Untouched (3 page)

“Okay.”

“Kelsey says you might have someone in your life?” he asked, his voice getting a little nervous.

“Turncoat,” Lark muttered.

“I have ways of making her talk.”

Lark made a face. “I bet. Okay, really, really I’m going to work now, and no, I’m not telling you anything about the absence or presence of my love life. And in return, you don’t need to tell me about yours. Really. I’m good.”

He arched a brow. “Go.”

“Am.” She turned and walked out of the house, clomping down the steps and jogging across the graveled driveway area toward where she parked her little car.

Black, with crank windows and a tape deck. The thing was older than she was, and she loved it. The fabric on the ceiling had started to bow in, and she’d put it back up with tacks she’d shaped into constellations. It also had a sketchy heating system, which meant she had to drive with gloves and a scarf sometimes.

Cole hated it. He wanted to buy her something else. Something safe. She had a feeling he’d buy her a tank if he could.

But she liked her car that she’d bought with her own money six years ago, and she wasn’t going to let Cole have a say in it. Just like he didn’t get a say over where she worked.

She knew some of it was her own fault. She liked the security she got living on the ranch, living with Cole and Cade. Being surrounded by family. But she needed her freedom too.

It was a little contradictory, and she knew it. She laughed a little bit while she turned the key in the ignition and shifted into first. “Why can’t he just read my mind and make sure things are exactly how I want them?” she asked the empty car interior.

She let out a breath. With any luck, her new job would help her get the little bit of distance she needed, and a little more respect from both of her bothers.

She knew what she was doing. They just had to trust her.

Chapter Three

“Hello?” Lark poked her head into the empty living area of the massive house. There was no furniture yet, and her voice echoed off the honey-colored logs that made up the walls of the structure.

The air smelled sweet. Like sawdust and lingering smoke from recent cuts made into wood. Everything was clean, ready to be moved into. Except there was nobody around.

She waffled in the entryway, not sure if she should go in or wait at the threshold. It was a house, so normally she would wait. But it was a not-yet-moved-into house, which made it feel different. More like public domain.

“Can I help you?”

She turned around and her stomach took a free fall into her toes. Standing there, shirtless and in snug, low-slung jeans, his chest covered in sweat and dirt, was the single most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life.

No, “beautiful” was the wrong word. He wasn’t beautiful. That implied softness. There was no softness there. His angular face, shaded by the brim of his black cowboy hat, was all hard-cut lines. Sharp cheekbones, a square jaw. Rock-solid pecs and defined abs, partly concealed by a bit of dark chest hair over golden-brown skin. No, there was nothing soft about him.

And on him, the big belt buckle, the kind she’d been so disdainful of previously, seemed to fit. Seemed to draw her eyes down to a very interesting place on his body.

Ahem.

Her eyes drifted to his shoulder next, to the intricate design that was inked there, spreading down his bicep. A black-and-white outline of a warhorse, shrouded partly in what might have been the dust kicked up by its hooves.

Well, frick. There went her whole “not interested in looking at boring old cowboys” line. Because he was most definitely a cowboy. And she was most definitely looking.

And then she looked back at his face again and a feeling of familiarity trickled through her. A spark of recognition, and she wasn’t sure why. Wasn’t sure from where.

He started to walk toward her, removing his hat as he did, and the feeling that she should know him intensified.

“I’m here about the job,” she said. “Lark Mitchell.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes. Surprise? Maybe he hadn’t realized how young she was.

He looked her over, his expression assessing, then he wiped his hands on his jeans and extended one for a handshake. “Then I’m your new boss. Quinn Parker. Nice to meet you.”

And suddenly all of the pieces locked into place.

Quinn Parker.

From the circuit.

She’d seen his picture in graphics on TV during televised events. She’d even seen him ride. And she’d rooted hard against him, her allegiance of course with Cade.

Quinn Parker. The asshole who was responsible for her brother being unable to ride. For his limp. For his pain.

His constant, barely tolerable pain.

Rage washed through her, a torrent of boiling water that started in her chest and rolled outward, flooding her face with heat.

“Quinn . . . Parker?” she bit out.

He flashed her a smile, teeth bright white against his tan skin. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Yeah, your name came up a few times when my brother was recovering in a hospital bed, so badly broken doctors weren’t sure he’d ever walk without assistance again. So yeah, I’ve heard of you. And now I’ll be leaving.”

She slammed the door to the cabin and started to walk away, shaking with rage.

