Barbara Dunlop - In Bed With The Wrangler

“Over a million dollars?” Royce threaded a nylon rope through the corner grommet of the tarp and looped it around the tie-down on the running board. It was a lot to pay for a horse, sure. But there weren’t enough zeros in the equation to raise Barry’s blood pressure.

“I felt like a ten-year-old asking for her allowance.”

“That’s because you behave like a ten-year-old.” Royce tossed the rope over the load to his sister.

“It’s a great deal,” she insisted as lightning cracked the sky above them. “If we don’t move now, it’ll be gone forever.”

“Isn’t that what you said about Nare-Do-Elle?”

“That was three years ago.”

“He cost us a bundle.”

“This is a completely different circumstance. I’m right this time.” She tossed the rope back. “You don’t think I’ve learned anything in three years?”

Royce cinched down the tarp. He wasn’t touching that question with a ten-foot cattle prod. “What exactly do you want me to do?” he asked instead.

“Talk to Barry.”

“And say what?”

“Tell him to give me the money.”

Royce grinned.

“I’m serious.” The rain had soaked into her curly auburn hair, dampening her cheeks, streaking down her freckled nose.

“You’re always serious. You always need money. And half the time you’re wrong.”

She waggled her leather gloved finger at him. “And half the time I’m right .”

“So I’ll get you half a million.”

“And you’ll lose out on generations of champion jumpers.”

Royce walked the rope around the back of the pickup, tying it off on the fourth corner. “Sorry, Steph.”

Her hands went to her hips. “I own a third of this company.”

“And I have Jared’s power of attorney.”

“You two have always ganged up on me.”

“Now you’re sounding like a child.”

“I’m-”

“I’m not giving a million dollars to a child.”

Her chin tipped up. “You weren’t giving it to me anyway.”

“True,” Royce admitted. He couldn’t resist chucking her under that defiant chin. “You’ve got a perfectly adequate operating budget. Live within your means.”

“This is an extraordinary opportunity. I can’t begin to tell you-”

“There’ll be another one tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.” He’d known his sister far too long to fall for her impassioned plea.

“That’s not fair.”

“Life never is.”

Thunder clapped above them, and the heavens opened up, the deluge soaking everything in sight. The ranch hands ran for the cook shed, and Royce grabbed Stephanie’s hand, tugging her over the muddy ground toward the lights of the house.

Amber stood in the vast Ryder living room, rain pounding on the ceiling and clattering against the windows in the waning daylight as she stared at the cell phone in her hand. Royce had been a gentleman about it, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d put herself in a predicament and behaved less responsibly than she’d admitted to herself.

She really needed to let someone know where she was staying. She also needed to make sure her parents weren’t worrying about her. Her father tended to blow things out of proportion, and there was a real chance he was freeing up cash, waiting for a ransom note.

She pressed the on button with her thumb, deciding she’d keep it short and simple.

“Calling in the cavalry?” came Royce’s dry voice.

Amber glanced up to see him and Stephanie in the archway leading from the front foyer.

“Did you hear the thunder?” Stephanie grinned as she stepped forward, stripping off a pair of leather gloves and running spread fingers through her unruly, wet hair.

Amber nodded. The storm had heightened her sense of isolation and disquiet.

“I love storms,” Stephanie continued, dropping the gloves on an end table. “As long as I’m inside.” She frowned, glancing down at her wet clothes. “I’m going upstairs to find something dry. Is that lasagna I smell?” Her pert nose wrinkled.

Amber inhaled the aromas wafting from the kitchen. “I think so.”

“My fav.” Stephanie smiled. “See you in a few.” She skipped up the stairs.

As he stood there in the doorway, the planes and angles of Royce’s face were emphasized by the yellow lamplight reflecting off the wood grain walls.

An hour ago, she’d come to the conclusion that she couldn’t really blame him for thinking she was attracted to him. She imagined most women who requested a ride in his plane were coming on to him. Not that she blamed them. His shoulders were broad in his work clothes. His dark, wet hair glimmered, and those deep blue eyes seemed to stare right down into a woman’s soul.

“Did you decide to leave after all?” he asked, his deep voice reverberating through her body, igniting a fresh wave of desire.

She shook her head. “I’m just reassuring my parents.”

Royce moved into the room with an easy, rolling gait. He struck her as different than the man in the hotel lobby lounge. In just a couple of days, the wilds of Montana had somehow seeped into him.

“Not worried they’ll track you down?” His steps slowed as he stopped in front of her, slightly closer than socially acceptable, just a few inches into her personal space, and she felt her heartbeat deepen.

“I’m worried they might be raising the ransom.”

Royce quirked a brow. “Seriously?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“No kidding.”

“Royce.” She wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him, or how she should say it.

But before she could formulate the words, his voice and expression went soft. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry. I gave you the wrong impression. It wasn’t on purpose, but I realize now that-”

“It was wishful thinking on my part.”

“You flat out told me you were hitting on me.”

“I was.”

She fought a reflexive smile. “And I’m honored.” She found herself joking.

“I don’t want you to be honored.” His expression said the rest.

“I know exactly what you want.”

He eased almost imperceptibly closer. “Yes, you do.”

They both went silent, sobering. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the moisture-laden air hung heavily in the room.

Stephanie’s light footsteps sounded on the landing above.

“You should make that call,” said Royce, stepping back.

Amber nodded, struggling to get her hormones under control. She’d never been pursued by such a rawly masculine man. Come to think of it, she’d never been pursued by any man.

Oh, she received her fair share of flirtatious overtures on a girls’ night at the clubs, but a flash of her engagement ring easily shut the guys down. Plus, usually she was out with Hargrove. And they generally attended functions where he was known. Nobody was about to hit on Hargrove Alston’s fiancée.

While Stephanie skipped down the stairs, Amber pressed the speed-dial button for her mother. It rang only once.

“Sweetheart!” came her mother’s voice. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you having a breakdown?”

Amber turned away from Royce, crossing the few steps to an alcove where she’d have a little privacy.

“I’m fine,” she answered, ignoring the part about a breakdown.

“Your father is beside himself.”

Royce’s and Stephanie’s footfalls faded toward the kitchen.

“And Hargrove,” her mother continued. “He came home a day early. Then he nearly missed the Chamber dinner tonight worrying about you. He was the keynote, you know.”

“He nearly missed it?” asked Amber, finding a hard tone in her voice. Hargrove hadn’t, in fact, missed his big speech while his beloved fiancée was missing, perhaps kidnapped, maybe dead.