Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Feels Like Home

Feels Like Home
Vicki Lewis Thompson


City slicker Rafe Locke is no cowboy and refuses to buy into the whole cowboy ‘thing.’ That is, until he sees engineer Meg Seymour. It’s not long before she’s enticed Rafe into riding, roping, country dancing…and getting heated under the sheets! But Rafe must remember – this cowboy life is just a fling…










DO YOU NEED A COWBOY FIX?

New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson returns to Mills & Boon


Blaze


in 2013 with more

Sons of Chance

Chance isn’t just the last name of these rugged Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!

Saddle up with:

Long Road Home

Lead Me Home

Feels Like Home

Take a chance … on a Chance!


Dear Reader,

This is a sappy, sentimental love letter to all of you who’ve welcomed me back to the Mills & Boon


Blaze


line and taken the Sons of Chance miniseries into your homes and your hearts. Thank you for all the funny and appreciative emails and for your continued support of my books, whether you’re reading them in paperback or on your ereader. You rock!

Because you’ve embraced the SONS OF CHANCE with such enthusiasm, I’m going to keep writing books about them! So get ready for another summer of gorgeous cowboys coming at you in 2013. I have you and my wonderful editor, Brenda Chin, to thank for it, and I’m thrilled! Life at the Last Chance Ranch has become part of me, and I didn’t want to say goodbye to all those folks I’ve come to love.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We’re still at the beginning of 2013, and you’re holding book nine in your hands. While I hope you’ve read all the others, you might have missed some. I realize that and I try really hard to make each book stand alone. So whether you’re a frequent visitor to the Last Chance Ranch or a newcomer, I have a feeling that Rafe and Meg, best man and maid of honor at a traditional ranch wedding, will touch your heart and make you smile.

Be sure and pay attention to the epilogue, though, because it’ll give you a hint about book ten!

Continuing to be yours,

Vicki Lewis Thompson




About the Author


New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON’s love affair with cowboys started with the Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website at www.vickilewisthompson.com.




Feels Like Home

Vicki Lewis Thompson







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


With thanks to Tony Horvath for creating such

fabulous covers for the Sons of Chance.

I’m blessed!




Prologue


August 23, 1980 from the diary of Eleanor Chance

I THINK MOST FOLKS IN Shoshone, Wyoming, would say that I’m a nonviolent sort. In fact, ask anyone in the entire Jackson Hole area who knows me, and they’ll tell you I’m a calm woman not prone to outbursts of rage.

So these same people might be shocked to learn that I could, given the opportunity, twist Diana Chance’s head right off her scrawny neck. I’ve never been so fired up in my entire life, which includes the time that my dear husband, Archie, forgot my birthday AND our anniversary in the space of a month.

If I had Diana in my clutches, nothing would save her except a promise to stay and be a devoted mother to my sweet little grandson, Jack, and a wife to my son, Jonathan. But the irresponsible piece of baggage has LEFT. She’s abandoned both my son and my grandson, and for that I will never forgive her.

I hated the fighting between Jonathan and Diana, but I hate this more. No child should have to grow up knowing that his mother didn’t love him enough to stick around. I will do all in my power to make it up to this poor little boy, but he’s not even two. How can he be expected to understand?

All he knows is that his mother is gone. Her note tells us not to try and find her. Believe me, I’ve considered it. I have a little money put away, and I could hire a P.I. to track her down, but then what? Other than twisting her head from her neck, what do I want with her?

I want what I can’t have, which is for her to be a good mother to my grandson and a good wife to my son. It’s not possible. Archie tells me to let it go, that dwelling on it is useless and will make me even more miserable. I suppose he’s right, but what I wouldn’t give for two minutes with that sorry excuse for a mother.




1


Present day Last Chance Ranch

SO THIS IS THE HOME MY MOTHER left more than thirty years ago.

With a sense of foreboding, Rafe Locke turned into the circular gravel drive that fronted a two-story log ranch house, climbed out of his rented Lexus and pocketed the keys. He hoped the car’s shocks were okay.

The luxury sedan might not have been the best choice for driving over the rutted dirt road leading to the main house, but trucks were his twin brother Wyatt’s style, not his. Wyatt operated a wilderness trekking company and loved long, arduous hikes. Rafe gave financial advice to high-profile clients and worked out at a gym.

Although Wyatt had offered to meet his plane at the Jackson airport, the guy was a busy bridegroom with things to do. And things on his mind, like whether their mother, Diana, would risk returning to face her oldest son, Jack, in order to attend Wyatt’s wedding.

Whether Diana showed up or not, Rafe wanted to be in charge of his own transportation during the week of wedding festivities. Once their dad, Harlan, arrived, he’d also appreciate having the Lexus at his disposal. He didn’t like driving trucks, either.

As Rafe surveyed the house with its wide porches and country ambiance, he had no trouble imagining his mother’s objections to the lifestyle. The structure represented home and hearth, not the sleek sophistication Diana craved.

She would sneer at the rockers lining the porch and the horseshoe knocker on the massive front door. She’d think the multicolored flower beds on either side of the porch steps lacked design and restraint. She’d hate the wrought-iron boot scraper anchored in cement beside the steps.

The house had quite a bit of square footage, though, and Wyatt had said the acreage was considerable, too. Rafe hoped the Chance family had a good financial advisor. Considering property values in a resort area like Jackson Hole, they were likely sitting on several million in assets.

Wyatt seemed oblivious to that, which was so like him. Instead he’d rattled on about the family history, and how Archie Chance and his bride, Nelsie, had built the center section themselves during the Great Depression. Later two wings had been added at an angle that made them look like arms reaching out to welcome visitors.

Or ensnare them. His mother had said she’d felt trapped at the Last Chance. Escaping to San Francisco and marrying financier Harlan Locke had been her solution. Except her marriage to Harlan had come apart eighteen months ago, and Rafe knew she wouldn’t look forward to socializing with her ex, especially when they’d be prominently showcased as the mother and father of the groom.

But that issue paled in comparison to her confronting Jack, the son she hadn’t contacted since she’d left, the son who Wyatt, Rafe and Harlan hadn’t found out about until after the divorce. Wyatt had chosen to visit the ranch and meet his half brother. He’d discovered that Jonathan Chance, Jack’s father and Diana’s first husband, had died, but he’d left two more sons, Nick and Gabe, and a widow, Sarah.

Wyatt had fallen in love with Jackson Hole, the Chance family and Olivia Sedgewick. Rafe wished to hell Wyatt had agreed to marry Olivia somewhere else, anywhere else. But she was local and Wyatt wanted the wedding to take place at the ranch, which he considered his new home base.

Rafe suspected Wyatt also had an agenda that included Diana finally making peace with Jack. Wyatt had bonded with his half brother and wanted the old wounds healed. Knowing softhearted Wyatt, he had dreams of the Lockes and the Chances becoming one big happy family.

Although Rafe was also Jack’s half brother, he had no such dreams. He’d do his job as best man because he loved his twin, but Wyatt was the outlier in the Locke family. Diana, Harlan and Rafe were dyed-in-the-wool San Franciscans used to their sushi bars and lattes. Whooping it up in cowboy country wouldn’t be their idea of a good time.

Thinking of urban conveniences reminded Rafe that he hadn’t checked his cell phone reception since turning off the main highway. Monday was a busy trading day and he’d been AWOL for a good part of it. Time to play catch up before he announced his presence to anyone inside.

After tucking his Wayfarer sunglasses in his shirt pocket, he reached inside the car, pulled his iPhone from the holder on the dash and tested the internet connection. Amazingly, it worked.

