Rodeo Family

So she smiled, wiggled her fingers hello and turned her attention back to Zach.

“I thought we could start with a look at your studio while you tell me about your inspiration. I have a list of questions for you. Things like when did you start painting, how young were you when you realized you had talent, did you—?”

“Dad,” Zach interrupted, directing his attention to Rick, “we’ll be gone for a while. Can you have lunch ready in an hour and a half?”

Nadine stared. People did not interrupt her so rudely.

Rick grinned and said, “Sure thing. Come on back when you’re done and I’ll have food on the table.”

Zach nodded and strode away toward an outbuilding without another word for her.

Rick said, “You’d better hurry and join him or you’ll have to run to catch up. Zach waits for nobody.” He herded the boys into the house, leaving Nadine alone to stare at Zachary Brandt’s retreating back.

She was not, and never had been, nobody. Certain people had tried to make her believe so, but she’d fought back. Oh, how she had fought. And she’d won. For a while.

Nadine Campbell was somebody, even if she had hit a bump in the road recently.

She crossed her arms and waited to see how long it would take Zach to realize she wasn’t following like a meek little lamb. But when he entered the barn, he didn’t turn back to check her progress.

Five minutes later, he still hadn’t come out.

It seemed to her that he didn’t much care whether she followed. She didn’t like the way he planned to conduct her interview.

She could leave. She wanted to.

Who was she kidding? After the things Lee had said this morning, Nadine was trapped here until she got the full story that Lee wanted. It was either that or lose her job, which she could not afford to do.

She picked up her high heels and carried them to the car, one boot too big and clunking as she crossed the hard-packed earth of the driveway. She set her shoes side by side neatly on the floor mat behind the driver’s seat. For a moment, she considered changing into her own boots, but glanced back at the house. There in the middle of a big picture window were two small figures watching her.

If she changed out of the boots the boys had brought her, she might hurt their feelings. So she didn’t.

Folding her arms, she leaned back against the car. Still no sign of Zach coming back out of the stable.

This morning’s meeting with Lee ran through her mind again. If she could, if it were the least bit possible, she would have quit on the spot, not only because of the orders he gave her, but most especially because of his tone. She’d gone down to the office only to pick up a notebook she’d left on her desk. Lee had ambushed her.

“I was talking to my mother yesterday at the nursing home,” he’d said apropos of nothing, seated at his desk and not looking up from his computer.

With a patience often needed in conversations with her boss, she waited out the ensuing silence.

He finished checking his email and said, “She told me some interesting things about the Brandt family. Some intriguing history.”

“Such as?”

“Such as a big secret the family has never disclosed.” He left it at that and stared at her.

What did that have to do with her and the interview? “And?”

“And you have to find out what that secret is.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know. If it’s super juicy, the rest of the town will want to know, too.”

“But why would it be anyone’s business but the family’s? Everyone in town respects them.”

“Not everyone.”

Nadine cocked her head and Lee continued, “There’s been no love lost between them and their neighbors for a long time.”

Their neighbors were the Broomes. Nadine remembered Tommy Broome from high school. Like Zach, he’d been two years ahead of her. Her memories of him weren’t all good. He’d been aggressive. A bit of a bully.

“There’s a rivalry between them, that’s for sure,” Lee said.

“Why? About what?”

“A feud of some sort.”

“A feud? That’s implies more than a rivalry.”

“Yep.”

“What was the source of the rivalry?”

“Don’t honestly know. Usually these kinds of fights start because of one of three things.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Greed. Love. Sex.”

“What does that have to do with Zach’s paintings?”

Lee shrugged. “Nothing.”

And then she knew. “You used the excuse of Zach’s artistic abilities to get me out on that ranch to interview him.”

“Yep.” That one word, unapologetic, fueled Nadine’s anger. It had been Lee who had urged her to write an article about the Cowboy Painter.

When had Lee changed so much from when she’d worked for him in high school? And why? He didn’t used to be...nasty.

