Cathy McDavid - Cowboy for Keeps

“Hungry?”

“I missed lunch. How’d the interview g—”

“Don’t ask.” Conner strolled into the kitchen, adjusting his Stetson till it fit snugly on his head. “You live in a house full of people. Didn’t one of them fix you some food?”

“Sage and the baby are taking a nap, since someone kept us up last night, crying. Dad’s down with the flu. Between laundry and helping the girls with their homework, the afternoon got away from me. Do you have any idea how many papers parents are expected to read and sign? Three, just for Isa to go on a field trip.”

Last spring, Gavin and Sage had married, joining them and their two daughters, each from a previous relationship, into one big happy family. Now they had a two-month-old son, making their family even bigger and happier.

“Never mind,” he complained. “I’ll grab some crackers in the office. Which, by the way, is where I need you to be in an hour.”

“What’s up?”

“I finally hired a photographer. She’s meeting with us at four-thirty.”

“Us?” Conner quirked a brow.

“You heard right. I need someone to act as a guide. Who knows the story of Prince and is familiar enough with these mountains to lead a day ride. You’re the only one I can spare fitting that description.”

Conner didn’t argue. He owed Gavin for the roof over his head and the food on his table. Literally. If Gavin hadn’t rescued him a few months ago, when his severance pay ran out, he might now be living in his truck.

“What about Dos Rojo?” Conner asked. “I want to work him in the arena before the equestrian drill team arrives for their practice.”

“Then I guess you’d better get started.”

They parted ways on the porch. As Conner crossed the open area and headed toward the horse barn, the many changes occurring at the ranch during the last two years struck him anew. His own apartment was once a bunkhouse, back in the days when the Powells had owned and operated a thriving cattle business. The smaller of the two horse barns had been expanded to include stud quarters for Prince, the Powells’ pride and joy. And the cattle barn, now a mare motel, housed the many horses brought to the ranch to breed with Prince.

Like Conner, Thunder Ranch and the Powells had suffered a grave financial setback, a combination of the economic downturn, loss of their range and encroaching housing developments.

Unlike Conner, the Powells had bounced back, thanks in large part to Prince, a stallion Gavin had discovered roaming free in the nearby McDowell Mountain Preserve. More significant perhaps, the Powells had adapted, turning what remained of their cattle ranch into Scottsdale’s most successful public riding stable.

“Hey, boy.”

Dos Rojo eyed Conner warily as he approached the stall. The mustang needed an attitude adjustment if he expected to continue living the cushy life of a working ranch horse. Otherwise, he might end up back where he’d come from at the Bureau of Land Management’s facility in Show Low, his fate uncertain and, though Conner didn’t like thinking about it, possibly doomed.

Not entirely unlike his own fate.

He was determined that the horse remain at Powell Ranch, just as he was determined to find another job.

“Let’s go, boy.”

They spent forty minutes in the arena, Conner putting Dos Rojo through his paces on a lunge line. When they’d finished, he walked out the horse and gave his coat a good brushing before returning him to his stall. To his delight, Dos Rojo sniffed Conner’s hat and nudged his arm as he latched the stall door.

“I agree.” He patted the horse’s neck. “Good workout. Maybe next time we’ll try getting a saddle blanket on you.”

There were many things Conner had liked about his former job. The challenges he regularly faced and overcame, the sense of accomplishment, the respect and admiration of his peers and superiors, greeting every new day with purpose.

To be honest, he also found some of those same rewards working for Gavin.

It wasn’t enough, however.

The ranch office was located in the barn, beside the tack and storage rooms. As he neared, he could hear voices, Gavin’s and a woman’s.

Conner’s steps faltered, and then stopped altogether. It couldn’t be her! He must be mistaken.

The laughter, light and musical, struck a too familiar chord.

His hands involuntarily clenched. Gavin wouldn’t blindside him like this. He’d assured Conner weeks ago that Dallas Sorrenson had declined their request to work on the book about Prince due to a schedule conflict. Her wedding, Conner had assumed.

And yet there was no mistaking that laughter, which drifted again through the closed office door.

He contemplated turning around, then thought better of it. Whatever Gavin required of him, he’d do. He owed his friend that much.

Still, a warning would have been nice.

With an arm that suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, he grasped the knob, pushed the door open and entered the office.

Dallas turned immediately and greeted him with a huge smile. The kind of bright, sexy smile that had most men—Conner included—angling for the chance to get near her.

Except she was married, or soon to be married. He couldn’t remember the date.

And her husband, or husband-to-be, was Conner’s former coworker and pal. The same man who’d taken over Conner’s department. Supervised his employees. Expanded his office into Conner’s old space.

The man whose life remained perfect while Conner’s had taken a nosedive.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Dallas came toward him.

He reached out his hand to shake hers. “Hey, Dallas.”

She ignored his hand and wound her arms loosely around his neck for a friendly hug. Against his better judgment, Conner folded her in his embrace and drew her close. She smelled like spring flowers and felt like every man’s fantasy. Then again, she always had.

Richard was one lucky guy to snare a woman like her.

And, like a fool, Conner had made it easy for him.

She drew slowly back and assessed him in that interested way old friends do after not seeing each other for a while. “How have you been?”

Rather than state the obvious, that he was still looking for a job and just managing to survive, he answered, “Fine. How ’bout yourself?”

“Great.”

She looked as happy as she sounded. Flushed—no, glowing, her brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. She’d swept her brunette hair, shorter than when he’d seen her last month, off her face with a colorful band.

Conner could be mistaken, but he thought she might have put on a little weight. It looked good, giving her curves in all the right places.

Married life obviously agreed with her.

“I thought you turned down the photography job.” He tried not to stare, dimly aware that he’d interrupted Gavin.

His friend shot him an impatient look. “Like I was saying, Dallas’s calendar unexpectedly cleared. She called me last night and volunteered to take the pictures, if we still needed someone, which we do.”

She broke out in that incredible smile again.

Conner’s heart disregarded his brain’s directive and beat triple time.

This had to stop. She was taken, and Conner didn’t trespass on another man’s territory, even when he disliked the guy.

He needed to get a grip on himself, and fast. How could he expect to work with her otherwise?

The coffee-table-style book, in the planning stages for months, would chronicle the life of Prince, beginning with his capture, to his success as a stud horse, as well as tell the story of the mustang sanctuary, from its inception to today. All profits from the sale of the book would go toward funding the sanctuary and raising awareness of the plight of wild mustangs.