Hitched to the Horseman. Stella Bagwell
“You know as well as I do that the two of us can’t be together. What in hell was Geraldine thinking?”
Her blood simmering, Mercedes tossed her head, sending her thick hair rippling down her back. “She was thinking that we’re two adults with a job to do. Not to claw and hiss at each other.”
Gabe’s eyelids lowered as his gaze settled on her lips. “Or to make love,” he whispered hoarsely.
Make love.
She didn’t know whether it was those two words or the low growl of his voice that sent a sultry shiver down her spine. Either way, she couldn’t stop her body from gravitating towards his. “That—won’t be on the agenda.”
“Unless you want it to be.”
Stella Bagwell sold her first book in November 1985. Now, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. She and her husband live in Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.
She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches maths in nearby Port Lavaca.
Hitched to the Horseman
Stella Bagwell
To my husband, Harrell,
my very own horse trainer.
All my love.
Chapter One
What the hell was he doing here?
Gabriel Trevino tilted the bottle of beer to his lips to hide his frown as his eyes cut across the sweeping lawn filled with people. Normally his social events consisted of sharing a beer with his buddies behind the bucking chutes at a local rodeo. This gathering at the Sandbur Ranch could hardly be compared to that sort of tobacco-spitting, curse-laden entertainment. Even the boring parties Sherleen had dragged him to during their ill-fated union paled in comparison to tonight’s lavish celebration.
The best that money could buy.
The food, the drinks, the five-piece band, the women with hunks of diamonds glittering at their necks and wrists. Only in Texas, he thought wryly, could a woman justify wearing her best to an outdoor barbecue.
Leaning against the massive trunk of a live oak, he turned his attention to the portable dance floor that had been erected several yards away from the house. Presently, it was crowded with couples. Some of them old, some young, all of them having a high old time kicking up their heels to the Cotton Eyed Joe.
“What’s the matter, Gabe? Don’t you like to dance?”
Glancing around, he saw Geraldine Saddler, the matriarch of the Sandbur, approaching him. The tall, elegant woman with silver hair hardly looked like a woman who knew how to burn a brand into a cowhide, but since he’d come to work here at the ranch two months ago, he’d seen her do things that would make even some cowhands squeamish.
“Sometimes,” he replied.
Eyeing him keenly, she smiled. “Just not now?”
Embarrassed that his discomfort was showing, Gabe straightened away from the tree and turned to face her.
“It’s enough for me just to watch, ma’am.”
Kindness and grace emanated from Geraldine and for one brief moment, Gabe wondered what his mother’s life would have been like if she’d been exposed to this sort of wealth, if she’d had a nice home, plenty of food and enough money to pay the bills with plenty left over for luxuries.
“This is the first party we’ve had since you arrived here on the ranch,” Geraldine remarked. “I’d like to think you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Oh. Well, it’s a real nice affair, Ms. Saddler. Real nice.”
Looping her arm through his, she chuckled. “Come along, Gabe. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Not about to offend her by protesting, Gabe allowed the woman to guide him through the milling throng of merrymakers until they reached the patio where several people were standing around in a circle.
Lex Saddler, Geraldine’s son and the man who regulated the cattle sales here at the Sandbur, was one of them. Apparently he’d just said something funny, because a tall, blond woman was laughing rowdily. She was wearing a skimpy white sundress with vivid tropical flowers splashed along the hem. The garment struck her long legs somewhere in the middle of her tanned thighs while the top was held up by tiny straps that could easily be snapped beneath the pressure of his fingers. Unlike most of the other young women present tonight, she wasn’t stick-thin. She had enough flesh to fill out the sundress with delicious curves.
As Gabe and the boss lady drew nearer to the group, the blonde turned slowly toward them. Almost instantly, a faint look of unease crossed her features, as though seeing him with Geraldine was like spotting a wolf in a pen full of sheep.
“Mercedes, come here,” Geraldine called to her. “I’d like for you to meet someone.”
Mercedes. This was Geraldine’s daughter, he realized. Lex and Nicci’s sister. She was the reason hordes of guests had swarmed upon the Sandbur Ranch tonight. She was the reason he was standing here wishing like hell he was somewhere else.
Excusing herself from the intimate circle, the woman walked over to where they stood. Soft, expensive perfume drifted to his nostrils as he struggled to keep his eyes on her face, rather than the sensual curves of her body.
He sensed Geraldine releasing his arm as she quickly made introductions. “Gabe, this is my daughter, Mercedes. And this is Gabriel Trevino. He’s our new head horse trainer here on the ranch.”
The woman was young. Much younger than Gabe’s thirtyfive years, he decided. But her dark blue eyes were eyeing him with a shrewd perception that implied she was mature beyond her years. Pure attraction for the sultry beauty standing before him twisted in his gut.
Tilting the brim of his straw cowboy hat, he inclined his head toward her and she responded by thrusting her hand out to him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Trevino.”
Closing his hand around hers, he was surprised by her firm shake, the warmth of her fingers.
“My pleasure, Ms. Saddler.”
Sure. He was feeling as pleased as a bull in a squeeze chute, Mercedes thought. The man was bored. She could see it all over his face. But oh, my, what a face. Strong square jaw, dimpled chin and a Roman nose that had arrogance written all over it. Storm cloud-gray eyes peered at her from beneath heavy black brows. And his mouth—well, it would have looked delicious if a smile had been curving the corners. Instead, the firm slash was bracketed with faint lines of disdain.
Much to her dismay, her curiosity was instantly aroused by his reaction and she continued to hold on to his hand. Partly because she found touching him pleasant, and partly because she knew it was making him even more uncomfortable.
“So you’ve taken over Cousin Cordero’s job,” she mused aloud. “How do you like it here on the Sandbur?”
His dark gray gaze momentarily slanted over to Geraldine, and Mercedes watched a genuine smile cross her mother’s face. Apparently she considered this man more than just a hired horse trainer. But then Geraldine was the sort of person who’d always gotten close to her employees, who always focused on the good in people rather than their faults.
“I like it,” he answered quietly. “Your family has been very generous and gracious to me.”
There