Absorbed in checking end-of-trading stock prices, he lost track of his surroundings until the sound of rapid hoofbeats made him whirl in alarm. A horse and rider bore down on him. Swearing, he dove into the car to avoid having himself and his iPhone smashed to bits.

Instead of stampeding past, the rider pulled up right next to the car. The horse snorted loudly and stretched its nose toward the Lexus. The beast could be breathing fire and brimstone for all Rafe knew.

“Did I scare you?” The voice was decidedly female. “Sorry about that.”

Rafe tossed his phone on the seat and slid carefully out, giving the brown-and-white horse a wide berth. “I wasn’t scared. I was startled.” He glared up at the rider, whose red hair curled out from under the brim of a brown cowboy hat. “Anybody who sees a horse running straight at him would—”

“Cantering. Spilled Milk and I were just cantering toward you.”

“Looked damned fast to me.”

“I was trying to catch you before you went inside. I saw the car and realized you must be Rafe, and I wanted to introduce myself.” She swung down from the saddle, dropped the reins to the ground and held out her hand. “I’m Meg Seymour, Olivia’s maid of honor. We’ll be in the wedding together on Saturday.”

So this was Meg, and she wasn’t at all what he’d expected, but she had a warm, firm handshake. Now that she was on the ground, he estimated her height at around five-eight. The boots added another couple of inches, and the hat a couple more, which made her seem almost as tall as he was.

“I thought you were from Pittsburgh,” he said. Wyatt had told him that, and Rafe had held out the vain hope that Meg would be a kindred spirit who wasn’t into the jeans and boots routine. Instead, here she was decked out like a certified cowgirl.

“I am from Pittsburgh.”

“Have you spent a lot of time out here?” Rafe eyed the horse, which kept stretching its neck toward him as if wanting to take a bite. Rafe edged back.

“Nope. My first time. Hey, don’t worry about Spilled Milk. She’s just curious. You can rub her nose. She likes that.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Although he kept his attention on the horse, he managed to get a quick glimpse of Meg’s green eyes and the light dusting of freckles across her nose. She was cute enough, but thanks to her he was too damned close to an animal who wanted to eat him. Meg had dropped the reins as if abandoning all responsibility.

She shrugged. “Okay. I guess you’re not much into horses.”

“Not really. Shouldn’t you be holding on to her?”

“She’s trained to stand still when I drop the reins.”

That was all well and good, but from where the horse stood, she could easily reach him with those big teeth. “Is she trained not to bite?”

“Absolutely, but if she’s making you nervous, I can—”

“I’m not nervous, but I don’t want to get bit, either.” Great. Now he looked like a wuss.

“Let me back her up some.” Turning to the horse, she picked up the reins. “Back, girl. That’s it. A little more. Good.”

Rafe breathed easier, which allowed him to pick up a cinnamon scent that he’d guess belonged to Meg and not the horse. When she’d turned to move the animal back, he also couldn’t help noticing the great fit of her jeans. He wasn’t into the country look, but snug jeans showed off a woman’s ass to good advantage, and hers was worth admiring.

Keeping herself between Rafe and the curious horse, she faced him again. “Better?”

“It’s just that I live in the city.” That wasn’t much of an excuse. She lived in the city and she was totally at ease with this animal. “Where did you learn so much about horses?”

“I’m no expert, but I ride English back home. I had to adjust to a Western saddle when I arrived, but I’ve about accomplished that, so tomorrow I can start learning how to rope.”

“You want to learn to rope this week?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s something I’ve never tried and being on the ranch gives me a golden opportunity. I really love it here.” She smiled.

And Rafe’s breath caught. Earlier he’d thought she was cute with her freckles, her shamrock-green eyes, and her red curls peeking from under her hat, but that smile of hers turned cute into beautiful. Her beauty was all the more impressive because he couldn’t see a trace of makeup.

She studied him for a moment. “You know, Wyatt said you didn’t look like him, and you sure don’t.”

“We’re fraternal twins, not identical.”

“He said that, but still, I expected some similarities. Instead of being on the fair side like Wyatt, you’re a GQ version of Jack Chance. Same dark hair, same dark eyes. Dress you up in Jack’s trademark black shirt, jeans and boots, and you could pass for him.”

“I doubt it. There’s not an ounce of cowboy in me.”

She gave him another once-over. “Then you’ll have to fake it for the wedding.”

“I’ll follow the dress code when I have to, but not until then.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You didn’t bring jeans and boots?”

“Don’t own any.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’m sure you’d fit into Wyatt’s clothes, or Jack’s for that matter.”

The idea of wearing jeans and boots was bad enough, but wearing borrowed jeans and boots was worse. “Thanks, but I really don’t need them until the wedding and I’ll pick up the required outfit for the ceremony later in the week.”

Her look of confusion was almost funny. “But … how can you try riding if you don’t have any jeans and boots?”

“I can’t, which is fine with me. Wyatt promised me I wouldn’t have to get on a horse, and I’m holding him to it.”

She stared at him, apparently at a loss for words.

“The thing is, Wyatt and I not only look different, but we have totally different personalities. He’s the rugged outdoor type, and I’m the urban professional type. I’m crazy about the guy and wish him well in whatever he does, but we have almost nothing in common.”

“Yes, but you’re not in San Francisco now. You’re here. Why wouldn’t you want to take advantage of what the Last Chance has to offer?”

A tiny voice in the back of his head murmured because I don’t want to make a fool of myself. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that voice to himself, let alone to the maid of honor. “Because riding and roping and mucking out stalls, or anything that’s involved with ranching, doesn’t interest me.”

“Then what will you do all day?”

“I have my iPad and my iPhone. When Wyatt doesn’t need me for wedding stuff, I’ll work remote.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “He said you’re involved in the financial world somehow.”

Trust Wyatt to be vague on that point. His twin had never quite grasped what Rafe did for a living. “I’m a financial advisor.”

“And I’m sure you’re good at it, too.”

“I hope so. I have clients who depend on me being good at it.” He even managed some investments for Wyatt, who gave him carte blanche to do whatever he thought was right.

Her green gaze became serious. “Please take this next comment in the spirit of friendly advice.”

“Okay.”

“The Last Chance is an amazing place. In the few days I’ve been here, I’ve heard stories of lives being changed by contact with this ranch and the people on it. I’d hate for anyone to waste that privilege.”

“Meaning me.”

“Yes.”

He thought her earnest advice was sweet, even if it was misguided. “The thing is, I don’t want my life to change.”

“Well, then.” She gave him a look filled with pity. “I guess it’s a good thing you brought your iPad and iPhone.” She mounted up. For a moment she hesitated, clearly still thinking about his response and whether to say anything more. Then her expression closed down. “See you at dinner.”

“Sure. Nice meeting you.”

“Same here.” With a wave, she turned Spilled Milk around and urged the horse toward a large, hip-roofed barn about two hundred yards to the right of the house.

Rafe didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Meg was disappointed in his attitude. But damn it, he hadn’t come here to attend cowboy school. Or to change his life.

Most guys would give their eyeteeth to live the way he did. He made decent money, rented an apartment with a view of the bay and dated sexy women. He was only twenty-nine, and although his twin had decided to tie the knot, he felt no similar urge.

After watching his parents’ marriage dissolve and the messy financial entanglements of that dissolution, he’d vowed to be very sure before he made a commitment. If he should find the perfect woman in the far distant future, he’d want her to be a successful businesswoman in her own right, someone who was as happy with a San Francisco lifestyle as he was. And there would definitely be a prenup.

In any case, he was in no hurry to get to that stage. He liked his present status just fine, and if Miss Meg Seymour wanted to dive into ranch activities and see about changing her life, she was welcome to it. But she could leave him out of that program, thank you very much.




