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The Texan's Little Secret
Barbara White Daille


Hiding The TruthComing home might be the worst decision Carly Baron has ever made. Each minute on her family's busy ranch is one minute closer to seeing him–her first love–the man who broke her heart seven years ago. While coming face-to-face with Luke Nobel again brings back painful memories, Carly quickly realizes there are other strong feelings just under the surface….Luke would be a lot better off if Carly had stayed away. Being a single dad to an adorable two-year-old girl and managing the Roughneck is tough enough, but resisting the sparks that fly whenever he and Carly are together is near impossible. But first she must tell him her secret. The truth could heal their past…or forever destroy their chances of becoming a family.







Hiding The Truth

Coming home might be the worst decision Carly Baron has ever made. Each minute on her family’s busy ranch is one minute closer to seeing him—her first love—the man who broke her heart seven years ago. While coming face-to-face with Luke Nobel again brings back painful memories, Carly quickly realizes there are other strong feelings just under the surface….

Luke would be a lot better off if Carly had stayed away. Being a single dad to an adorable two-year-old girl and managing the Roughneck is tough enough, but resisting the sparks that fly whenever he and Carly are together is near impossible. But first she must tell him her secret. The truth could heal their past…or forever destroy their chances of becoming a family.


“Okay, what body part do you rely on most when you’re riding a bull?”

Carly braced her hands on either side of her, just inches below her belt. “Right here. It’s all in the hip action.”

Smiling, Luke leaned forward, till their lips almost met. “Well, now,” he breathed, “you are…absolutely…wrong.”

“What?” She recoiled in astonishment and almost toppled off the fence.

He grabbed her around the waist to brace her, then took her hands and placed them on her thighs. He pressed his hands flat atop hers, his warm palms covering her fingers.

“Not the hips, Carly. A little lower. Here.”

He rested his hands on her knees. Then he slid his palms upward again. A bolt of heat shot through her.

When he’d reached the midpoint of her thighs, he paused. “This is what’ll keep you hanging on tight.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Her voice sounded too shaky.

Now she was sure he would make his move. Instead, he simply stepped back, leaving her to stand, stunned, on legs shakier than her voice.


Dear Reader (#ulink_2f6bb700-e9bd-500e-a429-44c110c99bc9),

One of my favorite story lines is a second chance at love, in which a hero and heroine—often with a troubled history together—split up but meet again years later. They long to triumph over whatever drove them apart, yet their conflict hasn’t resolved itself. In fact, things have gotten worse.

That story line definitely fits Luke Nobel and Carly Baron. An argument and mutual pride once forced them to go their separate ways. Now Carly has come back home to find Luke managing her family’s ranch. Instantly, their old attraction sparks to life. But Carly’s hiding a secret she can never tell Luke….

I’m proud to have this book be part of a Mills & Boon American Romance continuity, in the lineup between such wonderful authors as Trish Milburn (The Texan’s Cowgirl Bride, July 2014) and Pamela Britton (The Texan’s Twins, September 2014). It has been a great pleasure to work with all the authors and editors involved in the series.

I hope you enjoy The Texan’s Little Secret. I’d love to hear what you think about the story and to stay in touch. You can reach me at: P.O. Box 504 Gilbert, AZ 85299 or through my website: www.barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com). You can also find me on Facebook, www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille (http://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille), and Twitter, twitter.com/barbarawdaille (http://twitter.com/barbarawdaille).

All my best to you.

Until we meet again,

Barbara White Daille


The Texan’s Little Secret

Barbara White Daille




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_818d3411-96de-53c7-a426-c937a1de6873)

BARBARA WHITE DAILLE lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest, where they don’t mind the lizards in their front yard but could do without the scorpions in the bathroom.

A writer from the age of nine and a novelist since eighth grade, Barbara is now an award-winning author with a number of novels to her credit.

When she was very young, Barbara learned from her mom about the storytelling magic in books—and she’s been hooked ever since. She hopes you will enjoy reading her books and will find your own magic in them!

She’d also love to have you drop by and visit with her at her website, www.barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com).


To Kathleen Scheibling and Johanna Raisanen

Thank you for your support of my writing

and for always helping to bring out the best in my books.

And, as always and for everything, to Rich.


Contents

Cover (#uebef77b5-aa4c-5e00-8a92-637c303a8b14)

Back Cover Text (#u1dbaa4ea-0c44-543e-a719-fd269fa895ca)

Introduction (#u5a0a8145-bf8c-58f9-9a0a-3be5ec539c4f)

Dear Reader (#ue54d0a14-32de-5114-bcd1-b2d2f0f8bfc2)

Title Page (#ued81880e-1657-55c6-95a5-ca2eb03f4f44)

About the Author (#u0f2ce788-c539-5d99-b354-8b29f3cbb918)

Dedication (#u2384942d-8f7f-587f-89fa-d7bed5f25fdc)

Chapter One (#u4fe4c400-5551-50f6-a605-acd6c3dd46f0)

Chapter Two (#uc55b0b7d-386d-50e9-9ea3-e0c5c0410e3f)

Chapter Three (#u9d02ab5d-3e68-5bfb-9295-645e5689afc1)

Chapter Four (#ua9ed73e4-dd0c-54ea-9a6e-01e6508f08c2)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_48c880dc-4040-592e-8da4-9c1e53239b49)

It didn’t take Carly Baron long to figure out coming home to the Roughneck just might have been the worst decision she had ever made.

Every minute she stayed on the ranch, every second spent in her family’s farm store, every moment anywhere near her dad pushed her closer to a confrontation with his ranch manager, the one man she never wanted to see again.

At the worktable in the back room of the Peach Pit, her thoughts shifted from the images she’d rather forget to the cartons she was filling with jars of preserves. She’d spent days out here at the store helping with new orders and most of this afternoon lending a hand to package them up. Finished with the final carton, she slapped the top of the box. “That ought to get these to their destination in good shape.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally done,” her older sister Savannah said. “I owe you, Carly. I’ve been so wrapped up in day-to-day business lately, I let the plans for expansion slide. That was a brilliant idea of yours for the targeted ad. This was my biggest order yet.”

“No big deal.” Carly shrugged. “Marketing 101. I need to get some use out of my degree. Selling Western wear wasn’t exactly part of my five-year plan when I got out of college. And I’m glad you stuck to your guns about the store.” The Peach Pit offered fresh produce and baked goods made from peaches and pecans grown on their farm, part of the Baron family’s ranch.

Turning the small roadside stand into a full-fledged store had been Savannah’s idea, one she had managed to implement and keep going despite resistance from their dad. Brock Baron never liked the thought of sinking capital into any endeavor he didn’t control himself. His focus was—and always would be—on their North Texas ranch and on Baron Energies, the oil company he ran from the executive offices in a downtown Dallas high-rise.

“Daddy’s got to see that this farm store’s a little gold mine,” she assured Savannah.

“Well, it’s nowhere near there, yet. But it has the potential. Thanks to the ads, we’ve now got almost more orders than we can handle.”

Carly put the tape dispenser back into its spot on the shelf and rested her hips against the worktable. “Speaking of orders, it’s probably time for me to head back to the house to get mine.”

Savannah shook her head. “And I’m sure Dad will have an entire list. You know we were all thrilled to have you come to visit a couple of months ago when Lizzie was in the hospital. But I’ll confess we were overjoyed when you decided to come back again to stay for a while.”

“I’ll bet.” Unwilling to think about her reasons for not returning to the ranch, Carly focused on what had finally brought her home—she was here to play nursemaid.

Seventy years old and as bullheaded as ever, Brock Baron also couldn’t accept that the time had come for him to give up rodeoing and just let his kids continue to carry on the family tradition. His last seniors’ event had left him with a broken leg and more aches and pains than he would ever admit to. Now, his enforced inaction was giving everyone else major headaches. “He was driving y’all nuts from the beginning, I’m sure.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement. Lucky for us, you’ve always been able to stand up to him.”

“Another understatement.” She’d be the first to acknowledge she had more than a little of their dad’s hardheadedness in her.

They both laughed.

“Really, though,” Savannah said. “How are you holding up?”

“Just fine. But I have to say, now that Daddy’s reached the point he can get around by himself in that wheelchair, it’s nerve-racking. I can never tell where and when he’ll turn up in the house.”

“Trust me, I know. It’s only the fact he can’t travel too far with it that’s keeping me safe here at the store.”

They smiled at each other.

