His Tomboy Bride. Leanna Wilson
He remembered Billie rushing toward him as he lay in the dirt, his pride bruised as much as his backside. Fear had creased her brow, clouded her eyes. Embarrassment had pushed him onto his feet despite the pain in his knee. He’d brushed past her, trying to hide his limp.
Now, for some odd reason, a part of him longed for her to show some concern again. It made no sense. He didn’t need her, any more than he needed anyone else. Being near her unsettled him. Maybe he was simply feeling nostalgic, wishing for a simpler, easier time.
Her cheeks brightened to an enticing pink. She reached for a blue-and-green-plaid saddle blanket. “I was a silly schoolgirl then.” One of her shoulders lifted as if she shrugged off the memory. “You were grumpy as an old bear, growling at me to leave you alone.”
He chuckled. She’d cared about him once. Had those feelings faded like the blue in her jeans? Of course they had, he realized as disappointment pinched his already knotted gut. “No guy wants attention drawn to him when he’s just landed on his rump in front of a hometown crowd. I wanted to lick my wounds in private.”
“Well, trust me, if you get thrown today, I’ll ignore You: ”
“No, you won’t. You’ll laugh.”
“Maybe.” She gave him a sly wink and laid the saddle blanket over the horse’s back.
“You won’t offer to kiss it and make it all better?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. They were a mistake. Instantly he regretted them, but he found himself holding his breath, watching her with more anticipation than he should have, waiting for her response.
Her eyes darkened like a cloud blotting out the sun. “I’m an engaged woman.”
A wintry chill whipped through him. His face stiffened. He needed that reminder. He needed to get a firm handle on his feelings, his responsibilities. “What’s the mare’s name?”
Billie’s eyes narrowed, then she looked at her horse. She nuzzled the side of the mare’s neck. “Calamity.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is she a klutz? Or always causing trouble?”
Billie grinned, her white teeth flashing against her honey-colored tan. “If there’s a root snaking over the ground, she’ll find it and trip. If there’s a gopher hole, she’s bound to step in it. She’s been lucky not to hurt herself too badly. But she’s great with rounding up calves. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
He watched Billie’s hands move over the horse in a loving, confident manner. He remembered how she’d cared for her father’s animals, staying up late to help a colt enter the world, handling vaccinations deftly, crying when a sick kitten couldn’t be saved. She had a tender heart. And he wouldn’t let Doug Schaeffer trample it.
Billie flung a saddle over Calamity’s back. Nick stepped to the side, bent and handed her the leather girth beneath. Their fingers brushed. His smile disappeared. With supreme effort, he clamped down on the desire to find out what it would feel like to hold her for real this time.
“You still remember which side to mount on?” she asked, humor lacing her words.
“Just give me a running start,” he said, wondering if her mind swam with the same memories. Focusing on the past helped him picture the future. Billie was getting married—to someone else.
She glanced at him, a question lighting her eyes, then laughter burst out of her, the full, throaty sound stirring his interest again. “Oh, God, you remember that?”
“How could I forget you trying to ambush Jake and me like a Comanche on the warpath?”
Shaking her head, she grabbed the reins and headed out of the barn. “Come on, I’ll saddle your mount.”
“Which one am I riding?” he asked, stepping into the warm sunlight. The rays caught the gold shimmering highlights in Billie’s blond hair and the intensity of her blue eyes.
“Diablo. You remember him, don’t you?”
How could he forget Jake’s surly black gelding that liked to kick and bite more than Billie the Kid? He nodded, wishing he’d brought his old rusted spurs. “Meanest bronc this side of the Red River.”
Her mouth twitched as if she couldn’t decide if she should smile. He figured she’d hold her laughter till he got thrown and busted his butt. She looped Calamity’s reins loosely over a post, grabbed a rope and walked down the fence line. “Come on, we’ve got to catch him first. He’s not very sociable these days.”
When had Diablo ever been? Nick stuck his hands into his pockets. He was in for a long afternoon.
Billie whistled, and the shrill sound pierced the quiet barnyard. Birds fluttered toward their perches in the barn loft In a nearby corral, a smattering of black cows and calves flinched. Diablo stood in the middle of a patch of green and chomped on sweet clover. Nick blinked. The once solid-black gelding was now gray, almost white in places.
Billie climbed the fence and jumped down into the corral. “He’s hard of hearing, too.”
“You sure it’s safe to ride him?” Nick asked. “He looks...fragile.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He’s stronger than he looks,” she said, giving Nick a pointed stare. He caught her meaning. Billie was stronger than she looked, too, always had been. “Besides, Diablo likes the challenge.”
Great, Nick thought. Wasn’t Billie enough of a challenge for one day? He opened the gate for her to lead the gelding out of the corral. The horse acted as docile as an old hound. “You think you can race and win, with me riding this poor, pathetic excuse for a horse, huh?”
“No such thing.” But she flashed him a devilish smile.
A few minutes later, mounted, they rode through a copse of live oaks and toward the green pastures. The horses’ hooves crunched acorns as they walked. Nick’s gaze trained on Billie, riding just ahead of him, as he rolled with Diablo’s slower gait. The saddle cupped Billie’s backside, framing her bottom, accenting the shifting motion of the horse. Nick groaned and concentrated on the thick green grass, the cornflower blue sky, the stark white fence surrounding the north stretch of the ranch.
“That a new fence?” he asked, noticing the rails where there used to be barbed wire.
She nodded. “Jake and I put that in right before...” Her voice faded, then she resumed. “It was expensive but in the long run it’ll require less maintenance. And I don’t have to worry about a cow breaking through and getting out onto the highway.”
“Unless an eighteen-wheeler plows through it.” He grinned, agreeing with her decision.
“Then I’d have more problems than an ornery cow on the loose.”
“What are you going to do with the ranch once you get married?” he asked, prodding Diablo alongside the chestnut mare. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the abrupt stiffening of Billie’s spine.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t see Schaeffer letting his wife herd a bunch of smelly cows,” he confessed, slanting his gaze to her face.
Her jaw squared, and her eyes flashed. “No man lets me do anything. It’s my choice...whatever I do. With the Rocking G or anything else.”
Her crisp tone signaled that the discussion was closed. He ignored the warning. “Are you selling out?”
“No.” Her answer came quick. Too fast, almost defensive, in his opinion.
His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t read her expression. She shuttered her emotions behind a determined mask. “You’ve put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this place. It’s your heritage.”
“I know that Better than anyone.” Her shoulders slumped as if beneath a great weight. “But...”