Along Came a Cowboy Read online

  Not until he turned his attention back to Janet could she take a gulp of air. But it wasn’t normal breathing. It was fast and shallow and she was intimately aware of his proximity, so close her skin still felt hot, as if it were too tight for her body. Now she understood why he didn’t bother making nice. With a look like that, all he’d have to do is lift an eyebrow and he could have any woman he wanted.

  And it was abundantly clear why Sharon wanted to lock up his photo rights. If they could capture that masculine image, the raw desire on his face after looking at Janet, the ranch calendars would make every woman’s heart pound with hope.

  Just as hers was doing now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Allie fumbled for her phone on the night table, struggling to stop the beeping alarm. Obviously she’d set her alarm for the wrong time. The inky blackness of her room proved it was too early to get up. She didn’t work in the kitchen, or with the horses, so she could enjoy the luxury of sleeping in—one of the perks of working late at the dance hall ...except she wasn’t working at the hall.

  Groaning, she managed to shut off her cell phone before flopping back on her bed. Though never very alert in the morning, she remembered her dance lessons had been cancelled. And she did have to get up early. Worse, last night, she’d decided a good assistant would rise a full hour early and set up the roping dummies.

  That didn’t feel like such a good idea now. Carter probably wouldn’t even appreciate it. She snuggled back beneath the covers, deciding that guests wouldn’t mind waiting a bit. If someone complained, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Sharon was astute enough to judge a comment about lack of attention for what it really was, a piqued guest wanting more of a gorgeous cowboy’s time.

  Still, there had been more than one complaint yesterday. And Carter had wasted valuable teaching time helping her move the bales. If she were too slow today, he might feel obliged to help her again, making those guest complaints her fault. Unfortunately he’d rejected her suggestion about setting up the bales early, along with having coffee available. But if he weren’t successful on Man Tracker, he’d be evaluated on his value as an instructor. And Sharon gave considerable weight to guest feedback when deciding which employees to keep over the long winter.

  Allie always felt bad when employees were fired. It wasn’t just the loss of a paycheck, but a home. Despite Carter’s prickly personality, she could understand his appeal to the guests, his value to the ranch. And if it was in her power to help any co-worker, she would never just stand back and do nothing.

  Once she made the decision to rise, it didn’t take long to get ready. She had her hair and makeup routine down to seven minutes flat, and that included mascara and lipstick. When she was nine, it had always taken much longer to get it right, to her mother’s great disappointment.

  “You look a mess, Allie. Go back upstairs and pretty yourself up, before your father sees you,” she’d say.

  He’s not my father, Allie had thought. Her “father” changed every year, sometimes every month. But she never said a word. Arguments only caused more conflict, and she didn’t want the new man to walk out. Her mother was much nicer when she had a boyfriend.

  Brushing aside the memories, Allie recapped her mascara—the one guaranteed to last eighteen hours—and selected a lavender cowboy hat to match her shirt. She angled it on her head, adjusting her ponytail to a comfortable position before stepping out.

  The air was still crisp but already a comforting number of people were heading toward the dining hall. The sun hadn’t poked over the ridge yet, but she recognized several wranglers simply by the shape and set of their hats. Their greetings were surprisingly cheerful, despite this ungodly hour.

  Pete, the good-natured cowboy from Australia, accompanied her into the dining hall, holding open the door and then pouring her some coffee. Although her stomach wasn’t ready for food, it was pleasant sitting with the wranglers, watching them dig into scrambled eggs and flapjacks while they talked about last night’s bonfire, the new horse that had shipped in, and the latest football scores.

  The cook shuffled over, her voice slightly accusatory. “I didn’t expect to see you this early, Allie. But I just stuck a batch of bread in the oven. I’ll bring it to your table once it’s ready.”

  Allie rose and gave the woman an affectionate hug. Cookie was outwardly gruff but treated her more like a favorite niece, always making sure Allie had fresh cornbread with extra huckleberries. Usually though, it served as lunch.

