Vicki Lewis Thompson - In The Cowboy's Arms

“Sure is. But I need a break. I’m ready to unplug, at least for the next week or so. Let’s talk about your wedding. Third weekend in August, right?”

“Yep.”

“I want all the deets, bridegroom.”

“You won’t be bored?”

“Not a chance.” He settled back, ready to hear about something positive for a change.

Once Cade got started on the subject of his upcoming nuptials, he barely stopped for breath. Matt got a kick out of his excitement. By the time they turned down the dirt road leading to the ranch, the humiliation of the past twenty-four hours seemed unimportant compared to Cade’s obvious joy in marrying the love of his life.

The tabloid blitz had loomed large back in LA, but moonlight shining on the massive bulk of the Bighorns put everything in perspective. Cade parked in the circular gravel drive in front of the low-slung ranch house and Matt swung down from the cab. Lamplight coming through the windows allowed him to see Rosie, Herb and Lexi sitting in the Adirondack chairs lined up on the long porch.

They called out a greeting as they started down the steps. Matt hadn’t shaved or showered in two days, but nobody seemed to care. Arms outstretched, they gathered him close. Coming home had been the right thing to do.

* * *

As the crow flew, Sheridan didn’t seem that far from LA. Geena wished she could get there by crow, because clearly traveling by passenger plane would take all flipping day. The layover in Denver was ridiculous, but it gave her plenty of time to think about where she’d gone wrong with Matt Forrest.

And she’d gone very wrong with him. She’d also underestimated Briana Danvers’s thirst for publicity. Somehow the woman had learned that Matt had left town and she’d made a huge deal of it, calling his departure an admission of guilt.

That was exactly why Geena had wanted him to stick around, but she’d handled the situation poorly. Because she’d dealt with her fair share of clients caught in compromising situations off the set, she’d assumed Matt fell into that category. She’d expected him to agree with her plan to contain the damage. Instead, he’d stormed out of her office.

So she’d gone into research mode. A friend had sent her the dailies from Preston’s Revenge. The scenes between Briana and Matt were off the charts, but did that mean he’d aggressively pursued her?

She was less and less sure about that. Briana was married to a revered but aging Western movie star. What if she’d been captivated by Matt? He claimed that she’d initiated the kiss.

And, unlike other clients, he seemed horrified by the drama that photo had created. Some stars were thrilled by any publicity at all, even if it was potentially negative. Not Matt. He’d chosen to hide out.

It might have been a workable strategy except that Briana obviously planned to keep stirring the pot. Matt needed to fight back or he was liable to be forever labeled with Briana’s taunt of run, Forrest, run.

No other celebrities were doing something stupid this week, so the gossip mags were hungry for anything Briana fed them. The situation reflected poorly on Geena’s firm, which she’d started only three years ago, but that wasn’t why she’d decided to make a trip to Sheridan. She couldn’t bear to stand by and watch Matt take a beating.

So she’d booked her flights to Sheridan, a place that was not easy to get to. But she’d brave a puddle jumper if that’s what it took to talk to Matt face-to-face.

He wouldn’t be happy to see his PR rep, though. She reminded herself of that as she drove her rented SUV down some of the darkest roads she’d ever seen. Thank God for her GPS or she’d surely have ended up in some pasture staring at an angry bull.

She almost missed the turnoff to Thunder Mountain Ranch. At the last minute she saw it, thanks to a small spotlight trained on the carved wooden sign. A second sign hung below it proclaiming this the Home of Thunder Mountain Academy.

She had no idea what that was about, but the ranch was listed as Matt’s home address so she’d forge on. Presumably his parents, Rosie and Herb Padgett, lived here. He’d probably changed his last name to something less jarring than Matt Padgett, which was smart marketing.

The dirt road leading to the ranch was even darker than the highway. If she’d spent the night in Sheridan, she could have tackled this road first thing in the morning. But Matt would have an easier time turning her away in broad daylight. A gentleman didn’t send a lady back out into the night after she’d traveled all day to see him. And Matt Forrest was a gentleman.

She’d allowed the turmoil Briana had created to obscure that basic fact. Briana might be irresistible to the majority of males out there, but despite her famous allure, Matt would never succumb to it in a public place. Such behavior would have violated his personal code of conduct, one that probably had its roots right here on this extremely authentic-looking ranch and in all the John Wayne movies he’d memorized.

Arriving unannounced with a small overnight case in the passenger seat was cheeky. She planned to leave it there and see what happened after she knocked on the door, but in movies ranch houses always had spare bedrooms. Staying in the same house as Matt would help the cause, since she didn’t expect instant cooperation.

The SUV’s tires crunched on a layer of thick gravel as she navigated the circular drive and parked by the front door. Hers was the only vehicle there, but several more were down by a large hip-roofed barn. The Adirondack chairs lined up on the long front porch were empty, but when she stepped out of the car, she heard country music coming from the house. And laughter, both male and female. It seemed she’d arrived in the middle of a party.

Well, that made sense. His folks had probably decided to celebrate his success and ignore the scandal. No wonder he’d wanted to come back to that kind of love and support.

She paused beside the SUV. Her arrival would be about as popular as Maleficent crashing a baby shower. On the other hand, having lots of people around might be a good thing. She was fine with crowds. Growing up with a Hollywood star for a mom, she’d learned to handle herself in any circumstance, no matter how bizarre or awkward.

She was still debating what to do when the front door opened and a redheaded woman came out holding a baby who looked to be about five or six months old. A tall guy tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat as he followed her out and started to close the door.

“I still say she said my name,” called someone from inside, someone who sounded a lot like Matt.

Laughing, the cowboy swung the door open again. “You’re dreaming, bro!” he called back.

“Aw, come on, Damon.” The redhead was busy fiddling with the baby’s blanket and obviously hadn’t spotted the SUV yet. “Let Uncle Matt have his little fantasy.”

“You heard her,” the guy named Damon said as he closed the door. “She was saying ma-ma like she always does. She—hello, who’s this?” He put a protective hand on the woman’s shoulder and looked in Geena’s direction.

She moved away from the vehicle and came toward them. “My name’s Geena Lysander and I’m here to see Matt Forrest, but apparently I’m interrupting a celebration.”

“Geena Lysander,” the woman said. “Your name came up tonight. Aren’t you his PR rep?”

“Yes, and I’m here to discuss—”

“Let me stop you right there, ma’am.” The tall cowboy descended the steps. “From what I understand, he’s not interested in having any more discussions. He came here to get away from all that, so I’m afraid you’ve made a trip for nothing. My wife and I can lead you back into town and get you settled in a hotel room, though.”