Home on the Ranch: Montana Rodeo Star Read online

  An unexpected match

  Life is pretty good for champion bull rider Dustin Lincoln. Every week is a different town, a new woman and a fierce competition. Until he takes a job organizing a rodeo and meets his new boss, rancher Maxine Porter. She’s brash, aggressive and wants to replace bull riding with a polo match.

  Working together won’t be easy—they don’t see eye to eye on anything! Yet Dusty can’t help admiring Max’s determination and commitment to those she loves, including her adorable eight-year-old son. For the first time in a long time someone is depending on Dusty, and he likes it. But that may change when Max finds out why he’s really in town...

  “What about the polo game?” Dusty called.

  She’d seen the light. Surely. She had to come to her senses in every area. Right? “It’s over. Off the table. We’ll have a normal rodeo now.”

  Max shook her head slowly, and a fierce determination carved her stubborn jaw hard.

  “The polo stays.”

  “But—”

  “It’s weird and it will draw a crowd. Mark my words.” She pointed to him. “You get the bull riding.” She jabbed her own chest with her thumb. “I get the polo match.”

  She turned away to enter the outbuilding, but tossed back over her shoulder, “Do your job, Dustin. Convince those people to come for the bulls and to stay for the ponies.”

  The slamming of the door echoed across the yard.

  Dusty clenched his fists to stop himself from punching a hole in the wall of the house. Lordy!

  Max could drive a man to drink.

  Dear Reader,

  This is the sixth and last book in my Rodeo, Montana series. When I finish a series, it truly feels like I’m leaving old friends and it’s sad to say goodbye.

  I’m glad I was able to give each of the women of the Rodeo Fair Revival Committee her own happy ending.

  Max intrigued me right from the start. She’s grouchy and argumentative and vulnerable. It made sense to me to give her a happy-go-lucky, carefree, handsome rodeo star.

  Dusty has charmed every woman he’s ever met, but he can’t charm Max. No way, no how. She’s immune.

  When his mother tells him that he’s finally met his match, Dusty balks. Of course, these opposites attract so much that nothing can keep them apart in the end.

  I hope you have enjoyed reading my Rodeo series as much as I have enjoyed writing every single book.

  Thank you for joining me on my journey,

  Mary Sullivan

  Home on the Ranch:

  Montana Rodeo Star

  Mary Sullivan

  Award-winning author Mary Sullivan realized her love for romance novels when her mother insisted she read one. After years of creative pursuits, she discovered she was destined to write heartfelt stories of love, family and happily-ever-after.

  Her first book, No Ordinary Cowboy, was a finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart® Award in 2005. Since then, Mary has garnered awards, accolades and glowing reviews.

  Mary indulges her passion for puzzles, cooking and meeting new people in her hometown of Toronto. Follow her on Facebook, Facebook.com/marysullivanauthor, to learn more about her and the small towns she creates.

  MarySullivanBooks.com

  Books by Mary Sullivan

  Harlequin Western Romance

  Rodeo, Montana

  Rodeo Father

  Rodeo Rancher

  Rodeo Baby

  Rodeo Sheriff

  Rodeo Family

  Harlequin Superromance

  Cody’s Come Home

  Safe in Noah’s Arms

  No Ordinary Home

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010002

  I would like to dedicate this book to every writer, published and unpublished, who has ever supported my writing. I’ve traveled with amazing people throughout this fabulous journey. You have enriched my life. I wish you all the best with your own writing careers.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 1

  Life was good.

  The tires of Dustin Lincoln’s pickup hummed a getting-there tune on the small highway that led to Rodeo, Montana. Through the open windows, wind ruffled his hair at ninety miles an hour, above the speed limit, sure, but not by much. No sense being foolish and overdoing it so close to his destination.

  His thumb beat the steering wheel in time to Blake Shelton’s “Doing It to Country Songs” blaring from the radio.

  On Saturday night, he’d had a fine time accomplishing exactly that with a pretty blonde buckle bunny in Colorado after his rodeo win.

  Any minute now, he’d reach his temporary home and job for the next month. All it would require of him was a little subterfuge on his part, hardly worth a mention, and just the barest use of any acting skills he could dredge up.

  With a little luck, while he was at it, he would also win the bull-riding competition in the rodeo that would end the two-week fair and bring home big bucks.

  “Luck, Dusty? Who’re you kidding? You got talent,” he bragged to the empty cab. “Raw talent. It’s what brings home the bacon every time. Right, Thunder?”

  He glanced in his mirrors, catching sight of the horse trailer being towed behind him, carrying his trusty Appaloosa.

  And now he was talking to his horse.

  With the past weekend’s pot along with his salary for the next month, and if he could win the bull-riding event at Rodeo’s fair, plus any other wins he could garner through the fall, he’d have a sizable nest egg to get him through the winter with leftover money for his retirement account.

  Sweat formed at the thought of retirement, so Dusty did what he always did—pushed it out of his mind and whistled to the next song on the radio.

