Rancher In Her Bed

Besides, a shorter dinner meant less time for his dad to quiz him about when he was going to return to the front office of the family’s oil business.

Dropping his Stetson on his head, he stepped out of the pickup and into the hubbub of a rodeo night. Boots crunching on dry gravel, he walked through the VIP gate as the growing crowd broke into enthusiastic applause for the country band sweating under the gazebo’s canopy of decorative lights. The sawdust-covered dance floor was almost full even though it was early. The rodeo wouldn’t start for another hour, and the carnival rides were in full swing despite the heat. The scent of slow-roasted brisket hung heavy in the air, grills smoking around the perimeter of the pavilion where chefs from all over the state prepped their best ribs and pulled pork.

“Xander,” a familiar deep voice called from inside the covered dining area. “Over here.”

Spotting his dad, he edged past a family maneuvering a stroller through the crowd, then joined Ryder at one of the few private tables in the reserved section up front.

His father never wore a suit but somehow, even in jeans and a button-down shirt, he still carried himself with considerable authority. With his boots and his dark brown Stetson, Ryder wore much the same outfit as the rest of the rodeo-goers, yet looked like a man in charge.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering a little of everything.” Ryder leaned back in his chair as a curvy redhead in a fringed shirt and denim miniskirt delivered a tray full of barbecue steaming from at least ten different plates. Two beer bottles reigned over the center of the tray.

While the server set out a basket of biscuits, the beers and food, Xander steeled himself for the weekly interrogation about his life, his career plans and how soon he’d be ready to give up his “wild hair” of working the land. The dinners were Ryder’s thinly veiled way of delivering regular guilt trips about not fulfilling his family obligations.

Xander might still live in a private wing of his father’s home, but they rarely saw each other around the ranch. Ryder Currin kept his personal affairs closely guarded. Rumors had been flying around the Texas Cattleman’s Club recently that Ryder was seeing Angela Perry, the daughter of his bitter business rival, Sterling. But Xander wasn’t about to ask his dad about that.

“I happen to know she’s single,” Ryder observed as the server walked away from their table. He tipped his head in the departing woman’s direction. “In case you’re interested.”

Xander’s thoughts were so far from women it took him a moment to realize what his dad was talking about. Strangely, the only female who’d been circling his thoughts lately was a fierce brunette named Frankie, of all people.

The willowy ranch hand with the big green eyes and dust-smeared jeans wasn’t Xander’s type, but something about her prickly attitude and challenging stare had gotten under his skin.

“Definitely not interested,” he told his father honestly, taking his hat off and settling it on the empty chair beside him. “And I’m pretty sure I passed the stage where I needed your help closing the deal with a woman at least a decade ago.”

He plucked one of the longnecks from the center of the table and took a sip.

Ryder chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair. Are you still dating Kenzie then?” he pressed, lifting his own beer for a swig. “I thought I saw her car parked outside the house last week.”

A loudspeaker announcement called the contestants for the mutton-busting event into the arena, and a handful of families with kids hurried out of the dining pavilion. The band kept playing, their amps only muted periodically for the PA system. Behind them, the big Ferris wheel turned slowly, the neon lights flashing on the spokes even though it wasn’t dark out yet.

“No. She only dropped in that morning to ask me to judge the rodeo queen competition with her.” Xander had escorted her back to her car as fast as possible, knowing she’d only inquired about the rodeo queen pageant as an excuse to stop by. To see why he hadn’t called. “But I’m not ready for a relationship with her or anyone else. Not after—”

The stab of pain over losing his fiancée in a tragic horse fall had eased in the last two years, but he felt as certain as ever that he wouldn’t tread down that path to love and happily-ever-after again. That relationship had been complicated, with unhappy layers he hadn’t ever understood. And in the end, it had gutted him. So working the land had been the only thing that offered any healing, and Xander wasn’t willing to give that up anytime soon.

“I understand.” Leaning forward in his chair, Ryder turned serious. “Better than you think. When I lost Elinah—” His lips compressed into a flat line at the mention of his second wife, who’d died of cancer thirteen years ago. “I know it’s not easy to love again after losing someone.”

Xander had only been twelve at the time, and he hadn’t been living with his father then, spending most of his time with his mother, Penny, Ryder’s first wife. But even as a kid, Xander had seen how his father retreated into himself for years afterward. Elinah had been the love of his life.

Now he appreciated his father’s understanding.

“To be honest, I’ve got zero interest in the whole idea of love.” Drawing one of the plates of ribs closer, he took a big bite.

“No need to rule it out altogether,” his father cautioned, ignoring his vibrating phone next to him on the table. “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala tomorrow night.” He gave Xander a level stare. “You are attending, I trust?”

Ryder had already insisted on it, since he was hosting the event himself. Xander had no desire to spend the evening at a black-tie shindig, but he planned to support his father in his ongoing war with Sterling Perry for control of the Houston branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

While Sterling might be a wealthy businessman with a vast company that dealt in real estate, construction and property management, Xander didn’t trust the guy. Part of that was because Sterling hated and resented Xander’s father, of course. But Xander found it tough to respect a ranch owner who never spent any time on the land, and that was Sterling to a T. He might own the prosperous Perry Ranch, but that didn’t mean its success had anything to do with his ranching IQ.

