A Cowboy Of Her Own

“Yes.” Wendy finished a second arrangement and placed the vase on the table.

“When are you leaving?”

“Monday morning. I won’t return until the following Sunday.”

“You’ll check in with us.” It wasn’t a request or suggestion—it was an order.

“I’m twenty-six years old. I shouldn’t have to report my daily whereabouts and activities to my parents.”

“Then find a husband and get married so he can worry about you.”

Grrr...

“By the way, your father’s taking one of his suppliers to dinner tonight and he’d like you to join them.”

Not again. Wendy wished her dad would stop playing matchmaker. Even though her parents had been born in the United States, they clung to their traditional beliefs and wanted their only child to marry a hardworking, dedicated Chinese man so there would be no cultural clashes in the family. Wendy walked a fine line between two worlds, struggling to balance embracing the American way of life while still respecting her Chinese ancestry.

Unbeknownst to her parents, she had lost her heart in college to a classmate at Arizona State University. Tyler had been spontaneous, adventurous and exciting. They’d dated almost a year when Wendy found out by accident that he was engaged to a girl in his hometown of Tucson. The two-timing jerk had broken her heart and left her gun-shy when it came to serious relationships.

After graduating from college, she’d returned to Yuma and dated Asian men her father had selected for her. Polite, educated and dedicated to their careers, the men were everything her parents believed important. But none of them had made her heart stumble or her pulse quicken. Wendy wanted to marry a man she fell in love with, not a man her parents believed she’d be compatible with.

Wendy had grown up watching her parents toil in the flower shop seven days a week, year after year, and that wasn’t the life she dreamed of. She deserved more from a marriage than a working partnership. And she yearned for a man she could have fun with. The men she’d dated would never put their children or wives ahead of their careers. Wendy didn’t want to be number two in her husband’s heart. She wanted to be his top priority.

Porter’s image flashed before her eyes. He knew how to have fun. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she was looking forward to traveling with him. But she wasn’t so naive as to believe anything could come of a week on the road with the cowboy.

“Make your father happy,” her mother said. “Go to dinner with him.”

Fine. “When do I need to be ready?”

“Seven-thirty. And wear that aqua dress you bought last spring. That looks nice on you.”

“Can you handle the rest of the arrangements if I grab a quick shower?”

“Go ahead. I’ve already done half of them myself.”

Feeling a tad guilty for leaving her mom with a table full of empty vases—but not too guilty since she’d been coerced into accepting a blind date—Wendy kissed her mother’s cheek and left the shop. As she drove across town, she lectured herself. As much as she anticipated the upcoming trip with Porter, she needed to keep her priorities straight and focus on finding information that would help locate Buddy’s missing bulls.

Time would tell if she uncovered any evidence that pointed to Porter. For Dixie’s sake—and maybe a little bit for her sake, too—she hoped her friend’s brother was on the up and up.

Chapter Two

“Porter!”

“In here!” Porter stuffed the last pair of briefs into the duffel bag resting on the bed in the bunkhouse. The door opened and in walked Johnny. “It’s Sunday night. Why aren’t you home watching TV with Shannon and Addy?”

“Mack said you were heading out on a weeklong run tomorrow, and we haven’t had a chance to talk in a while.”

“Checking up on me?” Because of their age difference, the eldest Cash sibling was more of a father than a brother to Porter.

Johnny tossed his cowboy hat on the table and gestured to the rodeo posters on the wall. “We had some good parties in here, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did. Then you and everyone else got hitched and left me all by my lonesome.”

“I doubt you feel lonely when you don’t have to wait in line for a shower and you can watch whatever television program you want.” Johnny picked up the remote and pointed it at the flat screen. The Nickelodeon channel came on. “You’re hanging out with the twins too much.”

“Mig and Javi are the only ones who visit me.” Conway and Isi were busy taking care of their new twin daughters and the boys had turned to Porter for attention.

Johnny ran his hand over the back of the sofa, and dog hair stuck to his fingers. “I guess Bandit’s been a regular visitor in here.”

“He only comes inside when it storms.”

“It hasn’t rained in over thirty days,” Johnny said.

