Home on the Ranch: Montana Rodeo Star
Author
Mary Sullivan
Reads
18,1K
Chapters
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, Fairgroundsand 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.
“Dusty 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.
But no, when she met his gaze, there wasn’t an ounce of playfulness in his sober stare. Of course not. He reserved that for girlie women.
Whoa, slow down, Max. You can’t have it both ways. If you want this to be strictly a business relationship, you have to be happy that he isn’t flirting. Behave like a professional. Apparently he is.
Speaking of business, time to get down to it.
“You’re late.” Way to go, Max. On the offensive the second the guy gets here.
He checked his watch. “It’s seven after noon now, which means I walked in here only three minutes behind schedule. Hardly enough to be termed late.”
“It is in my world.”
“I slowed down to look at the amusement park. It looks good.”
The light bulb of his personality had been dimmed by Max’s sparse welcome and she felt bad about that. She didn’t know the man. She shouldn’t rush to judgment. On the other hand, he could turn heads. And he did. And she didn’t want him to.
The fair and rodeo were serious business.
She needed him to have his mind firmly in the game.
Max sensed the women in the restaurant taking surreptitious glimpses of Dusty.
She hoped this wasn’t going to turn out to be a mistake, but what should she have done when she was hunting around the rodeo network for help? Asked for photographs?
Dusty Lincoln had come highly recommended, so highly that she hadn’t had an inkling of doubt.
So here he was and she would have to make the best of it. She picked up the thread of the conversation.
“The revival committee here in Rodeo has put a good effort into bringing our park back to life. We’re all set to host a comeback fair mid-August. It’ll last two weeks, and the main event will be the rodeo on closing weekend. The only thing that remains is for that to take place and for us to make it a success.”
“The rides look great, what I saw of them, at any rate.” Dusty unwrapped his cutlery and laid his serviette across his lap, impressing Max. Good manners.
“What do you want to happen with the rodeo?” he asked. “What do you need me to organize? We’ll do the usual events and culminate with the bull riding.”
Max drew a breath to respond. She had hoped to at least have her lunch before getting into trouble.
At that moment the front door opened and her friend Nadine stepped into the diner.
When she saw Max, her face lit up. Newly in love with a local rancher who happened to paint the prettiest landscapes around, Nadine smiled a lot these days.
Nice to see. She’d had a run of bad luck before that.
“Hey, Max.” Nadine approached. “I never see you in here midweek. What’s up?” She glanced across the table, spotted Dusty and did a double take.
“Well, hey, we haven’t met. I’m Nadine Campbell.”
Dusty stood and shook her hand. The guy was chock-full of good manners.
“Well, hey, yourself,” he said. “I’m Dusty Lincoln.”
Again there passed between them that mutual-attraction thing. Again Max didn’t know how that happened and how they conveyed the message about being available...or not.
“Dusty Lincoln? Your reputation precedes you,” Nadine said. “I’m the local reporter. I’d love to do an interview if you have time today.”
“He can’t.”
Both of them turned to Max and stared.
“Wish I could invite you to join us, Nadine, but we’ve got some...things to discuss,” she finished quickly, before Nadine discovered the truth and took Max to task as Vy had. She didn’t have the time right now.
“No problem, Max. Dusty, it was nice meeting you.” Nadine’s stunning smile dazzled.
“How’s Zach?” Max asked loudly.
Nadine slid an amused grin at her. She knew exactly what Max was doing. When she held out her left hand, it alleviated all of Max’s anxieties. On the third finger sat the sweetest little diamond.
“Zach is perfect,” Nadine said and blushed in a way she hadn’t with Dusty a moment ago.
Nadine studied Max for a moment. Her expression became crafty. She knew something was up with Max.
Nadine was a good reporter—and now editor of the only local paper—because not much got past her.
She turned to Dusty, who had remained standing. “Please, sit. I won’t disturb you much longer. What brings you to Rodeo?”
“I’ll be helping Max to put together the rodeo.”
Nadine’s face went blank. “You will?”
Might as well lay it all out there. “I hired him,” Max said, in a tone of defiance mixed with false bravado.
Nadine took hold of Max’s elbow and all but hauled her out of the booth. “Would you excuse us?” she tossed at Dusty.
In Vy’s office down the back hallway, Nadine closed the door. “Spill,” she ordered. “What’s going on? At last week’s committee meeting, no one said a word about hiring anyone. We don’t have money.”
“I know that.” Max repeated what she’d told Vy was going to happen.
Nadine groaned. “You are supposed to pass all big financial decisions by the entire committee, not go Rambo on us.”
Max shoved her hands into her pockets. Tension settled in her shoulders. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would all say no.”
“Rightly so. There are no guarantees we’ll break even, let alone make a profit.”
“I’ll take responsibility for this cost if I have to.”
“You can’t afford to do that.”
“I know.” The thought worried the spit out of Max. She barely broke even on the ranch, let alone thinking of paying someone else’s salary for a month. Sweat dampened her armpits.
