The Last Cowboy Standing (4 page)

Travis’s hand fell away. “Hello, Randal.”

“Oh, Travis.” Randal pretended he’d just noticed him. “How’re you holding up here?”

“Managing just fine,” Travis responded.

Randal turned his attention back to Danielle. “What did they say? More importantly, what did
you
say?”

“She hasn’t made up her mind yet,” Travis put in.

Randal sent him a glare. “I asked Dani.”

“Well,
Dani
told me first.”

“Travis,” Danielle warned.

He was entitled to whatever theory he concocted, but that didn’t give him the right to pick a fight.

Randal drew back his shoulders, lifting his chin. “She did, did she?”

“They offered me a South American division,” she quickly told Randal.

“That’s great.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m going to head up Europe, starting in September. We’d be at exactly the same level, on the partners’ floor. I don’t have to tell you, that’s an impressive way to enter the firm.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Danielle agreed.

“The expense account is unlimited. The benefits are top-drawer, and the work is some of the most intellectually stimulating—”

“Randal?” she interrupted.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been listening to the sales pitch all night.”

Travis stifled a chuckle.

Randal’s attention immediately flew to him. “You got something to add here?”

“Not a thing,” said Travis, polishing off his beer. “You’re doing just fine all by yourself.”

Randal glared a moment longer, but then something caught his attention across the room. “There’s old man Nester.” He squeezed Danielle’s shoulder, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level. “Give me three minutes to break into the conversation, then come over and join us.”

He walked away.

Travis looked at Danielle, and she stared back.

“Well?” he asked.

She was all schmoozed out. Her feet were swelling. Her makeup was about to crack. And the last thing she wanted to do was humor the wheezy, narcissistic Edger Nester through what she’d heard tended to be half-hour-long discourses on the flaws in judicial procedure. If she took the job, she’d have to put up with it. But she wasn’t there yet.

“I’m out of here,” she told Travis.

His hand went immediately to her elbow, helping her down from the high stool, before turning them to a nearby side exit.

They came out into the gardens, quiet in the late hour. The breeze had picked up, cooling the air, and Travis quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket, draping it around her shoulders. They started down a winding flagstone walkway.

“That was a quick decision,” he noted.

“I’ve only met Mr. Nester once, but I’ve heard tales of his boring orations, and I’m tired.” She reached down and peeled off her sandals, moving to the soft grass at the side of the path. “My feet are killing me.”

“You want me to carry you?” he offered.

She shook her head, though the thought of being held in his arms gave her a shiver of excitement. “This is nice.” She curled her toes into the dense blades of grass.

He took up a slow pace, along the edge of a narrow brook, in the general direction of a purple lighted pond, leaving the music and laughter behind them. “If you resign, what will happen in Chicago?”

“You mean, what will happen to Active Equipment?”

“And your other clients.”

“They’ll be assigned to other lawyers.”

“Does that worry you?”

“I’d feel guilty,” she admitted, switching her sandals to the other hand. “But I’m not the only lawyer in the world. My firm has many other people who are perfectly capable of servicing my clients.”

“So, there’s nothing unique about you?”

She smiled at that. “I’d like to think there was. I’d like to think I was irreplaceable. But that would be a little conceited, right?”

His voice was low, sounding almost annoyed. “Some people
do
have to stay where they’re needed.”

“Do you think I’m letting Caleb down?”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

She paused, tilting her head to peer up at him. “Who?”

He stopped walking, seeming to hesitate for a long moment, as the babble of the brook rose around them, the scent of the flowers sweetened the air. “I was talking about me.”

“You’re leaving Lyndon Valley?” She could hardly believe it.

In her mind, Travis
was
Lyndon Valley. While the Terrells and the other Jacobs siblings might come and go from the ranches, Travis was the stalwart, always there, always available, always taking care of anything and everything.

He shook his head. “My point was, I
can’t
leave Lyndon Valley. The ranch needs me.”

“And you need the ranch.” She thought she understood.

“Something like that.” There was an edge to his voice.

“You think I’m abandoning the people who count on me.”

