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Winning The Cowboy's Heart
Karen Rock


Jewel Cade wants two things– One is Heath Loveland. The Rocky Mountain cowgirl has her heart set on becoming boss of the Cade ranch. But first she has to accompany the son of her family’s longtime enemy—and her off-limits secret crush Heath Loveland—on a cattle drive across Colorado!







Jewel Cade wants two things—

One is Heath Loveland

The Rocky Mountain cowgirl has her heart set on becoming range boss of the Cade ranch. But first she has to accompany the son of her family’s longtime enemy—and her off-limits secret crush—on a cattle drive across Colorado. Discovering Heath shares her attraction only makes for a rockier road. Because Jewel has a sneaking suspicion that if she drops her guard, the cowboy might ride off with her heart.


Award-winning author KAREN ROCK is both sweet and spicy—at least when it comes to her writing! The author of both YA and adult contemporary books writes sexy suspense novels and small-town romances for Mills & Boon and Kensington Publishing. A strong believer in happily-ever-after, Karen loves creating unforgettable stories that leave her readers with a smile. When she’s not writing, Karen is an avid reader who also loves cooking her grandmother’s Italian recipes, baking and having the Adirondack Park wilderness as her backyard, where she lives with her husband, daughter, dog and cat, who keep her life interesting and complete. Learn more about her at karenrock.com (http://www.karenrock.com) or follow her on Twitter, @karenrock5 (http://twitter.com/@karenrock5?lang=en).


Also by Karen Rock (#u3d7b7885-4653-57cf-8b88-a23f35832bb2)

Falling for a RancherChristmas at Cade RanchA Cowboy to KeepUnder an Adirondack SkyHis Kind of CowgirlA Heartwarming ThanksgivingThankful for YouWinter Wedding BellsThe KissRaising the Stakes

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Winning the Cowboy’s Heart

Karen Rock






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


ISBN: 978-1-474-09099-5

WINNING THE COWBOY’S HEART

© 2019 Karen Rock

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

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


To star-crossed lovers the world over,

may your love be as boundless as the sea,

your happily-ever-afters deep and infinite.


Contents

Cover (#u4da72dd0-22b4-5468-89c5-d536caf4c102)

Back Cover Text (#u8ba0a4d9-601e-548f-bcd8-572389f0c5af)

About the Author (#u42a4ef26-424f-5310-9418-84a608455077)

Booklist (#uae7dc91d-cdd8-57fd-a672-6deda36070c8)

Title Page (#u6ad9893c-b454-508b-bc6b-dfa331e7c3c1)

Copyright (#uc4e692de-1203-5ff2-9f7a-ae898e96f3f6)

Dedication (#u64e41475-522e-5dc9-b852-7549279dfc6d)

CHAPTER ONE (#u86829a60-d0b1-5a6a-b7f6-4a67202e2fd7)

CHAPTER TWO (#u16c682b6-16a9-51b0-a113-b06d3f795994)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9cc4bd99-c169-5678-83b8-133538644ef9)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u6f2f117d-4b0b-5f7d-ba3c-6dbd4afe1705)

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)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u3d7b7885-4653-57cf-8b88-a23f35832bb2)

“THANK YOU FOR coming out tonight, Carbondale!” Heath Loveland shouted into the mic at Silver Spurs, the town honky-tonk. A drumroll behind him, followed by a cymbal crash, punctuated his closing set’s final remark. His bass player, Clint, hammered a quick, throbbing beat.

Heath loosened his sweaty grip on his Fender and peered into the throng of country-western-dressed locals, searching out his MIA fiancée. No surprise she hadn’t shown. In fact, it would have been a surprise if she had, seeing as she disapproved of his gigging. “We hope you had a good time tonight.”

Raucous hoots and hollers rose to the exposed-beam rafters in answer. Stamping feet vibrated the dusty wooden floor. Water streamed down condensation-covered windows while overhead fans stirred humid air reeking of beer, body odor and peanuts. Beneath Heath’s Wranglers and black muscle shirt, sweat slicked his body.

A wide smile creased his face as he absorbed the room’s electric energy. Playing for hyped crowds was like a hit of pure sunshine; it lit him up with the force of a solar blast. Hardworking folks watched his band, Outlaw Cowboys, to forget about life for a while, and he gave them that amnesia: a hat-raising, boot-stomping, tail-swishing night out.

“We love you!” a pair of cowgirls in Daisy Dukes screamed from the front row.

He tipped his black cowboy hat, earning him another earsplitting screech, and ignored Clint’s eye roll. Not a night went by that Clint didn’t gripe about renaming their band the Heath Loveland Fan Club. Heck. Wasn’t like Heath could do anything about it. They followed him from show to show. What’s more, he’d never get involved with groupies, even if he wasn’t already spoken for...though he supposed their attention figured into Kelsey’s demand he quit gigging and “grow up,” as she put it...

...and set a date for their wedding.

A heaviness clamped around his chest. He slid a finger along his damp T-shirt collar, stretching it from his steaming neck. She’d be fit to be tied if he told her about this morning’s call from Nashville. And she’d never agree...

“Marry me, Heath!” an unfamiliar female voice hollered.

With a wink, he strummed a quick open-string scale, then cranked a tuning peg to sharpen his G, sending his hovering female fans into a tizzy of squeals and shrieks. “How about a little Johnny Cash to finish us out?”

“Yeah!” roared a pack of men near the bar. They raised their overflowing mugs.

Heath strummed the opening notes of “Folsom Prison Blues” and caught his bandmates’ surprised expressions from the corner of his eye as they scrambled to catch up. Usually they closed with one of the band’s originals. Yet this cover popped in his head and shot straight to his fingertips before he’d given it conscious thought.

He played close to the bridge for added twang as he growled out the opening verse. The gravelly words were dredged from a dark well inside him. Low and deep. He was stuck, trapped, he crooned, listening to the train going by without him. His chest ached. His eyes stung. Like every tune he performed, he experienced the song’s pain, loss, regret, becoming the music, the notes pouring from him like an open wound.

He grabbed his Fender’s headstock and bent it back, strumming low on the E string so the notes arced as they flew. When he hit the bridge, his foot stomped on his Boss compressor to give it lots of swells. Behind him, Remmy, his drummer, pounded a driving beat while Clint thrummed the deep bow-wow-wow bass line that vibrated your body, your organs, your cells even.

His gaze swept the stomping crowd as he sang and stopped dead on a pair of luminous brown eyes. It wasn’t so much the shape that caught his attention, though they were enormous in her freckled face or the thick fringe of lashes surrounding them—it was their ferocious expression. A fierce hunger and an aching vulnerability directed not so much at him but at his music...which was him...the person few really saw.

Jewel Cade.

His new stepsister.

His fingers stumbled and missed the eight fret when he changed chords. Heat swamped his face. He tore his attention from Jewel and muted the strings with the side of his hand for the next seven bars before risking another glance.

Her magnetic eyes lifted from his guitar and clicked with his and in that moment, a strange sense of connection, a recognition, jolted through him. Despite the dim light, he spied her rapt expression. It softened her lean face, parted her full lips. She wasn’t just listening to music, she was breathing it in, was sustained by it, just like him.

Music was his life support. Once taken off it, would he survive?

He ripped into his guitar solo, hammering the B7 chord, adding extra flourishes as he kicked up the tempo.

“Where’s the fire?” Clint muttered close to Heath’s ear, jamming beside him, but Heath only played harder.

He shredded the notes, alternating octaves, grabbing the horn of the guitar and pulling the top into his stomach to bend them. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and his muscle shirt clung to his torso. His fingers slid along the neck from one fret to the next. He toggled while he plucked up one note, then stroked down another, fast and tight, picking like a madman. One, two...eight phrases later, and he peered up from his guitar in Jewel’s direction. Was she impressed?

And why did he care about his new stepsister’s opinion?

Disappointment washed over him. She was gone. He kept strumming, continued singing, but his earlier excitement faded. A few minutes later, he ended the song with a rowdy flourish to roof-raising applause. Heath and the rest of the band broke down their equipment, loaded it in Remmy’s van and then sauntered back into Silver Spurs for some tall cool ones.

Clint signaled the bartender and ordered beer. “Who are you looking for?”

Heath quit craning his neck. “No one,” he lied. He sought out Jewel’s fire-engine red hair for no good reason except the connection sparking between them. Had he just imagined it?

Not that he’d pursue her, even if he weren’t already engaged. She wasn’t even his type. He liked gals who wore makeup and nail polish, who fixed their hair pretty and smelled like flowers. Soft and sweet. Jewel, on the other hand, was scrawny and hard-edged, a prickly tomboy cowgirl who preferred horses to people and was as approachable as a cactus. Not to mention they were now family, and he was engaged to a woman he was supposed to love forever.

“Last call!” shouted the bartender to the mostly cleared honky-tonk. He slid them three cans of Bud.

“Has Kelsey made any of our shows?” Remmy asked.

“She’s busy with work.” Heath gulped his beer and scanned the room again.

Kelsey, a tireless volunteer and fund-raiser at the local animal shelter and food shelf, also helped at her father’s ranching supply company, Hometown Ranching. When he and Kelsey married, she expected him to leave his family ranch, Loveland Hills, and join the business. He tugged at his limp collar again. Nothing against their enterprise, but working the open range left him free to sing to the cattle, compose songs by the campfire and gig in the local honky-tonks. He’d have to give it all up...

Once he agreed to a wedding date and said, “I do.”

Their families expected him and Kelsey to marry, seeing as they were high school sweethearts and got engaged after graduation ten years ago. Kelsey was sweet and generous, his first love. So what was stopping him from setting a wedding date with her? It’d make everyone happy...

“Can we get your autograph?” A trio of gals shimmied close, wriggling in their boots and fringed skirts as they stared Heath up and down like he was the last steak at a family reunion.

He shot them a giggle-inducing smile and signed the backs of their phone covers with an offered Sharpie. They flicked their hair and batted eyelashes long enough to scare a daddy longlegs.

“Call me, sexy.” One of them shoved a paper in his pocket before traipsing out the door, Silver Spurs’s last customers.

Heath read a cell number on the note followed by a <3 Jaimey and crumpled it up.

“Did you make up your mind about Nashville?” Clint snagged the paper, drained his brew and chucked the can in the recycle bin behind the bar.

“Hey!” groused Kevin, Silver Spurs’s owner. “Make yourselves useful and put up some chairs.”

“You got it.” Heath quit drinking, despite his dry, hoarse throat, and headed for tables grouped around a pool table.

“Do you ever say no?” Clint caught the dishrag Kevin hurled at him and wiped surfaces as Heath cleared.

“He’s a people pleaser.” One of the waitresses, June, held out her tray for the empties Heath collected. “My therapist says I’m one, too. Means you always make everyone else happy except yourself. That’s why I owe five hundred bucks to Pampered Chef.”

