One Wild Cowboy (4 page)

They were already forming a herd, Emily thought.

Moving purposefully and calmly, Dylan stepped out and shut the gate. The first truck drove off.

The next trailer backed toward the pen.

When it was in position, Dylan opened the gate and released the third horse.

Emily caught her breath as the mare kicked and bucked her way out of the trailer. The color of ginger, she had darkercolored legs, a dark ginger mane and a striking white blaze down her forehead. Her tail was stiff and pointed up as she kicked and reared her way across the pen. Once near the other horses, she raised up on her hind legs again, her ears pinned back, whinnying furiously at the humans she blamed for her captivity.

Turning her rear to the other two horses, she backed up and pawed the ground.

Dylan smiled.

So did Emily.

“No doubt who is in charge of the herd,” she said, nodding at the ginger mare.

The question was, who was going to be in charge of her and Dylan—if she spent any time alone with him? She'd only been around him a short while and she was already thinking about how thrilling it would be to kiss him again.

“So what next?” Willfully, Emily turned her attention back to the mustangs.

“I let them settle in for a few days to recover from the trip, get used to their surroundings and begin to trust this is a place they are going to like.”

Made sense. “When it's time, I'd like to help you with their training,” Emily offered.

Dylan glanced at her skeptically. For reasons she did not understand, his doubt hurt. “Don't think I can do it?”

Dylan shook his head and sauntered toward the barn. “Let's just say I don't think your family would approve.”

Emily followed. “It wouldn't be the first time.”

For some reason, Emily thought, that struck a chord—one he didn't like.

He let his glance trail over her, lazily inspecting every curve, before returning to her face. “You have a major challenge facing your business.” He picked up a bale of hay and carried it back over to the corral. “Why don't you concentrate on that?”

Emily watched him cut the twine, holding it together. She scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. “I can do both.”

“Really?” Methodically, Dylan broke up the square of crisp
sweet hay. He tossed it over the fence. “Then you must be a superwoman.”

Emily watched the mustangs. The herd was still on the other side of the pen but contemplating every move Dylan made. “I am an excellent horsewoman.”

Dylan threw out the last of the feed and exhaled in frustration. He slowly straightened and poked up the brim of his hat. “Why don't you do us both a favor, Emily, and stick to cooking?”

Emily didn't know whether to slug him or kiss him. Truth was, she wanted to do both. “Why won't you let me help?”

Her pique increased his own irritation. “Because you don't work for me.” He walked over to turn on the spigot and fill the trough with water. “I don't have enough liability insurance. I don't have time to train them and you, too. Pick a reason.”

The mustangs made their way stealthily toward the feed. “Can I at least come by and watch from time to time?”

He rubbed the underside of his jaw, testing the stubble of afternoon beard. Their glances met and held. “If I say no, will you stay away?”

Emily offered a careless shrug. “Maybe.” The silence between them drew out, prompting her to eventually admit, with a reluctantly candid sigh, “Maybe not.”

His expression hardened. “That's what I thought.”

She didn't know why she wanted his respect so badly in this regard, she just knew that she did, and she wished he would give her a chance to earn it. “Dylan—”

He turned off the spigot with a harsh twist.

His eyes narrowed as he regarded her intently. “Do us both a favor, Emily. Go back to your family. Work out whatever needs to be worked out.” He lifted a gloved hand before she could interrupt. “And leave me—and these horses—out of it.”

 

L
ATE THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON
, Dylan answered another summons from Shane McCabe. He met with Emily's father in the study of the Circle M Ranch house, where they discussed the condition of the mustangs and Dylan's plan for training them.

It was a cordial, productive meeting and, despite himself, Dylan found himself warming to the elder rancher.

Usually, he did not care for men of such power and wealth, although he never minded doing business with them. Money was money, and they easily paid the fees Dylan commanded.

At the conclusion of their discussion, Shane handed Dylan a check, as previously agreed upon. “This should cover your time and the expenses of caring for the mustangs for the first month. If you need anything else, be sure and let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Before Dylan could get up, Shane said, “If you've got a moment, I'd like to speak with you about the Libertyville Boys Ranch. The director—Mike Harrigan—is a friend of mine. He mentioned your devotion to the facility.”