It was hardly the same situation. Just because she’d gone to law school and started in a particular job, didn’t mean she had to stay there forever.

“If you were abandoning them. If they told you, you were abandoning them. If you knew it would hurt them, would you stay?”

“That’s a hypothetical situation.” She’d like to think she’d done some good work for Caleb and the others over the years. But she’d hardly cripple anyone’s business if she moved on.

“Hypothetically speaking, and I’m not going to hold you to it, if you knew it would hurt them, would you leave anyway?”

She searched his expression. “What are you getting at, Travis?”

He gazed at the lighted trees. “Responsibility, I guess—the kind of responsibility that paints a man into a corner and limits his choices.”

She stepped forward, still not pinning down where he was going with this. “You’re getting very philosophical on me, cowboy.”

He gave a self-conscious smile. “Just trying to help you make a decision.”

“You want me to stay in Chicago.”

“I want you to understand the true details of your options.”

A door banged shut on the pavilion, and several voices rose in the garden.

“He wouldn’t come looking for me,” Danielle said, more to herself than to Travis.

“Oh, yes, he would.” Travis snagged her hand, striding across the sloped grass, tugging her toward a dark corner where they’d be screened from the path.

She had to trot to keep up.

They made their way behind a hedge, beyond the orange glow of the walkway lanterns, to a secluded corner where blue light filtered weakly through the maple leaves. Her mind went back over his words. He’d said it limited a man’s choices, not a woman’s choices, not a person’s choices.

He abruptly stopped, and she nearly ran into him.

“Your feet okay?” he asked, turning.

“Travis, do you
want
to leave the ranch?”

“No.”

She pondered a second longer. “But you resent that you can’t. Or, wait a minute, you resent that you don’t have the choice.”

This time he hesitated before answering.

“You should tell them,” she said.

“Tell them what?”

“That you—”

“That Katrina can’t be a ballerina?” Travis spoke right over her, annoyance in his tone. “That Seth should give up being mayor? That Mandy can’t be in Chicago with Caleb? Or that Abigail should force Zach to sell his brewery?”

Danielle definitely saw his point. It didn’t make it fair, but she understood how he must feel.

“We’re the fifth generation,” he told her.

“That’s a lot on your shoulders.”

“They’re broad shoulders.”

Her gaze strayed. “Yes, they are.”

“You won’t say anything to Caleb.”

“And mess with your self-righteous sense of nobility?”

“I’m not self-righteous.”

She gazed up into his eyes. He was taller when her feet were bare. Taller, stronger, magnificent.

“You are noble,” she whispered, finding herself shifting closer to him.

“I’m practical.”

“You operate on instinct,” she reminded him, tilting her chin, moistening her lips, wondering if she could possibly be more obvious.

“I do,” he breathed.

“So, instinctively...”

His hands bracketed her hips, easing her against him. “Instinctively, I want to kiss you.”

She smiled.

“But I’ve had that particular instinct for a long time now, and I’m not sure I should trust it.”

“You should trust it.”

His hands moved to her face, cradling it gently in his palms. “What about my other instincts?”

“You have other instincts?”

“To toss you down on the grass and ravish you in the moonlight.”

Want and need instantly cascaded through her, weakening her knees and robbing her of her breath. She wished it didn’t sound so tempting. There were a million complicated reasons to keep her distance from Travis, even if her own desires were screaming at her to ignore them.

She came up on her toes to meet him. “Let’s take it one instinct at a time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His lips came down on hers, warm and firm, fueled with purpose and expectation.

One arm went around her waist, the other bracing the back of her head. She dropped her sandals and clung to his shoulders. Then she ran her hands through his hair, pressing her body against his, parting her lips and inviting the sweep of his tongue.

His kiss deepened, and she clung tighter, letting the sweep of arousal and desire flood through her. Leaves clattered above them. A blue glow surrounded them. The grass was cool on her feet, while Travis’s hot palm moved its way down her cheek, to her neck, to the bare shoulder revealed by her dress.

He stopped there, fingertips caressing against her skin.

He broke the kiss and pulled back, breathing deeply.

She had to blink the world back into focus.

“We have to stop now.” His tone was slightly ragged.

