His Kind Of Cowgirl

“Morning, Dad.” She kissed the top of her father’s head then returned Jonathan’s hug, studiously ignoring the man making her nerves jump. “How’d you sleep, honey?”

“Good. Here, Roxy.” He leaned down and fed his scampering terrier a bacon slice.

“Honey. No feeding the dog at the table.”

The antennae-like hair over Roxy’s eyebrows twitched as she hunkered on the floor and began chomping, her jaw snapping open again when Jonathan snuck her another piece.

“Jonathan. What did I say?”

He shrugged, eyes glimmering and full of false innocence. “You said no feeding Roxy at the table so I did it under the table.” His mischievous grin made Claire’s lips twitch. “I didn’t break a rule.”

“You sure bent it. What am I going to do with you?”

“Feed me to the dogs?” He flopped upside down on his chair and dangled his wrist to Roxy. “Want a bite?”

She headed for the stove and filled her plate with eggs and toast. “What are you going to do today...besides disobey your mother?” Marie, the housekeeper Claire’s father hired after her mother’s death, handed her a glass of juice. “Thanks.” The dark-haired woman returned her smile. It hurt, imagining they’d be letting her go when they sold the ranch, but luckily she already had plans to move in with her pregnant daughter in Arizona.

“Finishing my Benjamin Franklin report then maybe work on my model plane.” Her son kept his head lowered, but she noticed his eyes flicking toward Tanner.

Her father nudged Jonathan. “Let’s get out today, son. Marie will drive us into town. How about an ice cream at Harrigan’s?”

Claire held her breath, hoping Jonathan would agree. He loved ice cream as much as any kid, but he rarely wanted to go into town knowing he might run into some of his old classmates. His counselor had warned them not to push him into activities that heightened his insecurities, so Claire stayed quiet.

“No, thanks, Grandpa.” Jonathan chopped the rest of his bacon with his fork, scattering it around his plate.

“How about riding with your mother?” put in Tanner.

Martin’s spoon clattered to the table and Jonathan’s eyes grew round. Claire’s breath stalled. “Momma. You don’t ride.”

“She used to be the best barrel racer in the area. Could have been a champion.” Tanner raised his juice glass as if toasting her.

“Enough, Tanner.” Claire tamped down the old rush of excitement at his admiring expression. She wasn’t that woman anymore and she didn’t want her son’s head filled with crazy ideas. Worse, Tanner made her remember a side of herself she’d let go. Wouldn’t want back.

Jonathan scooted to the edge of his chair. “I want to learn to ride, but Momma won’t let me.”

“Jonathan,” Claire warned, shooting the cowboy a glare over her son’s head.

Tanner smiled wide, seeming to enjoy her ire, which, of course, only fired her up more. “I’ll take you, sometime, if your mother gives the okay.”

“She doesn’t.” Claire tossed her cold toast back onto her plate, her appetite gone. How dare Tanner overstep and interfere with her parenting? First the ranch, now Jonathan? He was getting under her skin in the worst way.

“How’s your day lined up, Tanner?” her father asked in the tense silence. He wiped his mouth but missed the stiff side. Claire leaned over and dabbed at the egg in a move too fast for a man’s pride to register. She hoped...

“Mostly I’ll be looking things over. Did a bit of that last night with the breed stock. I’ve got a rep from Carne Incorporado coming up from Mexico City tomorrow. He’s a fan and friend who’s looking to improve the company’s beef with better breeders. I’ve also got my eye on a couple of bulls that could go for six figures at auction. Revelation’s one.”

Her father whistled and leaned forward, the red veins on the end of his nose filling. “That’s my top stud. And Carne would be the biggest company we’ve worked with, yet. What’s the chance of us getting a contract?”

Tanner shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Hard to say.”

“May I have a word with you, Tanner?” Claire shoved her chair back and stood. “Outside, please?”

He studied her for a moment before he nodded. Roxy bounded after them then leaped off the porch to chase squawking chickens.

“You’re raising my father’s hopes for nothing.” Her voice was indoors quiet, falling through the wide sunshine. “We’re not large enough to interest big players like that.”

Tanner gripped the porch rail and his forearms clenched as if he braced himself against her arguments. “Your father’s got great seed stock. Large corporations like Carne will want to buy it.”