Clint slapped the dishrag on another table and swished it across the wet-ringed surface. “Are those pans solid gold?”

June laughed and her earrings, peeking from beneath a short pouf of strawberry blond hair, danced. “My friends threw parties all month. I had to order from each or I’d offend them.” She shifted her weight and sighed. “See? Can’t say no, just like Heath. Though that’s why we all love our heartbreaker.” Her nails lightly scraped his cheek as she patted it. “Just remember: ‘to please is a disease.’” She sashayed away.

“I’ve said no before.” Heath diligently stacked Kevin’s chairs, despite needing to get home for some shut-eye. In four hours, he’d be vaccinating calves alongside his brothers. He rubbed his gritty eyes, then hoisted another chair.

And what was wrong with wanting to make people happy?

“Like when?” Clint scooped peanut shells into a pail.

“Ummmmm...” Heath’s brow creased as he searched out an example. “I didn’t let Pete Stoughton borrow my bike.”

“Dude, that was in eighth grade,” Clint laughed.

“Still counts.” Heath positioned the last chair and hustled back to his half-finished beer. The empty bar top met his eye. He bit back a request for another when Kevin pressed a hand to his back as he straightened from the mini fridge.

“What about Nashville? Are you saying no to that?” Clint tossed his dishrag into a bucket filled with cleaning fluid.

“Nashville?” Remmy ended what’d sounded like an argument on his cell phone and joined them. “What’re you talking about?”

“Clint’s been posting our videos on YouTube. Some Nashville person saw them and wants to give me a tryout.” Heath propped a hip against the bar, his tone casual, as if this wasn’t the biggest thing that’d ever happened to him.

“Some Nashville person? It’s Andrew Parsons!” Clint grabbed a cherry from the garnish bin and tossed it in his mouth.

Remmy’s eyes bulged. “You’re fooling, right?”

Heath shook his head and despite his best effort to act unruffled, the movement was jerky, tense.

“He owns Freedom Records.” Remmy shoved his longish hair from his face. “They’re the biggest country music company in America. Heath’s gonna be famous.”

Heath held up a hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s only a tryout. A snowball in hell has a better chance than me earning a contract. I’m not sure if I’m even doing it.”

Clint jabbed his index finger into Heath’s chest. “You gotta do it, dude.”

“You want me to leave the band?” Heath shoved his balled hands into his jeans pockets.

Clint shrugged. “Once you make it, you’ll bring us with you.”

Heath scuffed floor dust with his boot tip. “What’s wrong with just gigging?”

“Nothing if you want to get paid in beer and pocket change and never have anyone except Carbondale hear your originals. You’ve got talent. Don’t waste it.” Clint ambled behind the bar and popped the tops off some longnecks when Kevin disappeared into the back room. “Wouldn’t you like to make real money?”

Heath lifted the offered beer and sipped. Writing and performing music had never been about money. He understood the grasp music had over people, what they needed it for, how it got them through and the role he played. He lived his life in service to song. Freedom Records would help him reach more people, millions of lives to touch...to move. He wanted the chance as badly as he wanted his next breath.

Remmy waved a hand. “Once he marries Kelsey, he’ll be plenty rich.”

Heath bristled. “Who’s saying that?” Locals had accused Pa of marrying Heath’s now-deceased mother for her money. The rumor mill revived last week when he married Joy Cade, the well-off widow and matriarch of their feuding neighbors, a rivalry that began over 130 ago with a suspicious death, vigilante justice and a priceless jewel theft.

Remmy chortled. “Just about everyone in Carbondale.”

Clint nodded. “Quit being so sensitive.”

Heath raised his bottle to cover his red face. His brothers had dubbed him “The Sensitive Cowboy” when he’d been the only one able to soothe their disturbed alcoholic mother with music. He’d been the family peacekeeper and her minder, keeping her from calamity until he’d made one selfish decision and it ended in tragedy. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

Clint cocked his head, studied Heath a long moment, then shoved his shoulder. “Lighten up, dude. And what was with that solo? Must have been one of them scouts in the audience.”

“Yeah,” Remmy chimed in. “That was triple time.”

Jewel’s magnetic brown eyes returned to Heath. “Just thought I’d shake things up.” He donned his leather jacket.

Clint blocked Heath’s path to the door. “So, are you going to Nashville?”

Heath fumbled with his zipper. “I have to talk to Kelsey first.”

Remmy shrugged into a plaid jacket smelling faintly of hay, feed and manure. “If she loves you, she’ll support you.”

“Yeah, right,” Clint scoffed, guffawing, then sobered when he met Heath’s scowl.

Sure, Kelsey was a bit traditional. The only child of wealthy parents, she wanted the kind of respectable, conventional life she’d grown up with...white-collar parents who toiled at desks, not on microphones or in the saddle. People who sipped champagne at charity benefits rather than slugging beer in a stifling honky-tonk.

Kelsey was used to getting what she wanted, and she worked hard to get it. He’d always admired that about her, especially as she gave even more than she took. Before they’d graduated from high school, she’d fund-raised nonstop to create a college scholarship in his ma’s name for students studying psychology with a focus on addiction.

Classic Kelsey. Sweet, generous and focused.

She always knew exactly what she wanted. Seeing as Heath didn’t sweat the small stuff, he had no problem letting her have her way until recently. She’d given him an ultimatum: set a wedding date by the end of August or else.

Just a couple of months away...

“Promise you won’t let this pass by because of everything going on at the ranch.” Clint folded his arms over his chest.

Heath grimaced. With money issues dogging the ranch, as well as an unrelenting drought, Loveland Hills struggled. They’d secured an extension on their overdue mortgage until fall. If they kept their herd intact through the summer, despite dried-up watering holes and the Cades’ refusal to let them access the Crystal River through their property, they had a final chance to earn enough at fall cattle auctions to prevent foreclosure.

“They can do without you for a week. Heck, I’ll take off work to fill in for you,” Clint offered.

Heath pulled off his hat and tossed back his damp hair. “Thanks, man.”

Clint’s mouth turned down in the corners. “I know you, buddy...if something comes up at the ranch, you’ll bail.”

“You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t take a chance.” Kevin called from behind the bar.

Heath’s pulse kicked up as the idea of chasing his dream settled inside...like it had a right to be there. The image of Jewel Cade’s rapt face returned to him. Usually she had a chip on her shoulder, a hard exterior and closed-off expression screaming “back off.” Yet tonight, his music had transported even her, an exhilarating experience he wanted to repeat with millions of others. He drew in a long breath, then released it. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Clint clapped Heath on the back, and Remmy shot him an approving nod.

“Don’t forget us when you’re a big shot,” Remmy joked.

“This head ain’t getting any bigger.” Heath donned his hat, pulled the brim low and sauntered outside with his buddies.

After waving them off, he rounded the corner to the rear parking lot. A petite redhead, struggling to haul an enormous spare tire from beneath the bed of her dually, pulled him up short.

“Need a hand?”

His heart did a funny kind of flip when the woman turned, and deep brown eyes met his. Instantly, her surprised expression turned into a scowl.

Jewel Cade.

“Nope.” She dug the heels of her boots into the gravel and heaved backward. Her biceps, revealed by a black tank top tucked into faded Wranglers, strained. With a cry, she fell on her butt, the spare tire still lodged beneath the rear bumper.

“Do you need to change it?” Heath eyed the dual-rear-wheel truck. She could easily get home on what she had.

“I’m. Not. Showing. Up. At. Home. With. A. Flat. Tire,” she grunted, tugging harder.

Heath rubbed the back of his neck, puzzling out the scrappy cowgirl. Why worry about going home with a flat? Her brothers, part of the hot-tempered, impulsive, mouthy Cade clan his family had feuded with for over a hundred years, ribbed her from time to time. Was she sensitive about how they’d react? It seemed improbable. Her impressive left hook kept them in line. Some called Jewel cocky, boastful and brash. Yet he’d glimpsed another side tonight, seen a vulnerable hunger that’d called to him.

“Oof!” She landed hard on her back again and stared up at the brilliant star-studded sky, winded. A warm June breeze ruffled the loose red strands from her braid and carried the scent of decaying pine needles, wet soil and wild honeysuckle.

He held out a hand, but she ignored it, shoved to her feet, and marched back to the spare with her jaw set. “If you keep gawking, I’ll have to charge you for the show.”

“I’m not—”

She angled her face his way, and her bow-shaped lips curved in a knowing smirk that infuriated and excited him. Her rosy mouth nearly blended with the freckles covering her face. She must have as many as the stars overhead, he marveled, taking in her slim nose and lean, angular cheeks. She was sort of cute beneath her frown, like Huckleberry Finn’s younger sister, cowlicks and all. “Now you’re just staring.”

“No... I...” He shifted on his feet. Why did Jewel keep him off-balance and lingering? Heath eyed the empty parking lot and cocked his head at the distant yip of coyotes lurking on the forested slopes surrounding Silver Spurs. “Who are you with?”

“Me,” she panted, the cords of her neck popping as she hauled on the wedged spare harder still.

“No one else?”

“Myself and I.” Her sarcastic tone called a smile to his lips. “Something wrong with that?”

Since he’d only ever dated Kelsey, he had limited experience with women. Kelsey preferred he accompany her everywhere, and his sister, Sierra, was never without at least a four-legged friend. Jewel’s dogged independence, her refusal to ask for help, to depend on someone, intrigued him and left him wondering. Did she have any friends? “No...it’s just... I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Jewel quit tugging to point out a twelve-gauge shotgun mounted on her pickup’s gun rack. “I can handle myself.”

No doubt, yet a desire to help kept Heath’s stubborn feet planted. So much for being a people pleaser. By staying, he angered Jewel, something he usually avoided. But Jewel tapped a stubborn streak he didn’t recognize. Stranger still, he was enjoying their test of wills. “Your mother wouldn’t want me to—”

“Look,” she cut him off, “just because our parents are hitched doesn’t mean you and I are brother and sister now. You’re still a Loveland, which makes you public enemy one.”

He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Just trying to be neighborly.”

“If you want to be a good neighbor, stop suing my family for five million dollars.”

His jaw clamped. “You owe us. A Cade judge revoked our easement across your property without just cause.” Long ago, after the Cades jumped to the wrong conclusions and strung up Everett Loveland for the death of Maggie Cade and the disappearance of her priceless sapphire, the Cades sued to revoke an easement allowing Heath’s family access to the Crystal River to water their herd. With their consistent water source gone, Loveland Hills fell on shaky financial ground that only worsened through the years as summers became drier and drier.

“A lie.” When Jewel staggered backward again, he stepped ahead of her, yanked out the tire and rolled it to the flat.