  “I’m helping out with an early bird class that needs some prep,” Allie said. “So I can’t wait. But probably everyone there would enjoy your cornbread.”

  “Then I’ll send it over to the dance hall. Coffee, muffins and cornbread. What time do you want it?”

  “Six-thirty,” Allie said. “But it’s for a roping class in the arena by the barn.”

  The cook looked momentarily puzzled then nodded. “Don’t get hurt,” she warned, before shuffling back to the kitchen.

  Allie picked up her mug and drained her coffee. She wasn’t going to get hurt. In fact, she was looking forward to throwing a rope and showing Carter how much she’d improved. And he’d have to be pleased when he arrived and saw that the roping dummies were already set up. If the scruffy cat wasn’t sleeping in the wheelbarrow, she’d finish extra quickly and have time to relax and enjoy a proper breakfast.

  She detoured over to the discarded plates and scooped some bacon and eggs, along with cold cornbread, into a napkin. Maybe she could soften up the cat with a little treat. She could probably make him move, but if the cat left the wheelbarrow on his own, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about taking his bed.

  She swept from the dining hall, cradling the napkin of leftovers, buoyed by her careful planning. With refreshments arriving a full half hour before the roping class began, she’d also have time for another cup of coffee. Carter might not think the food was necessary, but he probably hadn’t even read the instructor guidelines. Guests were always happy to take a break and rarely left bad reviews if they were well fed, regardless of the lesson quality.

  The sun had risen while she was in the dining hall and already wranglers were moving horses from the pasture and barn to the holding pens. The arena was empty though and clearly there wouldn’t be a problem snagging a wheelbarrow. There were several parked by the door.

  She checked each one, rather disappointed when she didn’t see the sleeping cat.

  “What are you doing down here? Need any help?”

  She recognized the Aussie accent and turned toward Pete. He was leading three horses from the barn. The animals towered over her and she edged back before they stepped on her toes.

  “No thanks,” she said. “I’m just setting up for a class.”

  “Great,” he said. “I love a barn dance. Be sure to save me a waltz, or ten.” He shot her a flirtatious wink as he passed.

  Everyone assumed all she did was dance. She opened her mouth to correct him—to say she was actually helping with the roping class—but he and the horses had already disappeared around the corner.

  It would have been comforting if he’d stayed and talked a little. She wasn’t used to being alone in this area and the sheer quiet was unnerving. There was no music, no chattering guests, very little sound at all, just some birds chirping and a persistent fly that buzzed around her hair. If she really strained, she could hear voices from the holding pens, and their muted conversation made her feel better.

  She picked up the handles of the closest wheelbarrow and pushed it through the doorway, slowing to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. All the stalls were empty. This building was also used for hay storage and the occasional barn dance, and it was rather creepy without animals or people. Yesterday, Carter and the guests had been close by. Right now though, the entire area seemed deserted.

  “Good morning,” she called. Nobody answered. Not even a horse poked its head over a door. Fortunately the roping dummies were in the same spot as before, not far from the wide entrance and alongside the stacks of hay. She maneuvered two bales into her wheelbarrow, considered adding a third but elected to keep her load light. She had plenty of time before guests would arrive.

  Movement flashed, making her jump. But it was only the cat, tail twitching as he leaped to the top of a bale. He didn’t look like he was about to scratch or hiss, but he definitely glared as if she were intruding.

  She pulled out the food scraps and knelt down, breaking up the bacon in smaller pieces and laying them out in an attractive smorgasbord.

  The cat watched, unimpressed.

  “It’s okay. The food’s all yours.” She pushed it a few inches closer. “Eat whenever you want.”

  His nose started twitching, along with his crooked tail. He leaped down from the hay and stuck his face over each morsel, inspecting the offerings. Finally he ate. Surprisingly, he liked the cornbread the most, preferring it to the omelet and bacon and he seemed to seek out the huckleberries. Best of all, he was purring and that contented sound, coming from such a scary-looking cat, made her feel just as good as when she helped a disgruntled guest.

