Cowboy Up

“We will, we will. Leave those for me and go cut me a nice big piece of your delicious pie. And put some ice cream on top.” The stocky cowboy winked at her as he reached for the dishes in her hand.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. If you insist.” She handed over the dishes and walked back toward the kitchen.

Instead of stacking plates, Watkins gazed after her. “What a woman.”

Clay watched in fascination. He’d thought something might be going on between Watkins and Mary Lou, but he hadn’t been sure until now. “Are you sweet on her, Watkins?”

Watkins nodded, which made his handlebar mustache twitch. “Have been for years. Once I tried to get her to marry me, but she claims she’s never marrying anybody. So I backed off, but lately…let’s just say I might be making progress.”

Emmett clapped him on the shoulder. “Clearing dishes and complimenting her on her cooking just might get the job done. Not that I’m an expert on women. What’s your opinion, Clay?”

Clay held up both hands. “Don’t ask me about women. They’re a mystery.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Watkins glanced toward the kitchen. “Well, my pie should be about ready. Catch you later, boys.”

After he left, Clay looked at Emmett and raised his eyebrows.

Emmett shrugged. “He’s been carrying a torch for a long time,” he said in a low voice. “You may not believe it, but she used to be a real babe.”

“You know, I can believe it. And I’ve always loved her spunky attitude. I—” He stopped talking when Emily walked into the room. Talk about a babe. The snug T-shirt and form-fitting jeans would make any guy take a second look, but Clay had a thing about women in cowboy hats.

This one was tan straw, a warm-weather alternative to felt. The brim curved downward in both the front and back so it partly shielded her eyes in a sexy, flirty way. The more Emily adopted a Western style, the more Clay liked what he saw.

“How’s this?” she asked as she came toward them.

Clay dialed back his response several notches. “It’ll do.”

“Good choice.” Emmett’s weathered face glowed with pride. “Fits nice.”

Sarah appeared and crossed to where they were standing. “Looks good, huh? Fortunately we wear the same size.”

“Sarah said I could keep this,” Emily said. “But that seems silly if I’m only going to wear it while I’m here.”

Some of the glow faded from Emmett’s expression, and Clay ached for him.

No matter what Emmett had said about not expecting too much, it was obvious he’d allowed himself to hope that Emily wouldn’t abandon her newfound interest in the ranch once she left. He nodded. “Guess so. Wouldn’t want to let a good hat end up in the back of a closet. Well, I’d better get going if I intend to finish up those errands in town.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Sarah pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her jeans. “Here are a few more things I need while you’re there. Also, Pam called and asked if you’d stop by the Bunk & Grub, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d look in on my mother and make sure she remembers about the party tomorrow night.”

Emmett looked over the list. Then he trained that piercing blue gaze on Sarah in a manner Clay knew well. It meant that Emmett suspected something was going on and he intended to find out what. “You wouldn’t be stacking up the errands to keep me away from the ranch all afternoon because of some scheme or other, would you now, Sarah?”

“Goodness, no! Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Because I’ve known you for thirty-some years, and you look like you’re up to something. I’m warning you, if I come back from town and a passel of folks jump out of the bushes yelling ‘surprise,’ I will be one unhappy cowhand.”

Sarah patted his arm. “I promise that won’t be happening. Besides, your birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Which means the only way you could surprise me is to stage the party tonight. I wouldn’t put it past you, either.”

“You are so suspicious.” Sarah gave him a big smile. “You will love your birthday party, Emmett, and it will take place on your birthday, not the night before.”

“Time will tell if you’re putting me on or not. Anyway, I’ll see you folks later, and there had better not be any shenanigans taking place while I’m gone.” Settling his hat on his head, he left the dining room.

Sarah studied the beamed ceiling of the dining room and twiddled her thumbs as his footsteps receded down the hall leading to the living room. Only after the front door had opened and closed did she drop her gaze to Clay’s and burst out laughing. “He’s such a baby when it comes to birthdays.”

“He knows something’s going on,” Clay said.

“What is it?” Emily looked eagerly from one to the other. “Are you going to surprise him tonight?”