Nadine slammed her hands onto her hips. “Maybe this guy can convince you to change your ridiculous plans for the rodeo.”
“No!” Max rubbed her forehead. “This can work, Nadine. It can be new and fresh and exciting. I know it can.”
“But—”
Max stopped her with one upraised hand.
“Nadine, I’m so...tired.” The breath whooshed out of her. She’d been fighting too many battles on her own for too long. “I’m tired of the responsibility of running a ranch nearly alone. I’m sick to death of not having time for my son.”
She rubbed the spot throbbing between her eyes. “Organizing this rodeo has been a headache, but also a bright spot in my life. Before I had Josh, rodeo was my life. I have ideas that are weird, yes, but they can work. I need to be given a chance. I want to be part of this revival committee. I really do. I love all of you guys like sisters.”
Still hard-edged and militant, Nadine said, “We can outvote you on your ideas. You understand that, don’t you?”
“But so far you haven’t, so you must think at least something’s going to work.” Max sighed. “I need help and support, not criticism. I need this rodeo guy to take on some of the work.”
Nadine’s expression softened. “I hope this works out for you.” She gestured over her shoulder toward the dining room. “What are his credentials? I know he wins rodeos, but that doesn’t mean he can run one.”
“Over the past decade, he’s helped to organize a number of rodeos. He’s got a great reputation and comes highly recommended.”
“Let’s hope he can help us to bring in money.”
“You and me both,” Max whispered fervently.
“He should be easy to work with. He has a sweet smile.”
“A cocky grin, you mean.”
Nadine frowned. “No. That wasn’t what I saw.”
Max shrugged. Nadine was welcome to her delusions. “Listen, I have an idea for an article that I need you to write. It would be great promotion for the rodeo.”
Nadine perked up. “Sure. What is it?”
“I’ll call you about it later. I should get back to Dusty.”
Before leaving the room, Nadine hesitated and then touched Max’s arm. “We all love you, Max. You know that, right?”
“Jeez, Nadine, why so heavy? Of course, we all love each other.”
Max moved into Nadine’s quick hug. Nadine just about squeezed the breath out of Max before following her out of the office.
In the dining room, Nadine detoured to sit with a couple of local ranchers. She must be doing a story about them.
Two women in their early twenties, a couple of the younger women in town to whom Max didn’t pay much attention, stood talking to Dusty. Well, maybe not talking as much as giggling.
Max and these women lived different lives. At twenty-eight, she was only a bit older than these girls, but her life experience exceeded theirs by miles.
At their age, she’d already been a single mother to a toddler and taken on a mortgage so she could own the ranch she lived on.
The women giggled some more and placed paper serviettes onto the table in front of Dusty.
“We saw your win in Colorado on the weekend. You were amazing.”
“Thanks.” Okay, so maybe his smile was a bit sweet. He signed the paper slips graciously.
Max got angry. She needed his focus centered on the rodeo, not on the local beauties.
The girls walked away with tiny flirtatious waves of their fingers and oh-so-sexy struts.
Dear God, they made Max feel old.
“I sure hope you’re planning to work here as well as flirt.”
The smile dropped from his face. “I was being polite. I didn’t approach them. They approached me. Should I have ignored them?”
“Do you get asked for autographs often?”
“Often enough,” he said. Still unsmiling, he went on, “Let’s get back to business. About the rodeo. We’ll have all of the usual events, and finish the weekend with bull riding at the end.”
“No.”
“No? But bull riding’s the big draw. You never start with it. We always want it at the end for a big finish.”
Max girded her proverbial loins against his reaction. She knew in her bones this wasn’t going to go well. The whole town already thought she was foolhardy. “No bull riding.”
He fell back against the banquette, mouth open.
“No—” He swallowed and started again. “No bull riding? What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. It’s cruel. I won’t have it in my rodeo.”
His jawline, already impressive in its jutting manliness, hardened.
“You can’t have a rodeo without bull riding. It’s a big-ticket event. The event. It brings in money and the best rodeo stars.”
“I can make this rodeo bring in money anyway.”
“You sure about that?”
She shot him a confident nod. No sense letting him know how much sleep she lost every night because of her unusual decision. Bucking rodeo tradition wasn’t easy in Western culture.
“We’ll make money,” she insisted.
She sensed Dusty giving himself time to bring his shock and anger under control.
“I’ve never heard of something this—I’ve never heard of a decision like this about the rodeo.”
He’d probably meant to say “something this idiotic or stupid.”
“How do you intend to make money without bull riding?” he asked.
The thumping of her pulse overrode the beat of the music on the radio. She knew what his reaction was going to be. “Polo.”
His blank stare unnerved her. Those eyes were too deep with intelligence, the lashes fringing them too long, making his beauty hard to take.
The look he regarded her with throbbed with both dissatisfaction and disbelief.
“What did you say?” he asked, putting a finger behind one ear and pushing the lobe forward. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
“You did. I plan to put on a polo match.”