“You used me,” she said, betrayal scooting along her nerves.

“Yep.” Lee threaded his fingers together across his stomach and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t used to be smug, either. “You need to find out what the old secret is.”

“How on earth am I supposed to do that?”

“That’s your problem. You’re the reporter.” Lee’s tone, a mix between order and dismissal, was exactly the problem with working for him.

“Can you give me a hint?” she asked. “What’s the secret about?”

“My mom’s being coy. Said she’ll only talk to Zach about it. It’s going to be your job to get him out to her nursing home.”

“Why don’t you just phone him and talk to him?”

Lee turned away. “We don’t exactly get along.”

See, this was where Nadine and Lee differed. Sure, she was a reporter and liked scoping out stories, but she wasn’t a gossip. She often missed the more salacious stuff going on around town because she wasn’t interested. Rumors and titillation didn’t appeal to her. The truth did.

“Why don’t you and Zach get along?” she asked, because even if this devolved into gossip, it seemed it would have something to do with her getting a story about Zach.

“We had a run-in a couple of years ago.”

“About what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” For a man who usually talked about anything and everything, Lee was being awfully cagey.

Nadine was twenty-nine, which meant Zach must be thirty-one and Lee past retirement age at well over sixty. So whatever the fallout was about, Zach and Lee likely weren’t fighting about a woman. As far as Nadine knew, they had no business dealings, so it wasn’t about money.

What was it? Lee wasn’t talking.

“I can’t butt into the Brandts’ decades-old history,” Nadine said. “I’m going out there to talk to Zach about his artwork.”

Her hand was already on the doorknob when Lee said, “You ignore what I want and you’re fired.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What?” Fired? Disappointment followed yet another burst of betrayal.

Had she done something wrong in the past year of working for Lee? Something that had upset him? Nothing she could think of.

“I’m giving you a job to do and by God, you’ll do it.” Lee stood, all five feet six inches, hundred and fifty pounds of him bristling like a hedgehog. “Weasel that secret out of Zach. I don’t care how. Just do it.”

He was, as it turned out, absolutely adamant. Nothing she had said after that had made a dent in his intention. It was either get the dirt or lose her job.

She needed her job, probably more than Lee even guessed. She’d left the office fuming. Now here she was on Zach’s ranch with a chip on her shoulder and about as far from the top of her game as she could get.

She watched the barn. Not a sign of life there. The man wasn’t coming back for her and she couldn’t leave. Head down, she trudged forward.

Nadine Campbell, you’ve met your match.

Chapter Two

Zach stood in his stable and let the cool, soothing darkness wash the heat of embarrassment from his cheeks. He’d made a fool of himself lunging at Nadine to make her sit for those damned boots.

Smooth, Zach.

His campaign hadn’t started well. He was better than this. Experienced with women. Not awkward and—lunge-y? Damn it, Brandt, you screwed up already.

He should have known she’d bring her own boots. She might be fashionable and perfectly turned out every day, but she was smart. She wouldn’t walk his fields in high heels.

How long would it take her to follow him in? He grinned. On the one hand, she’d pestered him for an interview about his painting, clearly motivated to be here. On the other hand, he knew she was proud. She might drive off in an indignant huff. He wouldn’t blame her. He liked that feisty part of Nadine and wanted to see her riled—anything other than the neutral, blank expression she wore too often since coming home.

He also admired her boundless curiosity, except when she applied it to him. He didn’t want to do this interview. He wasn’t comfortable talking about himself. Never had been.

He wasn’t verbal. His paintings said all there was to say about him.

So why had he given in to her? To get her out on his ranch once more. Zach Brandt, you are so pathetic.

Again, he grinned. Pathetic, yeah, but also smart like a fox. If he had to submit to being interviewed, so be it. He hadn’t pursued her back in high school because he’d known she had ambitions and would leave town for good eventually. For some reason, she’d come back home. She was free. As far as he knew, and he’d asked around, she had no significant other in her life. He was available since his divorce three years ago.

