Shadows of the Mountain Page 25

  “A little fear is a good thing,” Jack had said.

  “I suppose. But it doesn’t matter.” There’d been an imp of mischief in Sharon’s voice. “Because Kate will make up any of your deficiencies. We all know how the men feel about her, including the President.”

  The idea of Kate tracking men who might want her to catch them had made Jack scowl. “And me,” he’d said. “Remember how I feel about her. In fact, I’d be just as happy to have Kate live with me in Idaho...rather than be worked to death at your ranch.”

  Sharon had shot him a pained look. “I already agreed to the cottage. What else do you want?”

  “It’d be nice if you gave her Slider. Maybe surprise her on her birthday.”

  “That’s not necessary. None of the other wranglers ever ride him. They all know he’s Kate’s favorite.”

  “Then it won’t matter if you give him to her,” Jack had said, keeping his voice reasonable. “And I’ll be bringing along a couple horses, and of course my rescue dogs. I expect they’ll be welcome.”

  “Long as they don’t bite,” Sharon had said, blowing out a theatrical sigh. But they both knew she was ecstatic with the turn of events, and her expression had remained satisfied beneath her cowboy hat. The White House had covered up Courtney’s abduction attempt but they’d been lavish with praise of the Mustang River Ranch and even more glowing about the competence of the ranch guides. The last thing Sharon wanted was to lose Kate’s services.

  “You’re good at getting what you want,” Kate said, nibbling at Jack’s lower lip, the pleasure of her touch jolting him back to the cave. “First, Sharon gives you a cottage, then a job, and now she agreed to let us make this little detour.”

  “I wanted to sleep in your cathedral cave,” Jack said. “See firsthand where you climbed out. Check out that inscription.” And he’d needed to whisk her away and grab some privacy. The last nine months had been a whirlwind, with both of them working and only able to snatch limited time alone.

  And before she started chasing people around the mountain, he needed to make sure she was truly ready. Simply for his peace of mind.

  He slid his hands beneath her shirt, skimming his fingers over her velvety skin, drifting over the sensual curve of her backbone. His fingers dropped, patting a trail over her hips, her ass, her thighs... And lower.

  “No knives on me,” she said, correctly realizing this was actually a search. “Security was much tighter this time. Did you see those sniffer dogs yesterday? One of them reminded me of your Shepherd.”

  But she was speaking a little too fast, as if trying distract him. And seconds later he pulled her tiny red jackknife from the inner side of her climbing boot.

  “Oh?” he said, holding up the jackknife and pretending to scowl. “Then what have we here?”

  “Okay, so you found it.” She clearly saw past his scowl and gave him a mischievous grin, and then an even more delightful hug. “But that’s all,” she said. “And it’s just my tiny knife. I don’t need my big one anymore... Not when you’re around.”

  He dipped his head, smiling against her hair. She made it sound like he walked on water. And to find a woman who cherished his lifestyle—who actually reveled in it—made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

  They had some differences. Her tolerance for people was much higher than his. Over the last few days, she’d been in her element: helping Courtney and Tyra with their horses, keeping the animals calm when the fleet of helicopters arrived, then guiding the girls close enough to the mustangs so they could snap some truly spectacular pictures. She really didn’t seem to mind the mountains anymore. Her face had been glowing and if the Mustang River Ranch gave her that kind of fulfillment, then he had no intention of ever asking her to leave...as long as they had enough quality time together.

  “Great idea to sleep in the cave tonight,” she said. “But I thought you weren’t superstitious?”

  “I’m rethinking a lot of things,” he said. He unhooked the clasp of her bra and finally was able to wrap his hand around her perfect breast. Oh, God, and now if they never moved, he’d die a happy man.

  “Don’t you want to read the inscription first?” she asked. “Take the ten-second tour?”

  “In a minute, sweetheart. I’m happy just standing here.”

  She tucked her head against his chest and gave a contented sigh. “See what I mean?” she said. “This cave really does have a mystical feel.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It does.”

