Home on the Ranch: Montana Rodeo Star Read online

  He had nothing even vaguely resembling sweetness for Max, but what did she expect? She’d just burst his rodeo balloon.

  Max paid for lunch, tossed her serviette on the table and stood.

  “Let’s go out to my ranch and get you settled in.”

  Chapter 2

  Life was not so good.

  How had he let his father talk him into this?

  He had better things to do with his time than to become involved in ventures doomed to fail.

  A polo match? At a rodeo?

  He’d thought it would be a piece of cake to come to town and charm this woman with the ridiculous idea out of her...ridiculous idea.

  But Maxine Porter was not charmable, if such a word existed.

  Dusty followed Max out to her ranch, her pickup truck well broken in and maybe even just this side of giving up the ghost.

  Her revelation about the rodeo almost had him driving right past the turnoff to her ranch and moving on to wherever common sense still existed in this world.

  No bull riding.

  Who ever heard of such a thing?

  Dumb, dumb, dumb idea. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  One of Dwight Yoakam’s old hits came on the radio. “It Won’t Hurt.”

  Oh, yeah, it sure would. Canceling bull riding could kill her rodeo before it even got off the ground.

  With a flick of his wrist he turned off the radio, no longer in the mood for music.

  Worse, she was replacing it with a polo match.

  So that was the weird event that had his dad’s friend so worried. With good reason!

  No one wanted polo at a rodeo. Period.

  How was he supposed to convince this woman not to do it?

  His nerves beat a frantic tattoo.

  Slowing so he wouldn’t disturb Thunder on the turn onto the driveway, he pulled up behind Max’s truck in a yard that was as neat as a pin, in front of a house that had seen better days.

  The stables were in good repair—obviously where the money went in this operation.

  Her ranch. No husband? No significant other? A ranch was a lot of responsibility for one person.

  She certainly looked like she spent all her time working. He doubted he’d ever seen a more mannish woman. Sure, he understood that looks weren’t everything, but men noticed anyway.

  Not that it meant much to him. For some reason, clothes never had.

  He liked women in all forms, but this one seemed to be doing everything in her power to deny her own femininity.

  Her black hair had been cut short—hacked off would be more accurate—without any style.

  Same with her clothes. An oversize man’s plaid shirt hid what shape her body might have. She’d tucked it into a pair of baggy jeans that hung low on her hips. An unadorned brown leather belt held them up.

  Cowboy boots as old as the Alamo proclaimed her a working woman.

  She jammed an ancient cowboy hat onto her head. Looked like she’d been using it for years judging by the salt stains where the brim met the crown.

  The old brim, which hid her freckled face from the world, looked like it might have been nibbled on by a mouse or two.

  Most women had more vanity. Curious.

  Dusty moved to get out of his truck, but she motioned him back in and climbed into the passenger seat.

  “See that house?” That voice, though. It was downright sultry—low and husky—and seemed out of place coming from her. She pointed to a small bungalow in the near distance.

  He nodded.

  “That’s where you’ll be staying. Drive over.”

  Dusty parked in front of a tidy house in better shape than the main house. Pots of red geraniums lined the steps up to a small veranda with one white wicker armchair. Used often, a blue-and-white cushion had the distinct impression of someone’s ass in it.

  A smaller chair sat beside the big one. A kid’s?

  Again, curious.

  He stepped out of the truck and his left leg buckled. Hissing, he maneuvered his foot securely under his knee and stood.

  Damned knee was not going to act up. He wouldn’t allow it.

  One way or another, he was going to make sure they went ahead with a bull-riding event and he was goddamned going to win it.

  As far as he could tell, the only person who wanted a polo match was this woman. Everyone else in town seemed to want bull riding on the menu.

  He sure as hell did. Taking this job meant he wouldn’t participate in other rodeo events this month. The salary from the rodeo committee made up for that, but he wouldn’t turn down the chance for another win this season.

  He dragged his bags out of the back of the truck.

  Max opened the unlocked front door.

  Dusty followed her inside. The living room looked as cozy and clean as the outside of the house.

  Comfortable old furniture ranged around the room. Ranching magazines and popular mystery novels sat on a coffee table.

  A smoke-tinged hearth anchored the far wall.

  Max led him down the hallway to a bedroom at the back, bypassing a much larger bedroom.

  “I can’t have the big room?”

  “That belongs to Marvin. This is his house. While you’re here, he’ll be staying in the main house.”

  “Marvin? Is he the foreman here?” Dusty knew full well who Marvin was, but he had a charade to keep up.

  “Sure” was the extent of her response.

  Why not just say yes?

  “I’d rather you didn’t use his room,” she said. “It has all of his stuff in it. There’s no point in moving it out for only one month. You have free rein with the rest of the house.” She pointed across the hallway. “Laundry room.”

  He dropped his two bags onto the bed and followed her to a small, clean kitchen.

  “Here’s the coffee machine. Marvin filled the fridge with food. We didn’t know what you’d like so it’s basic. You’ve got sandwich meats from the deli and fresh bread, along with some of Vy’s potato salad and a lemon meringue pie.”

