Page 4 of Claimed By A Cowboy
“No secret little cowboys or cowgirls out there? With a mama looking for their father? Someone looking for some kind of payback?”
“No. No, I have no kids out there, Tye.”
I do not bother to respond to his second question. Mostly because now that he has me thinking, it very well could be that. I pissed of plenty of people while I was running the streets. Pissed of a few more during my years on the rodeo circuit. That is why I ended up here.
After an injury on the circuit, I had nowhere to go. I had made no friends during my years riding horses. I was still so angry, so frustrated about my life, I took it out on the people around me. Including the men who had welcomed me to the circuit. Pack told me to forget his name after the shit I pulled on the circuit.
“Well, whoever was dumb enough to drop five grand on you, look out pal. Because those nuts who bid on the hands.... they will be heretoday.”
All of a sudden, I get very lightheaded. I am not ready. I forgot this weekend is when we will be hosting the auction winners. Cody just told me about me being bid on this morning, but the auctions were going on for a while. Sighing, I kick my boot at the dirt, wondering if I can get out of it.
“Well, shit,” I whisper to myself, just loud enough for Hyde to hear. To my surprise, she nods her head, neighing in agreement.
Taking Hyde back to the stables, I remove the saddle, hanging it back up. I try to stall facing all these strangers by brushing her down longer than she needs. When she nips at my elbow, pushing me off, I chuckle.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess I can’t put this off any longer, huh girl?”
Fixing my hat, I kick at the dirt as I head for the main house. I have no idea how this is all going to go. All I know is, I owe it to Cody, to this ranch, to do my part. Entertaining some city girl for a day cannot be all that bad, can it? Before I reach the main house, I am stopped in my tracks.
A young woman stands near the front steps, looking as apprehensive as I feel. She looks so out of place. And she is drop dead beautiful. For a moment I wonder who she bid on and jealousy churns in my gut.
Standing there in high heels, tight leggings that showcase a peach of an ass, and a glittering tank top, she belongs on Rodeo Drive, not on a dude ranch. A designer bag sits at her feet, stuffed full. As if she can feel my gaze, she turns towards me, and I am thunderstruck by her beautiful face.
“Well, look at that. My cowboy coming to greet me? I’m a lucky gal.”
“Yourcowboy? Me? You made the bid for five grand, for me?”
“Yes, I did. By the looks of you, I did not bid enough, did I?”
Well, hell. Maybe this was not such a bad idea after all.
Chapter Three
Wynn
Going country might be the best idea I ever had.
Rolling up to this beautiful dude ranch, I am awed by it all. Handsome men seem to grow as thick and tall as the wild grasses. Horses run in wide paddocks. A large main house with a stunning wrap around porch is the center of it all, where ranch hands come and go.
They all wear battered jeans, dirty boots, and tall cowboy hats. Some of them are dirty as they wrangle with horses or work mending fences. All of them look like they ought to be on a Cowboy of the month calendar.
“Here it is, miss,” the cab driver tells me, turning to waggle her brows at me. “I wish I was spending a weekend here. Sure is a pretty view.”
Laughing with her, I agree, pushing an extra ten into her palm. I pull my battered Hermes bag after me, grunting as the weight of it almost topples me over. I got the bag as a gift a few years ago—I could never afford this sort of lavish bag—and it is stuffed with years of memories and my few belongings.
Standing outside the main house, I gaze up at the sprawling structure. The wrap around porch is made for late nights watching the sun set with a cup of sweet tea. I laugh when I spot a few battered old rocking chairs moving gently in the wind.
“Here it is, friend,” I whisper to myself. “A real slice of the country. Complete with western visuals and sexy, sweaty cowboys. This is going to be the best weekend ever,” I assure myself, planting my hands on my hips.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” a deep timbre calls behind me, making me whirl to find who it belongs to.
Oh, holy hell. It’s him. Wylder Fellows. The cowboy. Well, for the next day, he ismycowboy. A real dirty, battered, grisly cowboy. He towers over me as he tilts his head. I can tell he does not like what he sees as his eyes travel over me.
“Well, look at that. My cowboy coming to greet me? I’m a lucky gal,” I sputter as I fix my glittering tank top and fuss with my hair.
“Yourcowboy,” his deep voice calls dubiously. “Me? You made the bid for five grand, for me?”
Chuckling, I let my eyes slake over him. Man, he is even bigger in person. Thick thighs in well worn jeans. Massive broad chest and tree trunks for arms, he might be the biggest man I have ever seen. That scar might make him seem scary—but it just fascinates me.
