When the Rancher Came to Town (7 page)

“They want to have his babies,” Sabrina added. “They meet us at the stock pens in excited groups. They think Zoe and I are the enemy, like we're dating him or something.”

The two women laughed together, but Mason was eyeing Amanda with renewed concern and embarrassment. “Can you two go talk to the rodeo organizer?” he asked his sisters. “I don't think we have the afternoon schedule yet.”

Zoe looked confused and reached for the clipboard hung near the gate. “But I thought—­”

Sabrina took her elbow and pulled. “Sure thing, Mason. We'll be back later. Nice to meet you, Amanda!”

Amanda leaned her forearms on the gate and looked into the pen, where dozens of steer grazed leisurely, unaware they were about to be wrestled to the ground. She felt a little dazed, as if she'd been doing some wrestling.

Mason stood next to her and braced his own forearms so that their elbows touched. “You okay with all of this, Amanda? I'd really thought five years away would be long enough to be forgotten, but I guess not.”

In a low voice, she said, “For the whole morning, I'd told myself that today I'd get stared at and asked questions, but eventually it would die down. I just had to get through today. It was kind of my mantra, you know?”

He nodded, still watching her with his dark, somber gaze.

“But this—­” She gestured toward the pen, the barns, and then him. “This is a different kind of fame, one that obviously doesn't go away.”

And if she was with him, ­people would be staring at her, too, and not with sympathy but with envy and disappointment. Maybe there'd be crowds of ­people always wanting a piece of Mason, never leaving them alone, resenting her interference. She'd just found him, had thought about seeing where their relationship took them, and now . . .

She gave a laugh that held no amusement. “And to think I'd gone on and on about you not having any idea of the pressure of fame. I feel like an idiot.”

“Don't,” he said. “I'm the one who's an idiot. I knew what you'd faced these last few years, how brave you'd been to go public with something that wasn't your fault.”

“Brave?” Now she really did sound bitter. “I've been keeping to my house! How can you call me brave?”

“Because you
are,
” he insisted. “You stood up for yourself and for women everywhere. All I did was ride a bull. You've taken steps to overcome your problem. Where you've tried to put your fame behind you, to get on with your life, I made a big plan to use my fame to get noticed by an investor today.” He sighed, and his broad shoulders seemed to slump. “I feel like a fake next to you.”

“A fake?” She stared at him in surprise. “You're not a fake for being recognized for your accomplishments. You worked hard for them—­I think Nate Thalberg would be smart to make Lake Ridge part of his investment strategy.”

He turned and took her upper arms in his hands. “Would you want to be a part of whatever I accomplish, Amanda? Could you see yourself with me, even if it means being in the spotlight sometimes?”

She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. She thought she'd been so prepared for how the day would go—­she'd reminded herself that she didn't have to answer reporters, that she could ignore whatever happened.

But wasn't that what she'd been doing for years? And what had it gotten her but imprisoned in her own home?

“Mason, I—­”

“Mason!”

They both turned at the sound of Sabrina's voice.

“It's time to ride! Didn't you hear your name being called over the loudspeaker?”

Mason looked back down at Amanda with urgency. “This discussion is more important than any old ride—­
you're
more important to me, Amanda.”

He would give up the whole reason he'd entered the rodeo, his plan to help his family ranch—­just to hear what she had to say? “Mason, you're here for your family. Please go. We can talk afterward. I'm not running away, not this time.”

She met him stare for stare, wanting him to understand that she meant it. “In just a ­couple of days, you've become important to me, too, Mason,” she said softly. “I don't want you to blow this chance. Just go. I'll be there to cheer you on.”

 

Chapter 9

A
MANDA SAT BETWEEN
Sabrina and Zoe in the stands overlooking the main arena. They chatted across her, discussing the cowboys competing against Mason and who had the best score so far. Amanda strained her eyes to watch Mason in the chute as the Lopez sisters explained things to her. They talked about how important balance was, how he had to slip his gloved hand into the bull rope and set his spurs just right.