Carly pushed away from the workbench, and Savannah reached out, surprising her with a hug. Her next-to-oldest sister had always been the quietest of the three girls in the Baron family.

“As much as I appreciate all your help this week,” Savannah said, “I’m even happier just to have your company.”

“Same here.” To her surprise, she meant it. With a family of six kids, four of Brock’s own and two stepsons, she had grown up lost in the middle of the crowd. Somehow, she had felt cut off from her sisters long before she’d left the Roughneck for college. With another young stepson of Brock’s added to the mix shortly after that, the situation hadn’t improved at all.

She still sometimes felt lost around the family but, on her past few visits, she had enjoyed spending more time with Savannah. “It’s my pleasure to help you out here.” She shook her head and laughed. “I need to do some manual labor. Sitting around the house is turning me soft. I can feel myself losing muscle tone.”

“You’re entitled to time off from babysitting Dad, you know. Don’t you have any events coming up?”

Carly shook her head. “Not right away.” They both barrel raced, though her sister made it out on the circuit less frequently than she did. “And I’m thinking of taking a break from racing, anyhow.” Lately, it had become harder and harder for her to ramp up the enthusiasm for rodeo.

Or for anything else.

She forced a grin. “But enough about me. I imagine you’re getting soft yourself. Although, maybe not.” Tilting her head, she looked Savannah up and down. “After all, you’re a newlywed. You ought to be getting plenty of another type of exercise to keep you in shape.”

“Carly!” Savannah’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled.

“Hey, don’t play innocent with me. You know my so-called crazy advice helped you get what you wanted.”

Otherwise known as a brand-new husband.

Savannah and their older sister, Lizzie, had both found their true loves recently. Carly swallowed a sigh. A forever relationship wasn’t in the cards for her. Not now, maybe not ever, and she’d just have to live with that. Still, she wished her sisters—wished the four of them, counting their new significant others—all the best in the world.

“Will I see you over at the house at supper?” she asked.

Savannah shook her head. “No, I’ve got a stew going in the slow cooker.”

“Smart move, moving into the apartment upstairs when Daddy expanded the building.”

“Believe me, now that he’s home full-time, I’m thanking my lucky stars I made the decision.”

“Come on, he’s not so bad.” Neither am I, even if we are like two peas in a pod. And why did she feel the sudden desire to state her case to Savannah? Getting more comfortable around her was one thing. Getting close enough to spill sisterly secrets wasn’t gonna happen. “Talk to you later,” she said, heading toward the main room of the farm store.

“Carly?”

She turned back.

“I forgive you for your smart remark about exercise, but...speaking of Travis—”

“Were we speaking of Travis? I didn’t hear anyone mention the name.”

“Stop.” Smiling, Savannah swatted her arm. Then her expression turned serious. “You haven’t asked about his progress.”

“No,” she said, just as seriously, her heart missing a beat.

Twenty years earlier, their mother had left the ranch, abandoning them all. Just this spring, Savannah had hired Travis, an old school friend and now her husband, who worked as a private detective, to track down Delia Baron. Not an easy job, as it turned out. They’d now reached the beginning of July with still no substantial developments. Or...

“Did he have luck with that connection to Albuquerque?” She hid her clenched fists at her sides and stared, waiting.

“No, it turned out to be another dead end.” Savannah sighed. “I know you’re trying not to breathe down my neck about Travis’s search, the way I’m trying not to hover over his shoulder.”

But Carly would like to hover over his shoulder. Heck, she wanted to help with the search and hurry things up any way she could.

Yes, when it came to comparing her to their dad, the apple—or maybe the peach—didn’t fall far from the tree. “Well, don’t give up,” she said, attempting to sound reassuring. “I’m sure if he just keeps digging, Travis will catch a break soon.”

Outside, sunlight dazzled her eyes before she could slip on her sunglasses, and heat seemed to haze the peach-scented air. Even with the high temperature, the short ride to the main house didn’t warrant turning on the ranch truck’s air conditioner. It would barely cool the interior before she arrived.

She left the windows open and drove slowly, appreciating the time alone. The time to breathe.

That last thought reminded her of her sister’s comments about breathing and hovering.

Savannah had assumed she’d hung back from asking questions about the search to keep from pressuring Travis. Partly true. But, for the most part, she walked around nearly biting her tongue in half to keep the two of them from guessing how eagerly she wanted results. She had her own need to find their mom and, like her reasons for staying away from the ranch, it was one her sisters and brothers didn’t know. If she had her way, they would never know.

* * *

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Carly nosed the truck into the long drive to the ranch house. The open windows caught a cross breeze, mild but welcome.

Several yards from the house, she glanced toward the barn and saw a sight she didn’t welcome at all.

Everything about her tightened—her hands on the wheel, her shoulders, her throat, her breath.

The cowboy standing in the barn doorway started toward the truck, his long legs in worn jeans eating up the space rapidly. He wore a battered Stetson, the wide brim shading most of his face, but no matter how much she tried to convince herself this was just any old cowhand striding toward her, she couldn’t believe the lie.

There was no mistaking those mile-wide shoulders or that sandy-blond hair. No mistaking the way her heart pounded.

The last time she’d seen Luke Nobel, he had turned and stalked away from her in anger, leaving her teenage heart crushed in the dust beneath his boots. To this day, she hadn’t healed right and probably never would.

She wasn’t ready for this meeting.

He wasn’t giving her a choice.

Seconds later, he halted within arm’s reach of her driver’s door, his eyes seeming to hold the power to pin her into her seat.

All these weeks of worrying, and here was the one situation she had wanted to avoid. All the years of running, and here stood the one man she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

“Carly Baron,” he said. “At last.”

His voice rumbled deeper than it had years before, coming from a chest broader and more solid than the boy’s she remembered.

“Luke.” She forced a grin. “Isn’t this flattering. Sounds like you were just waiting for the chance to run into me.”

“I figured it was bound to happen, once Brock said you’d come home again. But when I never caught sight of you, I started to wonder if he’d been hitting the pain pills too hard.”

“No pills. And, to Daddy’s dismay, we take great care in measuring out the bourbon. Also, I’m not home again. I’m just visiting.”

“The helpful daughter.”

“That’s me all over.” Her body tingled when he continued to stare. Gripping the steering wheel, she fought back a wave of disgust at herself. If she let a mere look from this man bring that reaction on, she would soon find herself in a world of hurt from him. Again.

She had parked at the wrong angle to allow for a quick exit to the house, and the truck sat too far from the road to reverse all the way down the drive. Maybe she could just back up a bit and then run over his danged toes.

The thought brought on a smile.

“Excuse me.” She shoved open the door and he jumped back.

A double dose of attitude made her stand straight in front of him. He stared back without saying a word. Let him look all he wanted. One touch, though, and she’d deck him.

The silence stretched on, till her nerves began to feel stretched thin, too. Never let ’em see you sweat, an old rodeo clown had once told her. She’d go that one better. Never let Luke see you care. She waved her hand in front of him. “Hel-loo. I’m still here. No sense trying to act like I’ve disappeared in a puff of smoke.”

“Not yet, anyhow. I was just thinking. It’s been a long time.”

“And you’ve come a long way.” If he picked up on the added meaning behind her words, he didn’t show it. Anger at his reminder of their past couldn’t quite overcome the hurt. Still, she managed to keep her voice even. “I hear you’re manager now. Daddy’s right-hand man. You finally made the connection and landed a job on the Roughneck, the way you’d always wanted.”

He got that message, all right. His jaw hardened, and his chest rose with a deep breath, as if he’d had to summon his patience.

What did he expect—that she would have forgotten the way he’d tried to use her to get a job on her dad’s ranch?

“Maybe I had other reasons for showing up that day, besides the job.”

“What reasons? Trying to win me over?” She laughed without humor. “Why bother, when you already had me where you wanted me?”

“You think that’s what it was all about? I wanted to get to your daddy through you?”

“I said that to you then, and you didn’t argue. But it looks like you found a way without me, after all.”

He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Funny. By now, I would have thought you’d grown up some.”

The pity in his tone rubbed her nerves raw. “I expected you’d have grown beyond working for my daddy.”

“A man’s gotta have a job,” he said mildly. “And I guess none of us knows what the future has in store.”

“I’m not concerned about the future, only in what’s happening today. And in making sure not to repeat the past.”

“Yeah. Well, what’s happening in my world today includes managing this ranch. I’d better get back to it.”

“That’s what Daddy pays you for,” she said, forcing a lightness that vied with the heaviness in her heart.

