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Authors: Vanessa Lennox

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BOOK: Breaking the Bad Boy
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Happy to be leaving with their testicles intact, no one ever pressed charges for Brent’s outrageous behavior. It was one of the reasons why Joss now lived in
Denver
. No matter how much she adored her father, she was bound to be attracted to someone eventually, and she didn’t want whoever she chose to spend time with to be threatened by her overprotective father. She tended, for Brent’s sake, to completely avoid the hands on her brief visits these days, they were too much trouble. The bottom line was, small towns were too small, and she didn’t like everyone knowing her business.

When Joss called the hospital from the airport in
Denver
she didn’t get any more information than what they gave Belle, so she stopped wasting her time. Her next call was to the governor’s secretary.

“Sandy, this is Joss Erickson from the museum,” she said.

“Miss Erickson, you just missed him. He just walked into a meeting. He did say I was to interrupt him when you called if it was important,”
Sandy
said.

“Oh, please don’t, I’d be terribly embarrassed,” she laughed nervously wondering why he would have said that to his secretary.

“Is this about tonight? Or of a more personal nature?”
Sandy
asked and Joss hesitated for a second, thrown off.

“It’s about the opening tonight. I’ve been called out of town unexpectedly; I wanted him to know I wouldn’t be there tonight, but if he wanted to go anyway, my assistant is fully capable…”
Sandy
cut her off.

“He’ll reschedule. When will you be back?”
Sandy
said.

“I don’t really know, my father’s had a heart attack, I’m headed to his ranch in
Montana
. I can call you when I get back, I’ll be at least a week, probably longer,” Joss said.

“I’ll tell him. Is this a good number to reach you?”
Sandy
asked.

“Cell service is iffy up there, but I usually get texts eventually, if you want to do it that way,” she said. “I will also check my email if you need to get in touch with me for some reason.” She couldn’t imagine what that reason would be, but she was the governor’s secretary.

“Thank you, Miss Erickson, I’ll give him your message,”
Sandy
said.

“Thank you, and please call me Joss.” Joss was never really comfortable with formality, and
Sandy
was her dad’s age.

“Joss. I hope your father is all right. Good luck, dear,”
Sandy
said kindly and hung up.

Joss hadn’t had time to go home and pack, she had her phone and her computer and she wore a little black dress she thought would go well for the Albrecht Durer opening party tonight that she was going to miss. Not really appropriate clothing for a cattle ranch in
Montana
, but oh well. There would be a closet full of clothing at the ranch that would be.

The car rental place had one car left and she took it gladly, and set out for her hour drive to the ranch from the airport. About six miles away from the ranch her tire lost all its air, leaving her stopped on the empty road. A tire change would have been annoying in her little black dress, but simple enough had she not heard a hissing sound coming from two other tires. She looked more closely at the tires, and noticed pointy metal things jutting from two of them. She pried one of the pointy metal bits out with a nail file and examined it. Four points, perfect for flattening tires. She felt the hair rise on the back of her neck and thought it would be a good time to get to the ranch. She considered kicking the car, but then remembered what she spent on the shoes she was probably going to ruin in the next six miles. She pulled her portmanteau out of the passenger seat, pulled it over her shoulder, looked around nervously and began to walk.

Three minutes into the walk a huge pickup truck pulled up in front of her and a long legged cowboy got out of it. He looked her up and down appreciatively and tipped his hat. “Hello there,” he said. “Are you lost?”

“Hello,” she said eyeing him back. A truck drove by from the other direction; Joss didn’t even look at it, but the cowboy did, and he frowned very slightly. “I’m not lost, I had flat tire problems,” she hooked her thumb behind her.

“Don’t you know how to fix a flat?” He asked with an amused look on his face.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” she walked up to him, and was surprised at his height. It wasn’t often she had to look up into someone’s face when she had nearly three inch heels on. “Can we cut to the chase here? Are you going to offer me a ride, or not? I have about six miles to go, and I am in a hurry.” She said as she walked past him to the passenger door. This could be a mistake, but she didn’t think it was. Someone wanted to stop a car, probably her car. But why? She just hoped it wasn’t this man.

“Hop in, Duchess, I’ll take you home,” he said smiling genuinely now, the smirk gone. He opened the passenger door for her and stood back.

“Thank you,” she said and hiked up her already short dress so she could get into the high seated truck without ripping it. The cowboy took a moment to admire her long legs, catching a glimpse of where her thigh high stockings ended, and he thought his heart might have stopped, but when he paid closer attention he realized it hadn’t stopped, it was pounding. He shook his head and went around to the driver’s side and started the truck and turned around in the road. Ordinarily she wouldn’t dream of getting into a man’s truck, but something was going on, and she figured this guy probably worked for her dad.

The long legged cowboy was painfully quiet, and when they got close to the drive Joss broke the silence.

“This is me; thank you again for the lift.” He turned into the drive and stopped at the turnaround in front of the house. The dogs greeted the truck with friendly barks. She pulled her sunglasses off and turned her blue gaze upon him. His face was impassive and unreadable, but the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. He was very handsome, she thought, handsome in a frightening way.

“My father just had a heart attack; I’m not at my best. Thank you for the ride, my feet are in your debt.” He looked down her body again, stopping at her lovely feet. He lifted his hazel eyes back up to her face.

