Chapter 2

"It's just over four hundred acres that stretches from here to the northern border of the state."

Lea nodded, staring out the window as they drove through an electronic gate that marked their location as Golden Sphinx Ranch. To their left, there were trees and an expanse of what was probably a beautiful lawn in the spring that stretched up to the front door of a lovely antebellum-style house. It was white with black shutters, the sort of thing that brought to mind sweeping epics like Gone with the Wind . It made Lea think of a time when she had desperately wanted to be Scarlett O'Hara.

"That's Miss Dulcie's house," someone said in a shy but deep voice. "She owns the place."

"Miss Dulcie?"

"Dulcie Howard," the one who seemed to be in charge announced from beside her. "Her husband, Asa, started the place back in the seventies with just three hundred acres and expanded it to what you see today."

"Where's her husband now?"

"He died a couple years back. Pneumonia."

Lea nodded again, her attention turning to the front of the truck and the three handsome men taking her on this little tour. The two passengers were shoved into one seat, practically sitting on each other's laps. One was the guy who'd come out and saved her from being yanked out of that rental car. He was dark and sultry, just staring out the window like he wasn't practically in the other guy's lap. That guy was blond and as handsome as a Hollywood hunk. He kind of reminded her of a young Brad Pitt, or maybe the little brother of that sexy superhero who played Thor in the Marvel movies. Very good-looking. Only trouble was, he seemed aware of the fact.

It was the driver who really drew her attention. He was the one who'd pulled her away from the fight that broke out at the rental, the one whose jacket she still wore wrapped over her shoulders. Thanks to the absence of the big, thick jacket, she could see his muscles work under the thin material of his work shirt, see the long lines of his masculine chest and thighs. No one would miss guessing that he worked at physical labor each and every day; the evidence was very clear in his sun-roughened skin and his big, callused hands. He brought to mind images of her childhood, of the rodeos she'd attended, the county fairs where cowboys were in abundance, decked out in their Sunday best to show off the livestock they'd raised for the sole purpose of being judged by the county's finest, usually the mayor and a few of his minions.

That was the neck down. The neck up… he was just as handsome as the blond beside him, but he was a darker version of the blond bombshell. He had jet-black hair that was so dark it had hints of blue in it, hair that was smooth and thick and straight, left long on the top and shorter above the ears, the kind of haircut that was popular a year or so ago. He had a slight widow's peak that gave his long face an added stretch that lessened the squareness of his jaw. A long, Roman nose helped the illusion along, making his face appear to be well proportionate even upon close study. But it was those blue eyes distracting from the square jaw that really did it, that made him seem almost like an artist's idea of what a perfect man should look like, at least in Lea's humble opinion. Those eyes were such a deep blue that they seemed to jump from his face, a fact that probably worked well in turning the heads of every woman he'd ever met.

Lea found it difficult to take her eyes from him, and she welcomed the distraction. It meant she didn't have to focus on her current difficulties, that she could think of something other than the man who'd nearly absconded with her in front of an entire diner full of witnesses. Or the fact that the same above-mentioned man had taken off with her rental car that contained everything she owned. She didn't even have her cell phone. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been without her cell phone!

She leaned forward and buried her head in her hands, realizing once again that she was in a mess much bigger than anything she'd ever been involved in before, and she had no idea how the hell she was going to get out of this.

"You okay?"

She turned her head and glanced at the guy beside her before burying her face again. "I can't believe this is happening! I don't even know who you people are, and here I am allowing you to take me onto your property where… I can't believe I put myself in this position!"

"Maybe it'd make you feel better if you knew our names."

Lea sat up, rolling her shoulders. "It's a start."

The guy beside her, the one she'd decided was in charge, pointed to his own chest. "I'm Clint. This is Bowie," he said, indicating the big guy beside him. The big guy smiled brightly and held out his hand, then flashed her an okay sign, like that made everything so much better.

"That's Remington up in the front seat, Landry smashed in beside him. And Westin is the one driving."

Westin. A very western name for a cowboy. It seemed to fit him well.

They all acknowledged her with a smile or a nod. All except for this Westin guy. Granted, he was driving, but it still felt a little rude that he hadn't even glanced in the rearview at her. She thought of half a dozen things she might say to him, but before any of them could form themselves on her tongue, they slid to a stop in front of a long, narrow building that looked like a log-cabin wannabe.