He touched the brim of his Stetson. “See you around.”

Not if I can help it.

He turned and walked away with enough of a tight-jeaned swagger to make her breath catch.

She leaned back against the sun-warmed truck, bombarded by memories she’d tried for so long to forget. Memories of that innocent, insecure high-school girl who always blended into the woodwork. Who had felt lost in the crowd of her own family. And who could never push away the vision of herself as a little girl her own mother couldn’t love.

At least, not enough to make her stay.

Not even being the apple of her daddy’s eye could make up for all that.

Just once, she’d wanted someone to single her out, to notice her differences, to see her as an individual, not as simply one of the Baron brood.

She had thought she’d found that someone in Luke Nobel.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. Or been so betrayed.

Pushing herself away from the truck, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him as he made his retreat. Their first meeting in seven years had gone no better than she’d expected, no worse than she’d feared.

Regardless of what he thought, she had grown up since the days they were together. Toughened up, too. And yet she wished this could be the last time she would ever see him.

All the needs and secrets and sorrows she kept from her family had to be kept from Luke, as well.

Especially from Luke.

He was a big part of the reason she had so much to hide.


Chapter Two (#ulink_bc278725-610d-59fa-9a3d-6452eb5accce)

In the foyer of the main house, Carly paused to take inventory. Her breathing had returned to its usual even rhythm. The flush of anger warming her cheeks could be attributed to the heat outside. Only her hands might give her away. They continued to shake in irritation over the meeting with Luke. Whether or not the tremble would be visible to anyone else’s eye, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t about to get caught out here, checking her reactions in the hall mirror.

After plastering a smile on her face, she crossed to the living room. Brock sat in the wheelchair with his leg extended, a file folder in his hands and papers spread across the cushions of the couch beside him.

Before she could say a word, he grumbled, “This is no way to conduct business. I ought to bring the damned desk from the den in here.”

“The boys told you they’d happily move it for you.” Her brothers would do anything to help cut down on Brock’s crankiness. Deliberately, she had just now done the opposite, giving him a chance to be contrary. Letting off some steam with her might make him ease up on the rest of the family.

Sure enough, he snapped, “Moving furniture still wouldn’t get things done properly.”

“And you probably wouldn’t be happy, anyway, unless you could spread everything across that ginormous conference table you’ve got downtown. But that’s out for now. If you’ve been listening to your doctor, you know that won’t happen for a while yet.” Lord only knew much longer she’d be needed here. How much longer she could force herself to stick around.

She picked up the edge of the afghan trailing on the floor and fluffed the pillow behind his back.

“Stop messing. This isn’t a sick room.”

“Yessir.” Biting her lip to hold back a smile, she studied him. Tall and slim, he had a vigorous head of hair, pure silver now. His eyes, bright blue against his slightly weatherworn skin, didn’t miss much. They never had.

She moved to perch on the arm of the couch. The paperwork spread below her might have started out in neat piles but now lay haphazardly across the cushions, threatening to slip to the floor. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Not unless you’ve learned how to take dictation.”

“Why, Daddy—” she batted her lashes “—I’m an expert at it. Thanks to you, I’m now dictated to on a daily basis.”

“Don’t be fresh.”

She laughed, knowing she was the only one of his kids who could get away with smart-mouthing him.

Or, usually get away with it.

Leaning forward, she kissed his temple. “You should be more grateful to have me here. Admit it. Sparring with me gives you another reason to get up in the morning.”

He grunted and turned a page in the file, but she saw the tic in his cheek and knew he had fought back a smile.

“Come on, let’s get some of your paperwork taken care of. My handwriting has to be better than your chicken scratches.” With a notepad and pencil from the desk held ready, she prepared to take notes. “Go slowly, and I’ll write in longhand.”

They went through one batch of paper after another. Carly jotted memos to be typed up by his secretary and directions to be passed along to various members of his staff, including her oldest sister, Lizzie, who had temporarily taken over as acting president of Baron Energies.

With the flood of papers finally corralled and roped into neat piles, Brock sat back and eyed her as if seeing her for the first time that day. “What are you doing around here, anyhow? Aren’t you planning to do some traveling soon?”

“Home to Houston, you mean?” she said, deliberately misunderstanding. “Are you already tired of me hanging around?”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m talking about competing. You’re keeping up with your skills, aren’t you?”

“Of course. But you know what they say about all work and no play. I’m not competing this weekend.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to sign up anywhere. Not for barrel racing, anyhow. I’m ready to give it up.”

“Don’t be absurd. You’ve barely gotten your saddle broken in.”

“You can hardly say that when I’ve been competing since the age of four.”

“Yes, and you haven’t done badly,” he said grudgingly. “You’ve got what it takes to go all the way to the top, if you’ll just settle down and focus. But you won’t get far competing only part-time.” His eyes narrowed. “And backing off isn’t going to help. You need to put everything into it if you want to be the best.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I don’t care about being the best. Maybe I’m bored.”

“Bored, hell. You can’t walk away from this—rodeo’s in your blood. In your genes.”

“I know. I didn’t say I’d give up rodeo, just barrel racing. My heart’s not in it anymore.” She made a mental bet on how long it would take him to go ballistic once he heard her next statement—probably about half a second. But it would be guaranteed to get him off her back about not competing lately. “I’m going to try bull riding.”

He barely allowed her to finish her sentence. “And do what?” he demanded, gesturing at his elevated leg. “Crack yourself up, like I did? Don’t be foolish. You leave that event to the boys and stick to your barrels.” Raising his chin, he glared at her.

She lowered her chin, so like his, and stared back.

Only the sudden rapid click of high heels on the foyer floor made her break eye contact with him.

Brock’s wife, Julieta, entered the living room. “Hello, you two. How’s the patient?”

Brock made a derisive sound.

She smiled. “Carly, I’ll take over now, if you have things you want to do before supper.” She slid the plum-colored suit jacket from her shoulders. “I’ll go up and change as soon as I run a few items of business past your father.”

Carly nodded. Julieta must have picked up on the tension in the room. She gave the woman credit for providing her with a graceful escape.

She gave Julieta credit for a lot of things. As well as being Brock’s third wife, she managed the public relations department at Baron Energies. She was good at her job, good at handling folks—and her husband. Knowing his wife went into the office every morning while he sat confined to the ranch had to help keep Brock’s crankiness level...well...cranked up. But it didn’t keep Julieta from taking care of business.

“See you in a bit.” Carly smiled at Brock in farewell. He nodded.

As she took the stairs to her room, she held back a laugh. Who knew how long that stalemate between them would have lasted if Julieta hadn’t walked in.

She didn’t care. No matter what, she wouldn’t have backed down on the statement she’d made about bull riding.

Once, she had thought she would never get enough of barrel racing, of the thrill of commanding her mount, honing her skill, increasing her speed. But since she’d left the ranch, with each year that had gone by, her interest and enthusiasm had waned by ever-increasing degrees. Though her eyes stayed on the prize, the motivating spark was gone.

And she needed a spark. A lure. A challenge. She needed something to make her feel whole again.

Like Brock, she needed a reason to get up in the morning.

* * *

“IF THIS DAMNED contraption doesn’t turn out to be the death of me, that girl will,” Brock Baron said, slapping his hand on the arm of the wheelchair.

His wife placed her briefcase next to the piles of paperwork on the couch. “And why is that?”

“She’s a worry to me in general. Always has been. You’re well aware of the reasons, including the fact she hasn’t spent more than a handful of weeks on this ranch since she finished high school.”

“A slight exaggeration.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough. But there’s no denying she’s the least settled of any of the kids.”

“She is settled, Brock. Just out of the area.”

And out of his range of influence. That didn’t sit well with him at all. Not for any of his offspring, and especially not for Carly.

Now that his being laid up had caused her to spend some time at the Roughneck again, he’d had the chance to confirm his fears. “She’s as wild as she ever was, and I don’t see her wanting to change.”

“In view of all the time you two have spent together, coming home probably hasn’t helped that.”

“Meaning what?”

“As you always tell me, she’s the child who most takes after you in temperament.”

He couldn’t deny that. To borrow a phrase, she was a chip off the old Baron block. But he’d never tell his wife—or anyone—that Carly’s ways made him hold a soft spot in his heart for her. “What are you saying?”

“I’d guess neither one of you realizes, but spending so much time together has only reinforced how alike you are.”

“And you’re insinuating that’s a bad thing?”