  He lifted his head, checking over her shoulder, eyeing the jagged crack that separated this chamber from the main cave. Most men would never have been able to squeeze through the opening, only a very small one... And possibly the man named Peewee.

  Neither Kate nor the feds had ever questioned why he’d used his last bullet on the wiry sidekick instead of Logan. But his decision to protect her, at the risk of exposing Courtney, had marked a change in his values. Kate was his priority now.

  Over contract and country.

  “Do you think the saying is true?” she asked. “That anyone that makes love here will stay together?”

  “I do,” he said. “At least as it relates to us.”

  She gave an affirming nod and snuggled against his chest. They remained locked, absorbing the warmth of the sun as it spilled molten gold over their linked arms, neither of them feeling the need to speak. And he gave fervent thanks for finding this remarkable woman, someone who delighted in the activities he relished and who made his heart sing.

  It was clear she didn’t yet comprehend the depth of his love. But she would, eventually. He’d make sure of it.

  Sample Along Came A Cowboy,

  Bev Pettersen’s next book in this series:

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE MUSTANG RIVER RANCH’S cowboy calendar was always popular, but this year it had created a buying frenzy. Another guest jammed a crumpled bill into Allie McIvor’s hand then flipped the calendar open, giving a sigh that went beyond appreciation into outright lust. Allie didn’t have to check to see who the woman was ogling. It had to be Mr. July.

  Then she couldn’t help but peek at the calendar too. Because a gorgeous cowboy with rippling pecs was always worth a second look. She had to admit the photographer had done an excellent job capturing every definition of Carter Bass’s chest. The T-shirt wasn’t even all that tight, but it only emphasized his effortless masculinity. Too bad Carter’s personality didn’t match his appearance.

  Her eyes shot to the man standing in front of the stage. Carter was bad-boy gorgeous with a perpetual shadow on his square jaw and a hard intensity in his hazel eyes. No doubt about it, he left hearts fluttering and it wasn’t because of his success on the rodeo circuit; he hadn’t competed in months. He was also stingy with his conversation, almost bordering on rudeness. Yet he still caused a stir whenever he walked into a room.

  “I didn’t think Carter would be here tonight,” a slim woman beside Allie said. “I heard he never comes to the dances.”

  “He doesn’t,” Allie said. “But there’s no dancing tonight, just some important announcements.” And that was regretful since now she was stuck in the corner selling calendars, leaving no one by the stage who could look after the glitch-filled sound system. Although she’d probably be free soon. The calendars were disappearing like hotcakes, even in June when the year was already half over.

  “No dancing tonight?” The woman made a moue of disappointment.

  Allie felt a similar emotion but was careful to hide her feelings. Naturally dance lessons were the first to be cancelled whenever the hall was needed for other events. Still, dancing provided an outlet for guests to loosen up after a strenuous day in the saddle. A place where they could two-step and yeehaw and forget that they’d never be able to rope a steer, at least not like the champion cowboy lounging in front of the stage. Sure, dancing was a temporary fix but she’d seen firsthand how the freedom of moving to music helped the less adventuresome enjoy their stay.

 
The lady remained beside the calendar table, giving Allie time to click through her memory and match a name to the face. The aristocratic features were familiar, along with the elegant haircut and classy jewelry. This was the lady who had arrived last Friday in a black Jeep, carrying a Chanel sports purse and gripping her husband’s arm as if she were stepping into a primitive country.

  She’d obviously shopped for clothes suitable for a ranch vacation. However her beautiful leather boots had chafed her toes after only an hour in the dance hall. Her husband had been concerned they’d miss their upcoming trail ride and gave effusive thanks when Allie provided ointment, bandages and most importantly, reassurance. After that, the woman had stopped complaining even though she was clearly more accustomed to ballroom dancing than kicking up her heels to a spirited country song.

  Trina Kramer was her name, Allie recalled, and her husband was Dwight. They’d only been married for two years and were still in the first bloom of love. For the last three nights the couple had shown up at the hall, holding hands and dancing every waltz. Trina was from Seattle and had confided she was more comfortable in the dance hall than anywhere else on the sprawling property.

