The Rancher Next Door

She sure didn’t look scared or lost. “Anyone around here have puppies recently?” Rebecca asked.

“Not that I’m aware. And this is a purebred, which makes her worth a pretty penny.”

“You got that right,” a male voice concurred.

Rebecca and Trevor turned.

Vince Owen strode toward them.

“This is Coco. I just got her today. I was bringing her over to meet you and she got ahead of me. Trevor.” Vince nodded.

Trevor nodded back, looking, Rebecca noted, no more pleased to see the Circle Y’s new owner than he had earlier in the day.

“Rebecca.” Vince leaned forward, and before Rebecca could stop him, kissed her cheek in Southern-style greeting.

Rebecca didn’t know why she was annoyed. Having grown up in Texas, she had received many a casual peck on the cheek as hello over the years. None had ever bothered her. This one rankled. The way he subtly moved in between her and Trevor seemed meant to annoy his old college classmate. She didn’t like being used as a pawn in anyone’s game.

Trevor handed Coco to her new owner with a cynical look.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” Vince said.

Rebecca sensed Vince wanted an explanation for Trevor’s presence and perhaps an invitation to hang out for a while, too. She was just as inclined not to give it. Intuition told her that despite his smooth manner and cordial appearance, the handsome, blond Vince Owen was nothing but trouble.

Trevor looked at Rebecca, checking, she figured, to see if she needed him to stay. Knowing it would be easier to get rid of Vince and back to what she needed to be doing in preparation for the morning, Rebecca let Trevor know it wasn’t necessary.

To her relief, Trevor took the hint, albeit with barely concealed reluctance.

Trevor slipped back inside the house to get his hat. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow. I better get going. Vince.” Trevor dipped his head in polite acknowledgment.

Vince nodded back. He waited until Trevor climbed into his pickup truck and drove away, then turned back to Rebecca.

“Like to hold her?” Without waiting for a reply, Vince thrust the puppy into her arms.

The chocolate-brown pup looked up at Rebecca with dark liquid eyes. As always, when confronted with puppies, Rebecca felt her heart melt a little. They were just so sweet, vulnerable, eager to please…

And given the packet of investment information she had yet to pull together for future customers of the Primrose alpaca operation, she really did not have time for this.

“My cattle won’t be delivered for a few days. I’ve got two hired hands sitting idle. Should you need anything, be sure and let me know. I could send my cowboys over to help,” Vince said.

“That’s a very generous offer,” Rebecca replied. But not, she figured, without strings. What kind, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“What are neighbors for?”

Rebecca petted Coco’s head. She was a beautiful dog. Rebecca smiled as Coco licked her forearm with her velvety rough tongue. Too bad her new owner didn’t seem half as smitten with the puppy as Rebecca was.

“You don’t work the cattle yourself?” Rebecca asked.

Vince Owen shook his head. “I’ve got two other properties around the state. Have to ride herd on all of them.” He withdrew a business card from his wallet, handed it to her. “Here are all my numbers. Should you need anything at all, just call. Meantime, as long as you and I are getting acquainted—” he paused to flash her a salesperson’s winning smile “—I’ve got two tickets to the Laramie County Rancher’s Association Spring Fling.”

Rebecca already knew about the black-tie dinner-dance at the community center on Friday evening. “Thank you for the invitation, Vince, but I’m already planning to attend.”

“With McCabe,” Vince guessed, a hint of unpleasantness coming into his eyes.

Rebecca gave him the “attitude” she reserved for too- persistent men. “Alone,” she corrected.

Relaxing, Vince gestured affably. “If we went together, you could introduce me around.”

Reluctantly, Rebecca handed his puppy back to him. She didn’t want anything or anyone interfering with her efforts to network and promote her new business. Vince could easily do just that, as could Trevor McCabe. “Laramie is a very friendly place. You won’t have any trouble meeting people on your own.”

Vince took her rejection with a graceful shrug. “Another time, then.”

Not, Rebecca thought, if I can help it.

The tension between Vince and Trevor aside, there was something about Vince Owen she just didn’t trust.

“SO WHAT’S THE STORY between you and Vince?” Rebecca asked Trevor the next afternoon, after they had returned. Her first stock purchase, the cornerstone of her alpaca breeding operation, Blue Mist, had weathered the trip back well, and was now grazing in the shade.

Trevor’s hands tightened on the pasture gate. Up until now, he hadn’t asked her anything about her other visitor from the night before, but she had felt his curiosity as surely as her own. “Why?” Trevor tipped the brim of his hat away from his face. “What did he say?”

“Nothing about you.”

Trevor rested an elbow on the top rail. He looked out at the pregnant alpaca. “Then why are you asking?”

Rebecca finished filling the water trough and shut off the hose. “Because clearly the two of you are not mutual admirers.”

Trevor tilted his head. “Happens sometimes.”

She tilted her gaze in the same direction. “Usually, for a reason.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Anyone ever tell you you’re nosy?”

Her pulse picked up. “Anyone ever tell you you’re maddeningly private?”

“All the time.” He tapped her playfully on the nose. “And you didn’t answer my question,” he said.

She tried hard not to stare into his eyes as deeply as he was gazing into hers. “Inquisitive was the word Miss Mim used, I believe,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat. “And yes, she said that all the time.” She held up a finger as if lecturing to a student. “And you know what that means.”

He waited.

“Once I have a question in my mind, I have to discover the answer.” She paused for effect. “No matter what it takes.”

“Threats don’t work on me,” he told her mildly.

She wrinkled her brow, the way she always did when working a puzzle. “Is that what Vince Owen did to you? Did he threaten you someway, somehow?”

Trevor scoffed. “You’ve been watching too many mystery shows on TV.”

“But something despicable is going on here, nonetheless. Otherwise you and Vince wouldn’t give each other those looks.”