2


MEG FROWNED AT HER REFLECTION in the mirror. She’d tried on every pair of earrings she’d brought to Wyoming, plus the long and dramatic ones in turquoise and silver that she’d bought during a shopping trip in Jackson with Olivia. She’d also changed clothes three times.

This was not like her, and she was angry with herself because she knew the cause of it all. She wanted to look stunning for Rafe Locke when she came down to dinner. What a ridiculous goal that was.

One glance had told her that he dated skinny women in designer dresses and up-to-the-minute hairstyles who had exotic jobs in the art district. That was so not her.

She’d never been skinny or willing to shell out for designer clothes or an expensive salon cut. She was a brainy engineer who worked for the City of Pittsburgh designing traffic-control systems in areas of urban growth. She had her hair cut at the same Pittsburgh salon where her BFF Olivia had worked until a year ago, when she’d moved to Wyoming.

But Rafe had snagged her attention. He claimed not to be interested in ranch life, but she sensed he was more wary than uninterested and possibly afraid of looking foolish doing something he wasn’t good at. His apparent reluctance to step out of his comfort zone posed an irresistible challenge to her.

She knew from personal experience that breaking through self-imposed boundaries created a life full of excitement. Rafe’s attitude implied that the Last Chance would be a blip on his ultrasophisticated radar, a place to tolerate until he could satisfy his duties as best man and return to the rarified, and possibly stifling, air of his San Francisco existence. Shaking him out of that self-satisfied rut would be good for him and tons of fun for her.

His well-toned body tempted her, too. Those broad shoulders and narrow hips would look great in cowboy gear. She could picture his dark eyes shadowed by a tilted Stetson. Oh, yeah.

At least once during their meeting this afternoon she’d caught a flash of interest in his expression. Building on his initial interest might be a way to lure him into tasting cowboy life. He really did look like a younger version of Jack Chance, and almost every woman in Shoshone agreed that Jack was sexier than hell. He was also taken.

Rafe was not, and he had the makings of a hero. After all, he was Wyatt’s twin and Jack’s half brother, so a cowboy’s soul could be hiding under that urban exterior and just waiting to be turned loose. Meg figured she had first crack at him, at least for the week of the wedding. Wasn’t that the prerogative of the maid of honor when the best man was single? If it wasn’t in the wedding party rules, it should be.

This dithering had made her late, though. She’d heard Olivia and Wyatt arrive at least twenty minutes ago and the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses from downstairs told her that drinks were being served in the living room. In late August the weather was nippy enough for a fire in the evenings and she could smell cedar smoke. All the Chance family would gather tonight because welcoming Wyatt’s twin, who was also Jack’s half brother, was a big deal.

Rafe would be down there trying to keep everyone in the family straight in his mind. Meg felt a little sorry for him having to deal with it after a day of traveling. And he didn’t fit into this ranch crowd at all, which wouldn’t help.

Meg felt totally comfortable here and had a good memory for names and faces. Even so, she always mentally reviewed the players before jumping into a large gathering. Jack, the oldest Chance son, was married to Josie, who owned the local tavern Spirits and Spurs. Their baby son was named Archie after his great-grandfather.

Next oldest was Nick, a large-animal vet who’d married Dominique, a talented photographer. They were plowing through the paperwork to adopt Lester, a thirteen-year-old boy in foster care who’d been part of a work program for disadvantaged youth held at the ranch for the first time this summer. Nick and Dominique, along with everyone at the ranch, had fallen in love with Lester and had decided they’d be more than happy to start their family with him.

The youngest son, Gabe, was married to Morgan, a redhead. Meg and Morgan had bonded over the joys and problems of having red hair. Morgan and Gabe’s little toddler, Sarah Bianca, had inherited the red hair, so Meg felt right at home with those two.

The sixtysomething ranch foreman, Emmett Sterling, would probably be at the gathering because he’d worked at the ranch for years and was considered part of the family. He actually might become part of the family if he and Pam Mulholland, who ran a nearby bed-and-breakfast, ever got married. Pam was Nick Chance’s aunt, and she’d be there, too.

Sarah Chance, the matriarch of the group, had finally found a new love after the untimely death of her husband several years ago. Peter Beckett, her fiancé, would be in attendance. A philanthropist, he’d funded the ranch’s summer program for young teens.

It was a lot to take in and, unlike Wyatt, Rafe didn’t seem eager to embrace the Chance family. That would throw extra tension into a situation already filled with drama.

Meg liked and admired the Chance family, but her personal obligation was to Olivia and Olivia’s sweetheart, Wyatt. By extension, Meg felt some loyalty to Rafe, and he’d have a much easier time of it if he’d get that burr out from under his saddle, as they said out here in the West.

“Meg?” Olivia’s voice floated down the hall. “I’ve been sent up to check on you.”

“I’m in here.” Meg shook her head and made the silver-and-turquoise earrings dance. They went well with the black dress she’d settled on, the simple little black dress that every woman was supposed to have hanging in her closet. Knowing her limitations in the fashion department, Meg had clung to that advice.

Olivia, looking radiant in a dark green dress, appeared in the doorway of what was still referred to as “Roni’s room.” The Chances had taken Roni in when she was a runaway teen. Now she worked as a mechanic on the NASCAR circuit and had married a guy on her racing team.

The decor hadn’t been updated since the days when Roni had been obsessed with NASCAR. But it was the only upstairs bedroom with an attached bath, so it was usually assigned to any single female guest. Meg qualified and was grateful for the privacy.

“Oh, Meg, those earrings are spectacular with that dress.” Olivia beamed at her.

“And you look terrific, as always.” Meg glanced lovingly at her friend. Olivia constantly experimented with her hair, and recently she’d colored it in various shades of red and blonde. For tonight’s event she’d created an arrangement of upswept curls and dangling ringlets that inspired Meg’s awe.

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled. “Being crazy in love helps.”

“I don’t have that going for me, unfortunately. I wish I’d asked you to come early and do my hair. It just sits there, a curly red blob.”

“Is that what’s keeping you?” Olivia crossed to the dressing table, picked up a tube of gel and squeezed some into her palm. “I can fix that in a jiffy.”

“The hair, the dress, the makeup, the jewelry. I’ve been a mass of writhing indecision.” Meg’s anxiety level dropped significantly as Olivia massaged hair gel into her misbehaving curls.

“Sounds serious.” Olivia finished with the gel and picked up a brush and a hair dryer. “You’re usually the calmest one of the bunch.”

“I think it’s having Rafe here.”

“He does change the dynamics.” She turned the dryer on low and began to work. “He’s a different kind of guy and he doesn’t quite fit in at the moment, but I’m counting on the fact he’s Wyatt’s twin. He’ll be fine. It’ll all work out.”

“I hope so. He seems sort of …” Meg hesitated to label him and risk offending his future sister-in-law.

“So you’ve met him?”

“I introduced myself this afternoon. He thinks I tried to run him down while I was on Spilled Milk.”

Olivia met Meg’s gaze in the mirror and laughed. “So did you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Just wondering, because speaking for myself, I have the strongest urge to mess with him.”

Meg grinned, relieved she could be honest. “Livy, he’s ridiculously uptight. He told me he has ‘no interest’ in participating in the activities of the ranch. Won’t dress in jeans and boots until forced to. Plans to spend the week checking in to work on his iPad. How crazy is that?”

Olivia nodded. “That’s what he said just now, too. He seems to be holding the ranch and the Chance family at arm’s length. Poor Wyatt doesn’t know what to do.”

“Well, that sucks. For Wyatt and you, but for Rafe, too. He has no idea what he’s missing. It’s a crime to come to this beautiful ranch and stay cooped up with an iPad.”