This was headed toward territory Dylan had no wish to discuss. He lifted a hand to cut off the discussion. “It's no big deal.”

Shane leaned forward earnestly. “On the contrary, it's a very big deal, Dylan. The boys ranch turns a lot of young lives around. I want to do more than just provide a few horses. So here's what I was thinking…” Shane elaborated for the next few minutes. Finally, he finished, “And given your expertise in this area, I'd really like your help in making that dream a reality.”

The offer was unexpected. And amazing. Not to mention out of the question. “Thank you, sir. I'll do what I can to contribute to your efforts.”

“But?” Shane sensed a catch.

“I don't think I am the right man for the setup you have in mind. I'll continue training the mustangs and then hand them over to the Libertyville Boys Ranch as promised. But that's really all I can guarantee, in terms of helping you out.”

Shane had the same look on his face that Emily had on hers whenever Dylan told her no. The one that said a McCabe wasn't giving up on what they wanted, no matter what obstacles lay in front of them.

Finally, Shane rocked back in his chair.

Dylan expected Emily's father to say something like the offer was always going to be open. Instead, he steepled his hands in front of him and inquired, “So what's going on with you and my daughter?”

Dylan swore silently to himself. For the life of him he did not know how to answer that. There was desire, certainly. And he really liked her cooking. But beyond that…

His concern for his only daughter apparent, Shane continued, “I've never seen her run after anyone the way she's been chasing you.” He paused. “Usually, it's the other way around. Guys are beating down her door.”

Dylan had been around long enough to know that to be true. Not that Emily had been inclined, in the past year or so anyway, to let anyone make much of a move on her. As far as he knew, she hadn't even had a date—not counting the pretend one with him.

“So…” Shane stood and looked at Dylan, man-to-man. “If I may…a word of advice?”

Dylan took the cue and got to his feet, too. He honored the elder horseman with a look of respect.

“If you don't think you will ever be serious about Emily…then do whatever you have to do…” Shane said, firmly, “but don't let my daughter catch you.”

 

D
YLAN WALKED OUT
the front door of the Circle M Ranch house, still contemplating the counsel from Shane McCabe.

As much as he hated having others meddle in his business, Emily's father was right.

Emily might think she was a free spirit, but she was also vulnerable and traditional to the core.

A wild affair would never make her happy. Nor would deceiving her loved ones.

Not in the long term.

And for some reason he couldn't figure, Dylan wanted to see the pretty brunette happy.

Which made what came next all the more unpalatable.

Striding toward Dylan, his arms full of Cowtown Diner goodies, was Xavier Shillingsworth. The teen flashed a pretentious smile his way. “Going the wrong way there, aren't you, fella?”

There was no denying the snide undertone in his words. Or the resentment in Xavier's gaze. Dylan paused on the wide front steps of the rustic fieldstone and cedar ranch house. He did not bother to smile back. “Excuse me?”

“Hired help comes and goes from the back, right?” Xavier sneered. “So…you should have gone in and out the
back
entrance.”

Dylan had suffered the taunts of the snotty rich from boyhood on. He knew he should let it go, straighten the brim of his hat, ignore the little twerp and keep moving. Yet something about the guy, and the situation, had him returning equably, “Ranchers go in the front.”

“And here I thought you were just another cowboy,” Xavier said, as Emily and her mother drove up in their respective vehicles.

Looking gorgeous and ready for a night out on the town, Emily was first to emerge.

Xavier shifted the stack of Cowtown Diner memorabilia
in his arms and turned to face Emily. “Going to be joining us for dinner this evening?”

“Uh, no,” Emily murmured, appearing not the least bit disappointed about that.

Bypassing the teen completely, Emily walked up to Dylan and looked him straight in the eye. “May I have a word with you?”

Figuring he'd find out sooner than later why the feisty heiress was so piqued, Dylan shrugged. “Sure.” He ambled down the steps alongside Emily, as Greta McCabe emerged from her Mercedes.