“What do you care if I let the dog sleep in here? It’s not like you have to clean the place anymore.”

“You’re right. Better the dog in the bunkhouse than a bunch of buckle bunnies.”

“Hey, no matter what Conway says, I haven’t let a girl stay overnight in the bunkhouse since Isi and the twins moved to the farm. I know better.”

“We shouldn’t have let our Wednesday night poker game fall by the wayside.”

Porter emptied his sock drawer into the duffel. “If you guys would stop procreating, you might have a free day to play cards.”

“The love bug will bite you one of these days,” Johnny said. “You wait and see.”

“I’ve got more important things to do than worry about finding the right woman to settle down with.” Besides, how was he supposed to meet the perfect lady when he drove a stock trailer all day?

Johnny stared him square in the eye. “You think you’ll keep this job long-term?” He was really asking if Porter would grow bored of transporting bulls and quit as he’d done with previous jobs.

“You want an honest answer or you want me to make something up?”

“Honest.”

Porter sat on the bed and expelled a heavy breath. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Sometimes I wish I’d given college a try.” He’d never talked to his brothers about the restless feeling he’d battled daily since graduating from high school.

“Why didn’t you?” Johnny asked. “You made decent grades and with our family’s situation you’d have qualified for financial aid to help pay the tuition.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted to study. But I’ve been thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Ha-ha. Buck’s dream of owning a car-repair business came true, so why can’t I make my dream come true?”

“What’s your dream?”

“I’ve always wanted a piece of land to call my own.”

“You mean like a ranch?”

Porter nodded. “We grew up on the pecan farm, but it’s really Conway’s now. One day you and Shannon are going to run the Triple D. And I bet it’s not long before Mack buys in to a partnership at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch.”

“If you had your own ranch, what would you raise?”

“Bucking stock.” Porter recalled the strength and talent of Starry Night at yesterday’s rodeo. “Broncs.”

“You have a lot of competition in the area,” Johnny said.

“The rodeo circuit keeps expanding. There’s room for more good horses.”

“Have you thought about where you’d buy this ranch?”

“There’s a property for sale in the Fortuna Foothills.” The land was east of Yuma but still considered part of the metropolitan area. He wouldn’t be far from his siblings if he moved out there.

“How many acres?”

“Twenty-five. Enough for a handful of horses.”

“If you want it bad, let’s find a way to make it happen.”

It was just like Johnny to step in and take charge. Porter appreciated the support, but he intended to figure out the future on his own. He knew for sure that he didn’t want to haul rodeo bulls the rest of his life, but he needed to prove to himself that he could stick with the job or investing in a business would be a waste of his money and effort.

“Thanks for the offer, but my first priority is to do my job well and not give Buddy Davidson a reason to fire me.”

“Are you nervous about this trip?” Johnny always sensed when one of his brothers was uneasy.

“A little. It’s twelve hours from here to Grand Junction, Colorado, where I pick up the bulls.” His previous runs had been across southern Arizona—no more than five hours each way. This trip would last an entire week.

“What has you worried?” Johnny asked. “The roughstock growing restless or you?”

“It won’t be me.” Porter grinned. “I’ve got company on this trip.”

“Who?”

“Remember Dixie’s friend Wendy Chin?”

“Sure. She was part of that crazy group of girls who helped Shannon promote her bull-riding tour a few summers ago.”

“Wendy works for American Livestock Insurance and she’s coming along for the ride.”

“Never heard of an insurance rep doing that before.”

Neither had Porter, but there wasn’t much he could do about the situation. “She’s monitoring my driving habits and how I handle the bulls.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter why she’s going on the trip as long as you remember she’s Dixie and Shannon’s friend. Keep—”

“My hands to myself. I know.” Johnny acted as if Porter planned to jump Wendy’s bones as soon as she climbed into the truck cab. “Wendy isn’t my type.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

The last thing Porter wanted was to become tangled up with Wendy Chin—an educated career woman with a mind of her own. Her diminutiveness might bring out a man’s protective instincts, but he suspected Wendy could handle almost anything and anyone she crossed paths with.

“When are you leaving in the morning?” Johnny asked.

“As soon as Wendy gets here. I told her she could leave her car at the farm.”