“I agree.” Olivia used the brush and hair dryer to arrange Meg’s hair in soft, layered curls that framed her face. “There, how’s that?”

“Incredible.” Meg turned her head to view the results. The earrings swung rhythmically as she moved. “Now I feel gorgeous enough to take on Rafe Locke.”

Olivia smiled. “And do what with him?”

“You know, I think, deep down, he might want to loosen up, but he’s afraid to. He needs some help.”

“Well, if anyone can help him overcome those fears, it’s you.” Olivia stood back. “Go get him, girl.”

RAFE WAS HOLDING UP, but just barely. The shock of seeing his doppelganger—Jack Chance—walk into the room had largely worn off, but keeping the names and faces of the Chance clan sorted out had taken its toll. Fortunately no one had asked him the million-dollar question—whether Diana was coming to the wedding.

Even if they had, he wouldn’t have been able to give them an answer. He realized his mother was taking rudeness to a new level by waiting this long to reply, but surely a family rift that had lasted thirty-two years gave her some dispensation from the Emily Post crowd. He didn’t condone her behavior, either now or thirty-two years ago, but he didn’t want to see her humiliated, either.

He was trying to figure out a way to ditch the whole dinner plan and head upstairs to bed when Meg walked down the curved staircase looking like a queen at her coronation. He stared, then caught himself and glanced away.

But the image stayed with him. She’d abandoned the cowgirl look for a slinky black dress that showed off cleavage he hadn’t imagined existed when she’d worn a T-shirt. Her curly red hair now fell in soft waves around her face, and dangling earrings caught the light as she moved.

Dressed like this, she could walk into any nightclub in San Francisco and turn heads. She was turning them here, even though every man in the place except Rafe was spoken for. After an hour in the company of these guys, Rafe knew they all adored their wives, or fiancée in Wyatt’s case. But a man would have to be dead not to notice Meg tonight.

The only male who dared say something was thirteen-year-old Lester, a foster kid who would eventually be a part of the Chance family when Nick and Dominique formally adopted him. Lester gazed up at Meg with reverence in his eyes. “Wow. You clean up real good.”

That brought a laugh from everyone, including Meg. “Thanks, Lester.” She touched the lapel of the boy’s new Western shirt. “You’re pretty stylin’ yourself.”

“This is new.” Lester stuck out his skinny chest to show off his shirt. “Boots are new, too. Ropers.”

“Very nice. I’ll bet you and Nick went shopping today.”

Rafe covertly watched the interchange and wished he’d had the presence of mind to compliment her instead of allowing Lester to take the lead. The boy was small for his age, but apparently he had a gift for working with horses. Of the eight boys who’d spent the summer months at the ranch, Lester had been the standout according to Sarah. Nick and Dominique couldn’t stop talking about how much they enjoyed having him as part of their family.

Gazing at Lester, Rafe thought about what Meg had said this afternoon about the Last Chance changing lives. Here was a perfect example and Rafe applauded the effort. The ranch was a lifeline for a boy like Lester, but Rafe didn’t happen to need saving.

Wyatt walked over to stand beside him. “I saw your reaction when Meg came down, bro.” He gestured in her direction with his beer bottle. “It’s the most animated you’ve been since you arrived.”

“She’s a good-looking woman.” Rafe took a sip of his red wine as he watched Meg fuss over Lester.

“She’s also really special to Olivia.”

Rafe glanced at Wyatt. In the two months since Rafe had last seen him, Wyatt had become a cowboy, both in dress and attitude. It suited him. “That sounded like a warning. Are you saying I should keep my hands off Meg?”

“That’s not my place. Meg is a big girl, and she makes her own decisions. I’ve come to respect that about her. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t … Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I do.” Rafe usually could tell what his twin was thinking, even if Wyatt couldn’t put it into words. “You’re telling me not to cause a problem for your fiancée’s best friend. I promise not to do that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Wyatt squeezed Rafe’s shoulder. “Looks like Sarah’s herding us all into the dining room. I think you’ll enjoy the food.”

“I’m sure I will. The ranch is great, Wyatt.”

“Yeah, it is.” Relief shone in Wyatt’s gray eyes. “I’m glad you see that.”

Rafe felt like a first-class jerk. He’d known Wyatt desperately wanted his approval of the place and the family. That had been plain ever since Wyatt had announced his engagement. Yet Rafe had been reserving judgment, holding himself slightly apart. As his twin, Wyatt had sensed Rafe’s attitude and had been troubled by it.

Rafe would rather cut off his arm than hurt Wyatt, and his behavior was doing exactly that. “I’ve been thinking,” he said as they walked down a hallway lined with family photos. “Maybe I should take a shot at riding a horse while I’m here.”

Wyatt laughed. “You don’t have to do that, buddy. I know it’s not your thing.”

“That’s true.” He remembered what Meg had said this afternoon. “But when am I ever going to have a better setup than this?”

“That’s true. I’d take you out tomorrow, except Olivia and I are having a final meeting with the caterers in the morning, and we’re double-checking the flower order in the afternoon, but the next day I could probably—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there are a million people around here who could teach me the basics.” He immediately thought of Meg, but discarded the idea. She intrigued him far too much, and things could get messy. He’d just promised his brother not to create a problem.

Wyatt nodded. “You’re right. I’ll check with Emmett. He’ll know who has some spare time tomorrow.”

“Great. You know, this house is huge.”

“It is.” He gestured to the large room they’d entered. Although it held four round tables that could each seat eight, they weren’t set for dinner. “They use this area at lunch and all the hands eat here along with whatever family members are available.”

“Sounds like good PR.” On his right, through a set of double doors, was a smaller dining room furnished with one long table, the kind that could be expanded or contracted as needed. Gleaming silverware and faceted goblets sparkled in the light from a hammered metal chandelier.

“It’s more than PR,” Wyatt said. “It’s the way the Chance family does things. There’s not a bit of snobbery in them.”

Guilt pricked Rafe again. “I’m sure that appeals to you.”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I love Mom. But she’s a terrible snob. And I hate to say it, but so is Dad.”

Rafe sighed. “He is, and damn it, I was acting like a snob when I first got here. I’m sorry about that. It’s just so … different from what I’m used to.”

“I know.” Wyatt grinned at him. “That’s why I like it here.”

Rafe could tell. He was happy for his twin, and he vowed he would do his best to fit in for the short time he was part of Wyatt’s new world. As they all filed into the dining room, he hesitated, unsure of where he was supposed to sit.

Sarah glanced his way. “Rafe, why don’t you—”

“He can sit here, Sarah.” Meg patted a chair next to her. “We’re the two who don’t have kids or spouses, so we might as well hang out together.”

Sarah looked pleased. “That works.”

Rafe took the offered chair. “Thanks.” Sitting next to her at dinner wasn’t the same as making a play for her, so he felt okay with it. He also thought a polite compliment was in order. “You look really nice.”

Her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Thank you. I don’t get dressed up very often.”

That made him wonder how she earned a living. “Where do you work?”

“I’m an engineer for the city. I specialize in traffic control.” She gazed at him steadily, as if to assess his reaction.

“Huh. I’ve never met someone who did that.” So she had brains, too. She intrigued the hell out of him, and he’d just promised Wyatt not to get involved.

“My job doesn’t usually make for fascinating dinner conversation.”

He laughed as he unfolded his napkin and laid it in his lap. “Mine, either.”

“So what shall we talk about?”

“Well …” He couldn’t resist telling her of his latest plan, especially after the way she’d goaded him earlier. “You’ll be happy to know I’m going to try riding tomorrow.”