But what would this new adult Nadine think of his ranch? Would she like it any better than she had when she was younger?

There was no point in asking a woman out on a date if she hated what you did for a living.

Where was she?

She had her pride, and he wasn’t going back outside to get her. Her curiosity would get the better of her. Any minute now, she would give in and come to get him.

By the time he’d greeted all of his horses with nose rubs and baby carrots from his shirt pocket, she still hadn’t shown up. She was tougher than he’d thought. Still biding his time, he stepped into the back room that was his studio in the summer months.

Spotless, the room welcomed him like a long-lost buddy, the smell of paint as familiar here as hay, manure, dust motes and horses.

He stared at the canvas sitting on the easel, an unfinished landscape that had been giving him fits. It was a study of his mountain at sunset, and he hadn’t yet gotten the red right where the light reflected on the tip. He mixed too bright or too dull, too orange or too blue.

An old enemy—frustration in his lack of ability—ate at him. Buyers might praise his talent, but he knew better. He knew how far he missed the mark of perfection. He knew how arrogant he was to even try to reproduce what Mother Nature had already presented with such unadulterated splendor.

Still, he strove to interpret and produce his love of the land. He couldn’t stop painting if he tried. The canvas, the paint, called to him.

There had to be a way to mix that particular red. Maybe if he tried adding a little...

With the flash of an idea that just might work, he picked up his palette and mixed. Close. Closer. When he applied brush and paint to canvas, he lost track of time. He lost himself.

Burdens, worries, conflicts fell away. All was peace.

* * *

NADINE WALKED TO the barn with slow steps, the too-large boot hitting the ground with a thunk every time. Funny how much guilt weighed. Tons.

Find out that family’s secrets.

The inside of the barn was empty save for a few horses. Maybe Zach had fooled her and left by a back door. But why would he? He’d agreed to the interview. She hadn’t forced it on him.

Where had he gone?

A faint sound reached her from the back of the building. She followed it to an ancient wooden door standing ajar with sunlight streaming through the gap. She peeked inside.

Zach stood in front of an easel, painting. He’d forgotten about her! Nadine didn’t have a huge ego, but people didn’t tend to forget her. Her looks alone had garnered all kinds of attention in the city. Well, her new, refined looks had.

It had taken a massive makeover to even be considered by a TV station. And finally, one had hired her. She had mattered then, to her bosses and to her audience.

Apparently, she didn’t mean much to Zach. Or perhaps, to be realistic, his painting mattered more.

Why should she be important to him? She was just a girl he’d gone to school with. Not even that. Two years younger than him, she hadn’t shared classes with him. He probably hadn’t even noticed her back then.

He painted with his whole body. Considering he held himself still except for the brush in his hand stroking red paint onto a mountaintop, she wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Understanding came quickly. Zach’s passion for painting was so deeply ingrained, his brush was being wielded by his soul.

Was there anything in Nadine’s life to compare?

Yes. Her writing. When she was involved in a story, she forgot everything else around her. Now, because of her boss, that process had been tainted. Lee had turned it into a distasteful job.

A ray of sunshine poured from a small high window onto Zach’s head like a benediction. Like the hand of God. And here she was, an instrument of either a very unkind god, or the devil, to destroy him.

Hyperbole, Nadine. Yeah, but knowing the little bit she did about the man and his character, this story might very well destroy him. What secrets could there be in his family’s past?

Lee had intimated that there was a huge, ugly, significant secret. Nadine couldn’t imagine that and had told him so.

Oh, yes, Lee had countered, secrets abounded on this ranch, but the townspeople had never gotten the full story. That was her job. The Brandts were, and always had been, respected in Rodeo. They were known throughout the state. Hadn’t Zach’s grandfather run for governor at one point? She had a lot of research ahead of her. And a lot of dirty delving.

Nadine watched Zach while he painted and found it magical.