“No.” Sarah glanced over at the door to the dining room as if worried that Emmett might have crept back down the hall. “Emily, go make sure he’s left.”

“Be right back.” Emily hurried out of the dining room.

Sarah moved closer to Clay. “He really will love this cookout. But if he knew about it in advance, he’d pitch a fit because we’re going to extra trouble on his behalf.”

“You’re right, he would.”

“But it’s going to be so perfect. I realized this morning that you’ll need to dig two fire pits, one for the bonfire and one we can let burn down to coals for grilling the steaks.”

“I can do that.”

Emily came back in, her face pink with excitement. “He’s really gone. So what are you planning?”

“Clay can explain it all. I need to go check with Watkins, if he’s still in the kitchen. His guitar was missing a string and I need to make sure he’s fixed it.”

“He’s still there,” Clay said, “but you might want to knock before you go in.”

“I see.” Sarah grinned. “Thanks for the warning. Catch you two later. Call if you run into any glitches.” Then she walked toward the kitchen. “Sarah Chance is on the move!” she called out. “If there’s anything going on you don’t want me to see, you’d better cease and desist immediately!”

Emily looked at Clay. “What the heck is that all about?”

“Just a little romance between Watkins and Mary Lou. Come on. We have tables and benches to load into the back of a pickup.”

“Okay.” She fell into step beside him as they headed down the hall lined with windows on the right and family pictures on the left. “This visit is turning out to be way more interesting than I expected.”

That patronizing remark set his teeth on edge. Added to her comment about not needing the hat once she went home to California, he decided to broach the subject of her attitude. “You know, this ranch may not be your favorite place in the world, but could you pretend it is, for your dad’s sake?”

She stopped in her tracks. “Wow. You are definitely hostile.”

He spun to face her. “I suppose I am. I love that man like a father, and you—”

“I love him like a father, too. My father, in fact.”

He wondered for the first time if she resented all the attention Emmett had devoted to him. “Point taken.”

She gave him a brief nod, as if at least that much was settled. “Anyway, I don’t want to give any impression that I might like to live in Wyoming. To me, that would be crueler than being honest about my feelings. My mother gave him that kind of false hope, and I think he’s still hurting because of it.”

Clay hated to admit it, but she made sense. He wished she loved ranching the way Emmett did, but if she didn’t, pretending could possibly do more damage. He took a deep breath. “You’re probably right. I apologize. I have no business sticking my nose in, anyway.”

“Sure you do. You love him. And from the way he raves about you and your accomplishments, I think he loves you, too.”

“He raves?”

“Oh, yes. He brags about the way you carefully saved your money for tuition and then worked odd jobs while you took classes in Cheyenne. He was so proud of your grade point average. And when you got that scholarship, he mentioned it to me several times.”

Clay gazed at her as his understanding grew. “It’s a wonder you don’t hate my guts.”

“At times I did, although I don’t like admitting that. Besides, he was born to be a dad, and I haven’t given him much chance at that. Knowing you were here relieved my feelings of guilt.”

“Still, I’ll bet you got tired of hearing about my accomplishments.”

She shrugged. “It’s hardly your fault that I’m not focused like you and can’t for the life of me figure out a career. My dad’s not likely to brag about my surfing ability, so that leaves him with nothing to boast about when it comes to his only child.”

“Do you have a job?”

“Of course I have a job. How do you think I support myself?”

He decided not to mention that he’d been convinced she didn’t support herself, that she was living off the money Emmett sent her every month. She might not appreciate knowing that most everyone at the Last Chance knew he sent checks and wondered why when he was no longer financially obligated. They all assumed Emily was living on that money, or at the very least, only working part-time to supplement his generosity.

But her finances and her job situation were absolutely none of his business. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was out of line starting this conversation in the first place, and we have a lot of work to do before your dad comes home. We should get going.” He started back down the hall.

“Going where?” She lengthened her strides to keep up with him. “You still haven’t told me the plan.”

Briefly he outlined the details. He wondered if she’d find it hokey, but she responded with enthusiasm.