"What is this?" Lea asked as three doors all popped open at once, and the guys started jumping out of the truck.

"This is one of the guesthouses. It's currently under repair, so no one is booked to use it this week. I thought it would be the perfect place for you to stay until you figure out your next step," Clint said as he reached across her to open her door. "You'll be safe here."

She wasn't too sure. As she stepped down, a gust of cold air slapped her in the face, moving a huge tree standing just to the left of the building so that it made a terrible ruckus, vibrations running through each of its naked limbs until it sounded like it was going to fall down on their heads. The guys didn't seem to notice, but Lea couldn't help but glance up at the massive tree, hoping the damn thing had some pretty deep roots. The last thing she needed was to wake with a tree lying beside her in bed!

"Here we go," Clint said, gripping her upper arm as he guided her toward the door Remington had just unlocked. Remington stepped aside as she approached, practically bowing his head like he was giving a room to the Queen of England. "We're working on the roof in this section, but there's a nice room at the back where you shouldn't be disturbed."

He guided her down a long hallway, finally pausing as they came to the last door on the right. He pushed the door open and stepped out of the way, gesturing for her to go inside first. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it was actually a lovely room. The walls were wood paneling, a light-colored wood that seemed to gleam in the sunlight streaming through a tall window covered only by sheer curtains. There was a table with two chairs, a long, low dresser, and a massive queen-sized bed made of heavy wood—a walnut, maybe—with four posters and carvings of cowboys in the headboard. It was covered by a bright-green quilt that matched the sheer curtains, and decorated with half a dozen pillows that reminded Lea she hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours.

What a hell of a ride she'd been on these past few days!

She was grateful to see, as well, that there was an en-suite bathroom that was equipped with several towels and complimentary toiletries almost as if they had been expecting her. She stood in the doorway to the bathroom, her skin itching, already able to feel the comfort of the hot water running over her body.

Clint seemed to see the desire on her face. He cleared his throat, gesturing for the guys who'd followed them into the room to back out again, herding them like a group of cattle. "Why don't we give you some space," he suggested, practically pushing the other blond out of his way.

"Thank you."

He lowered his head just slightly before closing the door behind him. Lea could hear them out in the hallway, voices raised in protest—for what, she couldn't quite guess—but then the voices slowly faded. She turned back to the bathroom, more than anxious to tackle that shower. Damn, it would be good to get out of these clothes!

***

"What the hell are we doing?" Landry asked the question before Westin could give voice to it, but he could see on the faces of the others that the two of them weren't the only ones wondering.

They gathered outside the old bunkhouse, standing in a semicircle around Clint. He kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot, huddling in his jacket as the wind blew the freezing air against his skin. He was quiet for a long time, almost too long, making the others bounce on their heels as they waited.

"The woman needs help." Clint shook his head. "We got her in this situation. We should help get her out of it."

Everyone seemed to toss a glance in Remington's direction, but he had no response either. No one seemed to be too eager to stand up on this one today.

"What about Miss Dulcie?" Westin asked. "What are we supposed to tell her?"

Clint shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I'll talk to her. Tell her we overbooked or something."

"And then?" Landry asked. "How long are we going to keep her here? Are we just going to set her up in that room and forget about her?"

"No. We'll have to take turns keeping an eye on her." Clint squinted up into the sky. "That guy… he could come back, cause her some trouble."

"He can't get onto the ranch without someone knowing about it," Bowie pointed out.

"Yeah, but who's going to tell us about him if they don't know to be on the lookout for him?" Clint glanced over his shoulder almost as if he could see into her room from where he stood. "No. One of us will have to be with her at all times, because we're the only ones who know what this fellow looks like."

"Barely," Westin commented. "We only saw him for a few minutes."

"You have an idea."

"We don't know anything about her," Remington pointed out. "We should find out who he was, what he was doing. Find out what kind of trouble we've invited here."

"You mean you invited here." Landry shoved Remington playfully on the shoulder. "We wouldn't be in this situation if not for you."

Remington lowered his head. "True. But this might not be a bad thing. Maybe this could become a side gig."

"What are you talking about?"

Remington rubbed his chin. "Well, you know, a lot of ranch hands make extra money working security in the city. We could do that, but do it right here on the ranch."