“Have her park it behind the barn so the twins don’t mess with it.”

“Good thinking.” He waited for Johnny to grab his hat and mosey along, but his brother didn’t budge. “Something else on your mind?”

“Not really.”

Porter laughed. “Spit it out.”

“I guess it’s more difficult than I expected.”

“What’s that?”

“Accepting that all my brothers have grown up and they don’t need me anymore.”

Porter smothered a smile behind his hand. The strongest brother, the one who’d defended his siblings against playground bullies and as a result had made multiple trips to the principal’s office, looked like a lost kid. “It doesn’t matter how old we become,” Porter said. “You’ll always be our big brother and the go-to guy for advice.”

Johnny released a loud breath. “I’m glad, because all I’ve ever wanted is for my siblings to be happy.”

“It was tough when Grandma and Grandpa died, but I wasn’t scared, because I knew you’d be there for me.” Porter studied his boots before looking Johnny in the eye. “Remember when Mom died? You were worried about me because I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I remember.”

“The reason I didn’t say much is because I didn’t feel sad and I thought I was supposed to. Then I found you crying down by the pond and I felt guilty that I couldn’t even shed a tear for my own mother.”

Porter had never told a soul about his eldest brother’s crying jag because he’d been so shaken at the sight. That night he’d realized that Johnny wasn’t a superhero but a human being. “You were the family rock, Johnny. Even before Mom passed on, we turned to you when we needed help.” Porter shoved a hand through his hair and paced in front of the TV. “I pretended Mom’s passing didn’t affect me because I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“Mom’s death did bother you.”

“Not for the reasons you think.” Porter shrugged. “I never got to ask about my father. I know the rest of you had had conversations with her about your fathers, but she and I never had that talk.”

“Did you find out his name?” Johnny asked.

“Nope.” Porter laughed the sound bitter. “And I actually wanted to know who he was.”

“I’m sorry. But maybe it was for the best.”

“Maybe.” When his brothers had reached out to their biological fathers, they’d been rejected. “I’m slowly coming to grips with the possibility that I’ll never know who my dad is.”

“What about the stuff Grandma left in the attic?”

“I went through the boxes a couple of years ago. There’s no information about any of our fathers.”

“If you decide to search for him, I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thanks.” Porter figured his brother would remain in the bunkhouse forever if he didn’t nudge him toward the door. “I need to finish packing.”

Johnny put on his hat. “Don’t forget to text Dixie when you arrive in Grand Junction. She’ll send out a search party if you don’t.”

He wouldn’t forget, because he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Wendy if his brothers showed up out of the blue to check on him.

Why do you care what Wendy thinks?

He didn’t care. “I’ll keep Dixie informed of my whereabouts.”

Johnny opened the bunkhouse door. “Does Dixie know Wendy’s going with you?”

“Not unless Wendy told her.” If the two had talked, Porter was sure his sister would have warned him to mind his manners with her friend. “Say hi to Shannon and give Addy a hug from Uncle Porter.”

“Will do. Drive safe.”

Once the door shut behind Johnny, Porter sprawled across the couch. He hated that one of his sister’s girlfriends would be monitoring his every move and groaned when he thought of spending a week with the no-nonsense woman. He closed his eyes and conjured up an image of Wendy in her suit pants and silk blouse.

This was going to be the longest road trip of his life.

* * *

“YOUR TRUCK SMELLS brand-new,” Wendy said after she climbed into Porter’s Dodge Ram.

“I bought it three months ago. It’s my new babe magnet,” he joked.

Babe magnet aside, Wendy marveled at how a rodeo bum/livestock hauler could afford a new pickup. Maybe he’d saved for years to cover the down payment. Or maybe Buddy Davidson had paid Porter a bonus when he’d signed on to work at Del Mar Rodeo. Or...maybe Porter had been told if he asked no questions and did his job well he’d receive a kickback after Buddy collected the insurance money from the missing bulls. Wendy had a tough time believing her friend’s brother was a criminal.

“Wave goodbye to the twins.” Porter nodded to Conway’s sons, standing on the porch in their pajamas.

She waggled her fingers out the window. “What are they doing up at five-thirty in the morning on a school day?”