She laughed. “No, of course not. But considering she’s young and female, she doesn’t need to come across quite so strong on some of your traits.”

“She needs her head set on straight, that’s what she needs,” he grumbled. “Bad enough she won’t live on the ranch or work at the family business. And now there’s this damned-fool idea she’s come up with.”

“Ah. I thought I saw daggers drawn when I came in here. What is it?”

“She’s got it into her mind she wants to give up barrel racing.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You mean quit the rodeo? Now, that does surprise me.”

“No, not quit.” He could barely bring himself to share what his youngest daughter had said. “She tells me she wants to go in for bull riding.”

Julieta looked at him thoughtfully. “Why does that bother you? It’s all part of the tradition, isn’t it?”

“Not for the women of this family.”

“Maybe not originally. But times change. And it’s more common now for women to ride bulls.”

“It’s damned dangerous, that’s what it is.” He exhaled heavily. “At any rate, what’s the point of my having it out with the girl? As headstrong as she is, she’s sure to want to ride despite my arguments.”

“Or because of them.”

“That, too.” Again, he slapped the arm of the wheelchair. “And I’m going to have to do something about it.”

* * *

“YOU THINK LUKE will show up before the barbecue’s over?” Kim Healy leaned against the counter in the ranch house kitchen. Her brown eyes, opened wide, counteracted her offhand tone.

Carly shrugged. They had returned to the house for reinforcements, including another batch of the homemade biscuits that Anna, their cook and housekeeper since long before Carly had been born, had left in the still-warm oven. She looked at Kim and pointed toward the stove. “I haven’t got the first clue about Luke Nobel’s plans.”

“You would have, if you’d been back here the past couple of years.”

Carly gnawed her lower lip. Kim wouldn’t let this ride.

Every Fourth of July, Brock laid on a barbecue for his family and any of the hands who were around to attend. Once she’d heard Luke had started working on the ranch, she had deliberately begun missing the event, using her job in Houston as an excuse, even though it meant passing up Anna’s barbecued beef.

Fortunately, Anna knew her well. The casual meal always showed up on the menu during her infrequent visits.

“In all this time taking care of your dad, you must have seen Luke by now,” Kim persisted. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“Briefly.” Two days ago, and she still felt unsettled by the memory. Not that she’d need to confess that to Kim, who would already know. And she couldn’t blame Kim for her question.

They had been fast friends since second grade, when Kim had tried to take over in a kickball game. Carly had punched her lights out and, to her delight, Kim had punched back. Someone squealed about the tussle to their teacher, which resulted in Mrs. Blake’s frog-marching them to the principal. She and Kim had sat waiting in the hallway outside his office, both of them covered in dust from the unpaved playground, sporting a rapidly swelling eye and a bloodied nose, respectively, and grinning at each other.

“Briefly,” Kim repeated in a low tone, though they were alone in the room. “That one word is speaking volumes to me. And what did you speak to him about? What did he say to you?”

“Not much.” Sad, really, when she and Luke once had so much to talk about.

“He’s still single, Carly, and since there’s never any gossip floating around about his love life, that means he doesn’t have one. Which means he’s unattached. He works for your dad, he takes care of his daughter—you know Rosie’s two already, right? He helps out his mom. Once in a while he stops at the Longhorn for a couple of beers. And that’s about it.”

“Enough already, Kim.”

“Don’t you even care that he’s still up for grabs?”

“What I care about are those biscuits.” Carly gestured toward the oven again. “We’ve got a herd of hungry cowboys waiting out there.” After taking a sleeve of plastic cups from the pantry, she urged Kim toward the back door.

She couldn’t blame her best friend for her curiosity. Since that day in the schoolyard, Kim had been the one whose shoulder she’d cried on at Christmas and on her birthday, the days she had most missed the mom who’d gone away and left them all. Kim had been the friend she had ranted to a few years after her mom’s departure, when Brock had remarried. Adding her first stepmother and two stepbrothers into her life, making the family even larger, had thrown Carly into the middle of the crowd that had left her feeling so lost.

Kim was still the one she told all her secrets to.

Or almost all of them.

Outside, the ranch hands milled around the yard, already lining up for seconds at the serving table Carly and Kim had loaded down with Anna’s ovenproof dishes of ribs, baked beans and potatoes in their jackets.

At another table, her sisters presided over an assembly line of pop bottles. A few feet away, her brother, Jet, had set up the beer keg.

Kim veered toward one of the tables spread with food.

Carly walked up to Jet. “Hey, little brother.” She never missed a chance to greet him with the teasing reminder he was a year younger. “Don’t drink too much of that poison. We’ve got a date for tomorrow, remember? And when I take you on at the arena, I don’t want you claiming a handicap because you’re hungover.”

“Are you kidding? This stuff doesn’t bother me. I’ll tell you what does rile me,” he added loudly enough to make sure Savannah and Lizzie heard him. “Getting stuck with the tough job today.”

“What’s so hard about filling up a beer mug?” Carly asked.

“Filling it isn’t the problem. It’s having to hand it off to somebody else.”

She laughed. “Don’t even try for a sympathy vote from me. You’ve never in your life had to give up something you didn’t want to. I’m sure you’ll get your fill.”

“Don’t waste time worrying over it,” Savannah called to her.

“That’s for sure,” Lizzie said. “He’s already had more than his share.”

“Somebody had to taste test,” Jet protested. “Savannah didn’t want any, and in your delicate condition, Lizzie, you need to stay away from it.”

For just a moment, Carly let herself glance at her sister’s rounded stomach, where the first Baron baby of the next generation waited to make an appearance. When Lizzie caught her eye, she forced a smile. She had so much she wanted to say to Lizzie, so many questions she could never ask.

Do you worry about carrying the baby to term? Did you miss not sharing the news with Mom? Do you hate knowing you can’t turn to her for advice?

After Lizzie’s health scare early on in the pregnancy, Carly had kept those concerns and questions, those reminders of the past, all to herself. Yet they were concerns she had always wondered about, too.

Attempting to swallow the lump in her throat, she forced a smile. She moved past Lizzie’s table and continued to the one filled with plates and plastic utensils set up assembly-line style. Kim now stood talking to one of the cowhands. Carly couldn’t help but glance around the yard, looking for a familiar broad-shouldered cowboy. There were plenty of cute wranglers in the vicinity, but not the one she...wanted to avoid.

Darn Kim, anyway, for bringing up Luke’s name.

As if he hadn’t already been on her mind.

A moment later, Kim hurried up to her. “Well, don’t look now, but you’re about to get your chance to make up for that brief encounter.” Her voice practically vibrated with excitement. “You-know-who’s headed this way.”

“Knock it off, Kim. We’re not kids anymore. Grown women don’t get all excited just because there’s a man around.”

“Then why are you turning as red as you used to in high school?”

“Anger. Irritation. Pique.” She grinned. “Now, there’s a vocabulary word. You make sure and tell Mrs. Blumfeld I didn’t forget her ninth-grade English classes.” Kim’s glance past her told the truth of the matter about Luke. “He’s only headed this way for more of Anna’s barbecued beef, and the table’s almost right behind us.”

“Oh, no, he’s way past that point.”

Luke couldn’t want to talk to her. And she certainly didn’t want to chat with him. Then why did her pulse jump at the thought? Maybe because no one in the family had ever seen them together. As far as the Barons knew...well, as far as she knew they knew...she and Luke had never met each other.

And it would be best to keep it that way.

Kim carried her plate and utensils over to the next table.

“I’ll take one of those.” The deep voice gave her the clue. She didn’t need to see the cowboy’s face to know Luke had come up to stand beside her. He reached for a cup.

Her fingers tightened automatically, crinkling the wrapping.

He eyed the package. “I can skip having something to drink if you’re that attached to the cups.”

“I’m not attached to them. I’m wondering what you’re doing here.” Darn. The truth wasn’t at all what she’d meant to say.

His eyebrows shot up. “It’s a barbecue. I’ll give you three guesses.”

One of the cowboys edged by them to get to the picnic table.

Luke stepped aside, moving closer to her. Her hands clenched. The plastic wrapper from the cups crackled again. She thought about walking away. That ought to show him how little their conversation meant to her. But he stood blocking the pathway between the tables. She couldn’t pass without brushing against him. The immediate shiver of anticipation running up her spine showed just how foolish that move would be.

