently, he asked, “Can you tell me why it’s so important to you to enter an event so fundamentally dangerous?”

Something in his voice compelled her. So she decided to be honest.

“I’m working hard all the time trying to earn enough money to put myself through veterinary school, and I don’t get many breaks.” She forced herself to unclasp her folded arms. To stand up straighter and own her thoughts and feelings. “And when I heard about the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala, I thought that was the kind of break I’d love—something fun and different that would let me have a glimpse of the life I’m working toward. A chance to see the reward with my own eyes to keep me on the path. You know?”

Xander cocked his head like he didn’t quite understand.

“You want to go to the Flood Relief Gala,” he said slowly.

“I do. It’s healthy to give yourself some tangible rewards in the process of working toward a big goal,” she explained, sharing an insight gleaned from a college counselor who’d helped her figure out how to start on a path toward achieving her big dreams. “And the prize money tonight will give me enough to afford a ticket to the gala.”

The loudspeaker blared a call for the competitors in her event. Nerves fluttered in her stomach.

Because of the upcoming ride or the man?

“I’ve got to go.” She took a step forward, but he stepped in front of her.

“You can’t enter, Frankie. I mean it.”

How had she missed all the signs that her boss was this bullheaded? “You can’t fire me for being in the rodeo when you’ve got five other employees entering.”

Eyes on the arena, she didn’t want to lose her spot. She started forward again.

“Then I’ll make you a deal,” Xander offered, his voice deep. “If you don’t set foot in that arena tonight, I’ll take you to the gala as my guest.”

She stopped. Turned back to look at him. Gauged his expression.

“Since you can’t fire me, you’ll take me to the gala as your...guest?” She found that hard to believe. Xander Currin could have his pick of beautiful, accomplished women. “Why would you do that?”

Her heartbeat sped in a way that didn’t have a damned thing to do with nerves or the competition about to begin. Her racing pulse had everything to do with Xander’s blue eyes on her. And the potential of what he offered.

“You said you wanted a ticket. I’m offering you one.” He sidestepped her question neatly. “Be my date tomorrow night.”

“What’s in it for you?” She knew better than to think her boss wanted to date her.

“I’ve got two tickets.” He spoke clearly enough, but sure didn’t explain. “Would you like one or not?”

She couldn’t argue. Not when she knew her chance of nabbing that prize money was small with the level of competition here. Furthermore, how many times had she indulged fantasies about this man? An evening with him would be...exciting. To say the least.

“Very well.” She swallowed back the surge of feminine awareness. She couldn’t believe she was going to be her boss’s date at such a huge, important event. “I will go to the gala with you.”

“Good.” He didn’t look happy so much as relieved. “Now let’s get out of here. I’ll take you back to the ranch.”

Disappointment stung a bit, but she told herself to be happy for the unexpected opportunity she’d just won.

“You don’t want to see how the guys do tonight?” she asked, hating to leave and not support the rest of the ranch team. The guys at Currin Ranch were her only family now.

Living on-site at the ranch made the group close-knit.

“I’m not taking any chances you’ll change your mind.” Xander palmed her back, briefly, steering her toward the exit. “My truck is right through this gate.”

The one marked VIP. Of course.

His touch stirred her senses. She tried to hold on to her frustration with him, but it was tougher to do with the memory of that brief caress between her shoulder blades still warming her through her shirt.

“You don’t have to take me home. I can catch a ride with the guys.” She didn’t want them to worry about her. “Reggie will wonder what happened to me—”

“I’ll text him.” He withdrew a phone while they walked out of the fairgrounds into the parking area. He made a few taps on the screen and then shoved it back in his pocket. “There. Done.”

She wondered what it must be like to be a Currin and have the world ordered to your personal preference at all times. She’d fallen right in line, too, unable to argue with someone who could fulfill her wish for a ticket as easily as he had.

All her life she’d struggled. Hard work and grit were her keys to making things happen and getting ahead in life. She didn’t regret that, either.