“Hey!” she protested, but he ignored her, grabbed up a nearby long-handled wrench and fitted the squared-off crank over the tire’s bolts. Within minutes he’d whipped off the flat and heaved it over the top of her truck bed.

“Not bad for a Neanderthal,” Jewel drawled behind him.

“Neanderthal?” When he turned, she’d already fitted the spare into place and stretched a hand out for the wrench. He passed it over, impressed as she secured the new wheel faster than he’d removed the old.

“Yeah,” she grunted as she tightened the last bolt. “Primitive man.”

“I’m not primitive.”

She sat back on her haunches and eyed her tire change. “You practically clubbed me over the head to get the tire.”

“I’ve never raised a hand to a lady.”

Her gaze collided with his. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. And I’m no lady. Or some damsel in distress. Play your hero act with your fiancée.”

With that, she tossed the long wrench in her truck bed, hopped behind her wheel and started up her powerful engine. It throbbed, loud, in the night air. Before she left, she leaned out her window, her expression smug. “And you’re welcome.”

“For what?” Shouldn’t she be thanking him?

“For protecting your fragile male ego. See you in court!” She shifted into gear, then raced off, her tires kicking up gravel.

He coughed on exhaust fumes and dust as he stared after her disappearing taillights. Aggravating, cocky, exasperating woman. Yet the wide smile reflected in his rearview mirror when he started his pickup belied his irritation. He reversed from his spot and cruised onto the road.

Why was he so amped?

He had plenty to worry about. The make-or-break Lovelands versus Cades trial began in August and tomorrow, he’d tell his family, and Kelsey, about his Nashville tryout. Would they support him? He cranked a George Strait tune and lustily sang along, a sense of buoyancy nearly lifting him from his hard seat.

The audition of a lifetime awaited him, but he suspected one saucy redhead might, oddly, have something to do with his mood, too. He’d moved Jewel while performing, her reaction strengthening his resolve to chase his dream.

His foot stomped on the gas and cool air drove through his windows. Potent anticipation lifted goose bumps on his arms. He had the world tucked in his pocket. For the first time in forever, a career in music seemed within reach and Heath aimed to go for it, no matter the cost.


CHAPTER TWO (#u3d7b7885-4653-57cf-8b88-a23f35832bb2)

JEWEL TORE OFF her hat and swiped her damp brow. Overhead, the midafternoon sun beat down, unrelenting in a cloudless blue sky. She peered at the calves she and her brothers had isolated from the herd this morning. Panicked bleats filled the dry air and mingled with their mothers’ answering bellows. They hadn’t been separated since calving season three months ago. The sooner she got them through the pen system she’d designed to lessen their stress, the better.

“Next!” she hollered to her brother Justin. With a clang, he opened the metal latch and released the next calf from the holding pen. It raced forward, encountered a secured gate, and jerked to a stop in the extended neck chute she’d convinced her brother and ranch manager, James, to purchase. The calf tossed its head and rolled its eyes. Air huffed through its flaring nostrils.

“Easy, girl.” Jewel stroked the little one’s soft gray side. The scent of disinfectant soap stung her nostrils. Earlier, her brother Jared and nephew Javi had cleaned the calves to prevent infection. “Easy now.”

The calf settled as Jewel grabbed a syringe of Bovi-Shield while murmuring steadily, her tone soothing. She talked plenty tough to her rough-and-tumble older brothers, but when it came to animals, she took extra care to be gentle.

“Now you won’t get a respiratory infection,” she crooned, pinching the skin on the calf’s neck and pulling it away from the muscle to tent it. She slipped the eighteen-gauge needle into the subcutaneous space to prevent skin lesions.

“See. Not so bad.” She stroked the calf’s quivering neck after pushing in the vaccine, then hustled to its other side. “Now this booster will keep you from getting blackleg.” She delivered the second neck injection. “You’re doing great.”

The calf snorted but otherwise remained still in the narrow chute, absorbing Jewel’s voice, her calm as she circled back to the spot where she injected the third vaccine.

A large Brahman bellowed beyond the fence. Jewel compared the cow’s and the calf’s ear tags, noting their matching numbers.

“Almost done, Mama,” she called to the pacing cow.

“Hold up a minute, Jewel.” Her brother James sprayed the calf’s shaved hindquarter with 99 percent alcohol for adhesion, pulled a poker with a brass number three from the cooler and pressed its cold tip to the area, freeze-branding it.

The calf twitched for a few seconds as Jewel continued petting it, then calmed as the temperature numbed its skin. A couple of years ago, they’d switched to freeze-branding after Jewel attended a cattle conference. It was more time-consuming than regular branding and took practice, but it reduced the calves’ stress.

“Ready?” Jewel called once James grabbed the second poker.

“Go ahead.” James pressed the number five into the now-docile calf’s hip. Over the years, she and her brothers developed routines so ingrained they barely had to talk while performing them.

She tented the loose skin underneath the calf’s shoulder and delivered the last vaccine. “There you go, Sunrise, no BVD for you,” she murmured, low, so James didn’t overhear her ritual of secretly naming the calves. No matter how long they had on this earth, every living thing deserved a name, to have an identity, to be someone, although it made sending them off to the fall beef auctions even harder.

She grimaced. Jewel Cade, sentimental...no one would believe it. All her life, she’d acted tough, chasing after her father’s affection by trying to prove she was as good as his favored sons. That she could ride, shoot and brawl with the best of them. Yet he rarely paid her much mind except to complain she needed to wear dresses to Sunday services.

When he’d passed away, she doubled down on proving herself in the male-dominated ranching world, even if she ruffled a few feathers and agitated the status quo to do it. Her thick skin hid her sensitive side, a weakness counter to her goal to be Cade Ranch’s range boss. She wanted to oversee cattle herding and husbandry, calling the shots the way she preferred, a job where she wouldn’t be overruled or overlooked. James had yet to delegate the position, and she intended to convince him this summer to choose her over her brother Justin.

As for the Sunday dresses, she’d worn one to her father’s funeral, hoping he’d see her from above in a way he’d never noticed her on earth.

Jewel ignored the painful throb of her heart and cranked down the release lever. Sunrise rushed headlong from the chute. The calf slowed when she spied the barn wall, swerved, then trotted into the final pen where the vaccinated animals awaited Jewel’s final checkup.

“Good move in facing the exit to the barn.” James added more alcohol solution to the cooler holding the pokers.

Jewel pressed her lips flat to hide her pleasure at James’s rare praise. He needed to see her as a capable professional, not a little sister chasing her big brother’s approval. “I didn’t want them running for the gate and getting injured like last year. It’s all part of the herd health, value-added market report I gave you last month.”

James grunted, but otherwise didn’t answer as he checked the cooler’s temperature. For optimal freeze-branding, it had to be at minus 200 degrees.

Jewel hid her disappointment and grabbed her records book. Her stubby pencil flew as she jotted down the vaccines’ lot numbers, treatment date and withdrawal period, her name as the one who administered them, and the vaccination method used.

James retrieved a couple of iced teas from another cooler. When she set down her log book, he tossed her one. “The neck extender chute’s working out better, too. No bent needles or trapped fingers.”

Jewel sipped her tea, then pressed the cool plastic mini jug against her steaming cheeks. Even her freckles would be burned tomorrow. “That’s why you need to make me range boss.”

“Now’s not the time for that discussion.”

“Then when is the time?” she demanded.

Instead of answering, James gulped his drink. When he finished, he mopped his face with a red kerchief. “How come we’re not putting on nose flaps?” he asked, referring to the device used to wean calves.

She blew out a frustrated breath at his change of subject. Fine...she’d give him a little more rope, but not enough so he slipped away without giving her answers. “Weaning them after branding is stressful.”

“Corralling them again is more work for us,” he grumbled. “We should go back to separating them from their mothers.”

Jewel bristled. “The most stressful part of weaning is losing social interaction. The calves were calmer when we started using nose flaps a couple of years ago.”

James doffed his wide-brimmed rancher’s hat, scooped some ice from the cooler and dumped it over his head. “Should never have sent you to that conference. It gave you too many ideas.”

“Nothing wrong with new ideas,” she charged. “The herd health program’s been worth about three to six dollars per hundredweight over the past eighteen months. We’ve had less morbidity and behavioral stress—something you’d know if you bothered reading my report.”

“I’ll get to it. Next!” James called to Justin, and another calf barreled into the chute.

Jewel bit her lip and got back to work, ignoring the sting of being dismissed again. She had to convince James and wouldn’t quit until she did.

“How come you look so tired?” James pressed one of the frozen pokers into the calf’s side once it settled in the chute.

Jewel injected the blackleg booster. “Got in late.” Her cheeks heated as she recalled tall, gorgeous, commanding Heath Loveland performing “Folsom Prison Blues.” When he sang, his powerful voice carried her with him. It drummed inside her, beating her heart, stirring her blood. It was like he was made of music.

She concentrated on the calf’s next shot.

“What were you doing?” James exchanged the first poker for the second.

“Went out.” She gently pulled the needle from the calf’s skin. “Good job, MooShu,” she murmured near its ear.

“Where?”

“Silver Spurs.” She kept her voice even around the skittish animal, despite her rising irritation at nosy James. He had to know every detail about the ranch and those who lived on it.

“Wasn’t Heath Loveland’s band playing last night?”

Jewel’s hackles rose at the knowing sound in James’s voice. “I guess so.”

James narrowed his eyes at her. “Interesting...”

“What do you mean?” Her brothers loved tweaking her about her supposed crush on Heath Loveland, coming up with all kinds of crazy theories about her carrying a torch for him...when everyone knew she loved only three things in life: her enormous stallion, Bear; physically demanding ranch work; and her family.

James stowed the last poker in the cooler. “I don’t mean anything. Much.”

“I don’t like Heath Loveland.” She released the latch and the last calf of the day sprang away.

A groan built in the back of her throat. Last night, Heath saw her as weak, in need of help. Why hadn’t she pushed back as hard as she would have battled her brothers?

Because you don’t look at him like a brother...

Her old mixed-up feelings returned for the boy who’d once witnessed her most shameful moment. When her father had ignored her 4-H booth’s blue-ribbon win, she’d cried. Heath, who’d had a display beside hers, had shielded her, preventing others from knowing she’d been hurt. She clenched her back teeth. Why was he always around when she was at her most vulnerable?

Even if she might—might—have had any kind of softness for Heath, he was taken, about to walk down the aisle soon, rumor had it. She’d never be interested in a guy involved with someone else. And even if he were free, she had no use for a boyfriend and never intended on marrying, would never sacrifice her independence to a man no matter how kind and sensitive he seemed. What she wanted most was respect, something she’d have if she became range boss. It’d prove, once and for all, she was worthy—just as good as or better than her cowboy brothers.

James began packing up the branding equipment and his silence on her supposed feelings for Heath nettled her. She blocked his way into the nearby barn. “I don’t like Heath.”