“Polo?” he asked, voice loud enough to draw the attention of half the diners. “At a rodeo?”
Vy plunked down two full dinner plates onto the table.
“Talk some sense into her, would you?” Vy said to Dusty. “The committee has gotten nowhere arguing with her.”
Max shot Vy a look that said traitor.
Vy shot her a “what do you expect?” frown and strode away.
Only one person in this entire town understood and agreed with Max on this issue, and that man was Vy’s husband. In truth polo had been his idea originally. Vy rode him just as hard about the issue as she rode Max.
Now here was opposition from the hired help, too.
She scrubbed her face. Her hands smelled like flowers from Vy’s cream. Her fatigue made her cranky. What else was new? She’d been tired for years. Ergo, she’d been cranky for a long time.
“Okay, listen,” she said, leaning forward. “Ever since we decided to revive the fair and rodeo and I took over the rodeo organization, I’ve studied rodeos all over this land.”
He nodded for her to continue.
“It’s the same everywhere. Everywhere. Nothing changes. All of the same events in all of the same order.”
“So?”
“So why would anyone come out to Rodeo, Montana, to see all of the same things they can see anywhere else? Why not just go to...to...Kalamazoo like they do every year?”
Dusty frowned. “There’s no rodeo in Kalamazoo.”
She slammed a hand onto the table and set cutlery jumping. “I know that! I just put out a name to make a point.” She felt the eyes of half of the restaurant patrons on her, most of them leaning forward to eavesdrop better.
With an effort, she calmed herself. “My point is that we need something different, something truly original, to pull in the kinds of crowds we’ll require to make this entire venture financially viable.
“There is no arguing against this. It’s a done deal. Many of the arrangements have already been made. It’s only a matter now of finalizing everything.”
“Then why do you need me?”
“I’m overworked. I have a million and one details to take care of and not enough time.”
She picked up her burger and bit into it, delish just the way it was without weird crap inside.
She chewed and swallowed.
“You must have a good network. I need you to convince all the rodeo riders who you know that they have to be involved in this rodeo.”
He picked up his knife and fork slowly, his mouth still hanging open a little in shock. “You still plan to have some traditional rodeo events?”
She nodded and bit into her burger again. Giving him time to think, she chewed and wiped her fingers on her serviette.
“Do you want the job or don’t you?” she asked, her tone almost belligerent. God help her, she was sick of resistance.
Irritation flowed from the man in waves. He’d clapped his mouth shut and looked like he was physically chewing on the problem. He thought about it for a while before answering. “I want it.”
Max couldn’t afford to let either her surprise or her relief show.
“Good. Looks like we might get along,” she said. “After lunch, follow me out to my ranch and I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
For the rest of the meal, they ate in silence, neither one of them invested in trying to make small talk.
Max didn’t have a speck of the social skills that other women used to get by in life. Idle conversation had always seemed like a waste of time to her. She just didn’t know how to do it.
Dusty Lincoln was either pissed off or looking to come to terms with her deviation from a normal rodeo.
Michael Moreno stepped into the diner with his two children as well as his new wife’s two kids. Samantha, his wife and the revival committee’s accountant, was not with him, thank God.
When Samantha heard that Max had hired an employee, she would hit the roof.
Max couldn’t take any more criticism today.
And she had the feeling the argument about bull riding wasn’t over with Dusty.
Michael said hi as he passed, but did a double take when he recognized Dusty.
There was an awful lot of double-taking in the diner today. Dusty was a bigger celebrity than Max had guessed, but she’d been away from the rodeo for too many years.
Michael and Dusty shook hands.
“Saw you ride Cyclone a couple of years ago,” Michael said.
Dusty leaned back in the booth, a confident man satisfied with his reputation. “He was about as bad a bull as I’ve ever ridden.”
“You did a great job.” Michael turned his attention to Max. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider—”
“Don’t go there, Michael.”
Moreno, as well as the rest of the local ranchers, did not agree with Max’s decision.
He backed off. “I guess if the revival committee can’t convince you to keep bull riding on the agenda, nothing I say will make a difference.”
He and Dusty exchanged commiserating smiles before Michael left to find a booth for himself and his kids.
Cripes. Not only women fell under Dusty’s spell. So did men.
She’d heard a lot about Dusty. He lived a charmed life.
Max did not. In fact, her life proved harder day by day.
When would she catch a break?
If she could convince Dusty of the rightness of doing something unusual at the newly revived Rodeo, Montana, rodeo and fair, they just might be successful and bring in a crowd for curiosity’s sake alone.
She had done her research. Plenty of it.
She had ideas that sounded strange, but she thought they could bring in good money for the fair...if only people would trust her.
And maybe horses would fly and somebody somewhere would decree there were thirty hours in the day instead of only twenty-four.
What difference would that make? Life would find a way to overschedule those hours, too.
Dusty chowed down on his meal, ignoring her and offering smiles to Vy and any other woman who passed the table.
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.”