Her green eyes grew wide. “You are?”

“Yep. I decided that you’re right. I’ll never have a better chance than now, so why not?”

Her smile dazzled him. “That’s fabulous. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably fall off, but what the hell?”

“You won’t fall off.”

“I might. I don’t know the first thing about riding a horse.” He picked up his water glass and took a drink.

“It’s easy. What time do you want to start?”

He nearly choked on his water. “Start? What do you mean?”

“I mean, after challenging you to experience life on a ranch, I think it’s only fair that I be the one to teach you to ride. The hands are all busy and I’m relatively free. So what time?”

“I—” He cast around for a way out of this. He’d be terrible in the beginning, and he didn’t relish the idea of looking bad in front of her.

“I suggest eight-thirty. I’ll meet you down at the barn.” She smiled again. “You’re going to love this, Rafe.”

“If you say so.” He had plenty of misgivings about having her teach him to ride, but the plan had one positive side. Given his lack of experience with horses, the time spent together had zero chance of being romantic.




3


MEG ARRIVED AT THE BARN ten minutes ahead of schedule the next morning. Rafe hadn’t shown up in the kitchen for breakfast or even for a cup of coffee, so maybe he’d blow off this lesson. She hoped not. Teaching him to ride would satisfy several objectives.

Olivia and Wyatt would be much happier if Rafe participated in ranch life instead of staying aloof from it as he’d originally planned. Plus Meg enjoyed pushing people out of their comfort zones, and she wouldn’t mind getting to know Rafe better. But she couldn’t force him to do this.

If he didn’t keep their appointment, she’d back off, way off. She valued those who made agreements and kept them. Anyone who couldn’t do that moved several notches down in her estimation.

After petting Butch and Sundance, the two dogs lying on either side of the barn’s double door, Meg stepped inside and breathed in the welcome scent of hay, oiled leather and horse. She truly loved it in Jackson Hole, and specifically at this ranch. After only four days, she was already questioning whether she wanted to stay in Pittsburgh or consider a move to Wyoming.

Her two older brothers had moved away, one to Connecticut and the other to Indiana. Although her parents still lived in Pittsburgh, they’d started making plans to retire in Florida. She really had nothing holding her except a job and friends.

The job was no problem. She could find something out here. And her friends would simply come visit. The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it.

Besides, she was already making friends here, like the foreman, Emmett Sterling. She found him oiling tack, which explained why the tangy scent had been so strong when she’d first come into the barn.

At their initial meeting she’d told him that he reminded her of Tom Selleck, especially with his graying mustache. Emmett had blushed. He was an old-fashioned cowboy, a modest man with a strong work ethic, and she admired that.

He glanced up with a smile when she walked into the barn. “Hey, there. When do you want to schedule that roping lesson?”

“I’m not sure yet, Emmett. I don’t know if you’ve heard that I volunteered to teach Rafe how to ride, assuming he hasn’t changed his mind since last night.”

“I did hear that from Wyatt.” He gave a nod of approval. “Great idea.”

“If he comes. Maybe he’s decided not to.”

Emmett looked over her shoulder. “I think you’re in luck.”

She turned and tried not to let her jaw drop. For a second she thought Jack had walked into the barn, but the stride was different and the jeans were blue denim, not the black that Jack favored. No telling where Rafe had dug up the jeans, shirt, boots and hat, but they fit him well.

A little too well, in fact. Yesterday his dress shirt and slacks had partially disguised his build, but this outfit disguised nothing. The snug jeans showed off his muscled thighs and the shirt emphasized his broad chest.

The borrowed hat was black. By accident or design, Rafe had tilted it at the right angle to make his dark eyes sexy and mysterious, exactly as she’d imagined they would be when shadowed by a hat. He looked amazing.

He came to a stop in front of her and spread out his arms. “Will this do?”

She had the inappropriate urge to move right into those outstretched arms in the hope he’d wrap them around her. “You should wear clothes like that more often.” Whoops. She’d said that out loud. “I mean, yes, that’ll do fine.”

“Sarah rounded them up for me this morning.”

“Did you eat any breakfast? I didn’t see you in the kitchen.”

“I never eat breakfast. I grabbed a cup of coffee before I came down here. That’s all I need.”

She didn’t think so. He might get away without breakfast when he sat in an office clicking computer keys, but his morning routine was about to shift dramatically toward fresh air and exercise. She decided against mentioning his need for real food because he probably wouldn’t believe her.

Instead she turned to the foreman, who was watching them with thinly disguised amusement. “Emmett, which horse do you recommend for Rafe?”

Emmett didn’t hesitate. “Destiny.”

“I was thinking that, too.”

Rafe shifted his weight and looked apprehensive. “‘Destiny’ sounds like the devil horse you put greenhorns on to test them.”

“We wouldn’t do that, son.” Emmett clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve come here with an honest desire to learn how to ride. If you’d bragged about your riding skill when we knew you didn’t have any, then we’d bring out the devil horse.”

“Trust me, I have nothing to brag about when it comes to horses. I can deconstruct a stock offering in no time flat, but when it comes to mounting up and riding off into the sunset, I got nothin’.”

Emmett reached for a halter hanging on the wall. “It’s not a bad place to start. You’re a blank slate with no bad habits. Meg, if you want to lead out Spilled Milk, I’ll fetch Destiny. Rafe, you come with me. I’ll show you how to put this on him.”

Meg watched the two men head down the row of stalls. Emmett ambled along with the slightly bow-legged stride of a guy who’d spent most of his life in the saddle. Rafe moved with the grace of an athlete, but there was no cowboy in his walk yet. Even so, the view of a jeans-wearing Rafe from behind was outstanding. Life at the Last Chance had just become more scenic.

DESPITE BEING ASSURED that Destiny wasn’t a powder keg ready to explode, Rafe studied the large brown-and-white animal from outside the stall. He wasn’t eager to get into a confined space with him.

“Come on in, son. He won’t bite.”

Rafe edged into the stall. “How much does he weigh?”

“Around a thousand pounds, give or take.”

“He must be pretty strong.”

“Yes, but he’s trained to cooperate with you. Come closer so you can see how to halter him. You put this on in order to lead him out of the barn. Later you’ll take the halter off and replace it with a bridle, which provides your steering mechanism. Don’t worry. He’s used to all this, so he won’t put up a fuss.”

“Right.” Taking a deep breath, Rafe approached Destiny. As Emmett put on the halter, Rafe ignored the enormous teeth and concentrated on Destiny’s deep brown eyes. He could see himself in the reflection there, and he looked like a cowboy, even if he didn’t feel like one.

“See how that’s done?” Emmett finished with the halter, snapped a lead rope to a metal ring and handed over the rope. “Go ahead and lead him outside.”

Before Rafe could object that he didn’t know enough yet, he found himself tramping back down the aisle between the stalls, towing a horse behind him. Emmett walked along, too, probably to make sure Rafe didn’t do anything stupid.

“How long has Destiny been at the ranch?”

“Let’s see. I guess it’s about twenty-four years, now.”

“Yikes! I didn’t mean you had to give me a geriatric horse. Can he handle my weight?”

Emmett chuckled. “Twenty-four’s not so old. Horses can live to be forty or more. Destiny was born when Jack was around ten, and he came up with that name for him. Thought it was real dramatic.”

“So this is Jack’s horse?”

“Not really. He’s a little too tame for Jack these days. Jack rides a black-and-white stallion named Bandit.”

“Destiny isn’t a stallion?”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Rafe was torn between relief that Destiny was a pushover and humiliation at being consigned to a horse with no balls, one that wasn’t spirited enough for Jack Chance.