The massive bull shifted restlessly, then the gate swung open, and Mason and the bull were flying onto the dirt arena. He had to ride for eight seconds without being bucked off, and she'd never imagined eight seconds could be so long. His entire body gyrated with the animal, who angrily tried to heave the human off his back. Mason clung to the bull with his thighs and stirrups and one arm, while the other arm flailed for balance. It was almost graceful, the way he reacted to each jump and twist of the animal.

And then a horn sounded marking eight seconds, and she gasped as Mason flung himself to the side, rolling in the dirt as a rodeo clown jumped forward to distract the bull. Suddenly the cheers sounded loud in her ears, as if all the sound had been turned back on now that Mason was safe. Sabrina and Zoe were reaching across her to hold hands as they jumped up and down.

“Oh, he's going to get a great score for that!” screamed Sabrina over the noise of the spectators.

“I think he's going to win!” Zoe agreed.

Amanda was happy he had a chance to win, but she realized how utterly and completely relieved she was that he'd escaped injury. He was standing by the gate, grinning, talking in a relaxed fashion with another cowboy, as if he hadn't just risked his life on a wild, one-­ton animal.

She was shaking with the aftermath of her relief, startled to realize how much she already cared about him. And caring about him meant being in the spotlight with him.

And suddenly, being with him was more important than anything else. The spotlight was temporary; a day-­to-­day life together was permanent. Did she want to try for that with Mason Lopez?

And then he looked up in the stands, and she knew in her soul he was looking for her. She jumped to her feet and waved with both arms high overhead.

He doffed his hat and waved it back at her. They were making a spectacle of themselves, and she didn't really care. Her grin must have been absolutely goofy, and the sudden tears in her eyes meant she couldn't quite focus on him.

“Do you see who he's talking to?” Sabrina said to her sister.

“That's Nate Thalberg!” Zoe answered. “They're grinning and shaking hands. Damn, this is a good sign. We'll have an investor for that champion bull yet!”

“Cowboys and cowgirls,” boomed a woman's voice over the loudspeaker.

“Is it on?” said another woman, her accent strong, her voice so loud that the speaker gave a shrill squawk.

Mrs. Palmer. And that meant the first voice was Mrs. Thalberg. “Those are the widows!” Amanda said in disbelief.

“The ‘Widows' Boardinghouse' widows?” Sabrina asked.

“The same.”

“Heck, we've even heard of them up our way,” Zoe said, shaking her head.

“Do keep speaking, Rosemary,” boomed Mrs. Ludlow imperiously. “Everyone is listening.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

“We'd like to announce,” said Mrs. Thalberg, her voice full of warmth, “that we have a local celebrity in our midst!”

Amanda was thrilled for Mason. She waved at him again, ready for him to take a bow. Maybe they were going to proclaim him the bull-­riding champ.

“If you read the
Valentine Gazette
today,” Mrs. Thalberg continued, “then you read all about Lauren Amanda Cramer, who owns Connections B&B.”

A wave of disbelief shocked her. She almost sat down, stunned, but Sabrina and Zoe linked their arms through hers, wearing proud grins.

“Five years ago, Amanda—­that's what she goes by—­stood up against all of Washington, D.C., on behalf of women everywhere. We're glad she's chosen to live with us in Valentine Valley. Let's show her our appreciation!”

Mason jumped up onto the first level of the stands, and he was the first to begin to clap. Everyone else joined in, looking around for her, until all those gazes honed in on her, the sounds of the clapping a swell of thunder, all those eyes full of speculation.

And pride. She couldn't miss the pride and even admiration. So although she could swear she heard her heart pounding in her ears, she waved. Mason was coming toward her, trying to make his way up the crowded stairs. ­People reached to shake his hand, girls tried to touch his arms, his back, but he avoided them all. He was coming for her.