Still, she wondered how the other half lived.

“I can’t believe you don’t already have a date for the gala.” An awful thought occurred to her. “You’re not canceling on the blonde just to keep me out of the rodeo, are you?”

Although, remembering the way the woman had peeled out of the driveway with no regard to poor Carmen, Frankie found it hard to empathize with her.

“Blonde?” He sounded genuinely perplexed as he gestured toward his big black pickup.

“The one who startled my horse,” she reminded him as he opened the passenger-side door for her. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

She waited to step inside the truck, more curious than she had a right to be about his answer. Surprised he didn’t know who she meant.

“Her name is Kenzie, and no, she was never my date for the gala.” He still held the door for her.

How very interesting. Did that mean he was currently unattached? Not that he ever seemed to date anyone for long. She’d seen a lot of women come and go in Xander’s life in the months that she’d had a crush on him.

“Don’t you think it will be awkward for you to take me? Since I’m—you know—a ranch hand?” A trace of misgiving crept through her.

“Not at all.” He offered her his hand to help her up, clearly impatient to be under way. “There’s enough drama brewing in the Texas Cattleman’s Club without anyone worrying about who I bring to the party.”

Ignoring his hand to pull herself up into the truck cab—mostly because she was extremely aware of the effect his touch had on her—Frankie mulled over his words. She hoped he was right. And yet another tiny piece of her wished that it wasn’t easy for him to brush aside their evening together so casually.

What would it be like to attend the party with him? she wondered. Would it be like a real date? Or would she simply be circulating through the party on her own once he got her through the door?

It was one thing to be brave about riding a bucking bronc. At least then, you knew what you were getting. Facing Xander’s peers at a fancy party had the potential to be more humiliating than landing on her butt in the dirt. What did she really know about him other than his reputation for never staying with any woman for long?

Stealing a sideways glance at him as he got behind the wheel of the truck, Frankie promised herself to keep a rein on her attraction to him tomorrow night. To simply enjoy the event she’d been wanting to attend so badly.

Because letting herself think for a moment that Xander Currin noticed her as anything more than a troublesome employee would only lead to heartache and disappointment. Now that she knew he was prone to chauvinism and arrogance, it ought to be easy to quit crushing on him.

Except the truck hadn’t even pulled out onto the main road before she was already imagining what it might feel like to be in his arms for a dance.

* * *

Crisis averted.

Xander tried to tell himself he’d done the right thing as he steered his pickup onto the highway back to Currin Ranch. He’d ensured Frankie wasn’t competing in a dangerous event, and now he was delivering her safely to her cabin on his family land.

But while the country love song crooning on the radio filled the truck cab, he couldn’t deny that in dodging one disaster, he may have set himself up for another. Because no matter that he’d told her it wasn’t a big deal to take her to the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala tomorrow night, he knew plenty of people would talk. Not that he gave a rat’s ass about his own reputation, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone giving Frankie a hard time. Rumors spread fast in the tight-knit ranching community.

He wasn’t sure how to address that, so he tried to focus on the positive of what he’d accomplished. He kept his eyes on the road, knowing it was better to concentrate on that and the drive home than let himself think about the undeniably appealing cowgirl in the passenger seat.

“Do you mind if I change the station?” Her voice slid through his thoughts, her hand hovering over the radio dial.

His gaze flickered briefly from her fingers to her profile silhouetted by a streetlamp.

“Suit yourself.” Damn, but she was pretty. Even after he’d returned his attention to the view in front of the headlights, he could still see her dark braid resting on her shoulder and tied with a blue ribbon.

She wore a bright blue Stetson he’d never seen before, and a brown suede vest over her turquoise-and-yellow-plaid Western shirt. The feminine touches didn’t quite soften the proud tilt of her chin or the stubborn set to her jaw, but the contradictory side of her claimed his interest just the same. A ranch hand willing to risk her neck in the arena for the sake of a gala ticket.