“I know.” She understood that they were playing with fire.

He stepped determinedly back, letting his hold drop away from her, putting space between them.

When he spoke again, his deep voice rumbled through her. “I guess that was inevitable.”

“Kissing me?”

He held her gaze in the dim light. “Well, that, too. But I was thinking it was inevitable that kissing you would be fantastic.”

Fantastic?
She loved that word. Her skin glowed. Her lips tingled. Every inch of her body felt the sensual impact of Travis.

Still,
fantastic
didn’t quite do it justice.

Four

“T
hat
was fantastic,” Travis shouted to Corey as he clambered out of the dusty dune buggy in the parking lot of Desert High Rentals. He peeled off his crash helmet, calling again. “I think we’ve found a winner.”

Corey gave him the thumbs-up as he stepped away from his own tube-style, open-air vehicle. It had once been red, but now was plastered with dirt and debris from their twenty-mile race across the desert.

“It’s a toss-up between this and paintball,” said Corey.

The two men started toward the compact, white-painted building and the chain-link compound that held neat rows of rental dune buggies.

“I was trying to figure out if we’d have time to do both,” Travis added.

When Travis had called Corey this morning, Corey had quickly agreed to help out. So, they’d spent the day testing activities for the upcoming bachelor party.

Hot air ballooning had been a bust—too sedentary. Sky diving was another option, but they couldn’t count on everyone buying into that. They’d looked into bus and boat tours, and even gambling, but Travis was pretty sure thrills and adrenaline was the way to go.

A keg of beer, spicy, fried junk food and the Colorado Rockies game on the big screen at the Emperor Plaza’s Ace High Lounge was a given. Travis had booked it for the private party Friday night.

“How early will these guys be willing to get up?” Corey asked.

“They’re mostly cowboys. But I guess it depends on how it goes Thursday night—whether things stay down to a dull roar. Caleb’s pilot is flying everybody in around four.”

Thursday would be informal. They’d stop by a bar or two along the Strip, maybe play a little poker.

“Book paintball for the morning,” said Corey. “If they get blasted the night before, they can bloody well cowboy up.”

Travis grinned. Better to have too much planned than too little.

“Paintball, it is,” agreed Travis. “Followed by dune buggy racing in the afternoon, and then Ace High for the night.”

“The guys can all crawl to their rooms from there.”

“We should have been party planners,” said Travis as he set his helmet down on the counter, in the shade of the porch at the rental building.

“Party planners don’t get the girls,” Corey responded.

“How’d it go out there?” asked the rotund, fifty-something clerk as he set his magazine down and stood to meet them.

“Great,” Travis replied. “It’s a very exciting course. We’re looking to bring a group back with us on Friday afternoon.”

The man pulled a clipboard down from a hook on the wall and rustled up a pen from a drawer beneath the counter. “How many in your group?”

“About thirty. Better make it thirty-five to be safe.”

The man’s bushy brows went up. “Thirty guys? Do they each need their own buggy?”

“I’d plan on that,” said Travis.

The man stepped away, opening a back door to shout outside. “Micky. Can you do thirty-five for Friday afternoon?”

The response was muffled.

“Well, call the parts store. Get them to overnight freight.”

Another muffled response.

Travis glanced at Corey, who made a show of crossing his fingers. “We don’t want to go with the river boat tour.”

“Not unless they can guarantee models in bikinis.”

“And that zip line seemed pretty lame.”

Travis agreed. Though it sounded exciting to soar suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, in reality, it had been more like an amusement park ride. You had no control over anything that happened. You just hung there and watched the scenery go by.

The dune buggy man turned back to them. “We can cover you.” He made a notation on his clipboard. “If this is a corporate event, you better check your insurance.” He handed Travis a written brochure.

Travis glanced at it without reading. “If it’s a private event?”

The man gave a gap-toothed grin. “Better buy yourself some event insurance. This ain’t covered under your regular homeowner’s policy.”

“Then I guess it’s a corporate event,” said Travis. “Can we bring a credit card with us Friday?”

“Sure thing.” The man glanced at today’s rental agreement. “Mr. Jacobs.”