  He had another ten years of rodeo-event participation in him. At least.

  At thirty-one, he wasn’t anywhere close to throwing in the towel.

  No way could he lose the Rodeo Fair bull-riding event. He was on a roll.

  All he had to do first was convince some imprudent woman to cancel some other dumb competition she’d planned. Some nontraditional event she was trying to slip into the town’s rodeo. Or so he’d heard from his dad.

  His presence in Rodeo was strictly as a favor for Dad’s longtime buddy Marvin. So what if that woman had no idea he wasn’t really working for her? He’d head to her ranch and work with her for the next month to plan a rodeo that contained no surprises, as agreed. And when the job was done, he’d be on the road again. No harm done, really. It would all work out in the end.

  That didn’t mean Dusty couldn’t enjoy himself, enter the rodeo and win some money while he was here.

  Not to mention yet another rodeo buckle.

  He laughed for the pure pleasure of driving down a sunlit highway on a carefree day.

  He’d been on the road for a good three hours already. His left knee protested.

  Nope. Not allowed. His
knee was fine. Absolutely okey-dokey.

  If when he adjusted his position it pained him a bit, that was only because the drive had been long.

  Purely stiffness. Just normal stuff.

  Before reaching town, he slowed to sixty, a mere crawl, his attention caught by an amusement park with a brightly colored carousel in pride of place front and center.

  Strangest merry-go-round ever.

  Was that a...a bull? And a pair of bighorn sheep? And an elk and a white-tailed deer? All wore elaborately painted-on saddles.

  Weirdest damned thing.

  He glanced at the wrought iron sign arching over the entrance to the park.

  Rodeo, Montana, Fairgrounds

  and Amusement Park

  Home of Our World-Famous Rodeo

  Yeah! Rodeo was his game and bull riding his calling. Fitting that the carousel had a big old bull for kids to ride.

  Start ’em early, he always said.

  Now to locate this Max who’d hired him to help organize the rodeo and get this show on the road. In no time, he’d get her head turned around in the right direction where this cockamamy event was concerned.

  Eager to get both his horse and himself settled in, he rode toward the town he could see on the horizon a half a mile or so along the highway, with the radio blaring another Blake Shelton song, “Straight Outta Cold Beer.”

  Now, that would be a crime.

  The gas tank was full, his libido satisfied, his pockets flush and his belly about to be sated over lunch with his new boss.

  “Yeeehaaawww!” Dusty Lincoln sure loved life.

  * * *

  Maxine Porter sat in a booth facing the front door of Violet Summer’s Summertime Diner.

  Vy stood beside the table, retro polka-dot dress flaring over generous hips and snug across an ample chest.

  Max drummed her fingers on her thighs. “I don’t have all day to wait for one slow man.”

  “Who?” Vy asked, setting down a cup of coffee in front of Max. “What man?”

  “A guy named Dustin Lincoln. I hired him to help organize the rodeo. I’m running out of time.”

  Max sensed Vy stiffening. She’d known there would be resistance. That was why she hadn’t said anything, but preferred to present the fair and rodeo revival committee with a fait accompli. They weren’t about to un-hire someone once he was already in town.

  “You hired someone?” Vy asked, voice low and ominous sounding. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Is it in the budget? Did Samantha approve?”

  The committee’s accountant, Samantha Read, had been putting the kibosh on too many things, in Max’s opinion. Fiscal responsibility was all well and good, but Max was overwhelmed and needed help.

  “Well?” Vy pushed. Max loved the daylights out of her, but sometimes her persistence got on Max’s nerves. “Did Samantha okay this expense?”

  Max sipped her coffee, hot and black. “Nope. I made an executive decision, so to speak. Okay? We’ll make enough profit out of the event.”

  Vy leaned her hip against the table. “And if we don’t? Are you going to pay for his salary out of your own pocket?”

  That was exactly Max’s fear.

  “Quit scowling at me, Vy.” Max set her cup down onto the saucer so hard coffee sloshed. She grabbed a serviette to sop it up. “I’m doing what I have to do. I’ve got a ranch to run and chores to get to and bills to pay and a son to raise and a rodeo to plan and where the hell is this guy?”

  She checked her watch again. Five minutes to noon and no sign of the new employee. If this was the way he planned to start, they were in for a rocky ride.

  Vy stared at Max’s hands. “For the love of all that’s holy about responsible grooming, Max, you’ve got hangnails on top of hangnails.”

  Her hands? Max had just hired someone without the committee’s permission and Vy was ready to give up and talk about Max’s hands?

  What was wrong with this picture?

  Vy pulled a travel-sized tube of hand cream out of her apron pocket and tossed it onto the table. “Here. Use it.”

  Not a single torn cuticle marred Vy’s perfectly manicured red nails.

  Max applied a small dot of cream to her palm.

  “More,” Vy said.