“Thanks.” Spinning the radio dial, she found a more fast-paced, rock-inspired country song and turned up the volume.

To avoid conversation? Fine by him. He didn’t want to think too long about what he was getting into by accompanying her tomorrow night. And he sure as hell didn’t want to contemplate the attraction he felt for her. She worked for him and that made her off-limits. End of story.

But she broke the silence between them just a moment later, turning down the volume again as he pulled off the interstate onto the dark county route that would lead back home.

“You mentioned there was a lot of drama in the Texas Cattleman’s Club.” She shifted in her seat to turn slightly toward him, her elbow resting on the console between them.

Close to his.

“Did I?” He’d never had any use for gossip, so he hadn’t paid much attention to the rumors. But his father had been so involved with opening a branch of the TCC in Houston, it was impossible not to overhear things.

“You said no one would think twice about you bringing a ranch hand for a date tomorrow night because there was a lot of other drama brewing.” Her voice had a soft huskiness that made him think of morning-after pillow talk and shared confidences. “What’s that about? Anything I need to be aware of?”

He glanced her way again, her green eyes fixed on him with a warmth he couldn’t ignore.

Better to talk about the TCC than dwell on the spark of awareness growing between them. Besides, he had to admire her quick mind and her willingness to prepare for the social outing.

“I’m sure you’ve read about the badly decomposed body found at the construction site where the Houston branch is being renovated.” He straightened in his seat, putting some more distance between him and the intriguing woman beside him. “Having a murder victim linked to the TCC has everyone...anxious.”

His father hadn’t said much about it, but Xander guessed his dad must have some suspicions. Ryder Currin knew everyone involved in getting the Texas Cattleman’s Club Houston branch off the ground.

“I read all the articles about that,” Frankie mused, her finger tracing the leather stitching along the side of the console. “It seems like they’re not speculating much while they try to identify the body.”

“No one is speculating in an official capacity, but believe me, there’s plenty of talk. Some people think the victim could be Vincent Hamm, an assistant on the executive floor at Perry Holdings, who vanished into thin air right before the flood.”

“Has anyone tried to locate him?” She went still, a note of alarm in her voice.

“Apparently his family told police he’s always been a loner. He hated his job and often spoke of disappearing to a Caribbean island to be a surfer.” He hadn’t meant to worry her. “Maybe he finally did just that.”

She fell quiet again, peering out her window as he passed a slow-moving farm vehicle.

“I did something like that once,” she said after a long moment.

She surprised the hell out of him with the turn in conversation. He needed to stay on his toes around this woman.

“I can’t picture you leaving it all behind to take up surfing.” Although then again, she seemed to have a daring streak.

“Definitely not.” She laughed, the sound bringing a rush of pleasure that made him want to hear it again. “I meant that I took off from home a long time ago and never looked back.”

A chill went through him and he glanced over at her again. “I hope no one hurt you back home.”

“No. Nothing like that.” She brushed aside the worry quickly, and she sounded sincere. “My parents treated me well enough, but they weren’t my real parents, and I always felt like they’d hidden something from me about the day they found me.”

She went on to explain how her parents had found her as a toddler, abandoned on a highway outside Laredo. They’d raised her as their own but had always been cagey about the circumstances of her arrival into their lives and what steps they’d taken—if any—to find her real parents.

“They were kind to me, but something always felt off about it.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug that looked more pained than casual. “Anyway, your mentioning Vincent Hamm’s possible decision to leave everything behind made me think of my hometown. I wonder what my friends and parents thought happened to me after I took off.”

“I don’t know, but I’m sorry you went through that.” He wondered what had made this driven, fierce woman decide to turn her back on the people who raised her. There was probably more to that story, and he was curious, but he refused to pry when he was only just starting to know her. “I wish you could meet my sister, Maya. My father adopted her when she was a baby, and as far as I know, he’s never told anyone how she came into his life.”