Candace Schuler - The Cowboy Way

An instinctive quiver of apprehension snaked its way up Jo Beth’s spine. She very deliberately brushed it aside. This was, after all, Diamond J land. She was the jefe of the Diamond J. And he was a Diamond J cowhand.

Whatever reason he might have for trailing her out to this remote corner of the ranch, it sure as hell wasn’t because he had any nefarious designs on her body. None of her cowhands would dare. Especially given the mood she’d been in when she left the stable yard.

Which meant there was some problem that demanded her immediate attention back at the main house. Her squint deepened into a frown. Good Lord, couldn’t she have one measly hour to herself? Just one measly little hour without the whole operation falling apart?

“This had better be damned important,” she said irritably, scowling up at him from under her tented hand.

“Ma’am?”

“Whatever you trailed me out here for. It had better be damned important, or you and whoever sent you out here after me are going to be damned sorry.”

“No one sent me after you,” Clay said, thinking delightedly that she’d already managed to surprise him again. Whatever he’d expected her to say, however he might have expected her to say it, he certainly hadn’t anticipated anything so prosaic as a simple expression of annoyance at his presence and the possible reason for it, especially not with her still sitting there neck deep in water and as naked as the day she was born.

“Then why the hell did you follow me out here?” she demanded.

“I didn’t follow you.” His easy, affable tone was in direct contrast to the snapping impatience of hers. “I was out taking a ride all by my lonesome and saw someone moving around down here by the water tank.” He eased up on the reins as he spoke, letting the pinto amble closer to the concrete tank. “I thought I’d better take a closer look in case that someone was up to no good. So…” Leather creaked as he leaned forward and casually draped a forearm across the saddle horn. The reins dangled loosely from his gloved fingers. The pinto dropped his head and began sucking up water. “Are you up to no good, darlin’?”

Jo Beth opened her mouth to lambaste him for the dual offenses of dereliction of duty and being overly familiar when it occurred to her that not only was he a good deal closer than he’d been a moment before, but—Diamond J cowhand or not—she had absolutely no idea who he was.

Nothing about him was familiar. Not the tilt of his hat. Not the sound of his voice. Not even the way he sat his horse. And she prided herself on being able to put a name to every hand on the Diamond J just by watching him ride.

The quiver of apprehension returned, a little stronger this time, a little more insistent as it snaked its way up her spine to lodge at the back of her neck. It wasn’t fear. Not yet. Not by a long shot, she assured herself. But it was close enough to it that she glanced toward Bella, mentally judging the distance to the shotgun holstered behind the saddle, hoping like hell she wasn’t going to have to sprint for it, buck naked and dripping wet. Her gaze darted back to the man who seemed, suddenly, to be much too close, much too big, much too…much.

She stiffened her spine against the nascent fear, refusing to give in to it. Her eyes took on a steely glint beneath the shade of her sheltering hand. “Just who the hell are you, cowboy?”

“Beg pardon, ma’am,” he said, as polite as if she’d asked a civil question instead of snarling it at him like an angry bobcat. “I didn’t realize you didn’t recognize me or I’d’ve made myself known to you straight off.” He dipped his head, reaching up to touch two fingers to the brim of his hat. “I’m—”

In that instant, with that slight telling movement, Jo Beth suddenly knew who he was. “Oh, good Lord!” she burst out before she could stop herself. “You’re—” She dropped her upraised hand, covering her mouth before the name escaped.

“Clay Madison,” he said, and swept his hat off, giving her a theatrical little bow from the saddle. It was the same cocksure, conquering-hero bow he used in the ring to acknowledge the approving roar of the crowd. “In the flesh,” he added, with a wickedly charming cowboy grin.

Jo Beth stared up at him for a disbelieving few seconds, her eyes gone wide above her concealing hand, her body frozen like a wild woodland creature trying to escape the notice of a predator. Visions of her fantasies and what she’d done to fulfill them chased round and round in her head. She knew it was too much to hope that he hadn’t seen her solo performance. If he’d been watching long enough to see someone moving around by the water tank, he’d certainly been watching long enough to have seen what happened after that someone got in the water tank.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to block out the awful reality of the situation, desperately wishing that one or both of them would just disappear into the hot, dry air. But when she opened them again, he was still there, sitting atop the pinto with the sun shining on his gleaming black hair, hat in hand, grinning at her like a feral cousin of the Cheshire cat.

And she was still bare-ass naked, sitting in a water tank in the middle of a sun-baked cow pasture with the guilty blush of self-indulgence heating her cheeks.

There was only one thing to do, one tack to take. She dropped her hand from her mouth, squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and glared up at him with the expression every hand on her ranch had learned to fear. “Just what the hell are you doing on Diamond J land?”

He shrugged elaborately, unintimidated by the ferocity of her question. “Like I said, I was out taking myself a little ride. Just following my nose, don’t ’cha know? Ended up taking the shade in that stand of cottonwoods on the hill, yonder.” He gestured with his hat, indicating the gentle swell of the land behind him. “No rhyme or reason to it.” His grin flashed again, his eyes raking over her with a warm, appreciative gleam meant to charm and flatter. “Just plain ol’ good luck, I’d call it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” she snapped, stubbornly refusing to be charmed or flattered. “What I’d call it is plain ol’ trespassing. You’re on Diamond J land, Mr. Madison, and I’d appreciate it if you’d turn that pinto around and ride back the way you came.”

“Well, now, that’s not very neighborly.” He took a moment to resettle his hat on his head, deliberately thumbing it back a bit so the brim wasn’t shadowing his face. “Downright unneighborly, I’d say. Especially considering as how I rode down here to see if I could offer you a helping hand.” He let his gaze drift downward, away from her face, and his seemingly ever-present grin warmed lasciviously. “So to speak.”

Jo Beth tightened her arms around her bent knees and tried not to squirm. “Really?” she said, injecting what she hoped was a credible amount of scorn into her voice.

It wasn’t easy.

The man was a living, breathing sexual fantasy. Her living, breathing sexual fantasy. She knew as well as she knew her own name that she could have him—right then, right there—just the way she’d imagined in those heated moments of self-induced rapture. All she had to do was say the word and he’d get down off that horse and climb into the water tank with her. She was absolutely sure of it. Just one word, and her frustrations of the last few weeks would come to what was sure to be a glorious end.

But damned if she’d say it.

Fantasy or not, the man was a cowboy. Worse, he was a four-time Pro Rodeo championship bull-riding cowboy. Which meant he was a true wild thing, more reckless, more feckless, more fancy-free and unreliable than the usual breed of cowboy. Trouble with a capital T, and she sure as hell didn’t need any more of that in her life.