“Destiny’s a good starter horse,” Emmett said. “He has one bad habit, though. If you’re out on the trail and decide to climb off him, you’d better tie him up real good. He likes to work himself loose and head on home.”

“I’ll remember that. But I think maybe I should just stay in the corral today, don’t you?”

“Maybe for the first ten minutes, until you get the hang of it.”

“I don’t think ten minutes will do the trick.”

“You’ll be surprised at how fast you pick it up, son. Once you’re comfortable in the saddle, you and Meg should take ’em out and admire the scenery. We have a lot to look at around here.”

“Yes, you do.” Rafe couldn’t argue with that. Coming out of the house this morning he’d been greeted with a spectacular view of the snowcapped Grand Tetons. Funny that his mother hadn’t mentioned the amazing scenery when she’d described the ranch. Lining rockers up on the front porch made a lot more sense when a person could sit and look at those mountains.

When they emerged from the barn, Meg was already at the hitching post with her horse, the one he remembered from yesterday.

“Just tie Destiny up next to Spilled Milk,” Emmett said. “I’ll get you a blanket, saddle and bridle.”

“Thanks, Emmett.” Rafe walked the horse in a semicircle so he could approach the hitching post from the right angle and do a decent job of parallel parking next to the other horse.

After tying the lead rope to the post, he stepped back. “So far, so good.”

Meg settled a patterned blanket over her horse’s back and glanced at Rafe. “Looks like you and Destiny are making friends.”

“I figure he’s just putting up with me.”

“Just think of him like one of those dogs over there.” Moving with calm efficiency, she put a saddle on top of the blanket. “Emmett said he was treated like a pet when he was young, so in some ways he’s more dog than horse.”

“If I’d ever had a dog, I could relate to that analogy.”

“You’ve never had a dog?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t like them?” She leaned to tighten the leather strap running under the horse’s belly.

“I don’t know if I do or not. We didn’t have dogs when I was a kid, so I never got used to having them around. With my work schedule, it makes no sense to have a pet, anyway.”

“I know what you mean about that. I decided not to adopt a dog right now, either, considering the hours I work. I have a fish tank, but it’s not the same. I get my horse and dog fix when I go out to the stables back in Pittsburgh.”

She straightened and pointed to the strap under the horse. “It’s a good idea to tighten it, then wait for the horse to let out some air, then tighten it again.”

“Good to know.”

“Okay, now I’ll tighten it again.” She went back to her task, which gave him a chance to watch her without her being aware.

This morning she’d returned to her cute and wholesome look. Knowing that she could be all sunshine and daisies during the day and transform into a seductress at night fired his blood. He wondered which persona she’d have naked. Probably both.

“Rafe?” Emmett tapped him on the shoulder. “You okay?”

Rafe turned toward him. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I told you a couple of times that I’d brought out your tack, but you were staring into space like you didn’t hear me.”

“Sorry.” He tugged his hat lower and hoped Emmett wouldn’t notice his embarrassment. “Lost in thought, I guess.”

Emmett’s slow smile indicated he knew exactly where Rafe’s mind had been. “Be careful,” he said in a low voice.

“I will.” He knew neither of them were talking about horseback riding. Meg had at least two male protectors, and Rafe wouldn’t be surprised to find more. She’d made friends in the short time she’d been here, and they didn’t want her to get hurt.

Well, neither did he. Wyatt knew that he wasn’t in the habit of treating women poorly, but Emmett couldn’t know that. In any case, Rafe would leave well enough alone when it came to Meg. Yes, she intrigued him, but pursuing that interest wasn’t worth the risk.

“I’ll leave you both to carry on with the program,” Emmett said. “Holler if you need any help, though.”

“Thanks, Emmett,” Meg said. “We should be fine.”

Giving her horse one last pat, she walked over to Destiny. “Let’s get this guy saddled. I’ll let you do it.”

“All right.” Rafe put the blanket on the way she had. Then he made sure the stirrups and the leather belt thing were lying on top of the saddle before he swung it up to Destiny’s broad back.

“Good job. You must have been watching very closely.”

“I was.” Good thing she didn’t know how closely.

“Then cinch it up.”

“With the belt thing?”

“Yes. It’s called a cinch.”

“Good to know.” He managed to knock his hat in the dirt while he dealt with the cinch.

She picked up his hat, dusted it off and hung it on the saddle. “This hat doesn’t have a string to hold it on.”

“No. Sarah mentioned that.” He grappled with the leather cinch while Destiny stomped his front foot. That startled him, but he soldiered on as if he had no thoughts of that hoof crushing his skull like a melon. “Can horses smell fear?”

“Why, are you afraid?”

“No, no. Just wondered.”

“I’m sure they can tell when someone’s afraid of them. Then they try to take advantage.”

“They do?” He managed to get the cinch buckled and stood up again. “Like how?”

“Like not minding you, walking you under a tree branch to scrape you off, things like that.”

“Good thing I’m not afraid of this horse, then.” And by God he wouldn’t be. He didn’t relish the idea of being knocked off by an overhanging branch. “Now we wait for him to let out air, right?”

“Right.” Meg gazed at him. “I’m trying to imagine growing up without animals in the house. We had dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters, you name it. Was someone in your family allergic?”

“No. We had very expensive furniture and my mother didn’t want it ruined.”

“Ah.” For a brief moment sympathy flashed in her green eyes. Then she glanced away, as if she knew that he wouldn’t appreciate seeing that emotion coming from her.

She was right. He didn’t want her sympathy. “It was more of a hardship for Wyatt than for me. I didn’t really feel deprived.”

“I guess it’s all in what you’re used to.”

“Exactly. So is it time to tighten the cinch on this hay-burner?”

She laughed in surprise. “Hay-burner? Where’d you get that, from some old Western?”

“Probably. It just popped into my head. Hanging out at the old homestead must be affecting my vocabulary.”

“Next thing you know you’ll be saying things like ‘howdy, partner’ and ‘don’t you fret, little lady.’“

“God, I hope not. If you hear me start saying dorky things like that, give me a kick, okay?”

“I will.” She grinned at him. “And I won’t be the only one. Cowboys don’t talk like that in real life.”

“Do they say ‘hay-burner’?”

“They might, among themselves.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “But if I were you, I’d avoid that one, too. The Chances are proud of their breeding program and their registered Paints. They might be offended.”

“Point taken.” He savored the cinnamon scent that wafted from her skin when she was this close. Her mouth looked delicious, and that’s why he had to move back and forget about it. He put distance between them, but forgetting about her pink mouth wasn’t so easy.

He cleared his throat. “So, is it time to tighten the cinch on this valuable registered Paint?”

“Yes.” Her green eyes sparkled. “But Destiny isn’t valuable to the horse breeding operation anymore, now that he’s no longer—”

“In possession of his family jewels?”

“You noticed?”

“I’m not that observant. Emmett told me. Damned shame.”

“It makes him easier to pair up with other horses. Stallions can get touchy with each other, and a mare like Spilled Milk, if she happened to be in season, couldn’t go on a trail ride with a stallion. Things could get complicated.”

And now he had a visual that was no help in getting his mind off sex. “I hadn’t thought of all that.”

“Fortunately, Emmett and I did. So cinch him up, and we’ll get started.”

“Sure thing.” Rafe was able to pull the cinch a couple of notches tighter, and while he did, he thought about the poor horse’s missing sexual equipment. Rafe, however, wasn’t missing any of his, and whenever he looked at Meg, his animal instincts took over.

He’d been so sure a riding lesson couldn’t possibly become sexual in nature. Less than thirty minutes into the session, it already had.




