Sarah Anderson - What a Rancher Wants

“So, your bodyguard speaks French?” He honestly didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk to Alex again; find out if he remembered anything else. As much as he hated to admit it, the odds were decent that someone in Royal had done this to his friend. The only other option was that Mexican drug violence was bleeding its way far north of the border.

“Of course,” Gabriella said, as if every meathead in the world spoke several languages. “Since he joined me for my lessons, it was only natural that he learn with me and the other children at home.”

“More brothers and sisters?” How could he have ever felt that he knew Alex? The man had done nothing but lie to him from the moment he’d arrived in Royal. Chance had thought he’d been friends with the man. Hell, he’d even done the honorable thing and stepped aside when Alex had showed an interest in Chance’s lady friend, Cara Windsor. Or had that been part of the setup, too? Because if Alex had wanted to destroy Chance’s life, he was doing a damn fine job of it.

“Oh, no, Mr. McDaniel.” Gabriella had a soft laugh, delicate. Made him think of a butterfly landing quickly on a flower before moving on. “My tutors taught the children of our staff. We almost had enough students for a regular school.” Her features softened. “My mother believed it was our duty to educate those who serve us.”

Alex had never mentioned his mother. But then, he hadn’t mentioned a sister, either. “It must have been hard on your mother when Alex went missing.”

A shadow crossed Gabriella’s face, blocking out the light of her smile. “She has been dead for twenty-three years, Mr. McDaniel.”

Okay, so maybe Alex had a good reason for not talking about his mother. “My apologies. I didn’t know.”

She tilted her head in appreciation, and then the shadow was gone. Her behavior was refined, her manners impeccable—even when she’d let him sweat, she’d been perfectly polite about it.

Chance was suddenly possessed—there wasn’t another word for it—to ask if Gabriella rode horses. Alex had come out to McDaniel’s Acres, Chance’s homestead, to ride on numerous occasions. Alex had talked about his stables back home; how he’d always loved the freedom of riding.

Cara Windsor had never enjoyed riding with Chance. She didn’t like the smell of the barn, had no particular talent for riding and was too terrified of being stepped on to consider brushing down a horse.

Chance had finished sowing his wild oats years ago. Since then, he’d worked on making McDaniel’s Acres a profitable piece of land. He’d like to have someone to ride with him, someone to take his meals with—and share his bed with. But the land had taken all his time and there weren’t too many women left in Royal who’d cotton to his way of life. Ranching the land—even if it was a dude ranch and the bunkhouse was now a five-star hotel where city folks paid a hefty price to be pretend cowboys for the week—was still a hard life, full of early summer mornings and cold winter nights.

“Do you ride horses?” Chance wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the bodyguard’s glare got meaner. “Alex would come out to the ranch and we’d ride.”

He thought he saw a small smile ghost its way across Gabriella’s very full lips. “I ride.”

Two simple little words that had the immediate effect of cranking his temperature up a notch or two. “You should come out to the ranch sometime—McDaniel’s Acres. This part of Texas is beautiful—the best way to see it is from horseback.”

He wanted to think that he was asking only because he was concerned with clearing his name. If he couldn’t talk with Alex and see what he remembered, the next best thing he could hope for was to talk with his beautiful sister. Maybe he could find out if anything about Alex had been on the level or if their entire friendship had been nothing but lies.

But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that spending some time out on the range with Gabriella had the potential to be fun.

“That would be out of the question, I’m afraid.” She was back to blushing again, which made her look innocent. Which gave him some not-so-innocent thoughts. “I never go anywhere without Joaquin.”

The big man grunted in agreement. Hey, what did Chance know—the bodyguard was capable of something besides glaring.

Chance made a snap decision. “He can come along. I’ve got a mule that can handle him. The more, the merrier.” Which was a bold-faced lie, but he knew damn good and well that he wasn’t going to find out anything today. “If you want,” he added.

“How big is your ranch?” She leaned forward, causing the white shirt she was wearing to gape at the neck.

If Alex were here, he’d punch Chance in the arm for ogling his sister. As it was, Chance half expected to be shot. “About 400 acres. We’ve got cattle as well as some chickens, a few sheep and goats, and a few alpacas—the kids love them. And horses, of course. I run a dude ranch and hotel on the property,” he added, hoping that made him sound more like a businessman making a pitch and less like a love-struck teenager angling for a date. “We give trail rides all the time. I’d be happy to show you around.”

This was mostly true. He did lead trail rides—when it wasn’t the middle of February. The winter hadn’t held a great deal of snow to this point, but the wind could be vicious. He had no idea why he thought a ride with a refined woman such as Gabriella del Toro would be a good idea in this weather.

Oh, right—because he was hoping to find out something more about Alex.

He hoped she’d say yes. He hoped she could handle herself on a horse. Hell, he just hoped he wasn’t about to be shot. Chance looked down at Gabriella’s hands. Despite her polished appearance, he saw that her nails weren’t long and manicured, but short and bare. Her hands were delicate, with long, thin fingers that showed signs of heavy use—and a bandage on her index finger. “Did you hurt yourself?”

That pink blush graced her cheeks. She dropped her gaze, but then looked up at him through thick lashes. “Just a cut. I was attempting to prepare some soup for Alejandro.”

Attempting? He grinned at her. “When you come out for a ride, we’ll have dinner. Franny Peterson is the best cook in Royal—she makes dinner for my guests. She’d be delighted to meet Alex’s family. They always got along famously.”

Her smile tightened. “Alejandro often visited your home?”

“Yup.”

“Was he...?” She looked down at her bandaged hand, unable to finish the sentence.

This must be so hard on her, he realized. Then he remembered—he hadn’t come here to flirt with Alex’s sister, no matter how fun it might become. He had a purpose here. “How is he? Any better?”

Everything that had been warm and light about Gabriella shut down on him. She didn’t so much as move, but he felt the walls that went up between them.

Gabriella said, “He is much the same,” in a voice that was probably supposed to sound as though she wasn’t giving anything away. But he heard the sadness in her tone.

Gabriella appeared to care for her brother. For some reason, that made Chance happy. He didn’t know why.

“Can I see him?”

Joaquin stiffened behind her as Gabriella said, “I do not think that would be wise, Mr. McDaniel. He is still healing. The doctors have said he needs quiet and darkness for his brain to recover from the trauma he’s suffered.”

“Mr. McDaniel is my father. Call me Chance. Everyone does. Even Alex.”

Then she looked up at him, the full force of her brown eyes boring into him. “I do not think that would be wise, Mr. McDaniel.”

Hell, he’d overstepped, but he couldn’t figure out which thing had been too far. He couldn’t tell which part had pushed her over the edge. Was it the familiarity of using his given name—or of calling Alex by his American name? Whatever it had been, he was losing her. “I just thought that if he, you know, saw me, it might jog his memory. He might remember who I was.”