The crowd pressed all around, watching him, making her the center of attention again as he reached her, but she didn't care. He caught her in a quick, hard hug, his body warm from exertion in the July heat.

Then he held her upper arms so he could look into her face. “You okay?”

She nodded a bit like a bobble-­headed doll, but she was grinning, too. He was so tall and handsome, yet so focused on her. “Yeah, yeah, I'm okay.”

“I swear I didn't know they were going to announce you like that.”

“I know. It's okay.
I'm
okay. Really.”

Then she put her hands on his face and kissed him, to a roar of delight from the crowd.

“Well, get her out of here,” Sabrina said, giving them both a push.

Grinning, Mason led her up the aisle to the top of the stands, and they escaped down the much-­less-­crowded rear stairs. She had to hustle to keep up with him, until he led her beneath the widespread branches of a nearby cottonwood tree. A black-­and-­white herding dog was lying in the shade, and although he raised his head, he calmly put it back down as if he didn't mind sharing.

And then Amanda was in Mason's arms, kissing his face, over and over. “I was so nervous. But you did so well! Your sisters think you'll win! And we saw you talking to Nate.”

He laughed. “I don't know if I'll win, because there's another rider or two left. But I had a good talk with Nate, and we're going to meet up later for dinner. That's winning in my book.”

“I'm so glad.”

“But that's nothing compared to you getting called out in front of the crowd.”

She gave a shrug and almost giggled. “It was strange, I know. But . . . I did okay. I just concentrated on my breathing and remembered that it was temporary, that I'd soon be alone with you.”

He linked his hands behind her lower back, and she put hers around his neck.

“You make me feel good, Mason Lopez. You make me remember I'm strong.”

“You've always been strong,” he said softly, then leaned down to kiss her.

She felt light-­headed looking up at him, all full of warmth and desire. “I don't know if you'll think I'm crazy, but I could fall in love with you. You've been so patient, so kind, so encouraging—­”

He grimaced. “I sound like your favorite teacher, not your lover.”

She laughed. “Those are all good things for a lover to be.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I don't just
think
I could fall in love with you, Amanda Cramer. I'm mostly already there.”

Their smiles died, and she stared deeply into his eyes, so dark, but shining with warmth and compassion. Their tender kiss brimmed with promise.

“Where do we go from here?” she breathed at last, feeling giddy at this newfound relationship she hadn't even imagined a few days ago.

He cleared his throat, though his voice still sounded deep and husky. “Anywhere we want. And I think I want to see you every moment I can. I'm only a half hour away.”

“Might be a longer trip in the winter,” she teased.

“True. It'll only be weekends at first, though I'm sure my sisters will help out.”

“I'll take whatever of you I can get. I can visit you, too. I'd love to see your ranch.”

“And I want to show it to you. Maybe you'd like it so much, you might think of it as home someday.”

Now she felt shy, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “That sounds wonderful.”

And then he was holding her close, and she fit perfectly into the contours of his body. She'd come to Valentine to escape her past, and instead, she'd found her future.

 

This Fall. . .

Return to Valentine Valley,

where Christmas lights are twinkling

and first love burns brighter the second time around. . .

Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley

When Tony De Luca's ex, Kate Fenelli, waltzes through the door of his tavern and pulls up a bar stool, she turns his balanced world on end. Once they'd been each other's first love, first everything. But then life happened, and they walked away with broken hearts. Now Kate is back in Valentine, and they can't seem to stay out of each other's way. When Tony begins wondering what would happen if they rekindled the sparks, he knows he's in big trouble.

Kate can't believe she's sitting at Tony's bar spilling her life-­changing problems to him. He's as gorgeous as ever, and she can't seem to forget how incredible he always made her feel. Still, the door on that chapter of their lives closed long ago. Yet with Christmas buzzing in the air, Kate can't help wondering if anything is possible—­even a second chance with the only man she's ever loved.

Keep reading for a sneak peek!