“I don’t think you’ll be leaving,” he said, his tone easy, with a thread of steel running through the words.

“And why is that? Are you going to hold me hostage?” She crossed her arms and cocked out her hip, then realized that he might very well intend to hold her hostage. She didn’t know how crazy the bastard was. By all accounts, he’d sabotaged her brother’s ride and critically injured him, ending his career, all for a little prize money.

That was its own brand of crazy, and she realized she honestly didn’t know what else he might do.

“Hardly, but you sort of put yourself in a hostage situation, if you want to call it that.”

“Meaning?”

“You signed a contract for this job.”

“I was misled.”

“How?”

“I . . . you . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s not me. Well, I own Longhorn, so it is. But I also have investors, et cetera, so it’s not only me. And the contract you signed was with Longhorn. There’s nothing misleading about that.”

“But you knew it was me,” she said. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“I needed someone here in Silver Creek to help me get this operation going, and you were the only name that came up. I could have brought someone in, but that would have been pointless.”

“I can’t even look at you, much less work with you.”

“You better get used to both, honey, because whether you like the idea of working for me or not, you signed the contract. Six weeks, and unless I somehow don’t fulfill my end of the bargain, which is to pay you for your work, which I will do, you have no right to renege on it.”

“But I . . . I don’t . . .”

“And the fines for reneging on the contract are hefty. Or do you not remember that section of the contract you signed only a month ago?”

Yes. She remembered. And she’d ignored it and blithely signed anyway. Because she could get out of the contract if there was misconduct or a failure to pay, so she’d felt safe signing it. Had felt like there was no way it could go wrong.

Well, it had gone wrong. It had gone wrong in the shape of a tattooed bastard who had ruined her brother’s life.

“I can’t work for you.”

“You can’t work for me? Because you think I ruined your brother’s career. Well, as much as I know I should just save my breath, I’ll tell you right now, I didn’t touch your brother’s damned horse.”

“He says you did.”

“Knew I should have saved my breath. Regardless, I didn’t. And you can’t get out of our agreement, so you might as well just go ahead and believe my version. At least for the next six weeks.”

“I can’t do that,” she said. “And you deliberately concealed your identity. Do you deny that?”

“Hell no. I’m a shady bastard. I didn’t cause Cade’s accident, but I didn’t say I was an angel.”

“I can’t believe this.” Cade would be so pissed. And Cole . . . Cole would think this just confirmed that he needed to be the one in charge of her decision-making.

She thought back to the way she’d felt at the wedding, how she’d felt like she was finally moving forward. Like she was finally getting somewhere with her life and her career. And now she just wanted to laugh hollowly at the bitter irony of it all.

She’d made the choice to step out, and she’d made a big-ass mistake.

“You’ll hardly see me,” he said. “I have actual ranch work to do, and I’m not overly concerned with the computer stuff. That’s your domain, not mine.”

“It’s a conflict of interest,” she said.

He smiled—slow, dangerous, and damned if it wasn’t a little bit . . . seductive. It made her stomach feel tight. Made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. “What do you think I’ll do to you? You think the big bad wolf is going to eat you?”

“I’m not some limp fairy-tale character. If you try to touch me, I’ll mace your ass, do you get it?” she asked, not feeling half the confidence she was attempting to exude. No, inside she felt like Jell-O.

He chuckled, a low, rolling sound that stoked the heat inside of her. The angry heat. It was angry heat. That was all it was. She couldn’t feel anything else for the man who’d been responsible for Cade’s injuries, and no matter what Quinn said, she knew he was.

Cade was certain, the Rodeo Association was certain. So much so that they’d banned Quinn from competing for life. Cade had been triumphant over that. An eye for an eye. He couldn’t ride in competition anymore because of his physical limitations. And now? Now Quinn couldn’t either.

“You’re welcome to try,” he said.

She frowned. He wasn’t taking her threats very seriously. Maybe she should mace him and get herself fired.

“And now you’re thinking of ways to get yourself fired,” he said, crossing his broad arms over his chest. “I’m not going to do that. Too easy. Don’t forget, I knew who you were.”

“So what? You’re just here to poke the hornet’s nest?”

“Hell no. I’m here to get this ranch started, to give these boys a new start on life. I want the best thing for them, and that means the best computer system, since we will be continuing some schooling here, even over the summer. You were the best this town had to offer, and I hired you. For good money. Not only that, once the project gets rolling, you’re going to be able to get some good publicity for yourself. You could end up with a serious business on your hands. A little independence.”