"Doing what? Pimping ourselves out as bodyguards?" Westin asked.

"Sure. Personal security pays pretty well, and we get a lot of rich assholes up here all year round." Remington jerked his shoulders even as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "I made four thousand bucks last month when that fellow sent his daughter out here for the ‘Cowboy Experience.' Paid me to keep an eye out for her, keep her on the ranch. Easiest money I ever made."

"You did that?" Westin glanced at Clint, saw him shrug in affirmation. "And you let him? What happened to that rule about taking extra money from the clients?"

"That's just when it comes to tips and shit like that," Landry said. "No one said anything about fetching fast food from town, or offering other, more pleasurable services." Landry winked, alluding to one of his favorite pastimes, something everyone knew about because there wasn't a night during the tourist season when one of them hadn't caught Landry with a female guest somewhere on the ranch. Westin himself had caught him less than a month ago doing the deed with some girl in the barn.

Westin backed away from the group, raising his hands. "You can count me out. I'm not getting wrapped up in some idiotic scheme. As far as I'm concerned, all these rich bitches can drown in their fancy perfumes and hundred-dollar bottles of wine."

"Wait, Westin!" Clint snagged his elbow, pulled him back into the semicircle. "You've got to stay with this girl right now. Everyone else has stuff to do to get ready for the incoming tourists. You're the only one with a free morning."

"Yeah— free morning. That means I get to do whatever the hell I want."

"You were standing there when this went down," Clint reminded him. "You helped get her out of the way; you stood there and calmed her down when it was over. You're just as deep into this as the rest of us."

"It wasn't my choice to bring her back here."

"No; that was my choice, and I'll take responsibility for it. But we have to do this together, or we don't do it at all." Clint looked around at the other guys, ending his gaze hard on Westin's face, making him feel almost like a bug under a microscope. "Either everyone helps, or we bundle her up and take her back into town."

"We should vote," Bowie suggested.

Westin rocked back on his heels, shaking his head. "This isn't some sort of game, guys. We don't know what this woman's into. We could have just invited a hell storm to come erupt over our heads."

"That's why we should vote," Remington said, sharing a quick high five with Bowie once the words were out. "Clint's right; we can't do this if we aren't all in on it."

Westin sighed because he knew how the vote would go, and knew that the new Dean Koontz novel he had waiting in his bunk would have to wait another day.

Lea heard the door open, and a part of her wondered if Fang had found her. But when the footsteps stopped only a few feet into the room, she relaxed, guessing it was one of the cowboys come to keep her company.

What were the chances she'd have a group of cowboys come to her rescue? Out here, in the middle of the great frozen state of Colorado? She might have thought it was impossible, but she was getting the impression that she'd somehow wandered into the heart of cattle country. She thought she'd left all this behind when she'd escaped Arizona, but obviously not.

She scrubbed at her skin, wishing she had a razor to remove the quickly-growing hair on her legs, still feeling dirty as long as she could feel that bit of stubble. It wasn't bad yet. She'd managed to spend a few hours in a motel room night before last, was able to have a shower and a quick nap before moving on. But she was a woman used to showering every day, to shaving every day. She was a little obsessive-compulsive that way. She supposed she would have to make do with what she had. That didn't extend to her clothes, though. She wasn't putting those dirty panties back on, no matter who was after her! She did, however, grab the sunflower pendant she'd had around her neck and drop the chain back over her head. That she would keep close—no matter how dirty it might get.

Did stainless steel get dirty?

Lea wrapped herself in a towel—a surprisingly thick towel—and twisted a second one around her hair before stepping up to the door. Much to her delight, the cowboy who had come back to watch over her was the driver. Westin. Wasn't that what the one in charge—Clint?—had called him?

"Hey, Cowboy," she said, pulling the door open the rest of the way and leaning against the doorframe in just that towel. "You wouldn't happen to have a washing machine around here, would you? Or a little boutique where I can get some clean clothes? Though I'd have to borrow a couple of bucks to pay for them…"

He glanced at Lea like he'd seen his share of naked women and wasn't interested in anything she had to offer. "You're out of luck there. Maybe when Clint comes around later, you can send him to the store with a list. He's got a wife, so he's used to shopping for female crap."