Even in high school, she’d sensed he was a person of great integrity. As far as she knew, Zach had lived a good, blameless life in his first thirty-one years. Whatever Lee thought had happened in this family must be big, or he wouldn’t be so fixated on her getting the info. Which meant that when it got out, it could very well damage this family.

Nadine had to bring down an honest man.

* * *

ARISING OUT OF a misty internal landscape, Zach became aware of his surroundings...and of the paintbrush in his hand he’d barely realized he’d picked up. That’s how it was with his painting, captivating him in unguarded moments.

His skin prickled. Someone was watching him. He glanced to his right.

Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, stood Nadine. He’d forgotten about her, not an easy feat considering her vibrant beauty and strong personality. Or what used to be a strong personality. Something had happened to her in the city. Something had dampened her enthusiasm.

Zach wanted to know what that was.

One rubber-booted foot rested across the other, out of harmony with the deep green dress wrapped across her flat stomach and tied in a discreet bow at the side, that small flare the only spot of decoration on the garment.

The finely tailored dress outlined her figure without showing too much, tasteful while still displaying trim assets. She must lift weights or work out, he guessed, because her biceps looked strong. So did her calves. But then, he’d already felt how fit her legs were when he’d put the boots on her feet.

Inside of those boots, he knew, were pink toenails to nearly match her pink fingernails. A connoisseur of color, he’d already noted that they were two different shades of pink. As though her body were a canvas, Nadine took the time to choose different colors for her feet and hands.

His gaze caressed high cheekbones and a strong jaw. How difficult would her face be to paint? Being easy on the eye didn’t always translate onto the canvas.

The green of the dress did amazing things to her green eyes. Shadows hovered in those eyes. She had been private back in high school, but now she was downright shuttered. Locked up tight.

Nadine had been hiding inside of herself since coming home. How he knew that when he’d barely had contact with her in that time was hard to say, but he observed, constantly, everyone and everything around him. He would love to breach her defenses to learn the woman beneath her sophisticated exterior. With an artist’s sensibilities, he knew her beauty was more than skin-deep, but why did she hide what was inside of her?

What drove her extreme need for privacy?

She watched him steadily but without anger at being abandoned, as far as he could tell.

“How long?” he asked.

She understood him right away, glancing at her watch, a tiny bit of filigreed gold on her left wrist. Could it even be called a watch?

“Forty minutes.”

Forty minutes!

Zach wasn’t prone to blushing, but heat traveled up his chest and into his cheeks for the second time that morning. He hadn’t meant to be rude. Well, not this rude. Nor did he like people watching him while he painted.

The act of painting was a deeply private enterprise for him. He made only the finished product available for public consumption. But he had, in effect, invited her to look for him back here by abandoning her in the yard and expecting her to follow him to the stable.

Then he’d forgotten himself enough to start to paint. What would she write about it?

Funny, the guy seemed to go into a trance while he left me waiting to interview him. Rudeness must be Zachary Brandt’s middle name.

Would Nadine say things like that about him? Maybe. Maybe not. He might think he knew her, but what he knew was an old version of her. That Nadine might well be obsolete by now.

She didn’t look put out. She looked curious, avidly drinking in the details of the room. She stepped forward and studied the work in progress while Zach held his breath.

Though his paintings might be so personal that he didn’t care what people thought of them, Nadine’s opinion mattered.

“It’s magnificent,” she said, and he believed she meant it. She wasn’t just buttering him up to get a better article out of him.

The warm feelings flooding his veins disconcerted him. He stood abruptly. “Let’s go,” he said and left his studio, judging that she’d follow him this time.

In the larger room with the horses, he asked, “Do you ride?”

“Yes. Why?”

“We could ride out on the land while we talk.”

“You mean, while you talk and I listen. This is an interview, Zack, not a conversation.”

He glanced at her dress. “I guess we won’t be riding today unless you want to borrow some of my clothes.”