Travis reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Thanks for your help.”

With a nod, Corey slid his helmet across the counter, and they turned to step off the low porch.

“There’s a place called South Rim, partway back on the highway,” said Corey as they crossed the asphalt parking lot under the scorching sun. “It’s pretty laid-back, burgers and steaks. About a dozen beers on tap. Might work for lunch on Friday. You want to check it out?”

“Sure,” Travis agreed, pressing the unlock button on his rented SUV. “I could absolutely go for a beer.”

It was nearly five o’clock, and his other option was going back to the hotel. If he went back to the hotel, he was sure he’d go against his better judgment and start hunting around for Danielle.

It had been a mistake to kiss her last night. He knew it then, and he knew it now. But a man could only take so much. And being alone in the dark with a beautiful, desirable woman, who scoffed at the right moments, laughed at the right moments and gazed up at him with huge, dark bedroom eyes, well, kissing her had been inevitable.

He levered into the driver’s seat and started the engine, peeling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

He’d relived the kiss about a thousand times already. Then he’d thought about doing it again, thought about doing even more, then he’d pulled himself ruthlessly back. Danielle was Danielle, the same woman he’d fought with for months. She had a professional relationship with his brother-in-law Caleb, another one with his sister Katrina for the Sasha Terrell Fund.

Nothing had changed between them. He’d found Danielle sexy as soon as he’d met her. She found him coarse and unrefined. She didn’t like his sense of humor, thought his perspective was limited, thought he was and always would be a hick cowboy from backwater Colorado.

It was all true, and no amount of sexual attraction was going to change any of that. Which meant nothing more could happen between them.

He smacked a hand down on the steering wheel in frustration.

“What?” Corey turned to look.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t want to go to the South Rim?”

“The South Rim is fine. I’m hungry, and I’m damn sure thirsty.”

“Well, okay, then.”

Brimming with pent-up energy, Travis ignored the double line on the highway, pulling out to pass a semi as they wound up a hill. A pickup suddenly crested the rise, and he slammed the brakes, dumping his speed and pulling back behind the tractor trailer. Both the semi and the pickup driver leaned on their horns.

Corey gripped the handrail on the ceiling of the SUV. “Well. That was exciting.”

“They need more passing lanes,” Travis grumbled.

“We should have let you take another lap on the dune buggy.” Corey sat back. “Work whatever the heck it is out of your system.”

Travis knew what he needed to work this out of his system, and no motor vehicle could help him. He found his mouth flexing in a wry smirk. What he needed, he couldn’t have.

“What?” Corey asked again.

The double lines ended, replaced by a single, broken line, and he ducked out to check for oncoming traffic. This time he could definitely make it. He stepped on the accelerator.

“I think whiskey’s my best bet,” he called to Corey as the engine revved higher.

“That sounds like girl trouble to me,” Corey called back, hand gripping the handle again.

“It is girl trouble,” Travis admitted.

“Back home?”

“In Vegas.” He pulled back into the right lane, backing off and letting his speed drop down again.

“You’ve only been here two days.”

“I work fast.”

“Parking lot’s coming up on your right. Past the motel and the park. The green sign.”

Travis slowed, flipping on his signal light, and pulling to the shoulder so he wouldn’t slow the semi down as it built up speed on the downhill grade.

The South Rim was a long, low brown building, perched on the side of a canyon. The floorboards on the deck squeaked under their boots as they made their way to an oversized, red door. Travis opened it to reveal a dim room with a polished, red wood bar, heavy tables and comfortable looking leather chairs, all surrounding three well-kept pool tables.

On the far side, glass doors led out to a deck that overlooked the canyon. The deck was dotted with low, planked tables and Adirondack chairs, turned toward the view. Vintage rock music gave a muted backdrop from overhead speakers, while the smell of grilling burgers hung in the air.

“Go ahead and grab a table,” called a thirty-something woman from behind the bar. She was wearing a white blouse over a pair of black slacks, with her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

A dozen of the thirty or so tables were occupied, and a few people sat out on the deck. Two men shot a game at one of the pool tables. It was obviously an adult crowd, and conversation seemed cheerful and relaxed.

