Page 5 of My Cowboy Temptation

I nod, though, assuring Lucas it will be done even as Callie starts to pout. “Dad. I told you. I’ll be fine. Come on. You and I both know that whoever did that to our place did it to shake up Everly, not me.”

“No matter. You’re having some company,” Lucas said with finality.

Her friend, Everly, who spent the night in the guest room down the hall, joins us in the kitchen. They all make small talk as Rita, the ranch’s cook and housekeeper for more than twenty years, returns to the kitchen. After a call from Lucas explaining what happened last night, Rita picked up some clothes and toiletries for both girls and brought them along with her this morning.

Her first stop was Callie’s room, probably to assure herself our girl was safe and sound as much as I had. Rita had, after all, acted more as a mom to Callie over the years than her own mom, who took off when Callie was only six.

Rita pats Callie on the shoulder as she slides past her. “I have a loaf of fresh bread on the counter and stew on the stove for lunch. I’ll be back around four to make you all dinner.”

Rita’s daughter was put on permanent bed rest last month, leaving Rita to step in to help take care of her as well as her four-year-old granddaughter while still holding down her duties here at the ranch, although in a more diminished capacity.

“Rita, you don’t have to go through that trouble,” Lucas says. “I think between the girls and me, we can figure out something for dinner.”

“Speak for yourself,” Callie says. “But Everly…now she might figure out something. She’s always been a good cook.”

“If you’re sure,” Rita says, already grabbing her coat from the hook and pulling it on. “Then I have a chicken enchilada casserole in the freezer and steaks thawed in the fridge.”

“Sounds good to me. Go on. We’ll all be fine.”

She nods. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Callie tries to convince Everly to go riding with her next, but a look out the window at the dusting of fresh snow has Everly looking reluctant. “Sorry, Cal,” she says. “Too cold for me. Not to mention it’s been years since I’ve sat on a horse. I would only hold you back.”

Callie throws back the rest of her coffee with a flourish. “I can’t stay inside any longer. I’ve got to get out there now.” She checks her phone. “I’ll see you guys in about an hour.”

Lucas nods to me, which is my cue to decide whether I’m sending someone out or going myself. I stand slowly, meeting Callie’s gaze. There’s an unspoken challenge in her eyes. She wants me to follow. She wants me to head out with her if only to torture me with being in the presence of someone I can’t touch.

And that is exactly why I should not be the one to go with her. I pull out my phone then dial the bunkhouse, as disappointment flashes in her eyes at my decision.

“Good luck finding someone to keep up with me,” Callie taunts.

If I know what’s good for me, I will steer a wide berth between the brat and me, just as I have for these past few years. But I also know that if I send some young buck out to keep an eye on her, that with her knowledge of all the hidden trails and coves out there, she’ll lose the guy in less than ten minutes, and the poor schmuck will be left in a panic, fearing for his job.

I run my hand through my beard as someone answers my call at the bunkhouse, and I’m out of time deciding what to do.

Rock. Meet hard place.

* * *

I’m a sucker.

It’s the only explanation for why I’m out here riding hard to keep up with Callie, who, as she races through the overgrown paths and leaps over dead tree trunks blocking her way without hesitation, seems to be working out a few demons of her own.

She might have been an expert horsewoman back when she lived here on the ranch, but she’s been out of practice for six years, and if she doesn’t watch herself, she’s going to take herself and her horse out of commission. Permanently.

Hell. She barely ducks a branch that could have sent her flying off, breaking her back or her neck. “Callie. That’s enough,” I holler, but she pretends not to hear me and presses on.

“Brat,” I mutter under my breath and keep following, fighting the urge to ride up alongside her and pull her horse to a stop.

We go on a few more minutes until we pass the last curve in the path that opens up, and we’re in a meadow covered with thick green grass that still has areas of snow and ice clinging to it from this morning’s spring storm.

Slowing her horse to a canter, Callie raises her arms out wide and tilts her head up to the sun, letting its warmth and brightness wash over her.

Good God. She’s beautiful.

More beautiful than she was at seventeen, if that’s possible. That thick raven hair is bouncing around her shoulders, and her face can only be described as joyful—especially when she sneaks a peek at me, as if making sure I’m watching her.

How could I not? She’s impossible not to stare at.

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