“I’m going stag.” Xander had a spare ticket, but his awkward meeting with Kenzie had reinforced his decision to engage in only the most superficial kinds of affairs. She’d clearly been upset with him when she’d squealed her tires on her way out of the driveway.

If Frankie Walsh hadn’t been such an accomplished horsewoman, Kenzie’s childish act could have seriously endangered the ranch hand. Frankie had really handled herself well, especially on an excitable young mare.

“There will be plenty of single women there, anyway.” His father wiped his hands on a paper napkin as their server appeared to clear a few of the plates. He waited until she retreated to finish his thought. “Just keep an open mind where romance is concerned.”

Not going to happen, Dad. But as soon as he thought that, Frankie’s long legs and sexy smile smoked through his thoughts. He willed away her image and took another swig of his beer. The sound of cowbells and cheering erupted from the nearby arena, and he guessed the children’s rodeo event had started, a precursor to the adult competitions that would start soon.

“Most of the women I meet are more interested in the Currin name. Or the fortune. Or—” he’d been about to say mysexual prowess, but that hardly seemed like a topic to share “—who knows what. But regardless, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Another announcement came over the loudspeaker for the barrel-racing contestants. Showtime must be soon. Xander gladly used it as an excuse to finish his meal.

“I’d better get into the arena.” He’d asked his father to meet him here for their weekly meal since several employees were competing in tonight’s events. “I want to wish the guys good luck before things get under way.”

And yes, a part of him wondered if he’d see Frankie. She might attend to support the other hands. Or hell, maybe she’d be competing in the barrel race or one of the other women’s events. He really didn’t know much about her, which was unlike him.

Truth was, he’d avoided her the few times their paths had come close to crossing around Currin Ranch. He’d felt the pull toward her before and had always tamped it down deep, unwilling to get drawn into that kind of affair with someone who worked for him. He only knew she had the least seniority around the ranch up until a few months ago, when they’d brought on a new kid, which meant Frankie often got stuck with some of the worst jobs.

“Sure.” Ryder lifted his beer. “If I don’t see you inside, I’ll definitely catch up with you at the gala, son.”

Nodding, Xander scooped up his hat and replaced it on his head before leaving the dining pavilion.

Outside the arena, he could see the flag bearer lining up on horseback with her attendants. A few rodeo clowns waited with them, part of the processional that would kick things off soon. Inside the open arena with its high metal roof and dirt floor, Xander could see a couple of kids in cowboy hats riding the sheep used for the mutton-busting competition. The crowd was cheering, cowbells rang and the event announcer narrated the action.

He’d been to plenty of rodeos, from the big Houston Livestock Show to the local Friday night events like this one, and he enjoyed the small-town, grassroots competitions far more. While he appreciated the national spotlight that the multibillion-dollar rodeo industry brought to ranching, he had more fun at the community affairs that celebrated the hardworking men and women who made their living off the land.

Ranching was tough, but there was something cathartic about putting in the hard manual labor day after day and seeing the results firsthand.

“Hey, boss!” someone shouted from behind the chutes.

Peering over that way, Xander spotted a throng of soon-to-be competitors congregating, black-and-white numbers pinned to their Western shirts. A bowlegged cowboy was flagging him down, waving the end of his lasso.

Xander recognized Reggie Malloy, a longtime member of the Currin Ranch team. He headed that way, sidestepping a few families retrieving their kids after the mutton-busting event.

“Good to see you, Reggie.” He clapped the senior-most herdsman on the shoulder. “Just came down to wish everyone well before the competitions start.”

They moved out of the way of the stock contractors bringing in the calves for the first round of roping events. Out in the arena, the procession to kick off the rodeo began. Purple spotlights circled the venue, casting streaks across Reggie’s face as they spoke.

“We’re all fired up down here,” Reggie told him with a wide grin, his cheeks red from the heat. He wore a championship buckle that broadcast his experience in roping. “My money’s on the new kid, Wyatt, to do the ranch proud tonight. I’ve been working with him off and on since Christmas, and he’s come a long way.”

“That’s good of you, Reg. The young guys all look up to you.” He lowered his voice as the crowd quieted for the national anthem.

Even the people backstage went still. Only the calves shuffled their feet while a local high school girl dressed in red, white and blue belted out the song. When she finished, the crowd cheered and the announcer started to rev things up.

Reggie tucked his rope under one arm and started to head back toward the other competitors in the first go-round. “Boss, you might want to stick around for the lady bronc riders later.”

“Lady bronc riders?” He’d been to plenty of rodeos before, and it wasn’t often that he’d seen women competing in rough stock events, especially at the smaller venues like this one.

“There are more and more of them,” Reggie assured him while the rodeo clowns performed a few tricks to warm up the crowd. “There are only a few signed up tonight, but our own Frankie Walsh is one of them. I’ve seen her ride and she’s not bad.”

Frankie?