  “Lemon meringue is my favorite. How’d ya guess?”

  She didn’t smile or laugh. The woman could suck all of the warmth out of a sunny day.

  “Is there a grill anywhere?” he asked.

  “Marvin has one out behind the house.”

  “I’ll pick up steaks and frozen burgers later.”

  She nodded and led him out of the house. “Let’s go. I’ll introduce you to the horses. Marvin, too, if he’s around.”

  Dusty climbed into his truck and reversed the trailer to the side of the stable. Around back, he eased Thunder out.

  Inside the stable, they found Marvin with a young boy Dusty guessed to be eight or so.

  Marvin was an older man past retirement age. Over the years, Dusty had met him occasionally when he visited Dad, but he hadn’t seen him for a few years, not since Dusty took to the rodeo circuit.

  The man had aged since the last time Dusty had seen him.

  They shook hands, pretending they didn’t know each other.

  Max made the introductions with her hands resting on the kid’s shoulders. The boy’s name was Josh.

  “Gramps is taking me out riding,” the boy said.

  Marvin had only ever had a son, if Dusty’s recollection was correct. So Max must be his daughter-in-law?

  Josh looked up at Max with a wistful, yearning expression. “Mom, will you come?”

  She ran her fingers through his hair in an affectionate manner out of sorts with her gruff exterior.

  “Okay,” she said and Josh’s face lit with a huge grin.

  Josh turned to Dusty. “Want to come see our ranch?”

  About to nod the okay, Dusty startled when Max said, “Not today, Josh. He’ll want to settle in and get unpacked.�
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  Unpack a duffel bag? He moved so often he had his systems down pat. It would take him all of ten minutes.

  He didn’t like how controlling this woman was.

  She turned away as though dismissing him.

  It got his dander up.

  “I can unpack later,” Dusty said and had the satisfaction of seeing her frown.

  “Really, you must be tired,” she said. “You don’t have to ride out with us.”

  “I’d like to see the ranch.” Some little devil sitting on his shoulder wanted to get under her skin for making his life difficult. No bull riding. A polo match. Plus, she didn’t seem to like him. She hadn’t from the moment he’d stepped into the diner in town.

  Tough. He was who he was.

  “You won’t be working on the ranch,” she said, still arguing to get her way, dammit. “You’ll be working in the office in the house, organizing the rodeo.”

  She obviously didn’t want to spend any more time with him than she had to. She’d made her unfounded judgments of him in the restaurant.

  “But, Mom,” the boy said, “I want to show Dusty the land.”

  To Dusty, he boasted, “Someday, it’s going to be my ranch.” Dusty liked the kid’s pride.

  “I’d love to come along for the ride,” Dusty said, yet again thwarting the woman. “Give me a couple of minutes to get Thunder settled into a stall.”

  The nod of capitulation Max granted him in the face of her son’s desire was about as ungracious as anything Dusty had ever seen. He turned away to lead Thunder to the stall Marvin indicated, a grin splitting his face because it was fun to prick at her surliness.

  Immature, Dusty.

  Unrepentant, Dusty responded to his conscience, Yeah, but fun.

  “Give your horse a break from the drive here.” Marvin opened the door to the empty stall. “Use one of Max’s horses. This here is Pegasus. She’ll give you a good ride.”

  Dusty settled Thunder with water and feed, letting Max’s boy run around and help him.

  Cute kid. Eager.

  They saddled three horses for the adults and a pony for the boy. Josh had long legs. He’d need a bigger horse soon.

  Max’s horses were in fine shape, well cared for.

  They rode for an hour while Josh shared everything there was to know about his mother’s ranch.

  Max stopped and watched cattle for a while. She rode up beside a steer, dismounted and picked up a rear hoof.

  “Marvin, looks like we’ve got a problem here. You want to separate him from the herd and take him back?”

  “Sure. I’ll call the vet.”

  “Take a good look in the barn. It might be something we can handle ourselves.”

  They should have a vet look anyway, in Dusty’s opinion. He didn’t take chances with animals, but the more he saw of the place, the more he thought finances might be an issue.

  The boy stayed to help Marvin while Dusty rode back with Max. They rode in an uncomfortable silence. Dusty liked to talk.

  She didn’t.

  He didn’t know what to make of her lack of friendliness. Women usually liked him.

  What had he done to her other than show up to help out with her rodeo?

  Back in the stable, they tended to the horses, dividing up the work fairly, still in silence.

  From the corner of his eye, he studied Max and came to the conclusion that she wasn’t freezing him out. With the serious frown on her forehead, he thought maybe she was worried about something and only barely aware of him.

  When his phone rang and she startled, he realized she’d been so far into her thoughts that she’d forgotten all about him.

  It didn’t happen often that a woman forgot about Dusty Lincoln’s presence.

  Not vanity. Just fact.

  His phone sounded different. He took it out of his shirt pocket.

  Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies.”

  What the—Where had that come from? It wasn’t his ringtone.