She swayed a little, and her mouth clicked open. A bigger ranch meant more pressure on her fragile father. No. This business connection could not happen.

“A corporation like Carne has no loyalty to Denton. Even if they made an offer, they could easily pull out and leave us in even more in debt down the road.”

He pulled off his hat and a small breeze ruffled his hair. “Well, this is how I see it. If we auction some of our top studs and syndicate others, selling stakeholders exclusive rights to their semen, we can get buyers talking about Denton again. Attract even more investors than Carne. We’ll use the cash to expand and fill bigger and bigger quotas.”

“Too risky,” Claire fired back, struggling to keep her voice down. “Selling the ranch to Mr. Ruddell is safer.”

Tanner leaned a boot on the porch’s lower rail and tilted his head, studying her. “And safer is always better.”

“Of course.”

“Sounds more personal than professional, Claire.” Tanner’s voice was soft and flat.

She flinched, knowing he referred to her change of heart about rodeo...and dating a bull rider. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He pushed off the rail, all tanned arms and square shoulders, his demeanor infuriatingly cool. “Guess that’s for you to decide. As for the ranch, not taking risks is what has put it behind the times.”

“Just stop,” she pleaded, her voice rising despite herself.

“Stop what exactly, Claire?” When he sauntered close, she breathed in his familiar scent. Leather and livestock. It scrambled her thoughts for a moment.

“All of it. Why do you care?”

He resettled his hat and squinted at the rising sun for a long moment. “I care, Claire.” He started down the steps, his words falling over his shoulder. “More than I should.”

* * *

TANNER PEERED AT a worn, creased paper, light bouncing off the page. The late afternoon felt like summer, pails of sunshine spilling through scuttling clouds, brightening the whole pasture. Dandelion seeds drifted on a low breeze and spiky ragwort flowered yellow.

“Plank position. Drop the knees. Hands underneath the pecs not the shoulders.”

He ripped off his damp T-shirt and tossed it onto the ground beside his hat. In a swift move, he dropped into the springy grass, stretched out for the fancy push-up and executed thirty. His healing rotator cuff ached but he forced another set. Yoga was no joke. It kicked his butt. Sweat ran down the sides of his face and slicked his back and chest. He’d been at his physical therapy for an hour. Almost time to quit.

He held up the paper again, scanned it and stuffed it back in his jeans for the last time. Knot pose. On his belly, he crossed his bad arm under his chest then reached forward with the opposite hand, a deep drawing of the muscle. Still felt tight, but looser than it had a week ago. His therapist was right about yoga.

Tanner had scoffed at first. Thought it wouldn’t be a challenge. A smile crept across his face. What an idiot. These easy-looking moves worked him harder than any bull. And his hand, wrist, arm and shoulder muscles felt stronger...critical in his job.

After his last bad landing, he’d worried his career was over. At this rate, he might get into shape, after all. With no savings after a mismanaged investment, he had no other option but to ride...unless his idea to start a rodeo school, renting space and buying Denton Ranch’s more aggressive, mixed breed bulls, worked out. It’d be the first time he put his mind, not his grip, to use, and he didn’t have as much faith in the former... Not when his occupation had been so good to him.

He rolled over. Meditation time. He slowed his breathing and let his body sink into the earth the way he’d been shown. Cleared his mind and pictured a peaceful spot. Denton Creek. Where he and Claire had picnicked and swum while dating.

“Tanner!”

He blinked up into the blue sky. Had he imagined Claire’s voice? It’d sounded real.

“What are you doing?”

Nope. Not a dream.

He leaped to his feet and sauntered over to the metal fence. As he watched her unlatch the gate and walk inside, his heart rate picked up a notch. There was no denying she was beautifully made, with long graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of her torso to the dip of her waist. The sun skidded across her face when she looked up at him. Dark green eyes and a full mouth that didn’t give an inch.

He breathed in the fresh scent of her as she passed by, a one-of-a-kind mix of wildflowers, horses and the outdoors, that brought on memories he’d better forget again in a hurry.

“Are you hurt?” Her eyes ran over his bare chest then lowered, a pink tint darkening her cheeks as her eyes lingered on the kidney-bean-shaped birthmark beside his navel.

