Betting On The Maverick. Cindy Kirk
Margot relaxed in the saddle. She’d grown up riding before she could walk. The fact that she couldn’t compete until next season was a blow, but she was thankful the doctor said she could still ride at a slow walk. Exploring these meadows and valleys on horseback under the big Montana sky had been a huge part of her childhood.
Though she’d never given much thought to the matter, she realized now that the land she assumed would always be there for her was in danger of slipping away.
A poker game.
It was a good thing her mother wasn’t here. Giselle Sullivan would have kicked her husband’s ass nine ways to Sunday if he’d pulled a stunt like this when she was alive. Of course, Boyd would never have gambled or drank or ordered his only daughter to stay away if her mother was still alive.
He adored the pretty city girl he’d married when he was fifty-three. Married once in his early twenties, then quickly divorced because of his drinking, Boyd had long given up hope of finding his own happily-ever-after.
Margot recalled how his face glowed whenever he spoke of the day he’d run into Giselle in New York City. Though her father rarely left the ranch in later years, apparently he’d once loved to travel. Running into the pretty career woman had been a fluke, but for both of them it had been love at first sight. He’d quit drinking right then and there, knowing Giselle deserved better.
Sobriety had stuck. They’d stuck. When Margot made an appearance two years later when Giselle was forty-three, both her parents had shed tears of joy.
Margot’s heart tightened remembering the angry words between her and her father the last time they’d spoke. If she could only be granted a do-over, she’d respond differently.
“I’m going to hire a private detective,” Margot announced, though why she felt the need to make Brad aware of her plans she wasn’t certain.
Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he’d respected her need for silence. The interaction with the detective had brought all her fears bubbling to the surface. While she’d kept her composure, by the time he left and she reached the stable, her control was ready to snap.
The ridiculous conversation about Vivian had actually helped. Thankfully Brad didn’t feel the need to fill the silence between them with inane chatter. Instead he’d showed her the parts of the fence, answered her questions regarding the price of hay and otherwise remained silent.
“No need to hire a PI,” Brad said.
“If you’re thinking just because Russ said he’s following up that’s enough—”
“I’m thinking,” he said pointedly, “that it isn’t necessary because I’ve already hired one.”
“You have?” If Margot had been a less experienced rider, she’d have fallen off her horse in shock. “Why?”
“Crawford land has butted up to the Leap of Faith for generations. Boyd went to school with my grandmother. Besides, I kind of like the guy. I want to find out what happened to him, make sure he’s safe.”
Tears stung the backs of Margot’s eyes. But a sliver of distrust remained. It would be so easy to say he’d hired a detective—so no one else would—and then have the illusive detective find nothing. But for what purpose?
She wasn’t sure if it was the sun, the lingering effects of fatigue from the long drive yesterday or remnants from the skull fracture and concussion, but her head started to swim.
“I’m going to take a break,” she announced, pulling her horse under a tall cottonwood near a creek. “You go on.”
After dismounting, she moved to the tree and sat, resting her back against the massive trunk. Vivian, who’d been trotting along beside the horses, took a stance near her feet, her amber gaze firmly focused on Brad.
She wasn’t surprised when he got off his horse and tied the animal to a smaller tree nearby.
“That hard head of yours hurting?” he asked in an insolent tone.
“What’s it to you?”
“Just wondering if I’m going to have to strap you across the back of my horse to get you back to the house.”
“In your dreams,” she shot back, relieved he’d responded with cocky arrogance rather than sympathy.
“Viper looks thirsty.”
Margot glanced at Vivian. Though the temperature was a mild sixty, the heeler visibly panted. With so much going on and despite the fullness around the dog’s midsection, it was easy to forget Vivi was pregnant.
Though Margot hadn’t thought to bring any water with her, there was a creek nearby. She pushed to her feet, discovering that the short break had eased the headache into the manageable range.
“I can—” Brad began.
“She won’t go with you,” Margot said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And she won’t leave me.”
“Then I guess we take a walk together.” He reached out to take her arm but after seeing her pointed look, dropped his hand. “You got some hang-up about a man touching you?”
“I most certainly do not,” Margot retorted before realizing she’d played right into his hands. “I don’t know you. I don’t particularly like you. That’s why I don’t want you touching me.”
His gaze met hers. “Liar.”
“What are you talking about?” Margot sputtered.
“You want me to touch you,” he said as if speaking the gospel from the pulpit. “But you’re scared of what might happen once I do.”
“Oh, for the love of—” She reined in her emotions. “You are so incredibly arrogant. You think every woman is interested in that hot body of yours.”
A grin spread across his face, like a kid opening a present at Christmastime. “You think my body is hot?”
“Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not interested in touching you. I’m not interested in sleeping with you. I am interested in getting you out of my house.”
“My house,” he corrected. “And you are interested in sleeping with me. You just won’t admit it.”
“There’s nothing to admit.” She flung her hands up in the air, drawing Vivian’s watchful gaze as the dog lapped up crystal-clear water from the bubbling creek.
“Come on,” Brad teased. “This attraction between us is so strong it’s a wonder we haven’t both burst into flames.”
“Delude yourself all you want.” Margot kept her face expressionless. There was no way, no way, she was letting him know that she found him the teensiest bit attractive. “I have a compromise I’d like to propose.”
“No touching below the waist?”
“Shut up.” She fought to hide a smile. The guy never gave up. “I’m talking about the house.”
She inhaled deeply, that crisp scent of autumn in the air. It wouldn’t be long before the temperature would drop and the cool breeze would turn frigid. The cattle would need to be fed. She’d have to fire up the tractor and attach the blade so she could plow the lane once the snow came. With four-wheel drive, at least her truck would get around.
How had her dad managed these past few years, she wondered? Even before her mother passed, it wasn’t as if Giselle was the outdoorsy type. He had no sons to help, no family nearby and he’d told his only daughter to take a hike. Had there been a growing sense that the ranch was becoming too much for him to handle? Had he secretly considered the land a burden?
Certainly she’d seen a few signs that she’d chosen to ignore. Because every time she confronted him he got belligerent.
Her dad had always been proud of how he’d maintained the ranch. But,