“That sounds like so much fun! Sometimes we have bonfires on the beach and cookouts, too. Usually somebody brings a docking station for their iPod instead of having live music, but a guitar player sounds terrific. Will there be dancing?”

“That’s an excellent question. Knowing the Chance family, there should be dancing.”

“Yay! I love to dance. I…just realized that I have no idea if my dad dances or not. I should know that, shouldn’t I?”

“Not if you’ve never been around when dancing was part of the program.” He reached the front door and opened it for her.

“Thanks.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled at him. “I’m enjoying all the gallantry around here.”

“Sarah insists on it, and besides, it’s the cowboy way to show respect toward a woman.” He stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. That’s when he looked out at the circular drive and noticed her convertible, top still down, leather upholstery exposed to the sun.

He couldn’t stand it. “Do you have your car keys with you?”

“No, but I can get them. Is my car in the way?”

“You can leave it there, but you need to put the top up. You’ll ruin the leather seats.”

“It’s stuck.”

He glanced over at her. “Permanently?”

“I don’t know. I pulled over at a rest stop around eight last night and decided to put the top down for the rest of the way, so I’d be sure and stay awake. When I got here, it wouldn’t go back up. I meant to say something to my dad this morning, but he was so excited about the barn tour and then I got interested, too. My convertible wasn’t a top priority.”

Once again, Clay had been guilty of assumptions. He needed to stop making them when it came to Emily. “We don’t have time to fix it now, but if you’ll get your keys, you can put it in the tractor barn so at least it’s out of the sun. The tables and benches are stored down there, so drive on down and I’ll meet you.”

“Good idea.” She glanced at the BMW. “It’s eight years old, and things go wrong with it. My mom found it in the paper and thought I should have a classy car, but sometimes I think I’d be better off with something more practical.”

Clay couldn’t agree more, but he could tell the purchase had been more about pleasing her mother than pleasing herself. Emily Sterling didn’t fit into the box he’d created for her, and that might put him on dangerous ground.

Ignoring her sexy body was one thing. Resisting a cry for help from someone who wasn’t sure of her place in the world would be much more difficult. He’d been there, and no one should have to face that kind of insecurity alone.

4

EMILY FETCHED HER KEYS from her room and roasted her fanny driving the convertible down to the tractor barn. Maybe that was just as well. Searing her backside might serve as a reminder that little girls who moved too close to the fire could get burned.

No matter which way she looked at it, giving in to her instincts with Clay wouldn’t be a good thing. Oh, except for the obvious, which involved glorious sex with a guy who had hero written all over him. The catch was just as obvious.

If her dad found out, no doubt he’d be disappointed in her. She couldn’t imagine that he’d condone a superficial fling with Clay, and that’s all it would amount to. She didn’t want to disappoint her father any more than she already had.

Even worse, he might be disappointed with the apple of his eye, Clay Whitaker. The two men had a special relationship, and she had the power to ruin it. No doubt her dad had told Clay that a Wyoming man should steer clear of a California girl. Emmett certainly wouldn’t want to see history repeating itself with his own daughter.

So she was faced with an afternoon in the company of a man she found wildly sexy, yet she couldn’t do anything about it. To make matters even more complicated, he showed definite signs of a mutual attraction. She could tell by his heated looks, the tone of his voice and the occasional bulge in his jeans.

Knowing he didn’t quite approve of her wasn’t the turnoff for her that it should have been, either. No doubt about it, Clay would have preferred a cowgirl who fulfilled all of Emmett’s unspoken dreams. Instead she was a city girl who spent her free time riding a surfboard instead of a horse.

Despite that, Clay wanted her, and Emily had the uncharitable urge to show him how a California surfer girl could destroy his control. Let him disapprove of her all he wanted—she’d bet that, given the opportunity, she could make him crazy with lust. It would be satisfying, indeed, if she could reduce him to begging for the chance to sink into her hot body.

She approached the large metal tractor barn. Clay had driven a dark blue pickup to the entrance and was letting down the tailgate as she drove past him. It was a simple task, so how come he looked so sexy doing it? She’d never made out in the bed of a pickup, but she wouldn’t mind giving it a try with Clay.