James shrugged. “It’s your life. I’m not judging. Although, keep your distance until after the trial.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know how those Lovelands are.” He stepped around her and disappeared in the cool dim of their stable.

She gathered her vaccination equipment and followed. “How are they?”

“They know how to sweet-talk a lady.”

Her lungs expanded at the sweet aroma of freshly strewn hay. Bear, along with the other horses, picked up his head. He nickered a greeting. “I’m no—”

“You’re still a woman. Heath’s broken almost as many hearts in this county as Jared,” James said, referring to their lady-killer brother who’d given up professional football to manage his legally blind wife’s barrel-racing career.

Jewel dumped the syringes in a bucket full of sterilizing fluid. “He’s taken.”

James shrugged as he stowed the coolers inside the barn’s cabinet. “Like all Lovelands, he can charm the birds from the trees, as Grandma would have said.”

“Example?” Jewel challenged.

James opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Exactly. We can’t blame the Lovelands for causing our feud anymore. Clyde Farthington killed Maggie Cade for her brooch and his jealousy over her secret love affair with Everett Loveland. Our ancestors jumped to the wrong conclusions when they found Everett beside Maggie’s body and hanged him without giving him a trial.”

“Cora’s Tear was still found on their land,” James insisted, referring to the priceless fifty-carat sapphire their ancestor had mined from the Yugo Gulch along with enough silver to buy their land and establish their ranch.

“Because Maggie hid it at her and Everett’s meeting spot so Clyde wouldn’t get his greedy hands on it, remember?” Jewel pulled off her gloves and washed her hands in a small stainless sink. “Besides, after Cole and Katlynn found Cora’s Tear, they returned it to Ma.”

“Fine,” James grumbled. “But what about Boyd and Ma?”

Jewel recoiled, drying her hands on a stiff brown paper towel. “You think Boyd only wants Ma for her money? That she has nothing else to offer? You married Sofia, and she had nothing.”

James took Jewel’s place at the sink. “That’s different.”

“Yeah, because at least Ma and Boyd were childhood sweethearts until her parents broke them up.” Jewel lobbed the balled-up towel into a large plastic trash barrel.

“And who’s going to pay for their monthlong honeymoon to Europe?” Without waiting for an answer, James forged on, soaping up his hands. “Ma.”

“What if she is paying?” Jewel leaned over to scratch a barn cat’s ears and imagined her mother at Loveland Hills, packing, laughing and talking with her new husband about how excited she was to be taking this trip tomorrow, the one she had dreamed about for a lifetime. “A woman can spend her money how she pleases.” Though why waste it on a honeymoon? Jewel would never be as happy as her mother was being married; she just wasn’t the girlie-wife type, as her father put it.

“I’m just saying.” James paused to grab a paper towel. “Going to watch Heath Loveland perform is one thing. Just don’t get romantically entangled like Ma. He’ll try to persuade you to change your mind about the easement, convince you not to fight their court case when it was a fair judgment.” James tossed away the paper towel and peered down at her. At six feet two inches, he had her by over a foot. “We’re fighting this lawsuit, no matter how Ma feels. This is Cade land. Defend it.

“Heath is nothing to me.” Though no denying, the deep blue of his eyes had rattled her last night. “And I’ve always defended our family and this ranch, which is why it’s time you made me range boss.”

“When I feel one of you has proven yourself, I’ll make the call.” James cranked the barn fans’ lever. They blew with a loud, buzzing roar. “Until then—”

“You’ll continue being a control freak who should delegate tasks to spend more time with your growing family?” Jewel’s balled hands landed on her hips.

James stared at her for a moment, then shook his head, smiling. “Now you sound like Sofia.”

She snorted. “Another woman you need to listen to more.”

James laughed. “You do beat all.”

“Just as long as I beat Justin.” Jewel crossed to pet her stallion’s broad black nose. “It’s still between us, right?”

James nodded.

“He’s already got extra work teaching ranching skills at Fresh Start,” Jewel said, mentioning the rehab facility run by Justin’s fiancée, former army chaplain Brielle Thompson. “But Cade Ranch...” She pointed at the rolling slopes leading up to Mount Sopris’s peak. “It’s all I have.”

James squinted at her. “Maybe that’s not a good thing.”

“I’m not cut out for marriage or a family like the rest of you.” Jewel buried her head in Bear’s warm, velvety neck.

“How do you know?”

She closed her eyes, shutting out the rising memories of her father’s criticism and dismissal. She didn’t measure up to what women...wives...mothers were supposed to be. “Promise you’ll decide who’s range boss by summer’s end.”

James considered her, then nodded slowly. “I can live with that.”

She blew out a relieved breath, pressed a quick kiss on Bear’s nose and headed for the calves. A sense of contentment stole through her as she assessed the injection and branding sites for irritation. This was her world...and for her, there was nothing else.

Now she only had to convince James by the end of the summer, and she’d have everything she ever wanted.

* * *

“GOOD EVENING, CARBONDALE. Temperatures today peaked at ninety-eight degrees with humidity at twelve percent. Severe drought conditions continue to expand across Colorado, and that means an elevated fire danger just about statewide,” announced a local weatherman.

Heath dropped the ice cream scooper in the carton to crank up the radio’s volume.

“A T-shaped swath of northern and central Colorado is listed as abnormally dry with record-breaking temperatures continuing into next week.”

Heath swore under his breath and his sister, Sierra, groaned. She finger-combed her long blond hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. “We’ll be lucky if we get through this summer without a major forest fire.” As a wildlife veterinarian, weather extremes were her greatest fear.

“And without losing any cattle.” Heath plopped vanilla ice cream into a bowl and passed it to his adopted brother, Daryl, who drizzled fudge topping on it.

“We’ve got to keep the herd intact.” Daryl’s light blue eyes gleamed beneath black brows.

“How come, Pa?” Daryl’s eight-year-old daughter, Emma, twirled on the ranch house’s bare wood floor in stocking feet.

“Nothing for you to worry about, darlin’.” Daryl ruffled Emma’s fine blond hair. He, Sierra and Heath exchanged silent, anxious glances. Any cattle loss put them closer to foreclosure. “Want sprinkles?”

Emma jumped. “Yes! Can I have a lot?”

“You got it, honey.” Sierra held up two containers. “Chocolate or rainbow?”

“Rainbow.” Emma pointed to the colorful bow around the bun she’d worn to dance class. “I want to match like Grandma Joy.”

“Can I have chocolate?” Daryl’s six-year-old son, Noah, scooted onto Sierra’s lap. His thick black hair, exactly like his father’s, swished across his round face. “And rainbow?”

“Anything you want,” Sierra vowed.

“Don’t spoil him,” Daryl warned, all while pouring on heaps of fudge. The hypocrite.

“These are my only nieces and nephews so I’m spoiling them rotten.” Noah giggled when Sierra tickled his side. “Maybe Heath and Kelsey will have babies soon, so I’ll have more to spoil...”

An expectant silence fell as Heath wordlessly passed over another bowl. He still hadn’t told Kelsey, or his family, about his Nashville tryout. When Pa and Cole finally got in from their fence inspection, he’d quit stalling and share his plans to drive to Tennessee next week. His stomach twisted. Would they be happy for him? Would Kelsey? Anticipation kept him up last night, imagining a future he’d never dared dream before, along with his fiery exchange with a certain redheaded cowgirl.

An ungrateful cowgirl.

“Can I be your flower girl when you get married this year, Uncle Heath? Huh? Can I?” Emma asked around a mouthful of ice cream.

Heath swallowed hard as he met Emma’s expectant blue eyes. “If I do, you’re the only flower girl I’d want.”

“If?” Emma angled her face up to her father. “I thought Mama said you were setting a date or something...”

“Hush now and eat your dessert,” Daryl urged, his tone gentle but firm.

“Is Mama coming?” Noah asked, his lips rimmed in sprinkles and chocolate.

A shadow darkened Daryl’s eyes. “No. She’s got another headache.”

“She always says that.” Emma dropped her cheek into her palm and sighed. “And she never wants to do anything except type on the computer. How come you don’t sleep at home anymore, Pa?”

Daryl’s face flushed, and concern for his brother spiked inside Heath. Daryl and LeAnne’s nine-year marriage had problems from the start. Lately, Heath woke to find Daryl sleeping on the ranch’s sofa rather than in his family’s cabin. They hadn’t spoken about it since Daryl, like all Lovelands, valued his privacy, but his suffering was clear.

“The drought has dramatically expanded recently,” the weather reporter droned on. “Thursday’s drought monitor indicates that more than ninety-eight percent of the state is in a drought, up from only ten percent at the start of the year. That’s a dramatic increase from just three months ago.”

“How come it never rains?” Noah scooped the fudge circling his melting ice cream and dumped it back over the top.

“And it didn’t snow at Christmas, either.” Emma’s face pinched. “Are we going to die like the polar bears? That’s what Jenny says.”

“Don’t listen to foolish talk.” Daryl accepted the bowl Heath passed him and dug in.

Heath eyed his niece’s and nephew’s wide, fearful eyes, clicked off the radio and slid a sundae toward Sierra. “We need to do a rain dance.”

“I want to do a rain dance!” Noah hopped off Sierra’s lap and clapped his hands. “What’s a rain dance?”

Heath stowed away the ice cream carton. “It’s a sacred ritual Native Americans do to ask for rain.”

Noah’s body practically vibrated with excitement. “Can we try?”

Heath shook his head. “Well, we can’t do a real Native American rain dance, but we can do our own.” He grabbed a small pot and a spoon and handed it to Emma, then passed over two boxes of elbow macaroni to Noah. “Line up behind me.”

“She just pushed me!” Noah complained when the kids jostled for the spot directly behind Heath.

“Did not!” Emma cried.

“Did, too!”

“Enough!” barked Daryl, a hint of a humor lightening his tone. “Or the rain dance is canceled due to bad behavior.”

“Sorry!” Emma and Noah squeaked.

“What do I do with these?” Noah held up the boxes. “They’re heavy!”

“You shake them.” Heath demonstrated, then handed a box back. “They’ll make a rain sound to call the clouds.”

“I’ll take one.” Daryl dropped his spoon in his bowl, snagged the box and lined up behind his son.

“What’s mine do?” Emma gestured with her spoon.

“My guess is you’re going to bang the pan so it makes a thunder sound to call to the sky.” Travis, their brother and the local sheriff, stomped into the kitchen, doffing his tan hat.

Noah shivered. “I like thunderstorms, but only when Pa cuddles us.”

“Hey, Ginger and I want in on this.” Sierra joined the lineup behind Heath, their tabby curled in her arms.

“The more the merrier. Ready for the rain dance?” Heath glanced back and grinned at the sight of his niece’s and nephew’s expectant faces. What was so bad about pleasing people? A moment ago, they’d been scared, and he’d made them forget those fears.