  “Unfortunately there’ll be no dancing for the next few days,” Allie said. “Maybe not until the end of the week when Man Tracker is over.” She made a mental note to double- check the website and make sure all activities had been properly updated. Most of the events in the dance hall revolved around interviews of past Man Tracker contestants.

  Trina gave another little pout but didn’t seem too disappointed. “Is Man Tracker where a couple of people are given a map and a head start?” she asked, glancing back at the stage. “And mounted cowboys hunt them down?”

  “That’s right,” Allie said. “Carter and Monty will be chasing this month’s contestants, and it’s often quite a marathon. But our staff are like bloodhounds. They usually catch them before the time is up.”

  Although this time she wasn’t certain the pursuit would be as successful. Monty was an experienced tracker but his regular partner, Kate, was on her honeymoon. This would be Carter’s first time on Man Tracker. He might have won top All-Around Cowboy three years in a row, but riding and roping weren’t the only talents a tracker needed. There was no way he’d be as good as Kate. No way.

  Allie’s gaze shot back to the front of the room. She was curious how Carter was handling all the attention. He never spoke to the guests outside of his roping lessons and surprisingly, didn’t take any advantage of his looks and fame. In fact, he didn’t mingle with fellow employees at all, except for a few select wranglers. She assumed he didn’t enjoy crowds. But if he were uncomfortable, he hid it well. He stood patiently still, a half smile on his face, arms hanging loosely next to that magnificent chest, in stark contrast to Monty who was nervously fingering his hat.

  She gave herself a silent poke: Who was she to imagine the great Carter Bass ever feeling less than confident? And why did she have to keep staring at the man?

  “Anyway,” she said, pulling her gaze back to Trina, “for now the evenings are reserved for Man Tracker promotion. But possibly I could arrange some dance events in the barn if you’d like.”

  “I bet my husband would enjoy a contest like Man Tracker,” Trina said, ignoring Allie’s invitation. “He loves a challenge, and it would keep him busy while we’re here. How does he sign up?”

  “Unfortunately it’s booked all summer since applicants need time to prepare. They need to be in top physical shape.” And famous too, Allie thought. “It’s also a requirement they work in pairs. Maybe you and Dwight could keep it in mind for next year.”

  “No, thank you.” Trina gave an exaggerated shudder. “This type of vacation is Dwight’s idea. I’m only playing along, just trying to keep him happy. Like you do with the guests.”

  Allie gave an appreciative smile. She took her job seriously and always tried to make guests happy, especially ones like Trina who initially felt out of place. And to have it remarked on always felt good.

  “You know what I mean,” Trina went on. “Men just want us to look pretty, smile and dress the part. As long as we’re a good sport, we don’t really have to do anything.”

  Allie’s smile froze, but she hid her hurt as Trina fluttered her hand in a wave and turned away. She didn’t intend to let the woman’s comment bother her. Trina had no idea how hard she worked. And of course she wore flashy western clothes and a bit of makeup; it was important to her ranch career that she look her best.

  On the other hand, she didn’t really have a career. Her job title changed with the season: dance instructor, lifeguard, babysitter, conference host, bartender. Actually, if she were being honest, her job changed daily depending on her boss’s whim. She shifted on the chair, hit with an odd discontent.

  Six years at the ranch. And what had she achieved? Other than Monty and the cook, most employees didn’t stay for long. Either they were promoted to more responsible positions or they moved on. But an eight-month publicity program didn’t qualify her to do much on a dude ranch. She’d never be able to gallop a horse or rope a cow or survive in the bush like her best friend Kate. She’d never even gone camping and the only time she’d slept outside was when one of her mother’s boyfriends kicked her out of the house.

  Allie’s boss said she was good with people and that she relied on her to keep guests happy. But anyone could do that. As Trina had so bluntly stated, the only things necessary were boots and jeans and a friendly smile, so that she met their expectations of a cowgirl. In reality, Allie barely knew the front of a horse from the back.