“Nice to see you, Dylan,” Greta said pleasantly.

He briefly removed his hat in a gesture of respect. “Nice to see you, Mrs. McCabe.”

“Perhaps you'd like to join us for dinner this evening, Dylan?” Greta continued pleasantly. “Emily? You, too?”

Emily perked up.

Xavier looked totally ticked off.

Which in Dylan's view, made it all worth it. “Don't mind if I do,” he told Greta. It wouldn't be the first time he had dined with the Laramie, Texas, elite, but it would definitely be the most satisfying.

“Mind telling me what's going on around here?” Emily asked, the moment her mother and Xavier Shillingsworth had disappeared inside the house, and shut the door behind them.

Dylan was getting a little tired of being a bit player in the McCabe family drama. He lounged against the rail edging the porch steps and folded his arms in front of him. “You're going to have to be more specific if you want me to answer that.”

Emily wrapped her hand around his biceps and led him down the steps, across the yard, into the shade. “Fine. You want to cut to the chase, we'll cut right to the chase.” She glared at him. “I heard you had a meeting with my father.”

Man, she had a temper! Dylan couldn't help but grin. “Spies everywhere, hmm?” he teased.

Emily regarded him with greatly exaggerated patience. “My mother mentioned it in passing.”

Dylan clapped a hand over his heart, mimicking her damsel-on-high-alert attitude. “Then it was top secret!”

“I'm serious.” Emily stomped closer, the delicate daffodil scent of her freshly washed hair and skin teasing his senses. She'd changed out of her casual work clothes and slipped into a sexy lavender dress that clung nicely to her curves.

His eyes drifted to her feet. Instead of the usual boots,
she had on a pair of open-toed sandals, perfect for the warm spring weather.

“What did he say to you?”

Lifting his gaze, Dylan resisted the urge to touch the silky dark strands spilling loosely over her slender shoulders. Instead, he concentrated on the determined pout of her soft, sensual lips before returning his attention to her eyes. “And this is your business because…?”

She tilted her head in a discerning manner. “I know it was about me.”

“Or…” He sidestepped the direct inquiry by producing the check from his shirt pocket. He waved it in front of her, like a matador taunting a bull. “Perhaps it was about…this?”

Emily exhaled loudly. “I know that's what it was about officially, dummy.” Her pretty chin jutted out. “I also know he would not have missed an opportunity to privately tell you what he tells all the men I'm interested in.”

Dylan liked being lumped in with her other discarded suitors about as much as he liked being interrogated. He blinked in feigned surprise. “
You're
interested in me?”

A flash of amusement sparkled in her eyes, then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “Ostensibly,” Emily admitted. “Not really.”

Dylan told himself that was irritation—not disappointment—he was feeling.

Emily paused and appeared to do a double take. “Are
you
interested in
me?
”

It was his turn to regard her with a droll expression. “What do you think?” he asked in a smart-alecky tone.

Her delicate dark eyebrows lifted. “That you are without a doubt the most infuriating man I have ever met.”

Dylan noted she had enunciated every word with perfect clarity. He lifted his hat in salute and resettled it on his head. “Thank you.”

Emily harrumphed. “It's nothing to be proud of.”

“Maybe not in your opinion,” Dylan murmured, aware he was enjoying matching wits and wills with her more than he had enjoyed anything in a long time.

Emily shook her head as if that would get her back on track. “So, why are you suddenly so eager to have dinner with me and my family?”

Good question. It couldn't be because he had started to feel protective of Emily, could it? He knew better than that. Rich heiresses were not allowed to fall for guys like him. And even if they bucked all propriety and followed their hearts, the misguided affair had little hope of lasting, because of family influence. In their case, they'd have to contend with Shane McCabe and all three of her overbearing brothers.

Aware she was still waiting for an explanation, Dylan said casually, “Maybe I'm in need of a good evening meal?”

“And maybe you're trying to get under my skin?”

“Always an unexpected bonus.”

Silence fell between them.

Emily continued to study him beneath the fringe of dark lashes. “So you're not going to tell me what my dad said to you in private?” she said eventually.

