Her Rodeo Man

Her touch was both gentle and electrifying.

Closing his eyes, he let himself experience the moment. Don’t stop. Not yet.

She must have read his thoughts for she lingered. And lingered.

Her proximity brought with it a heat that invaded his every pore. As did the fragrant scent of her hair. Or was it the lotion she’d used that morning? Not to mention the silky texture of her skin.

Skin? Wait a minute.

Without realizing it, he’d lifted a hand to caress Tatum’s bare arm.

She made the slightest move to pull away. Ryder would have none of it and drew her close. Closer still. He didn’t stop until she was forced to grab hold of his shoulders or risk losing her balance.

“Ryder” was all she got out before he covered her mouth with his, turning a not-quite-innocent peck into a full-blown, make-no-mistake-I-want-you kiss.

Her Rodeo Man

Cathy McDavid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the past eighteen years CATHY McDAVID has been juggling a family, a job and writing, and doing pretty well at it, except for the housecleaning part. “Mostly” retired from the corporate business world, she writes full-time from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains. Her twins have “mostly” left home, returning every now and then to raid her refrigerators. On weekends, she heads to her cabin in the mountains, always taking her laptop with her. You can visit her website at www.cathymcdavid.com.

To Mike…and the incredible spark you always ignite. Here’s to forever, my love.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The day Ryder Beckett swore would never come had arrived. He’d returned to Reckless, Arizona, and the Easy Money Rodeo Arena. But instead of a hero’s welcome, he was slinking home like a scolded puppy with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Really slinking. He should be meeting his father in the arena office. In fact, he was five minutes late. Only, Ryder had continued walking. Around the main barn, past the row of outdoor horse stalls, all the way to the horse pastures. There he stopped and forced himself to draw a long breath.

He did want to be here, he told himself. Though, to be honest, he needed to be here. Be somewhere, anyway. Why not Reckless, where he could maybe, possibly, mend a bridge or two? He would if his baby sister, Liberty, had her way. For Ryder, the jury was still out.

Keeping a low profile. Yeah, he decided, that had a better ring to it than slinking. Then again, Ryder possessed a talent for putting a positive spin on things. It was what had propelled him to the top in his field. Stupidity was what led to his downfall.

As he stood at the pasture fence, his leather dress shoes sank deep into the soft dirt. He’d have a chore cleaning them later. At the moment, he didn’t care.

When, he absently wondered, was the last time he’d worn a pair of boots? Or ridden a horse, for that matter? The answer came quickly. Five years ago during his last strained visit. He’d sworn then and there he’d never set sight on Reckless again. The aftermath of another falling-out with his mother.

Recent events had altered the circumstance of their enduring disagreement. Liberty, the one most hurt by their mother’s lies, had managed to make peace with both their parents. Not so Ryder. His anger at their mother’s betrayal hadn’t dimmed one bit in the twenty-five years since she’d divorced their father.

Was coming home a mistake? Only time would tell. In any case, he wasn’t staying long.

In the pasture, a woman haltered a large black pony and led it slowly toward the gate. Other horses, a half dozen or so pregnant mares, ambled behind, bobbing their heads and swishing their tails. Whatever might be happening, they wanted in on it.

Ryder leaned his forearms on the top fence railing. Even at this distance, he could tell two things: the pony was severely lame, and the woman was spectacularly attractive. Both drew his attention, and, for the moment, his meeting with his father was forgotten.

The two were a study in contrast. While the pony hobbled painfully, favoring its front left foot, the woman moved with elegance and grace, her long black hair misbehaving in the mild breeze. She stopped frequently to check on the pony and, when she did, rested her hand affectionately on its sleek neck.

Something about her struck a familiar, but elusive, chord with him. Who was she? A memory teased at the fringes of his mind but remained out of reach.

As he watched, the knots of tension residing in his shoulders relaxed. That was until she changed direction and headed toward him. Then, he immediately perked up, and his senses went on high alert.

“Hi,” she said as she approached. “Can I help you?”

She was even prettier up close. Large dark eyes analyzed him with unapologetic interest from a model-perfect oval face. Her full mouth stretched into a warm smile impossible not to return. The red T-shirt tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans emphasized her long legs and slim waist.

“I’m meeting someone.” He didn’t add that he was now ten minutes late or that the someone was, in fact, his father.

“Oh. Okay.” She took him in with a glance that said it all. Visitors to the Easy Money didn’t usually wear suits and ties.

“Mercer Beckett,” Ryder said.

“He’s in the office, I think.”

“That’s what he told me.”

At the gate, she paused and tilted her head, her gaze shifting from mild interest to open curiosity. “Can I show you the way?”

“Thanks. I already know it.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“You...could say that. But it’s been a while.”

“Well, welcome back.”