  Max squirted again and a splat of cream burst out of the tube. She pushed up her sleeves and rubbed cream over her hands, wrists and forearms.

  “Fat lot of good this is going to do with all the chores I have to face when I get home.”

  “You can at least try to take care of yourse—” Vy broke off and stared out the window. “Wow. Who is that?”

  The bell above the door tinkled. A man stepped in and stood for a moment, silhouetted against sunny Main Street behind him. Not just any man. A young god.

  Max stared at six feet of blond male perfection. And judging by his dimpled grin, didn’t he know how perfect he was?

  The walls of the diner expanded with the combined sighs of the female inhabitants of the large room.

  He entered the space as though he owned it.

  Well-used cowboy boots, worn blue jeans faded across the fronts of his thighs and a denim shirt with rolled-up sleeves exposing strong forearms dusted with golden hair proclaimed that this was a real working cowboy. So did his trim, muscled body.

  His jewelry, though, testified to ego in Max’s opinion.

  What cowboy wore jade?

  Apparently, this one did—on his wrist, locked in a big hunk of gnarly silver, and at his waist, decorating a belt buckle the size of the state of Montana.

  The worst offense, in Max’s opinion, was the choker around his neck...or whatever it would be called on a man.

  It looked like crocheted rope or sisal, but neither of those would be comfortable. She wouldn’t have thought the blue beads would be, either.

  Dear Lord, no cowboy worth his salt wore macramé...and certainly not on his throat.

  Vy approached him and said, “Take a seat wherever you want.” By the breathy tone lacking her customary sarcasm, Vy had fallen under his spell.

  Remember your husband? Max wanted to yell. Remember Sam, the guy you love?

  The blond god laughed and gifted Vy with a swift appreciative once-over from deep blue eyes. Vy smiled in return, an acceptance of mutual attraction, the international language between men and women that Max had never mastered, like a secret handshake she didn’t understand.

  No one had ever given her the code.

  A rueful twist of the guy’s lips acknowledged Vy’s newly burgeoning pregnant tummy. He shrugged as though to say, In another time and another place we could have been friends.

  Friends with benefits, judging by his grin and the twinkle in his eyes.

  He shifted on his feet and hooked a thumb into one pocket. “I’m meeting someone here. A woman named Max.”

  Vy turned and pointed at Maxine. Every pair of eyes in the diner followed the direction of her arm. “That is Max.”

  Max’s cheeks heated. Why, oh, why, had she decided to make this meeting public? For good reason, she reminded herself. She hadn’t wanted a stranger on her ranch until she met him and took his measure.

  Like a mother bear, she protected her family, not to mention her privacy.

  She stood.

  The man’s startled gaze did a quick slide down her body and back up to her face. His expression flattened, not at all the charming reaction he’d had to Vy.

  She knew what he saw: a woman with not one trace of femininity.

  Well, tough.

  She was who she was.

  He would accept her or he wouldn’t get the job.

  Period.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Max Porter.” One swift, hard handshake welcomed him to Rodeo with about as warm a reception as she had in her to offer.

  “Dust
y Lincoln,” he said, voice deep. “Pleased to meet you.” He stared at the hand Max had just shaken and wiped it on his pant leg.

  Great. She’d just smeared skin cream on the guy.

  He looked confused.

  So was she.

  She had expected a talented, smart rodeo rider to help her. She hadn’t anticipated male beauty.

  Damn. She hoped the female population wouldn’t cause problems. The last thing the upcoming summer fair needed was to be sidetracked by events outside of the rodeo.

  “Sit,” she said and slid into the booth.

  He slid in more slowly, wary, maybe because she hadn’t fallen in a girlie heap at his perfect feet.

  “Max?” he said, resting his hat on the seat beside him in the leather booth.

  “Maxine,” Vy clarified and Max scowled.

  “Max works for me,” she said, sounding ungracious, but, God, she was tired.

  “What can I get for you, Dustin?” Vy asked.

  “Everyone calls me Dusty.” He shared a smile with Vy.

  After a perusal of the menu sitting in front of him on the table, Dusty ordered meat loaf and garlic smashed potatoes.

  They used to be mashed potatoes. Now they were smashed. Apparently, that meant you could leave in the lumps. No one else complained. Only Max. Everyone else was happy to jump on the latest trending bandwagon.

  “I’ll have the blue cheese burger and fries,” Max said, “but leave out the blue cheese.”

  Vy let out a huff of impatience. “Why not just order a different burger if you don’t want blue cheese?”

  “Because you don’t have a plain, normal burger on the menu!” Max countered. “All of them have something weird in them. What’s wrong with plain ground steak?”

  Vy sighed. “I’ll tell Will to throw together a burger with absolutely nothing in it but beef. One of these days you’re going to have to try something different, Max.”

  “Why? I like what I like.”

  Vy walked away without further comment.

  Max felt the man’s eyes on her. So help me, God, if he starts to flirt with me, I’m going to have to set him straight in no uncertain terms.