“They wouldn’t fit.”

“Why did you come out to a ranch dressed like that?”

“Because I’m here as a professional.”

“Wouldn’t a professional dress appropriately for the situation?”

By the displeasure on her face, he knew his barb had hit home.

“You wanted to avoid getting out on the land, didn’t you? Why?”

* * *

ZACH SCARED NADINE.

No, that wasn’t quite right. He intimidated her. He saw too much. His question was fair.

He had hit the nail on the head, exposing and smashing the arguments she’d used for why she hadn’t worn pants and a simple shirt today. A pro would dress for the situation and the terrain. She had tried to keep control of the interview by not wearing practical clothing.

She’d thought she could get away with photographing him and interviewing him only in his studio by wearing a dress. The boots she’d thrown into the trunk had been an afterthought.

That’s not all, Nadine. As much as she knew her readers would love to know more about Zach, she didn’t want to get anywhere near him. She’d worn her professional outfit as a shield.

The resounding answer to his question was—drumroll, please—that she wanted Zach to see her only one way: as a professional and not as a woman.

Given what she was about to put him through in the course of writing this article, she didn’t welcome her attraction to him. She wouldn’t welcome his attraction to her. If there was any. She thought there used to be, but that was a long time ago, in a different life.

In New York City, she’d learned a lot about makeup and good clothing and putting her best foot forward. Plenty of men had found her attractive. The men of New York liked this version of her.

But Zach...it was like he saw through her and that unsettled her, even as she reasoned that there was nothing to see through. In New York, she had simply learned to be a far, far better version of herself. Her thoughts, her emotions, her justifications for any and all decisions in her life were hers and hers alone. They were none of his business.

Still, he waited with that unnerving stare.

Let’s keep things light and on the surface, she thought.

On the other hand, wasn’t she here to get to know him better? Wasn’t the point of her interview to find out as much as she could about the man?

Zach had never been the kind of person to give much of himself away. Even in high school, he’d been intensely private. And though they’d grown up in the same town, and they both lived here now, he remained a mystery.

Who was Zach Brandt?

Oh, well, what she couldn’t get from him, she would get from others. She would talk to his buddies in town. She would interview his father.

Nadine always got her story.

“Okay, we can’t ride today,” Zach said, ignoring the fact that she hadn’t answered his question about going out on the land. “We’ll go for a walk.”

He obviously assumed she would do anything he wanted.

“You didn’t dress for riding,” he continued, “but you will the next time you come out.”

The next time? Yes, of course, there would be a next time. She couldn’t get everything she needed in one visit. If only she could and then never have to face Zach again.

Detach, Nadine. Detach.

While maintaining objectivity might be a normal part of journalism, it had never felt more important than today. She built her barriers brick by brick.

“Do you ride well?” he asked.

“Not well, but I can ride enough to see some of the land.”

“Okay, one of the things we’ll do in this whole interview process is to get out there together on horseback.”

“Do we have to? Why can’t we just talk?”

A corner of Zach’s mouth kicked up. “Do I seem like much of a talker to you?”

A laugh burst out of her. “No.”

“Exactly.”

She liked this self-aware joking side of the man.

One by one, Zach led his horses out of the stable and into a corral along the side of the building. Nadine followed him out of the barn to watch them prance in the sun. Thank goodness it wasn’t raining. She felt more comfortable with Zach in the outdoors than in a confined space like the stable, and especially that small studio, even if it was best to do the interview there and concentrate only on his artwork. The man was too big and too warm.

He stood with the easy, loose-hipped grace of a man comfortable in his own body. And what a body it was—lean but strong, and muscled in all the right places. His dark hair curled over his collar. It had fallen forward across his forehead while he painted.

She’d caught a rare glimpse of an unguarded moment. He’d been focused and contained and lost somewhere deep inside. Still waters had never run so deeply.

She opened the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out her small voice recorder. “I have to warn you that I’m going to record the interview.”