 

Chapter 1

V
ALE
NTINE
V
ALLEY,
C
OLORADO,
was decorated for Christmas, twinkling lights lining nineteenth-­century brick or clapboard buildings, wreaths hung on shop doors, greenery wrapped around every old-­fashioned lamppost. The sight used to fill Kate Fenelli with happiness whenever she came home for the holidays. But now, as she drove down Main Street the day before Thanksgiving, the decorations only reminded her of her big Italian family and how she was going to break the news to them. Humiliation and anger crawled inside her like snakes, but once again she forced them down. She had to stay in control, and she'd been reminding herself of that all through the nearly two-­hour drive from Vail. She'd soon be seeing her thirteen-­year-­old son, Ethan. Her embarrassment would only confuse and worry him.

But the closer she got to her parents' house, the more dread built up inside her, making it difficult to swallow past the constriction in her throat. She found herself taking a turn she hadn't meant to, the Range Rover sliding a bit on the snow. Like a coward, she was circling back, away from her family, trying to find the words that would reveal enough to satisfy them but not so much that her standing with her law firm would be jeopardized.

And then she saw Tony's Tavern, a squat, plain building close to Highway 82, neon signs blinking in the windows. Three pickup trucks were parked outside, but then it was only late afternoon. She felt drawn to it by a compulsion she didn't want to acknowledge. Deliberately keeping her mind blank, she got out of her Range Rover and walked up to the door with determined steps, packed snow crunching under her boots, her breath a mist in front of her. She opened the door, and the warm air surged out at her, smelling of beer and French fries. SportsCenter was on several flat screen TVs between mounted animal heads. Two middle-­aged men, looking remarkably alike in matching Carhartt jackets and cowboy hats, turned their heads the same way to glance at her. And then they each did a double take. She might have overdressed a bit today in her “I'm a professional lawyer” double-­breasted wool coat and leather boots, trying to give herself confidence when she faced her family.

And then the bartender looked up at her. Tony De Luca, owner of the tavern. Her ex-­husband. His brown hair always looked like it needed to be trimmed, and there was a hint of lines fanning out from the corners of his brown eyes, but then he was thirty-­three, like she was. Yet . . . thirty-­three looked good on him. He wore a black buttoned-­down shirt, probably over jeans, although she couldn't see behind the bar. His shoulders were as broad as ever on his tall, lanky body. He'd always been an athlete, and she had a sudden memory of playing the trombone in the marching band and meeting his laughing eyes when he took off his football helmet after a big win. Back then there'd been a spark of happiness and desire and endless possibilities.

From childhood, they'd been attached, knowing what each other had been thinking, sharing the same emotions, the same bond. Tony had never been one to hide his feelings or play it cool. But all that was gone—­had been gone through the nine years since their divorce. Even the sad ache of regret and bewilderment she used to feel had faded into the past. Now he was just her son's father, and since he was great at that, he had her gratitude. He had Ethan through the school week, when he could be more of a full-­time parent, and she had Ethan most vacations and every weekend, when Tony always had to work. She thought it gave Ethan full-­time parents for the whole week.

By the lowering of Tony's brows, Kate could tell that her appearance was unexpected; it wasn't the weekend. She'd totally forgotten that she'd told Tony last week that she was just going to stay in Vail and prepare for an important court date over the holiday.

She gave a halfhearted smile as she approached the end of the bar. “Hi, Tony.”

He nodded. “Kate.”

His deep voice had once made her shiver all over; now all she heard was the wariness, and it made her even sadder on this sad day.

He put down the glass he was polishing and approached her, lowering his voice as he said, “What're you doing here?”

“Can't a girl want a drink?”

His frown intensified. He poured her a glass of the house red and slid it in front of her. “If you changed your mind and decided to come for Thanksgiving, shouldn't you have rushed right to your parents' to bake pies or something?”