There was nothing behind her to give her an excuse to go in that direction. Besides, no way would she would let him—or anyone—see her run. Instead, she stood her ground, trying to ignore how awkward she felt. Trying to forget she’d experienced that same feeling the first time she’d met him. “Never mind the three guesses. I just meant you surprised me. I didn’t see you around.”

“Keeping an eye out for me?”

“Not hardly.” What was he doing, anyhow? Flirting with her? “Let me tell you, if you’re trying to act cute, you’re missing it by a country mile. And if you’re hoping to keep up appearances in front of the boss, don’t bother. He’s not looking our way.”

The cowboy who had passed them had gotten what he wanted from the table and moved on. She needed to do the same with Luke. “Oh, and if you have any idea about trying to repeat history, forget it. This time, I’m walking away. Enjoy your barbecue.”

She slipped by him, bumping her hip on the edge of the picnic table. As she had expected, in the tight space, she couldn’t avoid brushing against his arm. The warmth of his skin left hers tingling. For a moment she froze, then she pushed past him, leaving him in the dust.

She hurried to catch up to Kim.

They filled their plates and found an empty picnic bench off to one side of the yard. To her irritation, she discovered Luke hard on her heels.


Chapter Three (#ulink_af72225f-bb9c-549d-b0c5-5f46729a6366)

Kim set her plate down but didn’t take a seat. “I forgot napkins. Be right back.”

“Get some extra,” Carly called after her. She gritted her teeth and scooted onto one of the benches. Luke settled opposite as if she’d invited him to join her. “What’s this? I told you, you don’t need to make nice with the boss’s daughter.”

“I learned that lesson already,” he said in a low tone. “I was nice to you once. You threw that in my face.”

Was he trying to imply she had been the one at fault years ago? “Then I can’t image why you want to sit here. Couldn’t you find a seat anywhere else?”

“Could have. But I’m too polite to walk off in the middle of a conversation.” He paused, as if waiting for her to pounce on the statement. But she’d already made her point about his walking away from her. When she said nothing, he went on, “To tell you the truth, it’s a surprise to me, too, seeing you here, considering you don’t make a habit of attending the barbecue.”

“I try never to do the expected.”

He nodded. “Some things never change. I guess you wouldn’t be here now, either, if not for coming home to take care of your daddy.”

He sat looking at her. She stared back into those eyes that had once fascinated her. Such a unique shade of golden brown. The same amber hue as a jar of dark honey, so warm and sweet and—

Darn. She lowered her hands beneath the edge of the table and curled her fingers into fists. She had handled seeing Luke again. She could sit here pretending to have a polite conversation in front of her family. But she sure didn’t need long-forgotten memories sneaking up on her, hitting her when she was least prepared for them.

“Since we’re on the subject of surprises,” he added, “I have to say it was strange I never ran into you at any of the rodeos.”

“So sorry to disappoint you. Did you think I’d follow your career so I could hound your heels, like the rest of your buckle bunnies?”

He grinned. “You must’ve followed something, if you knew about them.”

“How could I not know?” she asked, keeping her tone as honey-sweet as his eyes. “Even the wannabe champs on the circuit have their admirers.”

And Luke had been so much more than a wannabe. A bull-riding champion, one of the youngest on record, with one of the best records in rodeo. “I kept track of you, all right. For exactly the opposite reason—to know when and where you’d be competing so I could head off in the opposite direction.”

“Then it must’ve made things easier for you when I quit rodeoing.”

“I couldn’t have cared less.” Liar. His decision might have sent a shockwave through the rodeo community, but it had sure made her life less...stressed. Until she’d found out he had taken a job at the Roughneck. “But I’ll bet it made my daddy happy to know he could have you working for him.”

To her annoyance, he grinned. “I reckon it did. I’ll tell you what’s making him happy right now. Having you around again. The rest of the family likes it, too.”

And you, Luke? Her throat tightened as she held back the question. She had no desire to think about anything happening between them. She had already spent too much time thinking about what might have been, about what she once could have had but had lost.

Her throat tightening even more at the thought, she looked over her shoulder. Her so-called best friend stood near the drinks table, hanging out with Lizzie and Savannah. Great. Kim was keeping her distance. Giving her time alone with Luke. Just what she didn’t want.

Reluctantly, almost feeling his gaze on her, she turned back. “I told you the other day, I’m only here temporarily. Just while my family needs me.”

He nodded. “Guess you’re eager to get back home. I hear you’re still living down in Houston.”

Was he keeping tabs on her? She swallowed her irritation and fought to keep her tone polite. There were too many people around for her to respond the way she really wanted to. “After college, I wanted to stay on. I like it there.” Double liar.

“What’s the attraction that’s got you keeping yourself way down there?”

“It’s only a couple of hours away. I’ve got a job. I’m in sales for a company that manufactures Western wear. It’s small, family-owned, like the Peach Pit.”

“You couldn’t get me to live in the big city. Besides, you don’t miss your folks?”

“Of course I do.”

“You don’t visit often.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love my family. When Lizzie had...a health scare a few months back, I was here on the double. But I’m happy to have a life of my own, away from the ranch.”

How many more lies could she tell in one conversation? She wasn’t happy in Houston. Far from it. But she had fought for the choice to go to school there...just as she had fought to stay. It was easier than coming home and facing everything. Her childhood. Her history. Luke.

He would never know any of that. She would tell him one truth, though. “It’s a nice feeling, knowing I can take care of myself.”

He paused with the last bite of barbecued beef sandwich halfway to his mouth, then nodded. “I can understand that. I want my daughter to feel the same way—once she grows up, that is.”

Another topic she had no desire to deal with. “I’m happy to be independent.”

His eyebrows rose. “Is that what you call cutting yourself off from family?”

“What do you know about my relationship with my family? It’s been a long time since the days I used to share my troubles with you.” All too aware of the crowd around them, she forced a smile. “And I didn’t cut myself off. I learned how to live on my own. That’s something no one can take away from me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he said softly.

Though he smiled, too, her heart skipped a beat at his suddenly bleak expression.

Unable to meet his eyes, she pushed a stray olive around on her plate with a fork and inhaled an uneven breath. She couldn’t handle seeing that unexpected touch of vulnerability in Luke’s face. She didn’t want to dwell on what had happened in his life once he’d walked away from her. Most of all, she couldn’t bear even to think about his grief over the wife he had lost or his love for the little girl he shared with that other woman.

To her relief, Kim finally returned to the table, bringing the napkins she’d supposedly needed. To her even greater relief, Luke grabbed his plate and cup.

“Take my seat,” he said. “I’ve got to be getting home.”

He nodded at them both.

Watching him walk away set off a familiar ache in the pit of her stomach.

Kim slid into the seat Luke had left. Carly welcomed the distraction, though Kim’s eyes already held questions. She would want to know what she’d missed. Carly couldn’t fault her for that. When it came to Luke, Kim had been in on the ground floor of Carly’s grand plan.

In senior year, she and Kim had both considered it a real coup for her to have snagged an “older” man, just on the verge of twenty-one compared to their eighteen. Obviously, despite knowing how hurt she had been over the breakup, her best friend believed she still had a thing for Luke.

“And, so...?” Kim prompted.

Carly shrugged. Under cover of the talk all around them, she lowered her voice and reported, “He sat. He ate. He departed. That was the extent of our big reunion, and that’s all it’s ever going to be.”

“Come on, Carly, you can’t be immune to the guy. He’s twice as hot as he was when you went with him.”

“And any interest I had in Luke Nobel cooled to sub-zero temperatures back then. It’s not like he meant a lot to me, anyhow,” she fibbed. “You know I only went out with him in the first place to try to get my dad off my back.” That had been her intention anyhow.

Too bad she had sabotaged herself.

No matter how strongly she’d objected, with graduation on the horizon, Brock had grown more adamant than ever about her taking her place at Baron Energies. At a desk job.

She had acted out, doing the worst thing she could think of—the only thing she could think of at the time—to make Brock Baron change his mind. She had dated Luke Nobel. Being an “older man” and living in a poor part of town earned an automatic two strikes against him—at least on her daddy’s list of high standards.

Yes, the perfect plan...

“But then you never told your dad anything about Luke,” Kim said. “You never told your family or anybody but me. Why not?”

Carly shrugged. For some strange reason, after her first date with Luke, her feelings about flaunting him in front of Brock and her family had done a one-eighty. “I didn’t need him for leverage anymore. I decided to get a backbone and stand up for myself, instead. I told Daddy point-blank I just had no interest in a job at Baron Energies. Then I flashed my acceptance letter from Houston at him and informed him I would be leaving town.”