  “I’ll bring leftovers again,” she promised. He might also appreciate a little cream. If the coffee arrived before the students, she’d try to find out. Judging from his hiss yesterday, he didn’t tolerate strangers but from the look of his scars, he was wise to have trust issues.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Allie leaned against the fencepost, savoring the food that had been delivered from the kitchen. She and the cat were having a fine breakfast, munching on cornbread and sipping coffee. Technically, she was drinking the coffee while the cat was lapping up the cream. Best of all, Carter wasn’t around to confiscate her coffee. Even if he did show up early, it wouldn’t matter. She’d already enjoyed three cups.

  She pulled out her phone and checked the time. Six forty-five. Guests should be arriving soon. And this time they wouldn’t have to wait for Carter to set up the roping dummies. She’d already wheeled out ten bales along with the plastic steer heads.

  The cat had kept her company, watching over his cream and cornbread, while she set the bales a careful distance apart and then poked the spike of each plastic head into a bale, copying Carter’s procedure from yesterday. She also had the lariats coiled and ready, hanging over the fence posts. No one could possibly complain that his lesson wasn’t ready to start on time. The rest was up to him.

  The cat abruptly arched his back and hissed. She followed his baleful glare, surprised that guests were approaching from the horse corrals rather than the dining hall. But it was only Monty, his expression curious beneath his battered cowboy hat.

  “Having a picnic?” he asked.

  She gave a wary nod. When she’d first come to the ranch, she’d been intimidated by the taciturn cowboy. Monty had a reputation for being short with words and impatient with fools. She still didn’t know him very well as he wouldn’t be caught dead in the dance hall. But he was a skilled horseman and tracker, as well as Sharon’s top man with the wranglers. Both Kate and Cookie adored him, and that was enough for her.

  She gestured at the cat. “We’re just having a little breakfast while we wait for the guests. Would you like to join us?”

  “No, and that cat won’t be much good if his belly’s full,” Monty grumbled. “He’s already driven all my good mousers from the barn. Now it’s only him living there.”

  Allie stiffened. She hadn’t realized she was doing something wrong but Monty was obviously displeased. Perhaps she should have realized the cat’s job was to control the rodent population. But it felt good to do something kind, especially down by the barn where she really didn’t know how to help.

  “Don’t touch him,” Monty added. “Especially if he’s hissing. You’ll only get scratched.”

  She’d never had a cat before, never had a pet of any kind, but she knew better than to pat a hissing cat. Besides, the cat was friendly now and she’d already patted him several times, enough to feel his ribs. So she intended to bring him regular meals, whether Monty liked it or not. Although it would be better if the man was in agreement.

  “Well,” she said, shooting Monty her most charming smile. “I was worried because he’s thin and seemed hungry. I’d like to keep feeding him a little bit. Besides, who can resist Cookie’s cornbread?”

  Monty’s expression softened. Allie had guessed the mention of the cook would help. The two were longtime friends, and Cookie had confided that they were also longtime lovers.

  “Carter makes sure that cat is fed so you don’t have to worry none,” Monty said. “I heard Sharon wants you to take pictures of the Man Tracker contestants?”

  Allie nodded, relieved she’d sidetracked him before he forbade her from feeding the cat.

  “Then you better go easy on that coffee,” Monty went on. “Cattle are a couple miles out.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, but she gave another agreeable nod.

  “I didn’t even know you could ride,” Monty said. “I know some of the boys wanted to teach you but you were always too busy. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Sharon for some spare time. You’ll never get it otherwise.”

  “I rode once before,” Allie said, crossing her arms, uncomfortable with any criticism of her boss. “That was enough.”