“I was meditating. Yoga.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

Tart-tongued gal. Her sarcasm had always challenged him. Made him want to kiss the sting right out of her until she melted, sweet and willing, in his arms. No other woman excited him this way. Lit him up the way rodeo did.

“Not if I want to rehab this shoulder.” He grabbed a handkerchief out of his back pocket and mopped his brow. “What can I help you with? Didn’t think you wanted to see me much.”

Wariness curled in her eyes like smoke. “I don’t. But I called my insurance company and they’re not covering the truck repairs because of my ticket. I wondered if you had any ideas.”

His thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “A few.”

Claire leaned against the fence and slanted him a skeptical look. “I called the auto body. They said it’d take time to locate the specific parts, and lots of labor. It’s going to cost a fortune.”

He rested a hand on the fence rail beside her shoulder. “Let me figure that out. I’m having it towed here in the morning. Already called a mechanic to see if he’d work off-hours to help.”

She angled her head and the red curls that escaped her braid blew across her face. “And then what? You’re going to fix it?”

The scoff in her voice sounded all too familiar. Voices from his past telling him to not even try. It only fired him up. “That’s the plan. I want Jonathan to work with me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Jonathan? He would never. I would never...”

Unable to resist, he tucked a wavy strand behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on the soft flesh. She shivered, despite the sun melting all around them.

He forced his mind back onto the conversation. Claire was magnetic, pulling him in when he’d had no intention of getting close again. “You’re coddling him. He should have gone out with Martin today. Be doing things. Working with his hands.”

“He makes model airplanes,” she exclaimed.

“Will he ever fly a real one?”

Her eyes shimmered. “Too dangerous. He wouldn’t want that.”

“He should. Let him work with me.” Having grown up without a father, he felt for the kid, wanted to help Martin’s bid to get the boy out into the world.

For a moment, Tanner caught a weakening in her resistance, in the rounding of her eyes, the softening of her mouth. He leaned in, drawn to this glimpse of the old Claire. After a moment, she shook her head and ducked under his arm.

Back at the gate, she whirled. “When are you leaving?”

His lips twisted. “Planning a going-away party for me?”

Her eyes rose to the sky. “Why did you come back? Really?”

“I want to help your father.” The truth. Mostly. She didn’t need to know he had to save himself, too. Or he didn’t want her to know, he admitted. Then there was his growing preoccupation with Claire. Being around her messed with his head. Filled him with thoughts he’d had under control for years.

Claire’s eyebrows lifted. “And...?” she prompted.

“That’s it,” he said firmly.

“So this isn’t about us?” Her shoulders hunched and her words came out in a muffled clump he strained to hear.

“Do you want it to be?” The question leaped out of him too fast to lasso back.

Her eyes met his, the questioning expression making his pulse thud. Hard.

At last she shook her head. “We both made our choices.”

He recalled how sure he’d been that she’d come around once he succeeded at rodeo. Letting her down when she’d given him the ultimatum—her or rodeo—had seemed the lesser of two evils. She hadn’t known him when he’d spent his after-school hours in detention and struggled to graduate after an extra senior year. Rodeo was the only thing he’d ever been good at, and he hadn’t wanted her to see him fail at a regular job.

“The right ones,” he muttered, hanging his head and raising his eyes.

Her shoulders squared as she examined him, green eyes dull, just a little too wide. “So, nothing’s changed.”

His nod felt heavy. Dishonest somehow. “Nothing’s changed.”

Without another word, she unlatched the gate and strode away, leaving him with an empty feeling that didn’t sit right.

He’d been on his own for ten years. Had worked hard to finally put her out of his mind. And now here she was again, muddling a straightforward plan to help Martin and a gamble to save his own future.

He headed back for his shirt and hat.

Claire affected him more than he’d bargained for. She was a complication, but he was doing this in spite of her, not because of her.

He pulled his brim low and watched her bright head disappear down a small hill.

Best he remember that.

CHAPTER FOUR

CLAIRE SHIELDED HER eyes from the bright morning sun the next day and scrutinized the pickup bumping up the ranch’s drive. The truck’s tall tires kept the road grit from its polished silver exterior. Definitely someone well-off and not from around here.