“Ready!” Emma and Noah shouted.

“Let me grab something!” Travis scrounged in the utensil drawer and grabbed a cheese grater and a butter knife. He sawed the flat end of the blade against the jagged holes. “All set.”

Heath sang Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” as they marched around the long, dark pine kitchen table dominating the cozy space. Macaroni rattled inside the boxes Noah and Daryl shook while Emma banged her pan and Travis sawed on his grate. Sierra added a meow here and there. All in all, not half bad for a family band. One side of Heath’s mouth kicked up.

“Hey, what’s this?” asked Pa as he entered the front door.

“We’re making it rain!” shouted Noah, blasting across the open living space to throw his arms around his grandpa’s legs.

“And thunder.” Emma clanged her spoon against the pan for emphasis.

Pa hung his hat. “Well now. We sure could use it.”

A wire tightened across Heath’s chest, constricting his breath. Time to tell Pa about his Nashville tryout before he bailed like Clint predicted. “There’s something important I need to talk to you about, Pa.”

Pa nodded. “Let me just get a cup of joe first.” His normally broad shoulders drooped, and the grooves of his weathered face appeared deeper, his skin slightly gray.

“What’s wrong, Pa?” Sierra set down Ginger and hurried to their father. “You don’t look good.”

Pa ran a hand over his brush of silver hair, then jerked a thumb at the screen door. “Cole’s the one who’s not doing good.”

Travis ducked outside.

“What happened?” Heath measured out coffee grounds and dumped them in the coffee maker. Since his brother Cole’s ex, Katlynn Brennan, left after taping a segment for her cable show about the Loveland-Cade family feud, he’d been even more withdrawn than usual.

“Hurt his arm.” Pa opened the door and ushered in a hunched Cole, his left arm in a sling, followed by Joy and Travis.

Air whooshed out of Heath’s lungs as if someone had just drop-kicked him in the chest. If Cole was laid up, their make-or-break herding season went from daunting to near impossible.

“Are you okay, Uncle Cole?” Emma tugged on his plaid shirt.

Pain edged Cole’s smile, and dark unease filled Heath. “I’ve had better days, but your pretty smile sure makes things better. That and some Percocet.”

The unease turned into balls of dread, settling heavily in Heath’s stomach. Cole never took pain medication. His arm must be seriously injured. Water overflowed the coffeepot Heath held beneath the faucet before he switched it off.

Emma giggled. “You always say that, Uncle Cole.”

He lightly tapped the tip of Emma’s nose. “That’s because it’s always true.”

“Can I draw on your cast?” Noah tugged Cole’s sling. The dread exploded in Heath’s gut like buckshot, and his gaze dropped to the white plaster encasing Cole’s left arm. He’d broken it. “Josh has one and he let everyone sign it but me.”

“He’s mean,” Emma griped. “Who wants to sign stupid-head’s stupid old cast anyway?”

“Be nice,” Sierra chided, her raised hand hiding her smile.

As Heath stared at Cole, his heart cracked open. What did this mean to his Nashville tryout? He poured the measured water into the back of the coffee maker and flicked on the machine.

It was a selfish thought. Shameful...considering his brother was hurt. Heath breathed in the brewing coffee’s rich roasted aroma and strove to settle his racing pulse. He opened the fridge and paused before pulling out the milk, letting the cool air wash over his flushed face.

“What happened?” Sierra retrieved mugs. When the gurgling coffee maker quieted, she filled them and added milk.

Cole’s stance appeared casual, but he was coiled tight, hiding the pain. “Wasn’t paying close enough attention while fixing the bull pen fence. I got pinned when Diesel charged.”

Heath winced. Few survived the force of a two-ton raging bull. With a grateful nod, Pa curled his fingers around the warm mug Heath passed him.

Daryl whistled. “Could have been a heck of a lot worse.”

Cole accepted Sierra’s coffee and dropped into a seat. “Pa pulled me out.”

“Why were you in there, anyway?” Travis clasped his hands behind his back and frowned.

“Thought Diesel was secured in his pen. Must not have latched the gate last night.” Cole dropped his head in his hand.

“I’m just so thankful you’re both okay.” Joy reached across the table and managed to pat both Cole and their pa. Despite the late hour, their new stepmother looked stylish—and matching—as always in a blue polka-dot blouse tucked into a blue skirt that complemented her silver bob and hazel eyes.

“How long do you have to wear the cast?” Heath’s temples were starting to ache. The scalding coffee burned his tongue, but he kept sipping anyway.

“Six weeks.” Pa’s expression was pale and strained.

“Which is why Joy and I are canceling our honeymoon.”

Heath’s jaw hit the floor. Coffee splashed over the rim of his mug when he set it down. They needed every hand, but Pa couldn’t cancel his special trip with the woman he’d waited for all his life. They had to figure out a way to make this work. “Daryl and I can handle things, Pa.”

Pa shook his head, lacing his fingers with Joy’s. “We need at least three full-timers. Maverick’s on his bull-riding tour. Travis used up his vacation last week for the wedding, Sierra’s running her practice, and we can’t afford to hire another hand.”

A weight landed on Heath’s shoulders as he rubbed his fingers along his temples. He couldn’t leave his family ranch when they needed him. Couldn’t try for the record deal after all. The feeling that his dreams were slipping through his fingers cut deep into him, making misery of his bone and tissue.

Heath clenched his jaw and dragged in a deep breath. The contract was a long shot anyway. No sense pining for it. Instead, he’d work around the clock to ensure things ran smoothly during their cattle drive while his father honeymooned. Staving off foreclosure mattered most. Heath’s life had never belonged to him anyway; it’d been stupid to think otherwise, even for one night.

Cole lifted his head slowly. “Sorry, Pa.”

“Stop me if I’m overstepping, but...” Joy’s mouth pursed. “Maybe one of my kids could lend a hand? We have plenty of help with my nephews visiting this summer. We could spare someone experienced.”

Everyone sat perfectly still. No one spoke or even appeared to breathe. A Cade working Loveland ranch? Unthinkable...yet they had to consider it.

“Forget it.” Joy pulled off her frameless glasses and cleared the fogged lens with a napkin. “I shouldn’t have interfered.”

“You’re part of the family, darlin’.” Pa smiled tenderly. “It says Joy Loveland on our marriage certificate, don’t it?”

“Yeah.” Sierra threw an arm around Joy. “You’re one of us. I’m proud you’re my stepmother.”

“Me, too,” Heath, Daryl, Travis and Cole chorused.

“And our grandma!” shouted Emma and Noah, whose simultaneous attempts to climb on Joy’s lap went from shoving to a WWE match before Daryl banished them to opposite sides of the table.

“Sorry, Joy.” Daryl stared down his kids until they apologized, as well.

“After raising six kids, five of them boys, I don’t break easy.” Joy’s hands shook as she wiped beneath her eyes. “I couldn’t be prouder to call you my stepchildren and grandchildren. Hopefully, once the trial’s over, we’ll all become a real family, too. I want that more than anything.”

Heath spied his doubt in his siblings’ eyes. They’d never get along with the Cades, not with so many years of bad blood between them, no matter how the feud started, especially with their face-off in court next month. Joy was the exception.

In the week since she’d moved in, Heath had noticed subtle improvements. Family dinners happened every night. Baskets of freshly laundered clothes appeared on their beds daily. And the moment anyone mentioned a food preference, the item materialized in the fridge the following day.

Is this what having a mother is like? Heath had caught himself wondering since the wedding. He’d devoted his childhood to pleasing his real mother, to smoothing things over and making others happy. Having someone else take care of him and his family left him unsettled...and feeling almost unneeded, if that made any good sense.

“Let’s not talk about the trial for now,” Pa said, gruff. “Joy, who should we ask to help?”

She tapped her chin. “Jack’s working across the state as a sheriff’s deputy. James is ranch manager, so we can’t spare him. My nephews are learning the ropes and don’t have enough experience. Jared’s touring with Amberley so that leaves either Justin or Jewel.” No mention of Jesse, of course, the son she’d lost to violence related to his opioid addiction.

“Justin?” Cole exclaimed. “Heck no, not unless you want the place burned down. Remember the Fourth of July when he decided to light fireworks from the church steeple and set the roof ablaze?”

Joy smiled widely at that, and Heath’s stomach plummeted. If not Justin, then the rancher assisting him would have to be...

“Who would you pick, Pa?” Daryl wiped fudge from Noah’s chin.

“I’ll let our range boss decide. He’s in charge of ranch operations while I’m away.” All eyes turned Heath’s way.

Heath’s stomach twisted something awful, and he opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. Jewel’s dogged determination to free the spare, her no-nonsense efficiency in mounting the new tire and her dry, quick wit had impressed him.

Her challenging, irritating and obnoxious personality, not so much. She was a tough, experienced, capable cowgirl, whose mouth would be a constant source of aggravation. Kelsey had given him until summer’s end to agree to a wedding date, and he needed time, space and peace on the open range to stop bucking his future...something he’d never get riding alongside the brash redhead.

Worse, the connection he’d felt with Jewel last night, the way his thoughts kept straying to her today, warned him of trouble ahead if they spent too much time together.

“Heath?” Pa prompted.

Time to pry his tongue off the roof of his mouth. There was nothing for it. “Jewel.” Heath scraped back his chair. “If you’ll excuse me?”

He trudged to the porch and leaned over the railing, soaking up the fresh air. Twilight was still at the stage where it was more lavender than onyx, with the fireflies just beginning to turn on and off in the yard. Standing there with the birds chirping in the trees, the crosscut-sawing of the crickets and a cattle dog snoring at the top of the stairs, was usually restful.

Heath shoved his hands in his pockets, yanked them out again, then laced them tightly behind his back, unable to settle his mind. Spirit. Heart. All around him, broad-shouldered mountains rose, penning him in, pinning him down.

Goodbye, Nashville.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a burning knot of emotion formed in the back of his throat. Without other prospects, he’d have to accept Kelsey’s father’s offer to become a partner in the supply business.

He’d have to set a wedding date.

Give up gigging.

Music.

He sucked in a sharp, stinging breath, then blew it out. He heard a fluttering overhead and then the hoot of an owl, which for some reason struck him as menacing.

At least his new, lucrative job meant he could help keep Loveland Hills on secure financial footing. It wasn’t the life he’d dreamed of, but it was the one he’d been dealt.

Best he accepted it.

Besides, he loved Kelsey...didn’t he? They’d been together for so long he wasn’t always sure. Their relationship was comfortable, like a pair of worn slippers...and just as boring. But that was typical of people who’d been together as long as he and Kelsey had, he’d heard.

The door banged open behind him, and Pa clapped him on the back. “Jewel will be a whole lot easier on the eye than Justin.”