Kim gasped. “You never told me that, either. How did he react?”

“As if I’d tossed a cow pie down in front of him.”

“You probably broke his heart. You should’ve listened to me about drinking and drugs. Those would’ve had your dad changing his mind altogether about wanting you on the payroll.”

And just look who he had on his payroll now.

Carly choked on a laugh. “As if you really meant the suggestions seriously.”

“You know I didn’t.” Kim sighed. “Well, I’m sorry it didn’t turn into the romance of the century. But even if you never told anyone, after all, I guess going out with Luke was better than my alternatives.”

If she only knew.

But how could she tell Kim the truth? She couldn’t explain, even to her own satisfaction, why she had suddenly felt the need to keep Luke all to herself. Instead, she had sworn Kim to silence.

Still, typical teen that she was back then, she couldn’t keep from sharing developments with her best friend.

Day by day, she had filled in every little detail of her first big romance...until the part where she and Luke slept together.

* * *

THREE LONG, LONG DAYS after the barbecue, Luke sat at the bar of the Longhorn, the local saloon. He took a deep, satisfying swallow of beer from the mug in front of him.

His mom had gone to her usual Monday-night get-together with her cronies, bringing Rosie along. The ladies all claimed to take their card games seriously, but he suspected the women paid more attention to dessert and his daughter than they did to their poker hands.

He thought about the endless weekend, starting with Friday and the barbecue he never should have gone to. Not when he knew Carly Baron was back on the Roughneck and would be there, too.

On Saturday, he’d kept busy with his men, handling the backbreaking job of clearing brush. The hard labor kept his body moving, and working with a couple of cowhands who always had their mouths in gear kept him from thinking thoughts he shouldn’t. He’d chosen to work side-by-side with those men for that very reason.

On Sunday...well, that was a mite tougher. If the Longhorn had been open, he might’ve stopped in for a brew and some company to distract him. Instead, he’d spent the slow summer afternoon with his mom and Rosie, his two-year-old daughter, who were his first choice of company, anyhow.

At least, Rosie was, always. His mom, not so much. Not when he had something on his mind. When he had worries, he also had all he could do to keep them from her sharp eyes. Somehow, yesterday, he had managed to get by without getting the third degree about anything.

And today, he’d cleared his mind of Carly again.

He intended to keep it cleared.

He breathed a sigh of relief at his own determination, took a last slug of his beer and set the empty mug back on the bar.

“Fill you up again?” the bartender asked.

Luke nodded, then watched the man walk away with the mug.

“Good service,” commented the guy a couple of stools to his right. He wore dress pants and too-shiny shoes. “Hope it stays that quick.”

“It won’t once the crowd gets here,” Luke told him. Between the locals, whose Monday-morning quarterbacking usually lasted through the evening, and the city slickers like the one next to him, who liked to live life rough in the ’burbs, the bar wouldn’t be quiet for long.

He glanced into the wall-length mirror lined with liquor bottles. It reflected most of the room as well as the Longhorn’s double glass doors, which had just opened to admit a couple of females. Familiar females. The one he took note of was hot and blonde and loaded for bear, judging by her expression when she caught his reflection in the glass.

So much for clearing his mind of Carly Baron.

“You sound like a regular,” the guy next to him said.

“I stop in once in a while.” For two or three beers, his limit. He’d come tonight more to get away from his empty house and his own thoughts than to have a brew. And now look where that idea had gotten him.

Carly wore jeans that hugged her hips and a shirt of some shimmery fabric. With every little move she made, the shirt caught the glow from the neon advertisements hung around the barroom. He tried not to follow the flashes of light in the mirror as she and her friend Kim sauntered across the sawdust-covered floor to seats at the far end of the bar.

The guy to his right gave a low whistle. “Now, there’s a real babe.”

Luke clamped his jaw shut.

Once, Carly had meant everything to him. But that was years ago, before she’d accused him of using her to get ahead. Before she’d joined the ranks of folks who didn’t believe he could succeed on his own.

Yeah, at the barbecue, Carly had hit the mark with her crack about making nice with the boss’s daughter. He had gone out of his way to talk with her, the way he stayed friendly with all Brock Baron’s kids.

But, more to the point, the truth was, he’d chatted her up to show himself he could do it and walk away again. To prove she didn’t mean anything to him anymore. And he’d done exactly that, hadn’t he? She was just another woman to him now, right?

A few people occupied stools between him and the women, but he could still see her in the mirror, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back, almost reaching the waistband of those snug jeans of hers. All too aware of his own jeans suddenly hugging tight, he shifted on his stool.

The bartender dropped off his second beer. Luke clamped his fingers around the mug. As he nursed the drink along, a steady trickle of folks filled up the rest of the space between him and the two women and overflowed onto the dance floor. Somebody fed the jukebox in one corner. In another corner, a crowd began to gather around the mechanical bull.

Over the buzz of conversation, Carly’s laugh rang out. He’d have recognized it anywhere.

“Sounds as good as she looks,” said the guy near him. “You know her?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t mind an introduction—”

Luke narrowed his eyes.

“But, uh, I’m not asking,” the other man said in a rush. “I can see that would be a waste of my time.”

Luke took a long, hard swallow from his mug. Irritation, like the guy to his right, had begun to grate on him. He wanted nothing to do with Carly.

But he needed his job to provide for Rosie and Mom.

Beer mug in hand, he rose from his bar stool.

Time to go make nice with the boss’s daughter.

* * *

IN THE LONGHORN’S ladies’ room, Carly sidled past the crowd of chattering women primping at the long counter. She found a spot halfway down the room. But as she stared into the cloudy mirror, she wasn’t seeing her reflection.

Instead, she saw Luke the day he had come to the Roughneck years ago.

He’d looked so good in his worn jeans and white shirt, so tanned and fit and strong. For a moment, that overrode her concern at seeing him on the ranch. For another moment, she couldn’t fight the tremor of excitement and disbelief running through her. Couldn’t tamp down the rush of joy at knowing he was hers.

Only a few days earlier, they had made love for the first time.

Blinking, she looked away from the mirror. As she pulled her hairbrush from her bag, someone touched her back. She moved aside, thinking it was another woman trying get by in the tight space. Instead, the touch came again.

She turned to find Kim close behind her.

“Hey.” The women around them made enough noise to cover the sound of a gunshot. Still, Kim stepped closer and muttered, “Let’s go for a walk outside.”

Carly laughed. “Kim Healy, gangster’s moll. What do you want to do, get me out in the parking lot so your boys can fit me up for cement shoes?”

Kim leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Luke’s here.”

“Is he?” She projected indifference. Heck, she pretended ignorance. The minute they had stepped into the Longhorn, she had seen those unmistakable wide shoulders and that sandy hair. “So?”

“So, I need some air.”

Kim led the way out of the room. Instead of going back to the main room, they went down the hall to the emergency exit at the end.

Outside, they walked a few feet along the side of the building. Carly settled on the low stone wall and reached behind it to pick up a couple of pebbles. “The Southwestern landscaping will come in handy for you. Don’t you have to fill my pockets with stones?”

“Carly.” She didn’t need to look to see Kim’s worried expression. “What’s going on?”

A few yards away, the Longhorn’s door swung open. Music and laughter swelled into the night.

As Kim settled on the wall beside her, Carly sighed. This conversation wasn’t going to be to her liking, she could tell.

“Inside,” Kim said, “I turned to say something to Sandra, turned back again and you were gone. So I went looking for you. Because you need to talk to me. And I’m done with sitting back and waiting for you to get to that conclusion. That’s what’s going on. Come on, girl, it’s me. Your BFF.” She gave Carly a nudge. “You do remember we’re best friends forever, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Tears made her eyes sting. “I don’t know where to start, Kim.”

“How about with the week before you and Luke had the fight?”

Now she did turn her head.

In the light of the streetlamp, Kim’s set jaw and grim expression matched her flat tone. But the glow in her friend’s eyes didn’t come from the lamplight.

“You knew something was up?”

Raising her brows, Kim looked at her without speaking.

“Sorry.” Carly stared into the distance, where the lights couldn’t breach the darkness. “There was a lot going on that week. And then, when Luke and I broke up, I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.”

“You fell to pieces,” her friend said gently. “You were good for nothing the rest of that summer, till you went away to school. And I’m worried it might happen again.”

She snapped her head in Kim’s direction. “Don’t worry. There’s not a chance of that.”