“I know, Duchess, you get a free pass today,” he said smiling in his easy manner. She nodded at him and slid out of the truck. The dogs recognized her and made their high pitched welcoming barks, circling her and butting into her until she bent over them to say hello. As soon as they were satisfied she went inside.

Her great grandfather built the ranch and the Erickson cattle dynasty over a hundred years ago. Her father owned hundreds of thousands of acres in southern
Montana
which was some of the most beautiful land she had ever seen, and it was peppered with Black Angus cattle. The log house was built with the idea that the ranchers had a passel of children, or that the hands were expected to live in the house. There were ten bedrooms, most of them quite small, with the family listing toward one end of the house and the rare hand who stayed the night, sleeping in the other side of the house. There was an upstairs master bedroom and Brent’s office, but Joss hadn’t been up there in years. The kitchen, dining room and living room, with a tremendous stone fireplace, were in the center of the house.

The ranch had lacked the soft touch of a woman since her mother left, and Belle seemed determined not to leave her mark on anything. It was, instead, a practical, serviceable house, with latent charm. Large leather sofas took up the space in the great room, with Indian blankets and cattle skin rugs softening the wood floors. Joss had always thought rustic log homes were charming regardless of feminine trappings, which probably had something to do with having grown up in one. Most of the art that graced the walls was painted by Joss, and her father proudly framed them all. Some of the art was perhaps even worthy of framing. The rest of the wall hangings were various parts of dead animals. A giant bison head was mounted over the fire place, several mule deer and elk were here and there, and there was one big horned sheep’s head over the window in the kitchen.

Once inside she drank a glass of water and called the number Belle gave her, but again, no one answered. She tried the hospital and discovered her father was still resting. She hurried to her room to the far right, or west wing of the house, dumped her laptop on the bed, kicked off her shoes and stripped off her dress. The long legged cowboy saved her from a pair of sore feet and ruined high heels; she’d tell Brent to give him a raise for saving damsels. She put the pointy tire flattener on the bureau, she didn’t want to step on it, but she did want to Google it when she got back from the hospital.

She left her hair up and stepped into her shower simply to cool off and barely dried herself when she got out. She dressed in a pair of low riding Levi’s and a dark gray polo shirt which was a little tighter than she expected. What the heck? She pulled on her comfy boots and she was ready to go to the hospital which was about a half hour’s drive from the ranch.

Pulling the refrigerator door open, she realized the cowboy’s pickup was still in the drive.
Damn
. She grabbed a can of Diet Coke and an apple and opened the screen to the porch to look at him. Her long legged cowboy was leaning back in her favorite seat, his long legs propped up on the wood pile, and his hat forward over his eyes. The dogs were contentedly lying around beneath him, and they thumped their tails at her arrival. He looked very comfortable here.

She took a moment to peruse his long body and she liked it, she liked it a lot. She liked tall men, being too tall herself, and his hard leanness was particularly appealing to her. His was not a gym body, but a body earned from physical labor and gifted by good genetics. His long fingers drummed on his denim clad thigh, and the visible part of his mouth curved into a grin. He knew she was checking him out, and he also knew she’d find no fault in him.

“You just let me know when you’re finished… whatever it is you’re doing, Duchess, and I’ll take you in to see Brent,” he said without looking at her. She bit into her apple with a loud crunch. Busted. She had been silent, how did he know? The thumping of the dogs tails? Hmm.

“Let me get my purse,” she said once she had swallowed. So he does work for Brent, she thought, and he was sent to fetch her. Purse in hand, phone in pocket, she was ready. When she came back out he shifted from her favorite seat, stood up and finally looked at her. He paused in mid step and let his eyes take her all in. She wondered if there was something wrong with her clothes, possibly her too tight shirt. She looked down at her body and then back up at him raising her eyebrows.

“Nothing,” he said to her unasked question. “Not a damn thing. Hop in; I’ll take you to him.”

“You don’t have to take me,” She said, but he merely grinned at her and started the truck.

They drove in silence for a while, but it wasn’t one of those comfortable silences that perfect strangers can have, she was downright jumpy around this man. He bothered her, but she couldn’t figure out why, maybe she didn’t want to figure out why, maybe he was just too good looking. Once she finished her apple she tossed the core out the window into a field of cattle, popped open her soda and took a long drink. The brief walk in the August sunshine made her thirstier than she realized, and now she was going to belch in front of the cowboy.

“You had more than one flat,” he looked at her and she nodded grimly. “Did you leave your luggage in the rental?” He asked as they drove by the car slowly, taking it in.

“No, I took a cab straight to the airport from work, I didn’t bring anything at all, not even a toothbrush, but thanks,” she said meeting his gaze. He went from concern about her flats to being delighted about something, but aside from an occasional wry smile his face didn’t change, but his eyes danced when they met hers like he was sitting on a winning lotto ticket.

“Can you tell me anything about Brent’s condition? They won’t tell me anything over the phone,” she said. “It’s very frustrating.”

“Nope, I’m just the hired help,” he said looking at her sideways. She nodded again, and she thought it bothered him a little bit to just be the hired help.

“I’m Joss, by the way,” she said.

“I know.” There was another long silence, and she exhaled loudly.

“Now you are supposed to tell me your name,” she said.

BOOK: Breaking the Bad Boy
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