Heath shifted from foot to foot and swatted away something feathery, a moth. Looks weren’t everything. He’d watched Jewel at local rodeos through the years; she was a talented roper and rode as well as any man. The question was: Would she listen to him and take orders? Between her and Justin, he’d wager her daredevil brother would be easier to handle, despite what Cole said. This year’s herding had to go off without a hitch. The stakes were too high for mistakes.

“You sure you’ll be okay handling the cattle drive while I’m away?” Pa asked. “Joy’s fine canceling the trip.”

Heath jerked his lips into a smile big enough to ease his father’s concerns. Pa deserved to be happy. “You bet, Pa.”

His father’s tense expression softened. “Never thought I’d have this second chance with Joy. I appreciate it, son.”

“No thanks needed. It’s what family does. We’re always here for each other.”

Pa nodded. “So, what was the important thing you wanted to tell me?”

Gnats whined in Heath’s ears and tree frogs piped. He stared at the distant moon and shook his head. “It wasn’t that important.”

Which was true.

Nothing was as important as keeping his family happy and at peace. Now he just needed to make peace with it himself...

And manage antagonistic Jewel Cade while driving cattle through one of the worst droughts in his state’s history.

His fingers clenched around the rail once his father strode back inside. What had he just signed up for?


CHAPTER THREE (#u3d7b7885-4653-57cf-8b88-a23f35832bb2)

JEWEL INHALED THE comforting vanilla scent of Ma’s neck as she hugged her tight in the Lovelands’ circular drive. The morning clouds were a deep, ominous gray. They churned like muddy waters stirred up from the bottom of a lake, mirroring her mood.

She dropped her head on her mother’s shoulder and closed stinging eyes. How had her plan to become Cade Ranch’s range boss crashed and burned in less than twenty-four hours? She’d be working Loveland Hills for the next month, her chance to prove herself to James gone. Despite a sleepless night, she still hadn’t completely processed it all.

“I’m going to miss you, honey.” Ma’s hazel eyes searched Jewel’s when she stepped back.

Above her earnest face, the stately poplars surrounding the Lovelands’ homey ranch house swayed. It reminded Jewel of a Hallmark Christmas ornament, with its white-spindled, wraparound porch, a honey-colored porch swing and wide front steps. Lacy, leaded-glass transoms were open above every ground-floor entrance to let the breezes flow through. Yet none of its tranquility made her feel welcome...or at home.

“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” Ma probed.

The collective gazes of the Cade and Loveland siblings, gathered to see their parents off on their honeymoon, pressed Jewel like invisible hands. Judging, weighing, testing... She shoved back her shoulders and snapped up her chin. “Of course. Heath could use a lesson on what real ranching looks like.”

Her brothers’ guffaws rang out. Beside a clump of large-leafed hostas, Heath and his siblings shifted in their boots, stone-faced and tight-lipped. Typical, obstinate Lovelands. They didn’t even flinch at her jab. How was she supposed to spend a month with them? Concrete had more personality.

At least the children got along. Javi darted around flowering bushes with Daryl’s son and daughter, screeching, “Tag, you’re it!” Everything was in bloom on the expansive property. Daisies, trumpet lilies and purple coneflowers mingled in raised beds while brightly colored petunias lined a flagstone walkway.

Her eyes clicked with Heath’s, and her heart added an extra beat. In a black cowboy hat pulled low over his lean, handsome face, his brilliant blue eyes piercing beneath the brim, he was rugged, gorgeous and—she gave herself a shake—off-limits.

When Ma begged her to help the Lovelands last night, Jewel reluctantly agreed. Her mother always sacrificed for her family. She deserved the honeymoon of her dreams. Would Jewel lose her range boss spot to Justin if he impressed James in her absence?

Boyd stood behind Ma and spanned her waist with his hands. His features settled into stern lines as he scrutinized the group. “All y’all are gonna get along while we’re gone, right? No dustups.”

Sierra stepped forward and kissed her father and Ma. “Of course.” She shot them a wide smile, turned and narrowed her eyes on her siblings until they grinned, too, the entire group joining so they resembled a bunch of crazed clowns, no doubt. “We’re family now.”

Boyd and Joy exchanged a worried glance.

“Sierra’s right.” Heath ambled over to Jewel. His unhurried, loose-limbed grace turned his Wranglers, black boots and fitted white T-shirt into something like poetry...the easy-to-memorize kind that branded itself inside you. He set his palm on her back in a gesture halfway between a clap and a hug. Her body tensed in awareness. The subtle scent of his clean skin, salty and slightly smoky, made her breathe deep. “We’re family. Right, sis?”

“Right, little brother.” Her cheeks ached with the nonstop grinning. Technically, she was only a day older than Heath, but she’d exploit the age difference for all it was worth.

“Little, huh?” He arched an eyebrow and stared down from his great height. Like all Lovelands, he was mountain-sized and tree-tall, even bigger than her brothers. She squirmed slightly in his hold. If she couldn’t impress James this month, she’d sure as heck prove herself equal to any Loveland and hopefully, in the process, find a way to still be named Cade Ranch’s range boss.

“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight...” she murmured beneath her breath.

“It’s the size of the fight in the dog,” Heath finished, a twinkle in his luminous eyes. “Is this our first fight?”

“One of many to come.” Overhead, birds sang in the poplars and small white butterflies flitted in a small patch of sage. Jewel’s stiff cheeks eased, her grin becoming genuine until she caught herself. What was she doing smiling, for real, at a Loveland?

“Hey!” Justin catcalled. “Whatever you two have going on over there, can you save it for after Ma and Boyd leave?”

Jewel jerked away from Heath, and his hand dropped. Red stole up over the collar of his T-shirt, the same type of heat bleeding into her cheeks. “Knock it off, Justin.” Her fist shot out and Justin danced back, rubbing his shoulder.

“Truth hurts, don’t it?” His white teeth flashed inside his dark beard.

“I’ll show you what hurts.” Jewel advanced, scowling, fist cocked.

“Jewel!” Her mother’s horrified gasp stopped her dead. Her arm fell. Heath’s disapproving expression made something inside her wither and curl into a tight ball. Fine. She wasn’t a lady. Didn’t measure up to his standards of womanhood, just like her father believed. Well...she didn’t care. She lived by her own standards and was doing fine.

Just fine.

“Use your words, Aunt Jewel,” piped up Daryl’s little girl.

Okay...maybe she wasn’t doing fine when an eight-year-old lectured her about behavior.

“Time for us to go or we’ll miss our flight.” Boyd held open the pickup’s passenger door. “If we have to come home early on account of any mischief, you’ll wish we hadn’t.”

Jewel rolled her eyes and Heath’s mouth twitched as they exchanged a swift, secretly amused look that meant nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

“No mischief, Pa, promise. Like Sierra said, we’re family.” Heath caught everyone’s eye until they nodded along, heads bobbing like a clutch of chickens.

“I have faith.” Ma’s mouth curved into a smile. “You’ll do just fine without us. Love you!” And with that, she gripped Boyd’s hand and stepped up into the truck’s cab.

Boyd angled his head toward the pickup. “What she said.” He hopped in behind the wheel and slammed the door shut.

“Goodbye!” everyone hollered as they drove away, returning Joy’s wave through the rear window.

As soon as the pickup disappeared, their smiles whisked off their faces. Justin’s mouth twisted into a snarl. Cole drummed thick fingers on his cast arm.

James sauntered over to Heath. “Nice act, but we’re not your family.”

“Your ma says so,” Heath countered. A cattle dog joined the children. It raced around the perimeter—barking madly—but Heath whistled, and it came bounding up to him. “Down, girl.” He tousled her mane affectionately, and she gave a resigned whimper and curled herself at his feet.

“Let’s keep a couple of things straight.” James planted his boots wide. The remaining Cades and Lovelands crowded close. A flashback to their softball game pileup last month had Jewel bracing. “One. Jewel is here only because of Ma, not out of any sense of kinship with you. Right, Jewel?”

She struggled to nod under Heath’s keen stare. James was right. She’d never volunteer for any other reason...the way Heath’s T-shirt stretched across a well-defined chest and a toned stomach—the kind of stomach that put six-packs to shame, notwithstanding.

Lordy, he was one beautiful, brawny cowboy.

“We already figured that out, genius,” Cole uttered with infuriating calm.

Heat rolled off Justin in waves. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because whenever anyone needs help, Cades usually just throw money at it.” Scorn darkened Cole’s accusation.

Jewel opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. Her family gave generously to local charities, whereas the Lovelands gave their time, always the first to arrive when someone needed aid. Then again, time and a pair of hands was all they had to offer since, as her grandmother would have said, they didn’t have two nickels to rub together.

“At least we’ve got money to send,” Jared insisted.

“Money you’ve made for a hundred years while denying our easement to the Crystal River.” Fury dripped from Darryl’s words.

A vein started to protrude from Jared’s forehead. “The one taken away after your cattle trampled our property and bred with our longhorns?”

The shouts of the playing children filled the sudden, tense silence. Daryl’s daughter was spinning under a dogwood tree, her head tipped back and her arms flung out. The boys raced each other to a fence post and back.

If only life could be that uncomplicated again...

“Lie,” Daryl charged. “Your ancestor’s brother judged the case instead of recusing himself. He stole it from us.”

James shrugged. “Then why didn’t your family appeal?”

“Our family wouldn’t have had enough money to pay for a lawyer.” Heath pulled off his hat and damp strands of dark hair clung to his temples. “Driving cattle farther to reach the Crystal River means herd depletion. Loss of revenue.”

Jared made a sweeping motion with his hand. “How do you have enough money to hire a lawyer now?”

“None of your business.” White appeared around Cole’s clamped lips.

Sierra gave an exasperated huff. “Our attorney’s taking twenty percent.”

“Of the five million you’re suing us for in damages?” Jewel demanded, dragging in air too fast.

“That’s right,” Heath said evenly.

“You’ll never win.” Justin’s boots crunched on the driveway’s gravel as he paced.

Cole stepped in front of Justin, blocking his way, and leaned down so the tips of their noses nearly touched. “Guess we’ll see next month.”

Another silence fell, this one heavy and muffling, like a blanket. Heath shot Jewel an inscrutable look, then waved his hands. “Let’s leave this to the lawyers. For now, we’ll honor our promise to our parents.”

“I didn’t promise nothing,” spat Justin, eyeball to eyeball with Cole.

“Me neither.” Daryl puffed his broad chest.

“Daddy, how come you’re so mad?” Daryl’s little boy, Ned... Nick...no... Noah looked up at his father with a worried frown.

Daryl’s tense expression softened when he glanced down at his child. “I’m not mad.”

“You look mad,” asserted his daughter, whose name started with an E... Emma. “And the Cades are nice. Javi and I are BFFs.” She looped her arm through Javi’s.