“Well, at least at this point, you’ve only started to crumble around the edges. Just enough for a BFF to notice.”

Carly gave a strangled laugh.

“You slept with Luke, didn’t you?”

Her breath caught at Kim’s outright question. At her spot-on guess. But then, Kim was no dummy and never had been. And Lord only knew, she had probably picked up dozens of clues in that one short week to tell her something momentous had happened in her best friend’s life.

Momentous, all right.

Who knew so much could have come from her one and only time with Luke?

Who knew she could have been so naive? So stupid?

“Sorry, Kim. I... It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you back then. I just needed some time.” Time to hold her secret excitement close to her heart, the way Luke had held her close to his. “I almost couldn’t believe it had happened.” She gave a derisive laugh worthy of Brock Baron. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s the way I felt.”

Special. She’d felt special when she was with Luke. As if she finally stood out from the crowd. Finally meant something to someone who wasn’t connected to her by birth or a promise between best friends. “But before I could convince myself it was real...it was over.”

“You wouldn’t have slept with the guy if you didn’t care about him, Carly. And I know how much you did. When you broke up, I let you slide with the excuse you were going off to college and didn’t want to get tied down. But I didn’t fall for it, even then. What really happened?”

The door to the Longhorn opened. A lone customer turned to go to a motorcycle parked at the opposite end of the building.

Just like that, Luke had turned and walked away from her, too. And, like the customer who revved his engine and tore out of the parking lot, he never looked back.

She swallowed. “I slept with him,” she said evenly, flushing with embarrassment over her stupidity but determined to tell Kim the truth. This part of it. “I slept with him, and three days later he showed up on the ranch. My dad was looking for wranglers, and Luke planned to use me to try and get a job at the Roughneck.”

“He wouldn’t.” Kim sounded as stunned as she had felt at the time.

“He would. I confronted him, and he didn’t deny it.” Despite her struggle to keep her words even, she could hear the strain in her voice. “He didn’t even answer me. He just turned and left the ranch.”

The door to the Longhorn opened again. A small group of women spilled out of the bar and headed toward them, laughing and lurching and passing them by with farewell waves.

She and Kim waved back.

Another woman trailed behind them, walking steadily and flashing a key ring. “Don’t worry. I’m the designated driver.”

“Good deal,” Kim said.

They sat watching the women make their unsteady way down the length of the building, trailing bursts of screechy laughter behind them. Carly felt grateful for the din. She had more to share with Kim. But not here. Not now. “Time to get back inside.” She stood. “We wouldn’t want Luke thinking the sight of him scared me away.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

Carly led the way back to the bar.

She hooked her thumbs into her belt loops. Her stomach felt calm, her nerves steady. She was a woman ready to take on the world—and Luke Nobel.

She wasn’t at all like the naive teenager of her early college days who had spent weeks in the bathroom of her dorm, dealing with morning sickness.


Chapter Four (#ulink_074cdbd6-7f3e-56e0-9dcc-4743f717987d)

Well, dang. Where the heck had the man gone?

Carly clamped her jaw, taking out her frustration on another mint.

Earlier, she had managed to keep track of Luke in the long mirror across from her. Now a slim redhead had taken the stool he had occupied just a minute ago. She leaned back on her own stool and tilted her head, trying to see through the crowd standing three deep behind her.

For all she cared, Luke could be out on the dance floor with some wide-eyed city slicker or snuggled up in a booth with a wannabe buckle bunny. It didn’t matter to her what woman had caught his attention or even what the two of them had gotten up to. The important thing was to know exactly where to find him. She didn’t want him sneaking up on her. And with her luck, that’s just—

“Hey, Carly.” Luke’s voice rumbled over all the others around them.

She looked up. His reflection stared back at her from the mirror.

He stood directly behind her, the press of the crowd keeping him so close, she would need only to lean back the slightest bit to rest against his broad chest. He could wrap his arms around her and settle his chin on the top of her head, the way he had the night they had curled up on his truck’s tailgate to watch the stars come out.

Which had led to their making out.

Which had turned into making love and changed her life forever.

She swiveled on her stool to face him. “What are you doing here, cowboy? I didn’t think ranch managers got nights off.”

“And I didn’t think you’d come back again tonight.”

“Back?”

“Yeah, I saw you take off the minute I got up from my stool. You ran like a rodeo clown tearing away from the bull wanting to stomp on his butt.”

She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, under cover of checking her surroundings. To her left, Kim sat in conversation with the woman on the other side of her. To the right, she saw only the broad back of the man on the next stool. No chance of interruptions from either of them. No interference, either.

She looked at Luke. “I wouldn’t run from a bull. That means I’d have no reason in the world to run from you.”

“Good to hear. Buy you a drink?”

She didn’t bother to look at her mug. “No, I’m fine, thanks.” She swiveled her seat again, deliberately putting her back to him.

He stepped between her stool and Kim’s to set his beer mug on the bar. His chest brushed her arm. The rest of him seemed to fill every inch of space between them. The mint between her teeth crunched to bits. She faced forward, which only made things worse. Who the heck was that worried-looking woman in the mirror?

Darn Luke. Maybe Kim hadn’t been far off the mark about her falling to pieces. Over the years, she had pulled herself together. But Luke had always had the power to make her feel...not so wild. She had to work twice as hard with him as with anyone else to keep up her pretense. And right now, she desperately needed that defense. She didn’t need to sit here with him for the time it would take to share a drink. She didn’t want to share that much more of her lifetime with him.

Still, she would never let him see her care.

“So, cowboy...” Her voice sounded much breathier than she’d intended.

As if to hear her better, he lowered his head. Her senses revved into high gear, automatically registering details. The gleam in his light brown eyes. His aftershave, something spicy with a kick to it that made her mouth water. She imagined running her fingertips down the plane of his cheek and along the line of his jaw, could almost feel the gentle scratch of golden five-o’clock shadow.

After what seemed like an eternity, he shifted to lean against the bar. And in a heartbeat, she put her defenses in place again. “So, cowboy.” She tried again. “Come here often to pick up women?”

The line wasn’t that funny, but he gave her a lopsided smile. “Every chance I get. You interested?”

“I’d rather spend time with that bull over in the corner. In fact, I plan to spend time over there.”

“With a hunk of metal? That’s got nothing on a live bull.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I damn sure wouldn’t. There’s a difference.”

“You still need to stay in the saddle.”

“True enough.” This time, his mouth curved in a full smile.

As far as she could tell, he hadn’t moved, but the space between them suddenly seemed tighter, the air in the room warmer, the lights dimmer.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

“I know I can.”

“Something besides a slow, sexy ride?”

He had asked the question straight out. No teasing, no taunting, no smile. What else could she expect from a true bull rider? A champion.

Too bad she wasn’t in his class.

The question had made her pulse jump to triple time. Her temperature seemed to spike a degree. And her irritation level for even having these reactions put her blood pressure through the roof. “Slow and sexy’s for city slickers, and you know it.” She leaned forward. In the narrow space, her shirtfront almost brushed his. Giving him the most languid smile she could manage, she added, “I like to make my rides worthwhile.”

His eyes lit with his grin. “All right, then.” He pointed in the same direction she had. “If you’re so confident you have what it takes, why don’t you mosey on over there. But if you plan to show me what you’ve got, you’ll really have to crank ’er up.”

“Watch me.” After all the stories she had told him of her childhood competitions with her brothers, he had to know how she would respond. Wild and crazy Carly would never pass up a challenge like this one. Besides, she’d had plenty of experience riding those “hunks of metal” he despised. She’d knock him off his bar stool.

Smiling at the thought, she turned sideways on her own stool. Her knees grazed his champion belt buckle. He sucked in his stomach as if she had zapped him with a cattle prod.

No matter what she’d told Kim, she wasn’t immune to Luke. The knowledge bothered her—but at least she had the satisfaction of seeing he wasn’t unaffected by her, either.

Still smiling, she went to the small table in one corner of the room. After scribbling her name on the required form, she stood aside to wait her turn.

Luke came up to join her just as a new rider straddled the bull. The crowd pressed forward, eager to watch the show. A man’s elbow caught her in the ribs. After a quick “sorry,” he turned away again.

From behind her, Luke put a hand on her shoulder. To protect her? To steady her? To keep her still so he could get a better view?

She didn’t know and couldn’t take the time to care. She was too busy fighting to ignore the heat licking low inside her.

Other riders, two or three or a dozen, took their turns in the saddle. Again, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Passing up the opportunity to check out their technique might be her downfall in the competition. But she couldn’t seem to focus.