That smile again, familiar but not, and most appealing. It was almost enough to make Ryder break his promise to himself to steer clear of work romances. He’d learned that lesson the hard way and had paid the price with his now defunct career.

Not that he’d be working with this woman exactly. But she was probably a customer of the Becketts, one who boarded her pony at the arena. Close enough.

“You should fire your farrier and find another one.” Ryder nodded at the pony. “He or she isn’t worth a lick.”

The woman’s brows arched in surprise and emphasized their elegant shape. “I beg your pardon?”

He indicated the pony’s right front hoof. “She has a contracted heel. From incorrect shoeing.”

“No offense intended, but you don’t exactly strike me as an expert.”

“I’m not. But I do have some experience.” Living, breathing, eating and sleeping horses for the first half of his life. “You pull that shoe off, and you’ll see an immediate improvement.”

“Could be laminitis,” she countered. “That’s common in ponies.”

“It’s not laminitis.”

“You sound sure.”

“Remove the shoe, and you’ll see.” When she hesitated, he added, “What could it hurt?”

“I’ll ask one of the hands.” She slid the latch and opened the gate.

“I can do it for you. Remove the shoe.”

“In those clothes?”

“What’s a little dirt?”

She laughed, a low, sexy sound he quite liked. “We’ll see.”

Was he crazy? Flirting with a potential customer. A woman who could be married with three kids, for all he knew.

She started through the gate, leading the pony. The horses behind her also wanted out and began shoving their way into the narrow opening. A bottleneck formed, with the more aggressive of the horses squealing and nipping at their neighbors.

“Back now.” The woman waved a hand, which had almost no effect.

Ryder stepped forward. If the horses succeeded in getting loose, the Easy Money hands would be in for a merry chase.

“I’ll help.”

Before she could object, he positioned himself between her and the brood mares, blocking their escape. Once she and the pony were on the other side, he swung the gate shut.

“Thank you,” she said when he turned around.

“Good thing I happened by. You’d have had a stampede to contend with.”

“My hero.” Her teasing tone matched the twinkle in her eyes.

“Let me remove that too-small shoe, and I’ll really be your hero.”

“What about your meeting with Mercer?”

“It can wait.”

A small exaggeration. Ryder’s father had little patience with people who kept him waiting. Even so, Ryder didn’t change his mind.

They began a slow, painful procession toward the barn. If possible, Ryder would have carried the pony. Fortunately, before long, they reached an empty stall.

“I’ll get a rasp and a pair of hoof clippers.”

“I’ll show you where they’re kept.”

“Not necessary.”

The curiosity was back in her eyes. “I suppose you know where the tack room is, too.”

“Center aisle.”

“You have been here before.”

Feeling her stare following him, he grinned and strode down the aisle toward the tack room. The next instant, he remembered his hard-learned lesson and sobered.

Voluntarily resigned. In order to join his family’s business.

That was what his letter to Madison-Monroe Concepts had cited, though there was nothing voluntary about Ryder’s termination. He’d quit his job as senior marketing executive rather than be involved in a messy lawsuit with him named as the defendant. At his lawyer’s suggestion, he’d left Phoenix the second the ink was dry on the settlement agreement and before his former boss changed his mind.

Which, technically, made him four days early, not late to his meeting with his father.

No one in his family knew the details of his termination. As far as they were concerned, Ryder had undergone a change of heart, prompted by his father’s insistence the Easy Money needed a top-notch marketing expert to guide their rapidly growing bucking stock business and a wish to better know his much younger sister, Liberty.

There it was again, massaging the truth to obtain a positive slant. In this case, Ryder had his reasons.

By the time he returned to the stall, the woman had tied the pony to a metal pole by the door. Ryder removed his suit jacket and draped it over the stall wall. He’d been warm anyway. September in Arizona was a lot like summer in other states. Next, he unbuttoned the cuffs on his dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

The woman—should he introduce himself in order to learn her name?—worriedly combed her fingers through the pony’s long mane. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call the vet first? My kids will be devastated if anything happened to Cupcake.”

So, he’d been right. She did have children. Which meant there was a father somewhere in the picture. Ryder was almost relieved and promptly dialed down the charm.

“She’ll be fine. I promise.”

Lifting the pony’s sore hoof, he balanced it on his bent knee. Next, he removed the rasp from his back pocket where he’d placed it and began filing down the ends of the nails used to fasten the shoe to the hoof. Once that was done, the shoe could be removed without causing further damage to the hoof. A few good pries with the clippers, and the shoe fell to the stall floor with a dull clink.

Ryder gently released Cupcake’s hoof and straightened. He swore the pony let out an audible sigh.

“She’ll feel brand-new by morning.”

“You won’t take offense if I have Mercer look at her?” the woman said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Not at all.” Ryder chuckled. “I wouldn’t trust me, either, if I were you.” He brushed at his soiled slacks. “Given the clothes.”

She flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Kids. Likely a husband. He had to remember that. She’d be an easy one to fall for, and Ryder had a bad habit of choosing unwisely. Just look at his current situation. Unemployed and returning home all because he’d gotten involved with the wrong person.

“By the way, I’m—”

“Hey, there you are!” Ryder’s father walked briskly toward them, his whiskered face alight with joy. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Sorry. Got waylaid.” All the tension that had seeped out earlier returned. New knots formed. Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell his father the truth about the real reason he’d quit his job, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “How are you, Dad?” Outside the stall, the two men engaged in a back-thumping hug.

“Good, now that you’re here.” He held Ryder at arm’s length. “Glad to see you, son.”

“I was helping...” Ryder turned to the woman, a little taken aback by her startled expression.

“You’re Ryder Beckett?” The question hinged on an accusation.

“On my good days.”

Only his father laughed. “You should hear what they call him on his bad days.”

The woman stared at him. “You weren’t supposed to be here till Saturday.”

“I got away early.” Ryder felt his defenses rising, though he wasn’t sure why. And how was it she knew his schedule? That elusive familiarity from earlier returned. “Have we met before?”

“This is Tatum Mayweather,” his father said. “You remember her. She’s your sister Cassidy’s best friend.”

Tatum. Of course. The name brought his vague memories into sharp focus. “It’s been a lot of years,” he said by way of an excuse.

“It has.” She removed the halter from Cupcake and shut the stall door behind her. “If you’ll excuse me, my lunch hour is over, and I need to get back to work. Your mother’s been answering the phone for me in the house.”

“Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Sure.”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning.” His father beamed. “Tatum’s our office manager. After I give you a tour of the bucking stock operation, she can go over our contracts with you.”

Office manager. That explained her cool reaction to him.

If Ryder accepted his family offer to be the arena’s new head of marketing and client relations, he’d be in charge of advertising and promotion, duties currently performed by Tatum.

“Look, it’s not...”

What could he say? That he wasn’t after her job? Okay, maybe he was, but only parts of it and only temporarily. She, however, didn’t know that.

“See you in the morning.” She left, her movements no longer graceful but stilted.

Well, at least Ryder didn’t have to worry about becoming involved with a coworker. Any chance of that happening was walking away with Ms. Mayweather.

Only after she’d disappeared through a door across from the tack room did Ryder realize she hadn’t asked Mercer to check on Cupcake.

* * *

RYDER’S FATHER KEPT up a near constant stream of conversation as they covered the short distance from the barn to the house. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me. Your mother, too.”

It was no secret Ryder’s father still loved his ex-wife and intended to win her back. Ryder had agreed to help and support him with the expansion of the rodeo arena. He didn’t, however, understand his father’s enduring feelings regarding his mother.

“Hope you’re hungry,” his father said. “Your mother’s fixed enough food for a dozen people.”

“I don’t want her going to any trouble.”

“Your early arrival put her in quite a tizzy. She made an emergency run to the grocery store last night just to have the food you like on hand.”

“I’m not picky, Dad.”

“Well, this is a big day for her. She’s nervous.”

She wasn’t the only one. Ryder had been fighting anxiety for days now.

Five years was a long time to go without seeing one’s mother. They’d spoken on the phone, but only occasionally when he happened to call his sisters. Mostly on birthdays and Christmas. One or the other insisted he talk to their mother, too. He usually relented, solely for his sisters’ sakes. Ryder simply couldn’t get past what he saw as his mother’s betrayal.

His father always defended his mother, saying she was right to divorce him. Ryder didn’t see it that way. She cared only about herself and hadn’t once considered the effect losing their father would have on her children.

Her selfishness, however, wasn’t the only reason his return was difficult. She’d lied. For twenty-five years. To everyone. And like the divorce, the lies had stolen parts of their lives they could never get back.

“The girls can’t wait to see you.” His father talked about Ryder’s grown sisters as if they were young. Then again, Cassidy had been only ten when their parents divorced, to Ryder’s twelve, and Liberty not even born yet. His father probably did think of Ryder’s sisters as “girls.” “Cassidy’s volunteering at Benjie’s school this morning,” he continued, “and Liberty’s in Globe, picking up lumber. That young man of hers is coming to lunch, too.”

“You like him?”

“If you’re asking me, is he good enough for her, the answer is yes. I like him. Hell, I fixed ’em up.”

“That’s not the story I heard. You darn near ruined their relationship.”

“Water under the bridge.”

Ryder’s sister obviously possessed a forgiving heart. “What’s the lumber for? Fences?”

“Building jumps. We teach English hunter classes now, if you can believe that. Part of our outreach program with the school. We offer riding instruction to students for a discount price. Your mother’s on the school board and spearheaded the whole thing.”