She grimaced. He knew she didn't bake—­hell, she didn't like to cook much either, which was a sin in her family. Her parents owned Carmina's Cucina, the Italian restaurant on Main Street. She'd grown up in the business. Having served at the restaurant through her teenage years, she'd always sworn she would never be a waitress again. Why Tony had wanted the tavern, she could never understand.

She took a sip of her wine. “Tastes good.”

He put both hands on the polished wood of the bar and leaned closer. “Kate, what's going on?” he demanded.

To her horror, a tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away.

Tony's brown eyes, always the mirror of his emotions—­but no longer where she was concerned—­went wide. “Is something wrong? Is it Ethan?”

“No, nothing like that. I didn't mean to scare you.” And then she had to wipe away another tear. “I've screwed everything up, Tony. I—­I couldn't face them all at home. Not yet.” She gestured bitterly to the wineglass. “Guess I needed a drink to find my courage.”

“You always had courage, Kate, maybe too much of it.”

She winced. Of course Tony wouldn't want to hear her complaints—­he was convinced it was her fault their marriage fell apart. Oh, she shared the blame, but certainly not all of it. She should leave. She had no right to dump her problems on Tony.

“My firm put me on two months' sabbatical,” she blurted out.

He crossed his arms over his chest, still frowning. But he was watching her with those deep brown eyes, the ones that had once shown her the sympathy and understanding that had made her confide everything in him.

She rushed on. “I shouldn't tell you all the details—­I'm not supposed to tell anyone. I certainly won't tell my family or Ethan. But it was wrong, Tony,” she insisted earnestly, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I mean, what the partners are doing is wrong, and no one will listen to me! I discovered a report my client hadn't meant to include in some papers, a report that affects their filing with the FDA—­hell, it could affect the public health. In this report, ­people exposed to a cattle growth hormone in the research phase were having severe flu-­like symptoms. But there was no proof that
that
hormone was the one my client was presenting to the FDA. I wanted more information—­I thought we have a duty to the public to ask for more info, you know? But since we're not certain it specifically relates to our case, they told me to forget about it.”

“And you don't take orders easily.”

“Tony, that's not true. Well, not where work is concerned, anyway. So . . . I kept bringing it up to the partners, and they finally told me I could scare away this big client—­or others. I never considered breaking attorney-­client privilege. I could lose my license for that! But the partners don't care. They said I need to take some time and get my priorities straight, when I was just doing my job!”

Kate took a sip of wine, her hand shaky. The two men farther down the bar—­who had to be twins—­were making no secret of their interest. She'd kept her voice down, but now she prickled with heated embarrassment. At last she snuck another glance at Tony. His eyes were downcast, and he absently wiped a smudge on the bar. She felt a bit deflated by his attitude, but the lump had eased in her throat, at least.

She sighed. “There's nothing you can do, I know that. I'm sorry to have unburdened myself like that. You probably wish I'd leave.”

It was his turn to sigh. “No, I don't. I'm a bartender; ­people talk to me all the time. It makes them feel better.”

She winced. “You think that's the only reason I spilled my guts?”

He met her gaze, and for a moment, everything seemed to still until it was just the two of them, looking at each other across a distance of years. Had she been looking for the comfort only Tony had once given her, the security, the reassurance? There hadn't been another man like him in her life—­she'd never allowed it. There had been dates and the occasional ­couple-­month relationships, but that was it. The pain she'd felt when their marriage had crumbled . . . she'd sworn she never wanted to feel that again.

Yet here she was, telling Tony everything, like he could make things better, just because once upon a time he'd made every bad situation look golden. But they weren't married anymore, and it looked like the casual friendship they'd shown for Ethan's sake must have been more of an illusion than she'd thought. Like she needed to be more depressed.  . . .

He cleared his throat. “So what's next? How will this affect Ethan?”

She sighed. “I'll try not to let it affect him at all. I'll tell him I'm on sabbatical, but I can't tell him the confidential details I just . . . spilled to you.”

“So you'll be here for Thanksgiving?”

“I guess so. Is that okay?”