"Is that right?"

His eyes moved lazily over her, that deep blue electric. She could almost feel it burning her skin, like a touch from a fevered hand.

"I don't suppose you have a phone, do you? A cell phone? Do you cowboys know what that is?"

He grunted even as he leaned back in the chair where he was sprawled, lifting his booted feet up to the edge of the bed and crossing them at the ankles, dirt visibly falling in teeny avalanches onto the pretty green quilt. "You'd be surprised how much technology we use around here. We're not as backward as you might think."

"Then you have a phone?"

He rolled his shoulders as he lifted his jacket from where Lea had removed it and carefully hung it over the back of the chair opposite him to pull it up to his chin like a blanket. He closed his eyes like he was content to sit there and take a nap.

"Hey!" she cried, marching over to him in her bare feet, shoving his feet off the bed with her hip. "I asked you question!"

He sat up, leaning forward just slightly. "I realize you're probably used to being the center of attention, Ms.—what's your name again?"

"Adams. My name is Lea Adams, you buffoon!"

He tilted his head like he was struggling to see her in the bright sunlight. "Hasn't anyone told you, Ms. Adams, that getting what you want is much easier with honey, not vinegar?"

"Fuck you!"

She spun on her heel and crossed the room, but there really wasn't anywhere for her to go. She ended up walking to the window, then spinning again to face him, nothing but that massive, beautiful bed between them. She clutched the towel she wore over her body, grateful it was wide enough to hide all the important parts, but still feeling more than a little exposed, which hadn't been a bad thing a minute ago, but felt disempowering now.

"I'd like to use your phone."

"Never said I had one."

She grunted, feeling a little more frustrated than she cared to admit. "Do you have a phone?"

He leaned back again, putting his big, dirty boots back onto the side of the bed. "What do you want it for?"

"To make a call!" she cried, unable to keep the frustration from the tip of her tongue. "What else do you use a phone for?"

"Oh, lots of things. Personally, I like the camera. Takes real good pictures, that iPhone 10. You ever see the kinds of pictures it takes? Clear as a whistle."

He said it with a southern twang to his words, making fun of her for accusing him of being behind the technological times. She nodded, lowering her head as she scratched at her hairline just below where the towel was wrapped there. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry for what I said." She tilted her head as she glanced at him. "Can we start over?"

He hesitated a second, but then lowered his feet once more and leaned forward, studying her across the expanse of that big bed. She tugged at the top of her towel, pulling it up to cover more of her generous chest even as she crossed her arms tight across her breasts, both hiding them and making them pop a little more over the top of that white towel, her necklace resting against one pale mound. She saw his gaze hesitate there, knew his earlier disinterest had been an act. There were many things a man could hide, but she'd never met a man who could hide his fascination with the female form.

"Who are you, Ms. Adams?" His eyes slowly came back up to hers, burning with that same electricity she'd felt before. "Who was that guy trying to pull you out of your car?"

"An ex," she said almost automatically, a little surprised how easily the half-truth rolled off her tongue.

"An ex? What does he want with you?"

She rolled her shoulders, allowing her arms to slip a little so that he could get more of a peek at her breasts. "I guess he doesn't consider himself as much of an ex as I do."

"So, this whole thing is just about some asshole who can't take no for an answer?"

"I suppose so."

He reached up and ran the fingers of both hands through his hair. "Who do you want to call? Him?"

"No, of course not!" Lea adjusted the towel again. "I have a friend who was expecting me tomorrow. I just want to let him know I'm not going to make it."

"Another man? Is that why the first man is so upset?"

Definitely. But she wasn't going to tell him that. "May I please use your phone?"

He hesitated, his eyes moving over her again, once more hesitating over her chest. She squeezed her arms against her breasts, making it look like a nervous gesture, but aware of what it did to his wandering gaze each time she did it. He stood and slipped the phone from a back pocket, tossing it onto the bed. She leaned over to retrieve it, aware that she was giving him even more of a sneak peek as the sunflower dangled, almost like a hypnotist's tool to draw the eye. Then she settled on the bed, her back propped up by the pillows as she woke the screen and found herself looking at a surprisingly skillful picture of the sunset over the main gates of the ranch.

"You take this?"

He sat back and propped his feet up again, ignoring her question.