“I had no idea.” What else would Ryder learn about his mother during his stay? Did he care?

“It’s good for the arena, and it’s good for the community. Gives the students something to do in the afternoons and on weekends. Reckless is a small town without funding for local sports programs. But you know that as well as anyone.”

Ryder did. He’d grown up in Reckless until he was fourteen and legally old enough to choose which of his parents he wanted to live with. On the day after his birthday, he’d packed his suitcase. A week later, when nothing his mother said or did and no amount of tears she cried made a difference, Ryder boarded a bus to Kingman where his father had moved.

For a few weeks each summer, he came back. That ended once Ryder graduated high school and left for college, allowing the rift between him and his mother to widen.

Then, a few months ago, Liberty discovered she shared the same biological father as her siblings and made contact, inviting him to Reckless for the purpose of getting acquainted. He did that, along with exercising his right to half ownership of the arena. When Ryder’s mother objected, he threatened her with legal action. Having little choice, she eventually caved.

The result, the Becketts were now all in one place, though not reunited. Perhaps that was too much to ask.

His father led Ryder through the spacious backyard with its well-tended lawn. The swings and slide from Ryder’s youth were gone, replaced by one of those multicolored modular play sets, he assumed for his nephew, Benjie. Just as well. Ryder sported a three-inch scar on his forearm, proof that the swings and slide had been old and dilapidated even in his day.

His father opened the kitchen door without knocking and called, “Sunny, you here?”

Though his father didn’t live at the arena—he rented a small place in town—Ryder suspected he was a frequent visitor to the house. Apparently his mother really was softening toward him.

Her response drifted to them from down the hall. “Be right out.”

Ryder paused inside the door.

“Don’t just stand there.” His father beckoned him with a wave. “It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

Wrong. Ryder was a stranger. He’d lived many more years in Phoenix than Reckless—a mere seventy miles away, yet it might as well have been a million.

He advanced three whole feet before coming to another halt. That was all the distance required to walk from the present straight into the past, and the sensation knocked him off-kilter.

While he stood there, his father went to the fridge and helped himself to a chilled bottled water, further confirming Ryder’s suspicions that he was a regular visitor.

“You want one?” He held out a second bottle.

“Thanks.” Funny how Ryder’s throat had gone completely dry. He accepted the bottle, twisted off the cap and took a long swallow. The cold water restored his balance.

Footsteps warned him of his mother’s approach. He had but a few seconds to replace the bottle cap and prepare himself before she appeared.

“Ryder!” Cheeks flushed, she hurried toward him.

He tried to form his mouth into something resembling a smile. He must have succeeded, for she beamed.

“I’m so happy you came.”

“It’s good to see you, Mom.” He uttered the words automatically.

They hugged, his mother clinging to him while Ryder gave her shoulders a perfunctory squeeze. He’d accepted his father and Liberty’s invitation, it was his responsibility to deal with the consequences. Beside them, his father grunted with approval.

“Are you hungry?” His mother released him and brushed self-consciously at her hair, which was styled perfectly and in no need of tidying. “I made chili and corn bread.”

His favorite meal as a boy. All right, it was still one of his favorite meals. Maybe because it reminded him of the good times, before their lives had imploded.

“Great. Thanks.”

After an awkward moment of silence, she said, “I see you got a water.”

“I did.”

She skimmed her palms down the sides of her jeans. “We could sit in the living room. If you want. Until your sisters get here. Or outside. Though it’s hot.”

“Anywhere’s fine with me,” Ryder said. He’d be on edge and defensive regardless of his surroundings.

His father must have taken pity on his mother, for he said, “Let’s sit at the kitchen table. Like the old days.”

Ryder wasn’t sure about the old days, but he reached for a chair. The same one he’d sat in as a child.

Abruptly, he moved his hand to the next chair over. He refused to slip into former habits just because he was back in Reckless, even habits as seemingly harmless as which chair he occupied.

An awkward silence descended. For no reason really, Ryder attempted to fill it with small talk. “How have you been, Mom?”

“All right. Busy. We now have weekly team penning competitions and bull-riding jackpots, monthly roping clinics and have almost doubled the number of riding classes offered. The Wild West Days Rodeo is in a couple of weeks.”

As a kid, Ryder had loved Wild West Days. The week-long, town-wide event included a parade, an outdoor arts-and-crafts festival, food vendors, square dancing and mock gunfights. Cowfolk and tourists alike traveled halfway across the country to participate in both the rodeo at the Easy Money and the other activities.

Ryder’s mind went in the direction it always did. “Have you done any promotion?”

“The usual,” his mother answered.

“Which is?”

“Tatum updated the website a couple months ago. We’ve sent out notices, both email and postcards. There are posters and flyers in town.”