His hesitation was almost invisible. Almost.

“Of course it's okay. It'll be strange for Ethan to have us both on a holiday. Just so you know, I've been invited to your mom's for dinner tomorrow.”

She winced. “It's been a while since I missed a holiday; I'd forgotten that little tradition. When I'm not home for a big day, it's like you take my place with my family.”

He leaned toward her, and his glance was suddenly solemn. “You know I could never do that. And if you'd rather I stay away—­”

“Of course not!” she interrupted earnestly. “My family adores you.”

Maybe more than they adore me,
she thought with a twinge of regret.

“What about after Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“After?” she repeated, bemused.

“What do you plan to do on your . . . vacation?”

She snorted, then coughed to try to cover it. The two men down the bar grinned at her, and she gave them an awkward smile.

“
Vacation.
That's not a word I associate with this,” she said through gritted teeth. “I'm being punished.”

“So what are you doing for your punishment? Staying here or going back to Vail?”

Vail had once seemed a punishment to her; now it was home. She'd been made junior partner a ­couple years ago and been asked to open a branch of the law firm there. She'd felt like she was being thrown out of the big city of Denver, but it had been an interesting challenge. And it made seeing Ethan so much easier. But go back there, where ­people might ask questions when they saw workaholic Kate just hanging around? No.

“I—­I don't know where I'll go,” she finally admitted. “I hadn't thought that far. I just . . . couldn't stay in Vail for Thanksgiving after . . . everything that's happened. And all that trial prep I had to do? Pfft. I don't even know how I'll explain things to my family, let alone my friends.”

“Or—­what's his name, Keith?”

She blinked at him, watching as he picked up a glass and started polishing with deliberation. “Keith? I had a few dates with him. How did you know?”

“We do share a talkative kid.”

“Oh, right.” She waved a hand. “We dated. It never went further.” But inside, she felt a little disturbed. Had Ethan volunteered that information—­or had Tony asked him about it? She didn't know which was worse.

And suddenly, she felt more vulnerable than she had in a long time, she, who'd always prided herself on being in control. She wasn't in control of much of anything these days.

“I guess I should go,” she said, sliding her wallet out of her purse.

He frowned and put his hand on hers. “Put that away. You own a piece of this bar, remember? I'll never forget it.”

She stared into those serious eyes. “Tony, it doesn't bother you, does it? You know I wanted to help.”

“And I'm grateful,” he said shortly.

She'd fronted the loan for him to buy the tavern a few years back—­not that he'd asked, and not that he'd accepted easily. But then she'd reminded him that he'd supported her in college, helping her make her dream career come true, and she wanted to do the same for him. Tony never missed a payment to her, and he'd insisted on interest.

She hoped bringing up the loan didn't add a new layer of awkwardness to their already strained friendship—­if you could call it that. She'd always wanted it to
be
a friendship, didn't want to be one of those ­couples who couldn't see past their anger or see what it was doing to their families. That had never been Tony and her.

But friendship? She looked at his closed-­off, polite expression and suddenly knew she was kidding herself. They'd broken each other's hearts and would never recover from that. And the ache she thought she'd long ago buried suddenly made it hard to breathe.

One of the guys at the other end of the bar signaled for Tony, and he glanced at Kate.

“Go do your job,” she said, forcing her voice to sound mild rather than strained with unshed tears. “Thanks for listening.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

She walked out of the tavern, straightened her shoulders, and prepared to face her family.

T
ONY CLOSED
THE
cash drawer, letting his stiff back loosen when he heard the front door close. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Kate was really gone, and he felt a sense of relief, as well as a sadness so old he could blow dust off it. An older man and woman had entered in her place, wearing the more expensive coats and boots that you'd usually see up in Aspen rather than in his tavern, at least this early in the season. But even the rich liked the occasional low-­key night. He saw that Rhonda, his daytime server and a mom in her forties, was gathering menus as she watched them take a seat at a table.