When her name was called, Luke squeezed her shoulder lightly. He leaned down, putting his head close to hers again, and murmured, “Have at it, cowgirl.”

His voice, deep and intimate, made that lick of heat in her belly flame. But his final word turned the rest of her to ice.

Years ago, she had told Luke her secrets, her longings, her dreams, her fears. Her worries about her place in her family. Her irritation over her dad. She had loved Luke and shared everything with him. Had given him everything, too, the night she’d slept with him.

She had trusted him.

And only days later, he had come to the Roughneck, as eager to apply for a job there as she’d been to sign up for a ride on this fake bull tonight.

Daddy’s little cowgirl, he’d called her that day.

The insult and his desire to work for Brock were the worst forms of betrayal.

Now, she turned and stared at him. He stared back, making her heart skip a beat. She cursed herself for not having better control of her reactions. This man had once done her wrong, no denying it, yet she couldn’t keep from responding to him, his nearness, his smile.

“I’ll show you a cowgirl, all right,” she promised.

I’ll show you exactly what Daddy’s little girl can do.

And she did.

But the fun she’d once gotten from it had gone.

The ride was rough. She was tilted and jerked around. She fought to go the distance in front of the crowd—because that’s what Carly Baron did.

Yet none of it mattered.

Just the way her passion for barrel racing had vanished, so had her interest in riding Luke’s “hunk of metal.” Was it his scorn over the mechanical substitute that had taken the pleasure from her ride? Would mounting a real bull give that feeling back to her?

Or was riding, like her relationship with Luke, just going to be a part of her past?

* * *

“SO? WHAT DO you think?”

Luke shrugged. How the hell had he gotten trapped into this situation?

That brush of Carly’s knees against his midsection earlier had just about brought him to his knees. This time, he’d stayed two feet away, not wanting to get caught in the crush against her again. The distance didn’t help. She had resettled herself on a stool and leaned back to prop her elbows on the bar. The position tugged at the shimmery fabric of her shirt, making it gape just enough to show off a hint of twin curves and the barest edge of lace. Sexy as hell.

Then again, when he looked up, he found her wide blue eyes and full lips just as much of a turn-on. The sight brought him right back to the day he’d met her and seen the shy, insecure girl hiding behind the wild child she’d pretended to be.

She stared at him, her brow crinkled, waiting for his answer, which he would happily provide...as soon as he could recall her question.

After a minute, his brain cells finally kicked in again. She wanted his opinion on her ride. “You cranked the machine up high enough,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll give you that.”

“What about form? I get points for that, too. And, not to mention, for staying in the saddle twice as long as anyone else.”

He shrugged. He hadn’t been impressed. At least, not by her ride on the bull. Had to admit, though, he’d liked the way her long blond hair tumbled around her shoulders—just the way it had the night they’d made love in the back of his truck.

“Well?” she demanded.

He cleared his throat. “You had some techniques down. I’ll throw in points for that, too. But you put about as much of yourself into the ride as Rosie needs to when I cart her around in her little red wagon. As in, none. Nada.”

She glared at him. “Who has time for self-expression when they’re in the saddle? Besides, bull riding’s not an art form.”

“Maybe not. But there’s a lot more to it than just putting your hands in the right places.”

The dim light from the bar couldn’t hide the flush that tinged her cheeks. She took a long swallow from the beer he’d bought her.

He wished he’d thought to get another for himself. It had gotten hot in here all of a sudden. With one finger, he loosened his shirt collar. He hadn’t intended a double meaning to his words, but man, had he ever hit the bull’s-eye with that statement.

Carly had all the right curves and, once upon a time, his hands had found all the right places.

The thought immediately registered on another of his body parts. As if she’d read his mind—or seen something he sure as hell didn’t want her noticing—she slammed her mug on the bar. “Thanks for the beer.”

Before he could blink, she slid from the stool.

Dang.

He dug into his jeans pocket for a few bucks to toss beside her empty mug. Damned near hobbling, he hurried across the room.

She’d already exited through the double doors. Outside, he found her standing at the corner of the building, glaring in the direction of the parking lot.

“Need a ride home?” he asked.

“Got that covered.” But she wouldn’t look his way.

A sudden suspicion hit him. “Where’s your ride?”

She glanced toward a vacant slot close to the edge of the parking area and quickly away again, but he’d already gotten his answer. “You didn’t drive, did you? Kim’s your ride. And she left a while ago.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “You can bet she’s not going to hear the end of that.”

“Then I’ll take you home. My truck’s right here.” He pointed a few spaces away from the vacant slot, to where he’d parked his silver pickup. The same pickup he’d owned since high school, which meant she more than likely recognized it.

“No, thanks. I’ll find another ride.”

“Why bother? It’s not like driving you home takes me out of my way.” He lived on the ranch in the manager’s quarters, within a stone’s throw of the main house. She didn’t respond, and he swallowed a curse. “Carly, for crying out loud. Whatever happened in the past shouldn’t keep us from spending a few minutes in the truck together.”

Yet, damn, even as she stood there glaring at him, he thought of the many times they had made out in the front seat of that very same truck. Again, he recalled what they’d done in the back of it. Exactly what he wanted to do now.

He ran his hand inside his shirt collar. Hell, it was hot out here, too.

Maybe she had the right idea. Maybe he should call a cab to come and get her.

She hiked the strap of her purse over her shoulder, then winced. Not in dislike or disgust but in pain.

“You okay?” Genuine concern made him ask. Still, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. This would be all he needed, to have Brock Baron’s little girl hurt the minute he was alone with her. Worse, to be the one to have gotten Brock Baron’s little girl hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Dammit, Carly. I saw your face when you dismounted from that bull. Ever since, you’ve favored your right arm. Did you hurt yourself on the ride?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Just an old racing injury. It flares up once in a while.”

He’d be willing to bet she hadn’t said a word to her family about the spill. If she had, he’d already have heard about it from one of the Baron men—if not from her brother, Jet, then from one of her stepbrothers. For sure, from Jacob, who lived and breathed rodeo the way he himself once had. “What’s the time frame on this ‘old’ injury?”

She shrugged—using her good shoulder. “About a month.”

He bit back a curse. “What happened?”

“Nothing exciting. I was practicing the barrels, coming in close, and dropped my hand too soon. The mare wanted to shoulder, and I wasn’t ready. I just wasn’t with it at all that day. And I paid for it. I went flying and landed on my arm.”

“Hard, I’d wager.”

“Yes, but I’m fine. It only gives me trouble once in a while.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Luke. Really. It’s not even my arm, only my shoulder.”

“Have you had any therapy for it?”

She shook her head. “Give it up, will you, please? I told you, I’m fine. I won’t feel a thing in the morning.”

If only he could say the same. Chances were, his meeting with her tonight would have him hungover from a long night of little sleep.

No point in continuing this argument about her injury. Just like when he worked with a skittish mare, the more he would talk, the more she would balk. With the mare, he’d put in the time and summon the patience to calm her down, to get her comfortable with him. To get the job done.

With Carly, he’d be a fool to push the issue when he ought to be stepping away as fast as he could. “Come on, then. Let’s get home.”

* * *

TO CARLY’S RELIEF, Luke did give his questioning a rest—at least, until they’d reached Roughneck Ranch.

When he had said he would take her home, she hadn’t known he’d meant his home. To her dismay, he pulled up behind the small single-story ranch house and turned off the truck’s engine.

Then he started in on her again.

“Do your folks know about your fall?”

“No,” she snapped. “There was no need to tell them. There still isn’t.” Before he could say another word, she exited the truck and slammed the door behind her. The fixture over the back porch illuminated a good part of the yard. It certainly gave off enough light for her to see his disgruntled expression through the windshield.

A second later, he slammed his door closed, too. “You know, Carly, there’s a difference between being independent and being too danged stubborn to listen to reason.”

“That’s not your worry.”

He exhaled in disgust. “And you always were the most bullheaded critter I knew.”

“Takes one to know one, I say.”

“Luke?”

She jumped. The voice had come from the direction of the porch. A woman stood framed in the kitchen doorway, looking out at them through the screen door.

“I thought I heard the truck. And voices.” The woman smiled at them. “Everything all right out here?”

“Just fine, Mom.”

Luke’s mother. Of course. She had never met the woman but could easily have guessed her relationship to Luke. He had lighter brown eyes than his mother’s, but they shared the same sandy-blond shade of hair.




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