  He gave her a sharp look but voices grabbed their attention. He backed up a step then turned and headed toward the corrals, clearly wanting no part of the approaching guests. Monty had too much status to ever teach lessons. His job would begin tomorrow when Man Tracker started.

  The cat skittered behind the fencepost, uneasy with strangers but reluctant to leave the food. Allie made a reassuring sound then recognized Dwight and Trina and called out a greeting. Not surprising, Dwight seemed more eager than his wife. Yesterday, he’d been the only guest already proficient with a rope and he was a man who enjoyed showing off his skills.

  “Good morning,” Trina said, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the breakfast table. “That looks great. Is the food here today because the contestants are joining us?”

  “We just thought it would be nice for everyone to have a coffee if they wanted one,” Allie said.

  “No time for coffee.” Dwight pushed past his wife and scooped a lariat off the post. “Let’s get this show on the road so we can do something more challenging. I like roping real animals, preferably ones that move.”

  “Dwight’s good at this outdoor stuff,” Trina said, giving her husband an adoring smile. “Last night he won the axe throwing contest and also placed in the skeet shooting finals. So he’s impatient with this beginner work.”

  Allie gave an understanding nod, doubly glad she’d arrived early to set things up. Even Carter wouldn’t object when he realized the time she’d saved and how welcome the coffee made guests feel. Dwight might even prefer to leave this lesson and go on horseback with the wranglers. The man seemed accustomed to having things his own way, and no one wanted to waste their time in a lesson they didn’t need.

  He was already spinning the rope over his head, leaving the air so turbulent it lifted Allie’s hat. She tugged it back down and edged away, uneasy with his proximity. Trina also looked startled and stepped closer to the fence.

  “Please practice your swing in the arena, Dwight,” Allie said. “Away from the coffee table.”

  He ignored her. His revolutions were speeding up, the rope whipping around his head and then around his hip. Even she could admire his dexterity. He wasn’t nearly as good as Carter. But he was pretty darn good.

  “Best to let him be,” Trina whispered. “He’s been feeling cooped up from working in the office.”

  That may be, Allie thought, but the man was a blatant show-off, and she wasn’t going to let this continue. “Move into the arena now,” she repeated.

  But Dwight ignored her. It didn’t help that other guests were wandering up and admiring his skill. The cat decided there were far too many people around and bolted toward the barn. Dwight’s whirling rope rose over his head, quickening its circles. He suddenly extended his arm and the rope shot forward like a missile.

  Someone gasped and Allie realized it was her. She stared, horrified, as the rope sailed over the cat’s head, slammed into the ground and missed him by inches. The frightened cat skittered sideways then ducked beneath the barn.

  “I knew that cat would run,” Dwight said triumphantly. “Almost caught it.”

  “You idiot,” a female voice snapped. “You could have killed it. Who’s in charge here?”

  Allie turned, still speechless from the near disaster. Janet Bailey stood ten feet away, hands on her hips, her voice accusing. Her partner, Rebecca, stood beside her. Both Olympians stared with a look of disgust but it was Rebecca who was shaking her head at Dwight.

  Allie opened her mouth to speak.

  “I’m in charge.” Carter’s calm voice sounded behind her. He strode over and plucked the lariat from Dwight’s hands. “These ropes shouldn’t have been put out yet, my mistake.”

  Carter didn’t look at Allie but she could hear the anger in his clipped voice. She’d never considered how tempting it would be for guests to pick up a rope and start swinging. She certainly hadn’t kept control of the situation. And she couldn’t let him take responsibility for her mistake.

  “It was my mistake,” she said. “I put the ropes out before Carter was here.”

  “Mistake or not, we don’t condone roping animals,” Rebecca said, her voice turning amused as she studied the steer heads. “Even plastic ones. So let’s forget this incident and just move away from the lariats.”

  “She’s right,” Janet said. “Animal rights people would never condone roping. I don’t want any pictures taken here. And like I told Sharon last night, I want all my photos on horseback.”