4


MEG WONDERED IF RAFE had been warned not to get too friendly with her. Wyatt might have done that, and although she appreciated his big-brother, protective attitude, she didn’t want him discouraging Rafe. Maybe he hadn’t, but Meg thought someone had issued a word of caution.

Her attempts to flirt with Rafe would spark an initial response, but then he’d tamp it down. Once they were out on the trail and away from anyone who might overhear, she’d ask him why. Maybe he had his own reasons for putting on the brakes, but she was willing to bet Wyatt was at the bottom of it.

First things first, though. She had to get him comfortable with riding so he’d agree to take one of the ranch’s many trails. Each one was beautiful, and Meg could hardly wait to show Rafe the wonders he’d been willing to dismiss yesterday.

When Destiny was saddled, she had Rafe watch her put on Spilled Milk’s bridle. Then she helped him with Destiny’s and explained how the bit worked to control the horse. Finally it was time for Rafe to mount up.

“You get on from the left side.” She took his hat off the saddle horn and handed it to him. “You’ll want the saddle horn available to hold on to while you swing up.”

“Got it.” He settled the Stetson on his head and instantly added a yummy factor.

She hadn’t realized how sexy cowboy hats were until she’d traveled to Wyoming, where it was the headgear of choice. Now she couldn’t imagine men choosing to wear anything else. Put a Stetson on a guy and his hot-tie quotient shot up a good twenty points.

Standing by Destiny’s head, she held the horse’s bridle while Rafe shoved his booted foot into the left stirrup and swung his right leg over the saddle with natural grace. Once he conquered his initial nervousness, he’d be great at this. And he rocked the denim look. Watching him mount up, which stretched the material in fascinating places, brought a little shiver of delight.

“And just like that, you’re on,” she said.

“So I am.” Gripping the horn with both hands, he shifted in the saddle. “This isn’t too bad.”

“I need to adjust the stirrups, though. Your legs are longer than the previous rider’s. I don’t want your knees drawn up like a jockey’s.”

“Shouldn’t I do the adjusting?”

“It’ll be more efficient if I do it while you’re in the saddle.” She was just the girl to adjust his stirrups, too. Considering how close she’d have to be to his muscled thighs, she wouldn’t delegate this job to anyone. Moving to his left side, she glanced up. “Take your left foot out of the stirrup.”

He obeyed, and as she lifted the flap of leather to alter the length, she savored the flex of muscles beneath the faded jeans. The scent of minty soap, freshly washed denim and pure masculinity swirled around her in a heady combo. She would adjust Rafe’s stirrups any day.

“Now the other side.” Rounding the back of the horse, she repeated the motion on his right stirrup. “Okay, put your feet in and let’s see.”

“It feels better.”

“Looks better, too. Stand up in them so I can see how much clearance you have.” As he did that, she was obliged to gaze at his crotch. Mercy. “Good. You can sit again.” She resisted the urge to fan her face.

“I didn’t realize there was so much to the fit of the saddle and the stirrups.”

“You need to be as comfortable as possible.” She didn’t want any of that valuable equipment getting bruised, either. Yowza. With an effort she pulled her mind away from the subject of Rafe’s endowments. “You’ll want to keep your heels down with your weight sinking into them to lower your center of gravity.”

“Sarah convinced me to wear the boots because she said the heels would keep my feet from slipping through the stirrups. I decided I didn’t want to be dragged to my death, so I went with the boots.”

“You won’t be dragged to your death, Rafe. I’ll save you before that happens.”

He smiled at her. “What a relief. I could have worn my loafers, then.”

“‘Fraid not. The leather shank keeps your shins from chafing. Boots aren’t only for impressing women. They serve a purpose.”

“Women are impressed with boots?”

“Some are.” She untied Destiny’s reins from the hitching post.

“Are you?”

She glanced back at him. “Depends whose feet are in them.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I thought we’d start by making a few circuits of the corral.” She led Destiny over to the gate.

“Please tell me you’re not going to lead me around like a kid on a pony ride.”

“Just until I get you inside the corral. After all, it is your first time.”

“You make me sound like a damned virgin.”

That made her laugh. “Would you rather we started out with a wild gallop across the meadow?”

“No, I wouldn’t. But I hope nobody sees this part. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’ll be over before you know it.” She unlatched the gate, led Destiny inside and latched the gate again. “Ready to take over?”

“I’m so ready.”

Knotting the reins, she lifted them over Destiny’s head and handed them to Rafe. “Hold these in your left hand, and keep them fairly loose. You don’t want to pull on his mouth. He neck reins, so when you want him to go left, lay the reins against the right side of his neck, and vice versa.” She stepped back.

Horse and rider remained stationary as Destiny quietly waited for directions.

Rafe frowned. “Where’s the gas pedal?”

She realized he really had no idea how to ride a horse. Most people knew how to get them going at least. “Nudge him in the ribs with your heels.”

He applied a slight pressure.

“Harder.”

When he used more force, Destiny started off.

“Remember, reins against the right side of his neck to go left, and against the left side to go right.”

“Got it.” Rafe followed her instructions, and soon he was controlling Destiny’s slow progress around the corral.

“Bored yet?”

“Getting there. How do I speed him up?”

“You nudge him again and click your tongue. But first sink down into your heels, because a trot is—” He was into the trot before she could finish the sentence.

He bounced uncontrollably in the saddle, lost his stirrups, his hat and his temper. He began to swear.

She struggled to keep a straight face. “Pull back gently on the reins and say ‘whoa.’”

He did, and sat there catching his breath. “That was torture. What did I do wrong?”

She was impressed that he’d ask the question instead of blaming either her or the horse. “You got ahead of me. A trot isn’t an easy gait to master.”

“No shit.” He climbed down off the horse.

“Are you giving up?” She couldn’t believe it, but everyone had a different tolerance for frustration.

“Hell, no, I’m not giving up.” Taking hold of Destiny’s bridle, he started off at a brisk walk. “Gotta get my hat.”

“Oh.” She smiled to herself. She’d suspected he might have the makings of a cowboy. And sure enough, he did.

AFTER THAT DEBACLE, RAFE listened more carefully to Meg’s instructions, and eventually he began to sense the rhythm of the trot. He still bounced a little, but he didn’t lose his stirrups or his hat, which was progress.

Next she taught him to canter around the perimeter of the corral.

He remembered the term canter from yesterday. When he’d accused her of running straight at him, she’d protested that she was only cantering. Now he understood why riders would want to do that. He could canter all day long.

“That’s good!” she called out. “I think you’re ready for the outside world.”

He thought so, too. To his surprise, the corral had started to feel confining. He wouldn’t claim to be a natural at riding, but he’d caught on a lot faster than he’d expected.

Meg opened the gate. “Wait here by the corral while I get Spilled Milk. Then we’ll be off.” She gazed up at him. “You’re doing great. Really wonderful for your first time. How do you feel?”

“Terrific.” It was the God’s truth. He’d ridden motorcycles, but this was better, more … real. He liked the view from the back of a horse, the sense of partnership he felt, and the visceral thrill of going fast in tandem with this powerful animal.

“You’ll be sore tomorrow, but maybe not too bad. I recommend a soak in a hot bath later on.”

“I’ll do that. You haven’t led me astray so far.”

“Give me time.” She winked at him and sauntered away.

What the hell? He stared after her, his brain buzzing with what had obviously been a suggestive remark. And in case he’d been too dense to pick up on it, she’d followed it with a wink.

Digging his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, he speed-dialed his brother.

Wyatt answered immediately. “What’s up, bro?”

“What if Meg has the hots for me?”

“She does?”

“I think she might, yeah.”

Wyatt let out a gusty sigh. “Figures.”