“Their twin sisters’ crying probably woke them. The walls in the farmhouse are pretty thin.”

Dixie had posted a cute picture of the girls to her Facebook page the day Isi gave birth to them.

Porter started the truck, shifted gear, then honked as he drove out of the yard.

“I bet Isi doesn’t get much sleep with infant twins and two rambunctious six-year-olds to take care of.”

“The boys being in school full-time helps. During the day Conway focuses on the farm, then when Mig and Javi get off the bus, he keeps them out of Isi’s hair.”

“I doubt Conway and Isi have much time to themselves.”

“Every couple of weeks I have a sleepover in the bunkhouse with the boys so their parents can have a date night.”

The scent of Porter’s cologne filled the cab and the earthy smell distracted Wendy. She should be asking questions about his job, not his family. “Sounds as if you like being an uncle.”

He chuckled, the gravelly noise rolling over her skin and making her shiver. “Are you cold?” He switched off the air conditioner. The fact that he noticed made it even more difficult to focus on her job.

“How long have you been working for an insurance company?” He turned onto the highway.

“Four years. I hired on with American Livestock after college.”

“I’m sure Dixie mentioned it, but where did you go to school?”

“Arizona State University. I graduated from the W. P. Carey School of Business.” Was it her imagination or were Porter’s knuckles turning white against the steering wheel? “Did you go to college?”

“I couldn’t decide what I wanted to study. Then I got caught up in rodeoing with my brothers—” he shrugged “—and never ended up registering for any classes at the junior college.”

“I was surprised when I saw your name on Buddy’s roster of drivers. Last I’d heard you were working with Mack at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch.”

“About twenty hours a week,” he said. “I filled in when they needed an extra hand.”

“Do you like cowboying?”

“I do. And I liked socializing with the ranch guests.”

That didn’t shock her. Of all the Cash brothers, Porter was the friendliest—former Mr. Popular in high school. She’d rarely seen him walk the halls alone and students had always gathered at his locker between classes. And he never sat by himself in the cafeteria, which made him taking a job that required driving long hours alone odd.

“If you enjoyed the dude ranch, how did you end up going to work for Del Mar?” she asked.

“I’d been on the lookout for a permanent job for a while.”

“Was the position advertised in the newspaper? Online? Did you hear about it from a friend?”

Porter’s eyebrows drew together. “Actually, it was the strangest thing. I ran into Hank Martin at a bar. He said Buddy was hiring drivers and suggested I apply.”

Wendy knew that Hank Martin was Buddy’s right-hand man and handled the rodeo scheduling.

Porter nodded to the iPad Wendy had opened on her lap. “Are you documenting my answers on that thing?”

“No.”

“Do you ask all the drivers you ride with the same questions?”

Porter’s inquisitiveness would only get her in trouble and she didn’t want to lie any more than she had to, so she changed the subject. “How many hours of training did Del Mar provide you with?”

“None. Hank asked if I’d ever driven a rig before and I said no but that I’d hauled my share of horse trailers. That seemed to satisfy him.”

Had Buddy known that Hank had sent Porter out with little to no training? Rodeo bulls were expensive, especially those with winning records. It didn’t make sense for Hank to trust the bulls with an inexperienced driver.

“How many trips have you gone on?” she asked.

“Twelve. They were short runs. Didn’t have any trouble.”

When Porter reached the Yuma city limits, he turned onto the county road that would take them to Buddy’s ranch. Fifteen miles later he parked the pickup next to the hay barn.

Hoping she wouldn’t run into Buddy and have to make up a lie as to why she hadn’t informed him that she was tagging along with Porter, she said, “I’ll wait in the pickup while you get the keys to the stock trailer.”

“The keys are in the trailer. Hank and Buddy left for Idaho yesterday. They’re checking out a new bull at a ranch up there.” Porter grabbed their overnight bags and stowed them in the cab of the trailer.

Wendy stood aside while Porter inspected the tires and made sure the latch on the trailer was secure. “Do you check in with Buddy each day when you’re on the road?”

“No. If I report to anyone, it’s Hank.” He pulled out his phone.

“I’ll need to know if Hank asks you to do anything unusual on this trip.”