Her shoulders rose and tensed. Life these days held a constant drumbeat of worry. And the grim bass percussion underneath it all: Money. Money. Money. Were these the Carne Incorporado reps Tanner mentioned? If so, she had to intercept them. Stop whatever deal he planned.

Claire stood up in the flower garden. When the truck crunched to a halt, she dusted her knees and headed to meet the stranger. Jonathan, stretched out on the porch swing reading, marked his page with his finger and glanced over.

To her dismay, Tanner ambled up, dark hat tipped low, square jaw emerging from the brim’s shadow. Her heart took a tumble as it had done, irritatingly often, since they’d spoken yesterday.

Lately she couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so handsome. So Tanner. She knew the arc of his lower lip, the strength in his shoulders. The way he meticulously tucked his shirt into his jeans, the way his boots were worn down at the heel, the way he touched that scar on his jaw without realizing he was doing it.

She shouldn’t have sought him out alone in the pasture. Cracked open the container where she’d locked memories of him away. Now they leaked into her thoughts. A constant drip.

Two men emerged from the truck, slammed the doors and strode to Tanner with extended hands and confident grins. Her jittering nerves turned to flat-out irritation at Tanner’s wide-planted cowboy boots and straight-backed stance. He exuded authority. Command. As if he owned the place. Already ran it. Her jaw tightened. Like heck he did.

Her sandals churned up pebbles and when she joined the two men, Tanner raised his voice. “Bill Sanchez and Rick Ortis, this is Claire Shelton, Martin’s daughter. Claire, these are the reps I mentioned from Carne Incorporado.”

The middle-aged men, dressed in well-cut suits that looked oppressive given the balmy temperature, tipped their hats. Pressure built inside Claire. How to handle this?

The one with a thick moustache and large round glasses, Bill, grasped her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Nice country you got up here.”

She put on a smile that didn’t feel like one. “Thank you. Would you like some sweet tea? You must have had a long trip coming from—” Her voice trailed off. Her mind twisted until the place came to her. “Mexico City.”

“It was worth the drive,” the second man, Rick, replied. “We’ve been anxious to get up here since Tanner phoned.”

Rick shook her hand, his moist palm pressed briefly to hers. She itched to wipe it on her cut-off jean shorts but checked herself. Tried to exude professionalism despite her Daisy Duke outfit. Her eyes traveled down her soil-dusted black tank top and bare legs. Why hadn’t Tanner mentioned their arrival time?

“Tea would be nice. How about after we’ve toured the barns?” Bill pulled off his hat and waved it in front of his full, flushed face. “Something to look forward to while we talk business.”

“Business. Yes. About that.” Her chin jerked up. “I’m afraid our plans have changed and we’re not interested in expanding our buyers list at the moment. My apologies that this wasn’t communicated before your trip.”

Bill scratched his balding head. Looked puzzled. “We’ve been hearing about your top stud, Revelation. Would be a pleasure to take a look at him while we’re here.”

“He’s the biggest!” piped up Jonathan. He’d crept up behind them and ducked behind Claire’s back.

Rick smiled down at her boy. “That’s what we’ve heard. If he looks half as good as he does on paper, we’re hoping to put in an offer on him.”

Jonathan pulled at Claire’s shirt. “We’re not selling Revelation, are we?” he whispered.

Her fingers ruffled his soft reddish-brown curls. “No, sweetie.” All of the livestock would transfer to Mr. Ruddell when they sold him the ranch.

Tanner shot her an unreadable look, then stepped forward. “We’ll be happy to show Revelation to you. Follow me.” Without a backward glance, he unlatched a gate and ushered the men inside the grassy pasture that butted against red, pitched-roof barns.

Claire heard an angry buzzing, as if a wasp had gotten trapped between her ears. How dare he.

A tug at her arm stopped her from scrambling after the group. “Can I go?”

“You know the rule about the barns, Jonathan.”

“Yeah. You said I can’t go without a grown-up. So if I’m with you, I can come.” He peered up at her. “Right?”

Claire glanced between the disappearing men and her mutinous son. He had a point...and how rarely he asked for anything lately...still. She needed to focus on stopping Tanner’s business deal and couldn’t do that while keeping a close eye on Jonathan. She didn’t like him to be around large animals, even when they were restrained.