“I don’t like girls,” Javi added, the innocent comment diffusing the tension as smiles and muffled snorts circled the group. “But she’s my cousin—her and Noah, right, Pa? More family is always good, isn’t it?”

James studied his son and shook his head. “Guess kids can teach the adults now and again. Let’s go.”

One by one, Jewel watched her family leave, exchanging waves or hugs. Cole, Sierra and Daryl strode away next. Only then did it hit her. She’d be living in enemy territory, around the clock, as the extra ranch hand they needed for an outfit of this size. Sure, her ranch was only five miles away, but it might as well be light years in distance from the family, the only home, she’d ever known.

“Where’s your gear?” Heath asked.

Jewel nodded at her stallion, Bear. His black tail slapped at flies beneath the poplar she’d tied him to. “In the saddlebag.”

Heath cocked his head. “What about the rest?”

“Rest of what?”

“Clothes? Toiletries? Girl stuff...makeup?”

Her face scrunched. “I brought a comb, a toothbrush and toothpaste. Deodorant. Underclothes. I’m assuming you have soap and laundry if my jeans need a scrub.”

“Won’t you want to spiff up every night? Change outfits?”

She scowled at him. “Cowgirls don’t ‘spiff up,’ we dust off. And do I look like I care about outfits? Makeup?”

The intensity of his close stare nearly rocked her back on her boot heels. “Guess I thought, like most women...”

“I’m not most women.”

“I can see that.”

She jammed down the rising sense of not measuring up, untied Bear and led him around. “Where can I stable him?”

“This way.”

She followed Heath to the rear of a well-kept barn. The smell of fresh manure drifted through an open window. Inside the lofted space, they traveled across creaky, straw-littered floorboards. While its finishes were outdated, the water system hand-pumped, the horses appeared well cared for in roomy stalls.

After settling Bear and feeding him his favorite treat—apple-flavored licorice—she threw her arms around his neck. “Don’t be scared, Bear,” she whispered. “This is just temporary.”

He nickered, and she released him to join Heath at the other end of the barn. He waved her into a small room where he’d spread Loveland Hills’ survey map on a desk.

“Here’s where we’re driving cattle today.” He pointed out a spot.

“The calves have all been vaccinated?” At Cade Ranch, they didn’t go to pasture without protection.

“Yesterday.” Heath leaned over to smooth a folded map corner, and his arm brushed hers. The brief touch, in this intimate space, did something funny to her knees, softened them somehow so they dipped slightly.

She propped a hip against the desk to keep her feet under her...to battle the irresponsible urge to lean closer to him. “Us, too. Are they weaned?”

Heath shook his head. “Shots are stressful enough. We don’t separate them.”

“We don’t, either.”

“Huh.”

“Huh.” Their eyes clung for a moment, and she noticed a thin band of black surrounding his brilliant blue irises.

When Heath cleared his throat, she remembered to breathe. “Anyways. I’ll need you ready to go in an hour.”

Jewel peered at their destination, noting the coordinates, the elevation. “We can’t go there.”

Heath frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s your southernmost point...the most exposed to the drought. I bet forage sorghum grows there, right?”

“Some sorghum, but mostly ryegrass.”

“But sorghum is hardier in extreme weather,” she countered. “There’ll be more of it.”

The beginnings of a crease developed between Heath’s eyebrows. “What if there is?”

“We’ve never had a drought this bad. Extreme dry weather causes prussic acid to build up in sorghum grass, which will weaken the cattle. It slows their ability to take in oxygen, might even kill some.”

Heath rubbed the back of his neck. “And you know all this because...”

Outside the office, the horses nickered and shifted in their stalls. “I read. Go to conferences.”

Shock splashed across Heath’s face. “You read about cows.”

One shoulder rose. “Yeah—so?”

“Took you for more of an outdoorsy type than a bookworm.”

“Who says you can’t be both?” Her shoulders shot up, nearly reaching her ears. Why did everyone want to put her in a box? If life was a road, then shouldn’t you be allowed to change lanes? Take detours?

He stared at her for a long moment and nodded. With his vibrant eyes and near-heavenly features, he looked like she imagined an angel would. He had cheekbones and a jaw you could cut glass with, a face any artist would die to sketch—or touch. And those full, expressive lips were parted. “Look, the Lovelands have been driving cattle in this pattern for over a hundred years. We always start here. It’s how my father wants it done.”

“He’s not here. You are.”

A muscle feathered in Heath’s jaw. “And I’m doing it Pa’s way.”

“Don’t you ever just do what you want?”

He stilled, his expression as shuttered as any Loveland’s. Yet something in the corners of his eyes, a darkening, a creasing, betrayed his discontent. Was he dissatisfied with his life? Impossible. Soon he’d be married to the daughter of a wealthy family, about to have it all, respect, money, prestige.

Whereas she...she’d continue being just another hand on her family ranch if she didn’t get the range boss job.

She must have made a noise because Heath’s gaze lasered into her. Sparks of electricity crackled from his deep blue eyes. “Let’s get something straight. I call the shots.”

Their breaths came a little faster, harder, as they stared each other down. “Still doesn’t make you right about the pasture,” she snapped. “I’d make a better range boss.”

“Then why aren’t you Cade Ranch’s range boss?”

Her heart throbbed like a giant open wound. She willed away the sting of his words and pressed on. “James promised to give me the job if I proved myself this summer. Since I’m stuck here, I’ll prove it on Loveland Hills instead.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I challenge you.”

Heath’s frown deepened. “To what?”

“To prove who’s the better rancher.” She gestured between them. “Cade versus Loveland.”

“We’re on the brink of foreclosure,” he responded in clipped tones. “I’m not playing games or keeping score.”

Jewel picked up a pen and clicked the tip in and out. “I’m not playing, either, but I will be keeping score.” She dropped the pen and peered up at Heath. “And I intend to win.”

Heath made a quick, sharp, shaking-away motion with his head. “Play whatever games you want but know this... I’m in charge of everything on this ranch, including you.”

Her fingers curled in, nails biting into her palms as anger flushed through her system, hot and bitter. Oh, the terrible, crushing, breath-stealing burden of people who thought you didn’t measure up. “You’ll never be in charge of me.”

“We’re doing it this way, end of story. Be ready to head out in an hour.” He turned on his heel, strode away, then paused in the doorway. “I’m the range boss. Not you.”

He tossed those last two words at her like he was throwing down a gauntlet—the one she’d been battling her whole life.

Challenge accepted.

She stomped to Bear and flung her arms around his neck. “Miserable, stubborn, know-it-all Loveland,” she whispered into his thick mane inhaling his comforting, musky scent. “I can’t stand him,” she insisted, wondering who she was trying to convince.

James didn’t take her seriously, and now Heath?

Her skin tingled like a thousand fire ants were marching all over it. Heath had a lot of lessons to learn, one of them being to never underestimate a woman.

Especially her.

From here on out, it was war. Cade versus Loveland, and may the best rancher win.

* * *

HEATH LIGHTLY TAPPED his spurs into his mare’s sides and cantered along the line of trudging Brahmans. With his index finger and pinkie in his mouth, he whistled three sharp blasts. Blue wheeled around from the front. The cattle dog raced toward a pair of heifers who’d paused to graze. A few jaw-snapping lunges got the hungry animals moving forward again.

With a yank, Heath freed his kerchief from his back pocket and mopped his dripping face. It was drier and hotter than the center of a haystack, despite the lack of sun. The Loveland rain dance had conjured only clouds...and a different kind of storm. His gaze swerved to the petite redheaded rough rider who effortlessly drove the cattle ahead of him, her body in perfect sync with her enormous black stallion. In the distance, their destination, a southern valley with abundant greenery and a natural spring, beckoned.

Was Jewel right about the sorghum grass?

She hadn’t spoken since they set out a couple of hours ago, her silence bugging him for no good reason. His family rarely talked when working. Besides, he wanted this time on the range to make peace with his future as a married businessman, yet his thoughts kept returning to his and Jewel’s earlier argument.

She’d acted as though she’d save the day by steering them from this pasture and prove herself a better range boss. It’d blasted away his usual patience. He’d had to remind her who was in charge.

His stomach twisted, and his back tensed.

What’d gotten into him?

You’re under my control...

His words echoed in his ears. Who spoke like that? Shirtless guys on the covers of Sierra’s romance novels, that’s who. Not him. Not before Jewel blasted into his life, intent on shaking it—and him—up.

With a slight tug, he slowed his Appaloosa, Destiny, and plodded alongside the bawling cattle. Their heads bobbed as they lumbered on dry, rocky ground. Choking dust rose. Up ahead, Jewel expertly headed off a small breakaway trio and nipped them back into the group. In the rear, Travis patrolled the end of the herd, keeping an eye out for stragglers or predators.

Why had Heath acted like a demanding jerk before? Jewel triggered something inside him, a part that wanted to assert itself even when he knew the disastrous consequences of putting his wants ahead of others. A disturbing image of his mother on the night of Cole’s sixteenth birthday momentarily blinded him. Just in time, he spotted a depression and guided Destiny around it. Her hooves clattered over bedrock.

Jewel wasn’t to blame for his actions. He was chafing inside his own life. A mustang resisting the bit. Sometimes he felt as though his life was like a railroad car that had been shunted onto a side track—all the wasted, carefree years of his youth spent worrying about his mother’s moods, her well-being, her effect on the family. And now here he was, still lagging behind, still not on the main track, worrying he’d look back on his adult years and wonder what he’d accomplished beyond making others happy.

And shouldn’t that be enough for any man?

To please is a disease.

He frowned and touched his spurs to Destiny again. Instantly, she transitioned into a trot, then a gallop before he pulled her up alongside Jewel. “Nice work.”

Her pert nose lifted, the only indication she’d heard him. Beneath her white Stetson, her face was pink; she suddenly looked pretty. And dainty. Thick leather reins disappeared inside one small hand. The other rested on her jean-clad thigh. It was shapely for it being so short, he observed before tearing his eyes away to gaze at the nearing pasture. “You’ve ridden with your brothers all your life?”

“What else would I have been doing?” she asked from the side of her mouth, eyes locked straight ahead. “Playing dolls? Dress-up? Baking? This is the twenty-first century. We have things like electricity now...and women have the vote...”

He flushed. “I get that. My sister Sierra was more interested in caring for the animals, and Kelsey, she—”

Jewel’s loud, noisy yawn cut him off. When she finished, she angled her face his way, one eyebrow arched, her expression mock-innocent. “Sorry, what was that again?”

A reluctant smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. Fine. She wasn’t interested in hearing about Kelsey and honestly, he wasn’t even sure why he’d brought her up. Invoking her name erected an invisible wall between him and Jewel. It was a reminder he was taken...though who, exactly, needed the reminding? With a jolt, he recalled an invitation to dine with her family tonight. His throat tightened. Would they expect some kind of an announcement?