  She straightened the pile of calendars, impatient with her mood. She’d never thought much about her position until Carter Bass had sauntered into her life. Last fall, she’d simply been happy to welcome him to the ranch and tried to make sure he felt at home.

  She always organized a special get-together for new hires, and for Carter she’d coaxed the cook into baking a cake cut in the shape of a cowboy. The ranch was fortunate to find such a famous employee and it was a bonus that he was young and attractive. Staff weren’t allowed to date, but they all lived together in the dorms and it was fun to have new wranglers around to add some spice.

  But from the beginning, Carter’s disinterest in the employees in general—and her in particular—had been obvious. His eyes had flickered over her in cool dismissal and they hadn’t warmed since. Occasionally she’d even caught him studying her with open hostility.

  At first, she’d been baffled by his reaction, then hurt. She wanted newcomers to feel part of the ranch family and knew what it was like to be stuck on the outside. But despite her many attempts, Carter remained aloof. The last straw was when she’d spent hours organizing his fan mail and he’d dumped it in the garbage, right in front of a guest she’d brought over for his autograph. Granted, it turned out the woman had mainly been interested in knowing him on a more intimate basis, and possibly he’d sensed that. Still, being rude to Allie might be acceptable but never to a paying guest. After that incident, she quit trying to be friendly.

  Luckily their paths rarely crossed. They presided over completely different territories. She avoided the barn and horse corrals—they were far too isolated for her liking—and he shunned the pool and dance hall. They even ate their meals at different times since he rose before the crack of dawn while she worked well past midnight and skipped breakfast. Admittedly, he was magazine gorgeous but in her opinion he was a poor employee for a service industry.

  Somehow though, he’d managed to impress their boss during his brief employment, and now he was here, swaggering around in the dance hall as if he owned the place. That rankled. Because as usual, he’d strode past her as if she were invisible. And no matter that she pretended not to care, his rudeness hurt. Even professional courtesy was beyond him.

  Although maybe that was the problem. She wasn’t a professional while he was an accomplished rodeo star who didn’t have to make a bit of effort—with anyone.

 
She jammed her hands in her pockets, disheartened that her success on the ranch relied on a cheery smile while Carter’s roping classes were chronically full, despite his reserve that bordered on rudeness. Men signed up so they could brag that they’d been taught by Carter Bass himself while most women signed up to flirt, even though by all reports he never indulged anyone.

  Two teens squeezed up to the table, grabbing her attention.

  “Charge all these to my room,” the first girl said, scooping up the remaining calendars. She flipped one open, her mouth flattening in displeasure. “This month is blank,” she said. “Why isn’t it autographed?”

  “My oversight,” Allie said, guessing there was only one signature the girl truly cared about. She glanced across the crowded room, surprised to catch Carter’s intent stare. For a moment their eyes locked. She gave him a cautious smile but he dismissed her with a turn of his head. Once again, superior to the occasion, to the guests, to her. What an ass.

  She glanced back at the teenagers. “Sorry, ladies. I should have realized guests would want the cowboys’ signatures. But most of the guys are here tonight so this is the perfect time to grab their autographs.”

  “Really?” The girl pivoted, fluffing up her hair and peering hopefully at Carter. “Do you think he’ll mind?”

  “Not at all,” Allie said. “That’s why the cowboys are here, to mingle with the guests. Here,” she added, rummaging in a box for some extra pens. “You can pass these around to your friends in case they also want signed calendars.”

  The teen grabbed a handful of pens and bolted toward the front of the hall, followed closely by her giggling friend. Seconds later the stampede started and a line formed in front of Carter, with fans ranging in age from a white-haired lady to her spunky granddaughter.

  Monty edged away, quickly distancing himself from the herd of femininity. Carter would have to be polite to the guests now, Allie thought. If he couldn’t force himself to be civil, maybe he’d realize he didn’t fit into life at the ranch. It wasn’t as if the other wranglers couldn’t ride and rope. They just weren’t as famous...or attractive. But they were far more pleasant. And the ranch’s success depended on keeping guests happy.