“Look, I don’t want to cause— Whoops, gotta go. Here she comes.” He disconnected and shoved the phone back in his front pocket. He’d thought of leaving it behind, but the jeans fit tight enough that he wouldn’t lose it, and he was used to having his phone with him at all times.

Her eyes narrowed as she approached on Spilled Milk. “Keeping up with stock prices?”

With a sense of shock, he realized that he hadn’t thought of his job once since waking up this morning. Normally he’d have checked the market several times by now. “No. I had to ask Wyatt about something.”

The disapproval faded from her green eyes. “Best man stuff?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“I know the preparations are important, but could I ask you a big favor?”

“Sure.”

“Would you mind turning off your phone during the ride? We have a bright, sunny day to enjoy some gorgeous scenery. I hate to think of it being interrupted by a cell phone chime.”

“I can do that.” He took out the phone and noticed there was a text message from Wyatt. He’d read it later. Turning off the power, he tucked the phone away again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He met her gaze. Her eyes glowed with happy anticipation. She was looking forward to this ride, looking forward to spending time alone with him. Wyatt and Emmett might be worried about a potential involvement, but she seemed to have no such fears.

He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her, and fire licked through his veins. Wyatt had said she was a big girl who made her own choices, and for some reason, she’d chosen a private ride.

Unless he was mistaken, and he rarely was when it came to a woman’s interest, she was giving him the green light. Only a fool would ignore that kind of opportunity. Rafe’s body warmed to the possibilities as his expectations shifted. He was no fool.

“I’ll lead because I know the path, but if you have any problems at all, sing out. I’ll keep tabs on you from time to time.”

He grinned. “To make sure I’m not being dragged to my death?”

“Yeah, stuff like that. Let’s ride.” Turning Spilled Milk, she started away from the barn at a brisk trot.

Rafe enjoyed the sight of her ass rising and falling in sync with her horse. Although he was glad she wasn’t babying him, he hoped the entire ride wouldn’t be a trotting marathon. He still bounced. Even with the bouncing, though, he was filled with elation at the prospect of riding out into the open field … and what might follow once they were truly all alone.

The sun warmed his shoulders and the mountains thrust pristine white peaks into a sky so blue it looked painted on. To think he’d planned to spend the day working. Tightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there began to loosen.

They stopped briefly so Meg could deal with a gate that led to the wide-open spaces.

“Do you know if all of this is Chance land?” he asked as she leaned down from her horse to fasten the gate behind them.

“Yes, it is.” She moved past him so she was once again in the lead. “Archie Chance won it in a card game in the thirties.”

“That sounds like a myth. Things like that don’t really happen.”

“I guess they do in Wyoming. Ready for some cantering?”

“You know it.”

“Then let’s go!” She urged her horse forward.

Destiny didn’t need any nudging as he set off in pursuit of Spilled Milk. A gust of wind nearly took Rafe’s hat, and he used one hand to anchor it. At first he held the reins and the saddle horn with his other hand, but as his body adjusted to the horse’s rhythm, he let go of the horn and held the reins like a real cowboy would.

He was riding! If he hadn’t been worried about spooking the horses, he’d have let out a whoop of delight. What a rush. He couldn’t believe he’d gone twenty-nine years without experiencing this. Sharing it with a sexy woman like Meg made it even better.

Before he was ready for the canter to be over, she slowed her horse, and Destiny fell back to a trot, and eventually a walk.

“That was fun,” he said. “I could do that again.”

“I’m sure you could.” She swiveled in her saddle to glance back at him. “But I don’t want to overdo it on your first ride. You might feel great now, but you could end up being miserable tonight.”

“If I recover okay tonight, do you think we could come out here again tomorrow?”

She smiled at him. “So you really like it that much?”

“Yeah. It’s much better than I imagined it would be.”

“So maybe you’re not totally a city boy.”

He shook his head. “I’m still a city boy. Just because I’m enjoying the hell out of this doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to find a coffee shop over the next hill.”

“No coffee shop. Are you getting hungry?”

He hesitated to admit it after announcing that he never ate breakfast. “A little.”

“We can go back.”

“Not yet.” No way was he going back until he’d had a chance to find out exactly what that wink of hers signified.

“Then we’ll keep going.” She faced forward again. “It is spectacular, isn’t it? According to Sarah, the wild-flowers will be gone soon. By September or October, they could have snow.”

“I know Wyatt didn’t want to wait any later to have the wedding because he was worried about weather.”

“I’d like to see this place in the winter. I’ll bet it’s beautiful then, too. A different kind of beauty.”

“Do you ski?” Walking the horses wasn’t as exciting, but it meant he could talk to her, get to know her better.

“Not yet. I plan to learn. Olivia wants me to come out here again, so if I visit her this winter, I could learn then. Do you ski?”

“Some. I haven’t done it much lately, though. I always seem to be working.” The comment made him sound like a drudge, and he wasn’t. But he owed it to his clients to keep up with the markets and emerging trends. That required constant vigilance. Today was a rare break in his routine.

“Jackson Hole is a fantastic place to ski.”

“So I hear. Wyatt’s already said something about celebrating Christmas here, but I don’t know …”

“We could visit at the same time and you could teach me to ski! That would be a nice trade, don’t you think?”

“It would.” So now she was suggesting that they coordinate visits. If that wasn’t an indication of interest, then he knew nothing about women.

He liked the prospect of seeing her again in December. He liked it quite a bit, assuming he could do some work while he was here. Many of his clients were shifting assets around at the end of the year, so he was usually busy.

“Of course, there’s always the possibility I’ll be living here by then.”

“Living here?” He had trouble keeping up with her whirlwind approach to life. “You’d move?”

“I’m seriously considering it. I’ve fallen in love with the area. All I need is a job. Shoshone’s a one-traffic-light town, but Jackson might be able to use me in some capacity.”

“And you’ve been here how long?”

“Four days. Five counting today.”

“Don’t you think you need more time before making a major decision like that?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I grew up in Pittsburgh, and I like it okay, but something about this area just feels like home, you know?”

“Not exactly.” He’d never thought in those terms. His parents’ house had been a showplace, but not what he’d call a home. His own apartment worked for him and had that outstanding view, so he supposed it was home, although he’d never called it that.

“Well, my philosophy is that life’s short. You have to grab the good stuff while you can. Speaking of that, there’s a pretty little creek up ahead. Let’s stop and rest awhile. I didn’t think to bring water, so the horses can get a drink and so can we.”

“Okay.” He tried to decide if he was dealing with a certified flake. Meg was fun to have around and he was sexually attracted to her, but if she’d pull up stakes and switch locations in the blink of an eye, then … then so what? Did it matter?

Even if they got cozy with each other during the week of the wedding, it would be a no-strings affair. Her life decisions wouldn’t affect him in the slightest, except that if she moved, she’d be around in December if he made the trip back to Jackson Hole.

But who knew if they’d even like each other at the end of the week if they did become involved. They’d only met yesterday. There might be strong chemistry between them, but until he’d at least kissed her … He almost laughed at his typical caution. Kissing her would be outstanding, and he damned well knew it. The sex would be even better.

Meg pulled her horse to a stop beside a bubbling rivulet of water about two yards wide. “There’s a flat rock over there we can sit on.”

He liked the idea of the rock, but not the lack of trees. “There’s nothing to tie the horses to. Don’t forget that Destiny likes to wander.”

“I haven’t.” She dismounted and led her horse to the stream. “But Spilled Milk is trained to be ground-tied, which means if I drop the reins to the ground, she won’t go anywhere, so if we tie Destiny’s reins to Spilled Milk’s saddle horn, we’re golden.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/vicki-thompson-lewis/feels-like-home/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.