By the time she pulled into the shadowed interior of the tractor barn, her hormones were dancing to a hip-hop beat and her noble intentions had taken a hike up the trail into the Grand Tetons. To hell with an uncomfortable truck bed. Her BMW was a four-passenger with a backseat, and she was ready to invite Clay to join her there. But that was such a bad idea.

Gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel, she closed her eyes and willed herself back to sanity. She’d driven here to celebrate her dad’s sixtieth birthday, a major milestone. She would not muck it up by having sex with his protégé, no matter how yummy the guy was.

“Are you okay?”

She opened her eyes to find Mr. Yummy himself standing next to the driver’s side of the car, his hat pushed back and his dark eyes filed with concern. For a split second she pictured telling him exactly what was on her mind, which involved getting naked and then squirming around on the warm leather upholstery of her car.

The tractor barn seemed empty of people other than the two of them, and if she’d judged their chemistry correctly, the event would be over in minutes with very little chance they’d be discovered in flagrante delicto. Of course, she wasn’t figuring in birth control as part of this fantasy, and she didn’t think Clay was the sort to be packing.

With a deep sigh, she gave up the whole concept. “I’m fine. The transition from the heat to the shade made me a little dizzy, is all.”

He opened the car door for her and stood back. “You don’t have to help me load the tables and benches. In fact, you don’t have to help do any of this. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and we can go riding then, if you still feel up to it.”

“I want to help.” She climbed out of the car and moved a safe distance away from him. As she’d suspected, they were very much alone in the cool and cavernous tractor barn.

“After all, this party is for my dad.” She decided not to look directly at him and risk more eye contact. She was already on edge, and sexual tension wound tighter with every second they stood together inside the deserted barn. “Let’s get started.”

“Okay.” His voice was suspiciously gruff. “You’ll need these.”

She had to look at him to find out what he meant by these. He was frowning as he held out a pair of leather work gloves.

That’s when it occurred to her that he might not want to take her with him. She’d invited herself along, and with Sarah and Emmett jumping in to second the idea, he hadn’t had much choice.

She didn’t take the gloves. “Maybe I shouldn’t go with you, after all. I don’t know the routine and I might get in your way.”

“But you said you wanted to.”

“I know, but this isn’t all about me. If my going will complicate things, then—”

“Take the gloves.” His tone gentled. “I could use the help.”

She hesitated a moment longer, and then decided that she really did want to be a part of setting up the party for her father. “All right. Thanks.” She took the gloves and pulled them on. They were huge on her. Laughing, she held up both hands. “Look, Minnie Mouse.”

He smiled. “Sorry. That’s all I could find.”

Instantly she was contrite. “I’m not complaining. I think it’s sweet that you thought to give me gloves in the first place. They’ll work fine.” That’s when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and the air went out of her lungs.

Oh…dear…God. She hadn’t seen heat like that in…maybe she’d never seen heat like that. It was a wonder she didn’t go up in flames. Parts of her felt as if they might combust at any moment.

Muttering a swear word under his breath, he dropped his gaze. “This is no good,” he said, his voice husky.

“You’re right. I won’t go.” She took off the gloves and held them out.

He lifted his head and looked at her. “That’s not right, either.”

“Sure it is.” She shook the gloves. “Take these back, and I’ll just go on up to the house.”

He stared at the gloves. Then, with another muttered oath, he took them and tossed them into the front seat of her car.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Making a mistake.” He grasped both her wrists and drew her toward him.

She should have resisted. She didn’t. Her heart beating furiously, she gulped as the distance between them grew smaller. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Releasing his hold on her wrist, he took off his hat. That went into the front seat, too, followed by her hat.

“But you said it’s no good.” She began to tremble.

“It isn’t.” Sliding his hand around her waist, he pulled her into his arms. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

She couldn’t believe any woman on the planet had that kind of willpower, especially when said woman had fantasized about the body she was now plastered against. Gazing into dark eyes that promised a thousand delights, she wanted every single one. She spread her hands over his muscled chest and felt his quick intake of breath and the staccato beat of his heart.

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