And give her even more reason to rebel against her family? For both their sakes, Dylan checked his own desire. “No.” He offered her his arm. “Now, shall we go in?”

 

D
INNER WITH
Emily's parents turned out to be a lot less formal, and more comfortable, than Dylan had expected.

Xavier Shillingsworth, on the other hand, was as much of a pain in the rear as ever.

The hopelessly inexperienced restaurateur commandeered the conversation from the moment the five of them sat down at the wicker-and-glass patio table, zeroing in on everything he
felt was wrong with the way Emily was running the Daybreak Café.

“I don't understand why you're only open for breakfast and lunch, six days a week,” Xavier told Emily. “I've seen the line of people waiting to get in. Why not serve dinner, too?”

“There are already plenty of places that serve dinner,” Emily explained. “My mother's dance hall for one.”

Xavier leaned across the table toward Emily. “So?”

She shrugged. “I don't want to compete with her.”

Xavier frowned. “You compete with her at lunch.”

Emily paused, a forkful of baby-lettuce salad halfway to her mouth. “It's not the same.”

“Why not?” Xavier persisted, failing to notice the discreet looks Shane and Greta were giving each other from opposite ends of the dinner table.

Emily shifted in her chair, her knee nudging Dylan's briefly under the table. “Because the dance hall has live bands on Friday and Saturday evenings, and DJs in the evening the rest of the time.”

Xavier grimaced. “So play music in your café.”

“There's no room to dance,” Emily said, still trying to talk sense to him.

Xavier finished his salad and pushed his plate to the side. “A lot of people don't dance anyway.”

Dylan wondered if the kid thought he was going to attract Emily by criticizing her business sense. One thing was certain—he certainly wasn't scoring any points with her or her folks. And if he treated the rest of the town this way…

“The point is, there is no demand for another dinner place right now,” Emily said matter-of-factly. “Laramie already has a handful of local establishments that have pretty much got the evening food covered.”

“And maybe if you tried, you'd have standing-room-only
business at dinner, too, and force someone else to close down.”

Eyebrows raised all around at that.

Not good, dude, Dylan thought. Not good at all…

“I think the point my daughter is trying to make,” Shane McCabe cut in with remarkable kindness, “is that in Laramie, it's not just the ranchers who help each other out. The business owners look out for one another, too.”

As Dylan expected, that notion didn't go down well with their teenage guest.

Greta collected the empty salad plates and replaced them with servings of Southwestern-style meat loaf, mashed potatoes and peas. “We want all the restaurants to be successful, and of course that would include yours,” she told Xavier graciously.

Xavier sat up straighter, looking affronted. “I hope you're not asking me to cut back on the hours the Cowtown Diner is open.”

Shane McCabe lifted a hand. “No one's going to tell you what to do. It's your business to run, after all. We're just suggesting that you might want to join the chamber of commerce and any of the other service organizations in town that interest you. It's a good way to get to know everyone and become a real part of the community.”

Xavier rejected the notion with a shake of his head. “I'm not interested in charity work. The only thing on
my
mind is turning as much of a profit as soon as possible.”

The kid just wasn't getting it, Dylan thought. The McCabes were offering him a hand up. And he was too clueless and arrogant to take it.

“When is the grand opening?” Dylan asked, attempting to draw some fire himself.

Xavier dismissed Dylan with a glance that revealed Xavier still considered him “hired help.”

“Friday.”

Emily studied the teen, suddenly on edge again. “You're really going to be up and running three days from now?”

Nodding proudly, Xavier grinned at Emily. “I'll bet you can't wait.”

 

“C
AN YOU WAIT
?” Dylan asked Emily an hour later, after they had thanked her parents for dinner and said their goodbyes.

“Very funny, cowboy.”

Relieved that Xavier had finally rushed off to continue work on his restaurant, Emily ambled down the front steps to her car. Dylan was right beside her, a surprisingly steady presence.

“But as long as we're recapping…” Emily paused to search through her bag for her keys. She looked at Dylan, wondering what his take on the situation was. His attitude throughout the meal had been so maddeningly inscrutable that she had no clue. “What was Xavier's deal? He really went overboard with that intense interrogation.”