“What do you mean unusual?”

“Change your route. Make an extra stop somewhere.”

“Hey.” Porter held up his hands. “I don’t want to get caught in the middle of anything between you and Hank or you and Buddy. I just want to do my job.” After testing the latch a second time, he opened the passenger door for her. “There’s no step up.”

How was she supposed to get into the cab? Even if she took a running leap, she wouldn’t be able to dive onto the floor.

“I’ll give you a boost.” Porter cupped his hands. “Put your foot in here and grab the handhold.”

She stowed her iPad in her purse, then lifted her leg and set her boot in his hands. Before she’d prepared herself, he hoisted her into the air. She teetered off balance and made a valiant swipe at the handle inside the passenger door, but missed and pitched forward. She saw the top of the cab coming at her head and braced herself, but Porter’s hands vanished from beneath her boot and she fell backward into his arms.

Oh, my.

Her breath caught and it wasn’t because she’d slammed into Porter’s chest and had the wind knocked out of her—it was because his grip had tightened on her fanny. Their faces were inches apart, and if she dipped her head a tiny bit...

He set her on the ground, then moved his hands from her bottom to her waist. “You okay?”

She could get used to the feel of Porter’s hands on her body. She shook her head and the lusty thoughts scattered.

“You’re not okay?” he asked. “Did you knock your head on the door?”

“No. I’m fine.” She retreated a step.

If you don’t get your act together you’re going to blow this assignment.

Wendy believed her boss had put her in charge of this investigation because he trusted her and she didn’t want to let him down.

“We have a long drive today,” he said. “You ready to try and get into the cab again?”

“I’ll do it on my own.” She braced her foot against the front tire and pushed off—this time she snagged the handle and pulled herself into the cab.

Porter closed the door, then hopped in behind the wheel. When he backed away from the barn, he spoke. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Depends on the question.”

“What’s your waist size?”

Her mouth opened, then she snapped it closed.

“I’m guessing you don’t get asked that very often.”

“No, I don’t.” Good Lord. “Porter.” She pulled in a steadying breath. “My waist size is none of your business.” His grin exasperated her. “I realize we already know each other, but maybe I need to remind you that this isn’t a joyride or a vacation for me.”

His smile faded. “No, ma’am, you don’t need to remind me at all.” He stared out the windshield. “You can be sure I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Great. She’d offended him. Now she’d be fortunate if he spoke two words to her the rest of the way to Colorado.

Chapter Three

What the heck was taking Wendy so long? Porter stared at the restroom door outside the mom-and-pop gas station on the outskirts of Flagstaff. They’d driven only five hours and had made three pit stops already. The first one to gas up before they left Yuma. The second to buy snacks in Phoenix, because he’d grown tired of listening to Wendy’s stomach growl. And now a potty break. At the rate they were traveling, they wouldn’t make Grand Junction until ten o’clock tonight.

He checked his cell phone for messages—none. Then he eyed the gas-station minimart, wondering how the building had remained standing when the outer walls sagged and the roof looked as if it might blow off with the next gust of wind. The owner could make more money than the property was worth if he sold the antique tin signs decorating the stucco facade. Drink Coca-Cola—Delicious And Refreshing hung next to the door, and below that was a Sinclair sign with the green dinosaur. On the opposite side of the door hung an old Mobilgas plaque with its winged horse. The faded black letters of Freedom Perfect Motor Oil Sold Here ran across the top of the building. Two red-white-and-blue Esso gas pumps—one regular and one diesel—lay on their sides in the dirt across the lot. A burn barrel served as a garbage can and sat between the newer gas pumps out front.

Tired of waiting in the hot sun, Porter pushed himself off the truck fender and went back into the snack shop.

The bell on the door announced his arrival and the clerk named Betty glanced up from the magazine in her hands. “You forget something?”

“I’m waiting for my copilot to finish in the restroom.” It didn’t appear that Betty had budged from her stool behind the counter since he’d bought a lottery ticket from her twenty minutes ago. She shoved her hand inside a Cheetos bag and grabbed a cheese puff, then chomped on it like a hamster before turning the magazine page with an orange thumb and forefinger.