How did he know she wanted that? How? What voodoo magic did this guy possess?

“At what cost?” she asked.

“A lot less than if you walk away from the contract.”

Either way she was screwed. If she confessed the situation she’d landed herself in, any respect she’d hoped to earn by landing the job would be nullified. But if she took it she would be shaking hands with the devil, and she wasn’t all that excited about the possibility.

“This ranch, this is really for what you said?” she asked. “For troubled youth?”

“You read the press release, didn’t you? My hiring manager was supposed to send you all the info.”

“While leaving your name out, right?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well, yes, he sent it to me.”

“It’s real. I have fifteen boys showing up in two weeks to start getting on the road to rehabilitation. They’ve all been in different types of trouble. A couple of them are going to require the presence of their parole officers. Some of them haven’t made it that far down the road yet, and I aim to redirect them.”

“Isn’t this a little bit like a sick person offering antibiotics to everyone but himself?” she asked.

He arched a dark brow. “Maybe I’ve reformed.”

She didn’t think so. The man exuded darkness. Danger. From his muscles to the ink on his skin, there was nothing safe or reformed about him.

“I sort of doubt it,” she said.

“Either way, I’m getting this ranch going, and then I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugged. “Back to Texas, maybe.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from Texas.”

“Shucks,” he drawled. “I don’t?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not, but it’s currently the place I call home.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I used to live on the road, but for some reason, I don’t seem to anymore. Could be because I can’t do my damned job anymore because a pissed-off injured jackass pointed his finger at the first person he could think of.”

His words hit Lark hard, anger burning hotter in her. “Oh, really? Is that how you see it?”

“Yeah, honey, that’s how I see it. If there’s one thing I know, it’s this. Cade will never be a hundred percent certain of who did this to him. Without a confession or video evidence, which there isn’t at this point, he’ll never know for sure. But I know for a fact what I did and didn’t do. I’m the only one who knows for sure if I’m guilty or innocent. And I’m innocent.” Something changed in his eyes, a cold hardness there she hadn’t seen before. “In this instance, anyway.”

“Your word against Cade’s,” she said.

“Or not, because he could be wrong. Granted, I could be lying, but again, I’m the only one with certainty. I’m also the one that’s either going to pay you thousands of dollars or fine you thousands of dollars, and trust me, I would love to watch Cade Mitchell have to write me a check to bail his baby sister out of trouble, so at this point, it’s up to you and I can’t lose. You can, though. So think about it real carefully.”

Lark bit her lip, holding back an angry flood of words until she was sure she could speak without spitting. “Where are the computers?”

***

Quinn walked in front of Lark on the narrow path that led to the building where the computers were housed. By and large, the boys would be doing online courses throughout the year, and they’d set up the entire classroom in a large building at the edge of the property.

Longhorn Ranch was laid out a lot like a camp. There was a lake on the property, and Quinn was having docks installed. He’d also ordered canoes, of all things. By the woods they had an obstacle course. Something to run off any excess energy. And something to make them do for hours at a time if the little bastards copped too much attitude.

Lord knew he wished someone would have done it for him.

It had surprised him how much he’d enjoyed getting the place ready. No one could ever accuse him of being nurturing. But when it came to knowing what a bunch of punks needed to get their asses in shape—that he knew.

Because he’d been there. He’d been that kid that might have gone off the rails if he hadn’t been given focus. When he’d been forced to work for his food, well, then he’d learned real quick that he had to focus. That he had to stop being so amused with his own badassedness and get his act together or he’d damn well starve.

And then he’d found the rodeo. He’d had incentive to do right for real then. He’d started as one of the guys who opened the gates, doing hard labor for no glory. But eventually, he’d saved up, purchased his permit and won the required events to become a card holder.

That had meant the world to him. It was something he carried in his wallet still. Thirteen years on. It was faded, it was old, but it was his. Something he’d earned. Something he’d never imagined would be taken away from him.

But it had been. For no reason other than that Cade Mitchell hated his guts and he’d been a convenient target for the other man to point a finger at. Either because of anger, or to keep people from looking too closely at him.

All Quinn knew was that he wouldn’t let it stand. He would get absolution by any means necessary. He’d had one place in life he’d fit. And no, he hadn’t had a hell of a lot of friends, and clearly the board wasn’t a crew of his biggest fans, but he’d had his place.

Not anymore.

With any luck, Sam would find some evidence to knock Mitchell on his ass. Failing that . . . failing that, there was the girl.