Dylan leaned against the side of her car, one foot crossed over the other, arms folded in front of him. Dusk had given way to night, and the sky overhead was filled with a full moon and a sprinkling of stars.

He gave her a bemused look. “I think that was Xavier taking self-absorbed to new heights.”

“Not to mention immaturity.” Emily fished the keys out. “Can you believe his father bought him a restaurant?” She closed the clasp on her handbag. “Never mind plunked it down in Laramie, Texas, of all places?”

He moved closer, smelling like soap and man. “I'm sure they both figured there would be less competition here, and hence, it would be easier for a greenhorn like Xavier to succeed.”

Emily bit her lip. Unable to take her eyes off his broad shoulders and nicely muscled chest, she said, “I suppose you're
right about that. If the kid were in Dallas or Houston, it would be a much tougher road for him to travel.”

“Although small towns come with challenges, too.” Dylan looked over at her, seemingly in no hurry to move on. “It was nice of your parents to invite him over, though.”

That was the way her folks were—generous and welcoming, to the bone. “They're just trying to bring Xavier into the ‘fold' of Laramie business people. Obviously, my mother did not anticipate the way he was going to go after me with the third degree, hinting that I didn't know what I was doing, running my business.” Emily sighed, still feeling a little embarrassed about that.

Dylan met her eyes. “And yet you were incredibly nice and patient with the kid, too,” he observed kindly.

It hadn't been easy, given how obnoxious Xavier had been. But Emily had nevertheless tried to give the clueless teenager the benefit of the doubt. “I figure he probably doesn't know any other way to interact with people, given how he was likely raised.”

Dylan lifted a brow and guessed. “With too much money and too little guidance?”

Emily nodded, aware she and Dylan were now close enough to feel each other's body heat. She swallowed and stepped back slightly. “Think about it. Rather than help Xavier deal with whatever issues he has that are keeping him from wanting to go to college with his peers, his father bought him a franchise and sent him off to the boondocks alone to run it.” She frowned. “That doesn't exactly foretell a lot of tender loving care.”

 

D
YLAN KNEW
what it was like to be on the receiving end of a family with too much money and too little heart. A family that just wanted you out of the way… To his surprise, he suddenly
felt a little sorry for the kid. “You're right,” he said quietly. “I hadn't thought about it that way.”

Empathy radiated in Emily's blue eyes. “Unfortunately, Xavier won't survive in this town for long if he continues the way he has been.”

“Also true,” Dylan said. Kindness and concern for one's neighbor was the norm in Laramie County, not cutthroat aggression.

Emily shrugged. “So…I figured…since my parents had taken the initiative and tried to help him acclimate more successfully, I would be as compassionate as possible, too.”

That would have been fine had it not been for her personal history. Dylan lifted a brow. “Another of your makeover projects?”

Just that quickly the flash of temper appeared on her face. Emily propped her hands on her hips. “That would imply Xavier and I are romantically involved,” she retorted, resentment simmering in her low tone. “You know very well we're not, and are never going to be.”

Dylan smiled—she had just given him the answer he was looking for. “So you admit you try and make over the guys you date?” he pressed.

Did her father also get in the act—behind the scenes, of course? Was that what had really prompted Shane's offer to him earlier?

Dylan hated to think so. He wanted to think the proposal put to him was merit-based. On the other hand, he also knew Shane and Greta McCabe adored their only daughter and would do whatever they had to do to see she was well matched.

Even by giving her current “love interest” a hand up…?

Oblivious to the downward spiral to his thoughts, Emily continued, “Isn't that what love is supposed to be about?
Changing for the better because you're involved with your ideal mate?”

Her lips looked so soft and inviting, he wondered what it would feel like to silence her with a kiss. But he told himself to stay focused. “I thought relationships were supposed to be about
not
having to change. Being adored for who and what you
already
were. What's that saying?” He attempted to lighten the mood. “‘I love you just the way you are.'”

Emily scoffed. “It's a song lyric, not a saying. And for the record—” she softened her tone wistfully “—I kind of like that you-complete-me thing.”