Vickie McDonough - Rancher Under Fire

The woman nodded.

He yanked off his hat and smacked it against his leg. “But I thought you were a man.”

Ms. Reyes heaved a derisive snort. “Not hardly. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Where had he come up with it? Evidently he’d made a false assumption—or had his brother purposely led him in that direction, knowing he’d never allow a woman to stay at Angelfire? Evan was going to get a tongue-lashing. His brother knew he avoided women whenever possible, and he couldn’t believe that Evan would make arrangements for one to stay at the ranch. Jackson never would have agreed to an interview if he’d known he’d be stuck with this prissy female.

He’d left the football high life and all its painful memories behind when he inherited the ranch from his uncle. And he certainly didn’t want to spend even a few days in the company of a beautiful woman. The last time he did that, his life had turned upside down and inside out. He shut his eyes, refusing to think again of the woman he’d let into his life years earlier—the one who’d nearly destroyed him.

Curling the rim of his hat, he studied the dust on his boots. Dust this feisty female had stirred up. Somehow, Jackson had the feeling dirt wasn’t the only thing this lovely, outspoken reporter would stir up. He just hoped she didn’t dig up any dirt from his past. He preferred to keep that buried.

He smacked his hat against his leg again. His daughter had nearly gotten killed. His filly had galloped off, and his dog had come close to getting run over. Better to end this now before it got any more out of hand. Jackson slapped his hat onto his head and glared at the reporter. “Ma’am, you can just head back to Dallas and forget about that interview.”

TWO

Mariah couldn’t voice the words that came to her mind with a child present. She’d finally drawn her first travel assignment, only to end up in the middle of Who-Knows-Where, Oklahoma, chased by a crazy person in a truck, with her beloved Mustang wrapped around a tree. And now this.

She narrowed her eyes and glared at J. D. Durant. She wasn’t about to let this washed-up jock-turned-rancher chase her away or frustrate her any more than he already had. Moving slowly and testing each limb for pain, she ducked into the car. She pushed back the deflated air bag and sneezed again as the white powder danced in the air. Kneeling on the driver’s seat, she reached across to the passenger’s seat to grab her handbag. A sharp burning sensation exploded in her knee, sending pain throughout her leg. She sucked in a sharp gasp and backed out. As if sharing her hurt, the car door uttered an eerie, unnatural screech when she forced it shut.

Scowling at Jackson Durant, she limped to the rear of her car. With great effort, she willed the trembling in her hands to stop, pressed the button on the remote and popped open the trunk. At least the rear end of the car had avoided damage.

Hard footsteps marched toward her, sending her pulse racing. J.D. hovered beside her, breathing loudly. A flash of her father, doing the same right before he knocked her silly, sent a shiver scurrying along her spine.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His deep voice buzzed her ears like an angry hornet. Steeling herself, Mariah ignored Mr. Durant and grabbed her largest bag. Giving it a hard yank, she pulled it from the trunk then dropped it to the ground. She turned around and reached in for her tote bag.

Sunshine entered her peripheral vision for a moment as Mr. Durant bent and picked up her suitcase, then tossed it back into the trunk.

“I said there isn’t going to be an interview, so there’s no point in you staying.”

Mariah straightened and, for the first time, realized what an imposing figure Jackson Durant presented up close. His photos didn’t do him justice—or maybe the country life agreed with him. With that dusty cowboy hat on his head he had to be close to a foot taller than her. Eyes amazingly similar to the dark blue of the Texas Tornados’ football uniform blazed at her, daring her to argue. An angular jaw framed a handsome tanned face, and his pleasingly straight nose looked out of place on an athlete. Dark brows that matched thick hair the color of black coffee arched as she continued to study him.

Rattled for a nanosecond, she regrouped and returned his stare, leaning even closer. A victorious smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Just how do you propose I leave?”

His eyes flickered with confusion for a brief moment then opened wider as understanding dawned. A muscle quivered in his jaw. His lips tightened into a pale line, revealing a pair of intriguing dimples in his cheeks.

At least one good thing would come from her car being almost totaled—she just might stay at Angelfire Ranch long enough to get her story. It had been at least an hour’s drive since she’d passed a motel of any sort and much longer since seeing a decent one.

“I’m stranded,” she said, not even trying to keep victory from her voice.

“She’s right, Daddy.” The young girl sidled up to her father and took his hand. “Her car’s all smashed up, so she cain’t leave.”

“‘Can’t,’ not ‘cain’t.’” Jackson smiled down at his daughter, but his lips slipped in a frown again as his gaze returned to Mariah.

What would it feel like to be on the receiving end of his heart-stopping smile? She’d seen plenty of them in the old photos she’d studied while researching him. She shook her head. Collecting smiles from an ex-superstar wasn’t why she was here. She had a story to write.

He stared off in the distance, a muscle in his jaw twitching. His lips curled in resolve. “I’d offer to take you to town until your car’s repaired, but there isn’t a motel within sixty miles of here. I reckon you’ll have to stay here while we see about getting it fixed. But no story.” Arms crossed over his wide chest, he glared down at her, leaving no room for objection.

“Thanks for your...um...gracious offer.” Her sarcasm prompted another scowl from him. Why did she do that? Rub salt in a wound. Maybe because as a child, she’d never been able to fight back. Maybe because she’d never had luck with men, especially confident, wealthy ones. Business execs always wanted something in return for a night on the town—something she was unwilling to give. Sports jocks were even worse. Arrogant. Cocky. So full of themselves there wasn’t room for anyone else.

No, her track record with men wasn’t good. Just standing this close to one gave her the shakes. She reached for her suitcase at the same instant he did, and his calloused hand enveloped hers, sending unwanted fingers of fire blazing up her arm. Mariah yanked her hand away.

“I’ll get it,” he mumbled, obviously not happy about losing their argument or her being stuck at his ranch. He turned and strode toward the house.

“C’mon. I’ll show you where the spare room is,” J.D.’s daughter said, skipping up to her. The girl grabbed the small bag. Mariah pushed her purse and laptop bag up on her shoulder then closed the trunk. Hailey took her by the arm and pulled her toward the sprawling ranch house. “I hope you can stay a long time. We don’t ever have company stay overnight.”

Mariah peeked at the child beside her. Where her dad was dark and brooding, his daughter was friendly and outgoing. Her hair was a much lighter shade of brown than his, and her eyes reminded Mariah of chocolate kisses.

Hailey slowed, leaned closer and whispered, “Daddy sure was surprised you’re a woman. Uncle Evan must have forgot to tell him that.” She peeked up at her father, who stood at the door holding the suitcase, then beamed a dimpled grin much like his.

“He’s not the first to be shocked that I’m a female. The first was my father,” Mariah said.