“How long have you had your horse?” he asked, eyeing Jewel’s enormous mount. The stallion had to be seventeen hands, yet Jewel rode him effortlessly, clearly in control.

The dimple appearing in her freckled cheek fascinated him. “Eight years. His name’s Bear.”

“Good name.”

“Your Appaloosa’s pretty. What’s her name?”

“Destiny. I figured wherever she took me was where I was supposed to go.”

Jewel’s dimple disappeared. “You’re the one guiding her. You choose where you go, not Destiny.”

Her words struck him momentarily mute. Before he could speak, Jewel gasped. “What’s that!”

He followed her finger point into the looming pasture and took in the overgrowth of sorghum, the wilted leaves, the lack of ryegrass, just as Jewel predicted.

“The grass,” he began, but she cut him off again.

“No! That!” She spurred Bear forward, leaning low over his neck, her red braid lifting behind her.

“Yah!” Destiny responded to his cue and gave chase. They’d nearly caught up to Jewel when she stopped Bear on the edge of the grazing area and vaulted from the saddle.

“Look.”

He followed her nod and spied a buzzing cloud of flies over a dead animal. A large animal. Was it...?

“This one of yours?” Jewel pointed to a motionless cow.

His stomach turned as he eyed the brand on its flank and the ear tag. “She went missing a couple of days ago. We’ve been looking for her...” He eyed the white foam around the Brahman’s mouth and pale gums. A dark suspicion grabbed him by the throat. His gaze swept over the yellowing field of water-deprived sorghum, then to the approaching herd. They were walking to their deaths if they got any closer.

“Prussic acid poisoning.”

Jewel glanced up at him sharply when he spoke.

He braced for the “I told you so” that didn’t come. Instead, Jewel nodded, leaped into her saddle and grabbed Bear’s reins to yank his head up from the deadly plants. “Let’s turn them around.”

The top of the herd began descending the small slope, just yards from the poisoned forage. “No time to waste.”

Together, they sprang into action, hustling the cattle, arcing them left and back. At his whistled commands, the cattle dogs streaked to and fro in a blur of white and black. Jewel was like a scarlet lightning bolt as she thundered along the front line, waving her bright red kerchief, spooking the cattle to change course. She was fearless, as bold as she was skilled. He’d be darned if Cole could do as good a job turning the massive herd back on itself.

“What’s going on?” Travis shouted over the panicked bellows of the confused, hungry Brahmans.

“Pasture’s no good. Stay here and run any off that get by me or Jewel.” He charged forward on Destiny, his heart pounding hard enough to come out of his chest when he spied a drop-off hidden by a copse of spruce. If they didn’t control the herd while turning it, they might stampede to their deaths.

Yet hotheaded Jewel was surprisingly cool under pressure. She applied pressure when needed and eased off when it wasn’t, her small features set in fierce concentration. She was as tough a cowgirl as he’d ever seen when she faced down one of the larger Brahmans determined to get by her. Without hesitation, she drove Bear forward, hollering, “Yip! Yip! Yip!” until the cow balked at the last minute and turned. Others followed suit and gradually, after hours of painstaking work, they had the cattle back home, watered and hay fed.

He’d expected Jewel to gloat, but she’d been all business, and darned if he didn’t miss sparring with her when they’d finally gotten the situation under control.

At last, he mounted the stairs to the house, bone weary and longing for a shower. Jewel’s voice stopped him before he reached the top tread.

“You still haven’t said it,” she drawled.

He turned and flicked the brim of his hat up off his soaked brow. “Said what?”

“That I was right.” She climbed past him and stopped on the top step, meeting him eye to eye.

He sighed. “Fine. You were right.” She’d saved the herd today—no denying it.

“And...” she prompted.

He stared at her steadily. “Thank you.”

“Yes, and...”

He lifted a palm to the rosy orange sky, then dropped it. “What else is there?”

“You’d be a better range boss than me.” Her lips curved into a smirk.

The tension was palpable between them, and instinct told him it ran deeper than the fact that their families were enemies. “I’m not saying that.”

Her eyebrows quirked. “But I bet you’re thinking it.”

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“Nah, I’m just clever.” The smirk spread, revealing even white teeth against her freckled face, the contrast unconventionally attractive. “And I also think I’m hilarious.”

He bit back a laugh and slid by her into the house, shaking his head at her brashness.

“Oh, Heath?” she called, and he stuck his head around the doorframe. One of Jewel’s hands lifted a single finger; the other rounded into an O shape. “Cades one, Lovelands zero.”

The smile lingered on his face as hot water pounded on Heath’s sore muscles while he twisted beneath the showerhead’s spray minutes later. Jewel sure had an ego, but she had the talent to back it up, too. He snapped off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered from the steam-filled bathroom.

“Oof!” He collided with someone—someone much too petite to be one of his brothers. Small, calloused hands landed on his bare chest. His muscles clenched as his heart stopped and then sped up.

Jewel Cade’s enormous brown eyes trailed up his contracting abdomen to his face. “Travis said I could find an extra deck of cards up here.” Air separated her halting words. She yanked her hands down. “We’re playing Texas Holdʼem. Want to play?”

He shook his head, wordless. No. He did not want to play with the aggravating redhead who nettled him like a burr. Her soft mouth parted, and the tip of her pink tongue appeared on her generous lower lip.

“Come on, Heath, don’t you want to live dangerously?”

He pictured icicles dangling from barn eaves, his breath frosting winter air, the sting of sleet hitting his cheeks...anything to stop the temptation to sample her full lips. “Kelsey wants me over for dinner.”

Jewel’s sparkling brown eyes dulled and darned if he didn’t want to make them shine again. Get out of here, he ordered himself, yet his feet had other ideas and stuck him in place.

“But what do you want?”

“Peace.” He ducked back in his room and slammed the door. Her chuckle wove through the thick pine anyway. He paced to his closet and savagely buttoned on the dress shirt and pants Kelsey bought him for his birthday. His rough fingers fumbled to knot the tie. Once, twice...five times. He yanked off the noose. Kelsey’s impending frown flashed in his mind’s eye.

Contrary to Jewel’s opinion, he already knew he wasn’t suited for this ranching life, let alone the one awaiting him once he married. Or maybe it was the other way around and his life didn’t suit him. Either way, he needed to resign himself to it...if she’d just leave him be and stop challenging him.

Was that too much to ask?

When it came to Jewel, his money was on yes.

In the hall, he’d wanted to kiss the everlasting smirk off her face. She tested the limits of his self-control, self-denial and unselfishness.

That, of course, was the problem.

Some part of him apparently liked being unrestrained and taking what he wanted. It’d be his downfall, though, if he didn’t keep his distance from bold, spirited Jewel Cade.

Hopefully, dinner with Kelsey would give him clarity. A loud, raucous laugh erupted from downstairs, Jewel’s shout mingling with his siblings’. He jammed on his hat and clomped outside. He sure wasn’t getting any peace here, not with a certain redhead underfoot and messing with his head.


CHAPTER FOUR (#u3d7b7885-4653-57cf-8b88-a23f35832bb2)

“COME IN. COME IN,” boomed a male voice behind Heath.

He jerked his hands from his pockets, dragged his eyes off the waxing moon and whirled to face the Timmonses’ open front door. Bright light, spilling down tiered brick steps, silhouetted the outline of a short and stocky man with a head as round as a cannonball.

“You haven’t changed your mind about joining us for dinner, have you?” A belly laugh accompanied the question, punctuating the apparent ridiculousness of the notion.

“Only about twenty times.” Heath doffed his hat and trudged up the stairs into the grand two-story home.

“Hah!” Sam Timmons clapped Heath on the back. “Changing your mind about joining us on steak night...good one.”

Only Heath spoke the truth. During the long drive into town, he’d battled the impulse to turn his pickup around. He glimpsed his clenched jaw in the foyer’s gold-framed mirror. Even though he found Jewel irritating, he’d rather play cards with her and his siblings than endure a night of Kelsey’s parents’ digs about his humble upbringing or their expectations for his and Kelsey’s future.

Speaking of whom...

Kelsey glided through an open pocket door, paused before him and leaned close to pat his cheek. He fought back a sneeze at her overly sweet perfume. “We’re not letting him escape that easy, are we, Daddy?” Her green eyes sparkled through a thicket of black lashes.

“No indeed, Dew Drop.” Sam’s barrel chest swelled as he gazed affectionately at his only child. “You’ve caught yourself a good one.”

Heath cleared his constricted throat, his insides wriggling like a worm on a hook. “She hasn’t reeled me in yet.”

“Famous last words,” Sam guffawed.

“Let’s say hi to Mama.” Kelsey inclined her head, the platinum strands of her upswept blond hair gleaming beneath a chandelier. “She’s been anxious to see you all day.”

Sam wagged a finger at Heath. “Anxious for you to set a wedding date.”

Pressure settled on Heath’s shoulders.

“Daddy.” Kelsey swatted her father’s coat sleeve. “You’re terrible. Stop pressuring Heath.”

Heath choked back a laugh. Now that was amusing, considering her ultimatum to agree on a date by summer’s end. “Your daughter’s doing a fine enough job on her own.”

“What’s he talking about, Dew Drop?” Sam’s snub nose wrinkled, and his amiable expression faded slightly. “You’re not chasing after Heath...making a spectacle of yourself, are you?”

“Of course not, Daddy.” Kelsey rested her head on Heath’s shoulder and her stiff hair dented slightly. “We’ve been together forever. Heath’s crazy about me.”

“Or just plain crazy,” Heath muttered beneath his breath as Sam strode across the marble floor and disappeared into the formal living room.

Kelsey gripped Heath’s arm. “What’s gotten into you?”

Good question. Usually he acted the part of attentive boyfriend, no matter what the Timmonses threw his way, but tonight he hadn’t the patience for it. “What do you mean?”

“You’re—you’re not yourself.”

“Maybe this is me and you’ve never noticed.” He’d just lost a chance at his dream, narrowly escaped a livestock disaster and spent a long day sparring with know-it-all Jewel. She’d accused him of never doing what he wanted and yes, he’d admit it, she had a point. Putting others ahead of himself was grating on him lately.

Kelsey’s fingers trailed up his dress shirt’s buttons. “I know you better than anyone.”

Heath’s heart turned over heavily as he nodded.

“We’re meant to be married,” she pressed. “Why else would we have stayed together this long if we weren’t perfect for each other?”

Heath’s lips flattened. Problem was, lately he’d sensed a change in himself, a restlessness when they were together. Instead of the old excitement he’d felt when he saw her, he had a sense of obligation and even boredom...completely unfounded since Kelsey was as kind and giving as ever.




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