  He checked the incoming call.

  His mom. It figured. Somehow she’d gotten hold of his phone and programmed Beyoncé to ring when she called.

  When had she done it? He remembered that she’d attended the rodeo on the weekend to watch him ride and had held his stuff for him. The bigger question was how had she known his password to get in and change things?

  Yet again, she had proved herself to be all-powerful and all-knowing. He had to smile.

  Beyoncé sang on. Oh, Mom. The song was her idea of a joke.

  She thought Dusty had too many women in his life and needed to find one to marry.

  She’d been pestering him since he’d turned thirty over a year ago to find a girl and settle down. Why should he? He was having fun. No need to put a ring on any woman’s finger just yet.

  Besides, he’d have to find the right woman first and how could he make a choice? He liked them all.

  Except maybe Maxine Porter. He sobered.

  His phone still chirped.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I have to take this.” If he didn’t, Mom would just call back in five minutes.

  He turned away and answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “No ‘Hi, Mom’?” His mother laughed on the other end of the line. She knew he must be with a woman or he would have answered, “Hi, Mom.”

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Just calling to remind you about the family picnic next weekend. All of your aunts, uncles and cousins can make it this year.”

  Dusty bit back an oath. Somehow she was meddling again. Did she have some new woman to introduce him to? “I can’t come. I already told you I’d be busy.”

  “But you’re the star of the family. You’re why I’m having the picnic and why the family is coming.”

  Sometimes Dusty resented his family’s intrusion in his life. Yes, he was his parents’ miracle baby and only child, the one they’d given up hope of ever having, and the youngest of all of his cousins, but being called the star of the family embarrassed him.

  Hanging on to his patience, he said, “I already told you I’d be busy.” He loved his mother, but she exasperated him at times. “Why did you plan it anyway?”

  “Because there aren’t any rodeos booked for next weekend as far as I know. You know I follow them all.”

  True. Mom was his biggest fan.

  “It’s not a rodeo. It’s a job.”

  “A real job?” His mother sounded hopeful, but the implied insult rankled.

  “The job Dad set me up with, remember?” He kept his voice low so Max wouldn’t hear that tidbit.

  “Oh, that’s right. It’s temporary, though.”

  He fought to keep his voice even. “But bull riding is a real job, just so we’re clear.”

  “For how much longer? What happens when you get too old for it? What happens if you get injured again?”

  Mention of injuries was not allowed. His knee was all healed, it was, and he could still ride.

  “Hey, you know that word is taboo.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one that starts with the letter i.”

  “I know, Dusty, but I worry. Now, about this job of yours with Marvin...can it become permanent?”

  Dusty moaned. Not again. Always with the “find a good woman and get a secure job and settle down” business. “Can we have this discussion another time?”

  “Sure, honey. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  Dusty bit back a cutting remark. He didn’t sass his mom. It seemed that tomorrow they would have the exact same conversation as today. He loved his mother, but sometimes...

  “Don’t forget about the picnic. I’m sure you can take one Saturday off.” After that parting shot, she cut the connection.

  With an inward groan, he stuffed his phone into his pocket
.

  Even though he loved his family, they overwhelmed him. He’d been the miracle baby, coming along long after his parents and their extended families had given up hope of them getting pregnant.

  His childhood had been happy. He’d been indulged by his parents and his many aunts and uncles and all of his many older cousins.

  How lucky could one guy be?

  Yeah, he was lucky. Even so, his huge, loving, benevolent family stifled him.

  Sometimes he needed to spend time alone.

  Max watched him, a curious frown on her forehead.

  He realized he’d been staring at his phone for a protracted time.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, unwilling to satisfy her curiosity and feed the small-town gossip mill. He had no idea if she was the kind of woman to spread rumors, but he didn’t take chances in a town he didn’t know.

  “No problem,” she said.

  He watched her strong arms curry her horse. She didn’t cut corners. Her horses bore signs of being pampered.

  He approved.

  “Can I ask you something?” He finished dealing with the horse he’d ridden.

  She looked wary. “What?”

  Why the distrust? What did she think he was after?

  “Where did you get this idea for a polo match?” If he could find out where it started and argue coherently, maybe he could change her mind before it was too late.

  “From Vy’s husband,” she said.

  “Vy? From the diner? But she doesn’t approve.” He sounded bewildered because he was.

  “No. She doesn’t.”

  Already he knew Max wasn’t going to give in on this. She sounded firmly entrenched. But it was unconscionable to add to the rodeo an event guaranteed to fail.

  He had to give his arguments a shot.

  “Bull riding draws more income and sponsorship than any other rodeo event.”

  Knowing everything there was to know about the rodeo, he cited statistics.

  “It’s the most exciting eight seconds in the rodeo.”

  “It’s the most dangerous eight seconds on the planet and it should be banned for all time. Men have been killed. Worse, they’ve lived diminished lives because of damage from concussions. Is that truly your way to go?”

  “It’s my life!” Dusty exploded. “It’s every bull rider’s personal decision. We’re grown men and capable of making our own choices.”