Lea dialed a number she knew better than her own, closing her eyes briefly as she lifted the phone to her face. A warm, familiar voice spoke almost distractedly in her ear.

"It's me," she said, more relief than she'd intended in her voice. "There's been a snag."

"Where are you?"

"Colorado. Fang found me."

"You're kidding me! How did that happen?"

"I don't know. I must have left a trail somewhere."

"You don't leave trails."

"Not usually." She glanced at the cowboy who was now pretending to take a nap. "I'm safe where I am, for the time being. I think I'll lie low for a couple of days, let things play out."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Lee. What if—"

"He has my rental car. He has everything."

There was a string of curses that burned across the miles between them. Then the man on the other end said, "All right. I see what you're saying." He made a grunting sound. "Right. Let me see what I can do. Call back tomorrow, okay? Sooner if you run into trouble."

"I will."

Lea ended the call, holding the phone between both her hands, wishing she had her own phone. All the things that were in that car when Fang took off with it! And the asshole probably had no clue exactly what he had. They didn't call him Fang because he was intelligent.

"You really date men called Fang?"

Lea jumped, startled by Westin's voice. It wasn't that she'd forgotten he was there exactly. It was more the way he had of intruding on her thoughts. It was like he knew the direction her mind was taking and exactly when his words would have the most impact.

"It's a nickname."

"I assumed there weren't parents out there cruel enough to name their child Fang on purpose. But, again, some of the names I've heard people call their kids…"

Lea laughed because she couldn't help herself. Maybe he wasn't as isolated up here in the middle of the frozen nowhere as she'd originally believed.

"You done with my phone?"

"Yeah." She tossed it over to him, and he caught it gracefully, barely moving anything more than his arm. She whistled. "Good catch."

He dropped the phone on his flat belly and lifted his arms up behind his head. "Baseball."

"You play in school?"

"Yep."

She nodded as her eyes appreciated those thick muscles in his thighs and upper arms again. He had the build for it. "You grow up around here?"

He shook his head. "Denver. You?"

"This is my first visit to the great state of Colorado."

"Enjoying it?"

Once again she laughed, wondering if he was serious. Her only experiences here were being attacked by Fang, dragged out of her car by her hair, and then rescued by a group of cowboys who seemed lost as to what to do with her now. "Are you guys going to take turns invading my privacy?" she wondered aloud as she stretched out a little more comfortably on the bed, crossing her own ankles as she repositioned the towel over her hips and chest. The one she'd wrapped around her head came loose, so she took it off and flung it onto the windowsill, then watched it slowly fall to the floor.

"That's the plan, for the moment."

"How did you get to be the lucky guy to get first shift?"

"It was my morning off."

"Sorry."

He rolled his shoulders. "This is easier duty than dealing with the wealthy tourists the others are preparing for."

"For this ‘Cowboy Experience' thing?"

"Yep."

"What is that?"

He peeked at her from under the long fringe of impossibly thick eyelashes. "It's a gimmick to make a little money over the winter." He rubbed his chin with one hand, a heavy sigh escaping his full lips. "A group of tourists come up here—usually twenty or less at a time—and we teach them how to ride a horse, how to chase a couple of old cows around a paddock, shit like that. Show them a very small portion of what we do on a daily basis at a cost that rivals what I make in a month."

"You don't help with it?"

"I do. I do the chuck wagon."

"The… what?"

He grunted, peeking at her again. "The chuck wagon. Food. We take them out into a pasture and cook biscuits and beans over an open fire like they might have done on the trail years ago."

"You do that?"

"I do. I make the biscuits and run the show."

"You put on a show?"

"It's more like a history lecture." He adjusted himself in the chair, sliding down a little further to get more comfortable. "Boring stuff, but the tourists eat it up."

Lea nodded, her eyelids beginning to drift downward. She'd driven all day yesterday and all night. Her eyes felt like they were covered in sand. Watching him pretend to nap was just making it harder for her to keep her eyes open. Something in the back of her mind reminded her that she was alone in a room with a stranger and dressed in nothing but a towel, and she was about to become as vulnerable as a woman could. She should stay awake, but she couldn't fight it anymore. In seconds, her world grew dark and she was out, drifting into a sound sleep that was deeper and more restful than anything she'd experienced in a very long time.