True Blue Cowboy

His smile sucked the air out of her lungs. Was he really that pleased she’d agreed to go? No, he’s just being friendly. He put on his hat and walked off.

This friends thing bugged the heck out of Beth. Although tempting, a friendship with Mack Cash would be a bad investment. She’d give their companionship all her effort and energy but in the end she’d be left alone.

Beth returned to her cabin and showered. Deciding what to wear was easy. She’d packed jeans she’d purchased years ago—the denim wasn’t as fancy as the pair she’d worn to the Number 10—no bling—but they were comfortable and she could sit on a horse in them. Besides, looking sexy was way down on her list of priorities, as was picking up men or picking up where she and Mack had left off.

Her first priority was figuring out which direction her life was headed.

* * *

“THESE ARE THE BEST damned beans I’ve eaten in years.” Roger Kline glanced at Beth. “Pardon my swearing, ma’am.”

“No worries.” Beth smiled.

“José’s the finest ranch cook in southern Arizona,” Mack said.

“He sure is quiet.” Gerald, a balding man with a potbelly, helped himself to more beans.

When Mack hired on at the dude ranch, Dave had informed him that José didn’t know a word of English, but Mack sensed the camp cook understood more than he let on. Mack sat on a log in front of the fire and shoveled another forkful of barbecue into his mouth, while he watched Beth out of the corner of his eye. At first he was glad she hadn’t backed out of the group supper—he’d wanted to prove to himself that after a one-night stand they could still be friends. But now he regretted her presence.

He’d been positive he’d had it all figured out—why Beth had stuck in his craw after only one night together. For the past year, Mack had been losing interest in playing the field—hot dates with hot chicks was becoming old, but he hadn’t found a woman he’d consider dating exclusively. When Beth had waltzed into the bar, he’d assumed she was another hot chick.

Not until they’d slept together had he realized there was something different about her—an innocence that hadn’t matched her clothes, hair or makeup. When he’d held her in his arms, he’d sensed she wasn’t at all like the other women he’d been with. He’d wanted to get to know Beth better, but he’d woken the next morning alone in the motel room. It had been a hell of a blow to his ego that she’d left without a goodbye.

He’d sat on the edge of the bed feeling disenchanted with the singles scene. His thirtieth birthday was eight months away and he’d hoped by then to be with a woman who would stand by his side through thick and thin. A woman he could build a home with. Have a family with. Grow old with.

He’d left the motel that morning determined to find his forever girl but he hadn’t been able to forget Beth and her dolled-up image. And now he knew why he’d been so torn over her—Beth Richards was no buckle bunny. She was a forever girl who’d fallen off the wagon for one night.

Right then Beth laughed at one of the guest’s jokes and Mack’s gut churned with anger—mostly at himself. She’d used him and had made it clear she wasn’t interested in pursuing a long-term relationship, but damned if he still didn’t want her.

And that pissed him off.

“You gonna play a song for us, Mack, or sit there and scowl at the fire?” Dave asked.

“Sorry.” Mack bolted from the log and reached for his guitar. “You caught me thinking.”

“Judging by the look on your face,” Dave said, “you’ve either got money troubles or woman troubles.”

The men laughed while Beth scraped her beans into a neat little pile on her tin plate.

“How about a Garth Brooks song.” Mack strummed a few notes of “Cowboy Bill” then belted out the lyrics, his mixed emotions about Beth lending strength to his voice. He didn’t have to look at her to know she paid attention—the side of his face burned from her stare.

Ted, the eldest of Kline’s executives, sang along, and the other men slapped their thighs in rhythm to the music until the final verse.

Gerald clapped loudly and whistled between his teeth. “You’ve got quite a voice, Mack Cash.”

“Is it true,” Al said, “your mother named you after Merle Haggard?”

Mack shot Dave a dark look and his boss held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me.”

“Jake mentioned it when he took us skeet shooting the other day,” Al said.

Fortunately for Jake, he had the weekend off or Mack would make the wrangler pay. “It’s true. My five brothers and I all got saddled with famous monikers.”

“His eldest brother is Johnny Cash,” Dave said.

The executives laughed then Roger spoke. “Is Cash your real surname?”

“Cash was my mother’s maiden name. She never married any of our fathers.”

“Fathers?” Paul, the quietest in the group joined the conversation.

“Each of my brothers has a different father, so my mother put her surname on our birth certificates.”

“What are the names of your infamous brothers?” Roger asked.

“Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Buck Owens, Conway Twitty and Porter Wagoner.”

Al shook his head. “I bet it was tough to live down those handles when you were young.”

“You’d bet right.” Mack grinned. “Johnny stood up for us until we were old enough to fight our own battles.”

“Are you the only singer in the family?” Ted asked.

“Yep. Johnny’s the foreman of his father-in-law’s ranch. Will works construction, and Conway manages the family pecan farm. Buck moved to Lizard Gulch, a small town near Kingman, and he runs an auto body shop with his wife. Porter is still finding himself.”

“With a voice like that,” Roger said “you must have more women after you than you know what to do with.”

Beth stood. “I’ll help José clean up.” She vanished behind the wagon.

Roger lowered his voice. “I get a kick out of the way that gal blushes.”

“Didn’t see a ring on her finger,” Al whispered.

The hairs on the back of Mack’s neck stood on end. Roger and his four executives all wore wedding bands. They’d better not get the idea that Beth was available for a fling during their stay—she wasn’t that kind of girl.

She was that kind of girl with you.

Dave cleared his throat. “Beth’s the daughter of my old college buddy.”

“What does she do for a living?” Al asked.

For a married man, Al showed too much interest in Beth.

“Beth works for an investment firm.” Dave removed the coffeepot from the fire and refilled everyone’s cup. “She’s enjoying a short break from corporate America.”

“You mind if I ask her to review my stock portfolio?” Al nodded toward the chuck wagon. “I’d like her opinion on a couple of investments.”

Portfolio, my ass. Mack fisted his hand then rubbed his knuckles against his thigh to keep from throwing a punch at the man. Later tonight he’d warn Beth to keep her guard up with Al and the others.