“Another time, honey. How about we make cookies when I get back?”

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is this a bribe?”

“Yep.”

A grin replaced his pout. “It’s a deal...if we make the kind we don’t bake. You know. With the peanut butter?”

She tickled his side. “You got it.”

“I’ll get the ingredients!” he yelled and a wistful smile crossed her face as she watched him bolt to the house. What she wouldn’t do to protect him...

“Love you,” she called after Jonathan when he bounded up the porch steps, Roxy hot on his heels.

“I know!” he called over his shoulder and disappeared into the house.

“Don’t let Roxy lick the peanut butter jar!”

Her father stood in the doorway, his firm gaze fixed on her. She didn’t have to hear him to know his thoughts. He wanted her cooperation. Her back starched. Well. That wasn’t an option. Nevertheless, her heart softened at his determined expression. He wanted the best for her, even if he was misguided. She blew him a small kiss before turning and striding after the group.

Time to shut Tanner down.

* * *

SUN SPILLED THROUGH the open windows, lighting the cavernous space housing their sire population. Stalls, sixty Tanner had counted, stretched from one, double-sized door to the other, and the sweet aroma of fresh hay mingled with the pungent dung and pelt smell of large animals. Charlie O’Dell, a hired hand headed to veterinary school in the fall, gave a short wave before he continued preparing the show cattle’s feed mix. Overhead, embedded circular fans whirred near the high ceiling.

Several gray Brahmans raised their heads as Tanner ushered in the Carne reps. Others continued feeding or drinking from the troughs in front of their stalls as they waited their turn to rotate into pasture, their drooping ears and large eyes giving them a docile appearance that matched their obedient nature. A good selling point for the seed stock.

“Denton Creek is a CSS Certified facility.” Tanner gestured to a framed document on a far wall above a hand-built desk holding an old-school rotary phone and a yellowed records book. He strolled down the walkway between the stalls, taking his time, giving these all-important buyers a good look at what he assessed to be prime studs. Revelation wasn’t the only bull he wanted Carne to purchase.

His head shot around when the barn door opened and Claire appeared, her face as stiff as cardboard. He waited for her to join them before resuming his talk.

“Denton Creek’s purebred Brahman herd consists of two hundred breeding-age females and sixty bulls with a large emphasis on embryo transfer. It’s primarily a closed herd, with focus on linebreeding exceptional cow families since 1944.”

“1944?” Rick stopped to examine Lucky Luke, one of their top sires, according to records. The majestic bull raised its head and stared them down, pendulous throatlatch and dewlap swinging. Rick ran his hand along the animal’s large hump, over the top of its shoulder and neck.

“We’re one of the oldest continually operating Brahman herds in existence in the United States,” Claire inserted. At her proud tone, longing seized Tanner. Here was the fierce woman he’d once loved... Fearless. Strong-willed. Undaunted. Infuriatingly resistant when it came to him...

He gave himself a tiny shake. He’d come to help Martin, not make amends with Claire, no matter how much she felt like an electric presence beside him, her arm brushing his. If anything, she’d grown more cautious than when they’d parted. Not exactly relationship material for a professional bull rider.

Your career can’t last forever.

The doctor’s warning returned to him, but Tanner shoved it aside. He’d figure out next steps, like the rodeo school, later. For now, he had to clinch his first deal for Martin. Prove to his old mentor he’d been right to entrust this job to Tanner.

“Lots of muscular tissue covering the processes,” murmured Rick before he backed away from the side-stepping bull.

Tanner nodded. “Denton Creek cattle are known for their conformation, muscle, fertility, breed character, carcass traits, efficiency and that signature eye-appealing style.”

They continued down the causeway, Rick and Tanner in front, and Bill and Claire following. “We only sell to southern and southwestern states,” she put in. “An international partnership would be out of our experience.”

Tanner turned to stare at her and her gaze turned flinty. Why was she so bent on crushing this opportunity? Martin would be miserable rotting in some old folks home and happier fighting to save his business. Claire might want to seal herself off from the world, but she shouldn’t force that fate on her father...the way she’d tried to nail Tanner down once.

“Due to the owner’s health issues, Denton Creek’s cattle haven’t been present at trade shows in recent years, but we plan to attend the State Championships in three weeks.”