“You want to shoot a game?” asked Corey as he ambled toward a table.

“Sure.” Travis dropped his hat on a chair and rolled up the sleeves of his white-and-gray checked shirt.

Realizing how much sand and dust had clung to him from the dune buggy ride, he headed for the men’s room to take off a layer. Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but be impressed that none of the staff had turned their noses up as he and Corey walked in.

By the time he got back to the table, the waitress had produced glasses of ice water and a couple of menus. Travis ordered a beer and selected a pool cue.

“Hi there,” came a soft female voice as a blond woman sauntered over to him. At a nearby table, a brunette closely watched the exchange.

“I’m Sandy,” she introduced.

“Travis,” he returned. “Nice to meet you.”

The men’s room door banged shut behind Corey. Then a smile lit his face as he approached the pool table.

“Corey,” he introduced himself to the woman, holding out his broad hand.

“Sandy,” she repeated. Then she turned to look at the brunette. “My friend is Linda.”

“You gals from around here?” asked Corey.

She grinned. “We ‘gals’ are from California. San Diego. You?”

“I’m a bullfighter on the pro bull riding circuit.”

“You’re one of those guys with a red cape and a tight, gold-tassel-covered jacket?”

Travis coughed out a laugh at the image.

“That’s in Spain, not in Nevada. I’m the guy in blue jeans who saves the cowboy’s ass when the rangy brahma bull bucks him off and threatens to gore him or trample him.” He gestured to Travis. “Guys like him. I saved his life on Saturday night.”

Sandy looked to Travis. “That true?”

“It’s true,” Travis affirmed as he racked up the balls.

Linda rose from the table and wandered over. “You’re a bull rider?” she asked Travis.

“I’m a rancher. Eight ball?” he asked Corey.

The waitress returned with Travis’s beer, and Corey ordered one for himself. “Eight ball it is,” he said to Travis. “So, what do you women do in San Diego?”

“We’re caterers, mostly weddings, but corporate parties, too.”

“Isn’t that a coincidence.” Corey took the break, hitting the racked balls hard and sending them shooting across the table. None went into a pocket. “We’re planning a party right now.”

“What kind of a party?” she asked.

“Bachelor party,” said Corey.

“So, you’ll be down on the Strip?”

“Part of the time,” said Corey.

Travis called solids and took his first shot, putting away the six ball.

Corey gave a groan at the nice shot. “We’re also doing paintball and dune buggy racing.”

Travis couldn’t help but hope Corey didn’t mention their plans for lunch here. The women seemed nice enough, but this party wasn’t going to be about pickups.

“Is one of you the groom?” asked Linda.

Corey grinned as he shook his head. “We’re the party planners.”

“The groom is a friend,” said Travis. This time he sank the four.

“Am I being hustled?” asked Corey with obvious good humor.

“Does the groom live in Vegas?” asked Sandy.

“Colorado,” answered Corey.

Travis missed the three, and Corey chalked his cue.

Sandy moved away from Corey, bringing her closer to Travis.

“So, Mr. Bull Riding Rancher, are you—”

“Would you like to order lunch?” The waitress’s question interrupted.

Relieved, Travis turned his attention to the woman. “I’ll take a cheeseburger.”

“Same here,” called Corey as he lined up on the ten ball. He pulled back his cue and made a perfect shot.

“Who’s hustling who?” Travis joked, moving from the pool table to their dining table to take a drink of his beer.

He hadn’t wanted Sandy to finish her purring question. He wasn’t in the mood to flirt. His mind kept slipping to Danielle, wondering where she was, if Randal was with her, if he’d made a move on her.

Corey sank two balls in rapid succession. Then he missed, leaving a promising-looking table for Travis.

Conversation between Corey and the two women swirled around him, with the occasional burst of laughter. Travis worked his way through the rest of the solids, earning cheers from the women as he made a particularly tricky bank shot to sink the seven.

He easily finished up the eight ball to take the game.

“I guess you’re buying lunch,” he said to Corey as the waitress arrived with their burgers.

“You’re the one with the good payday,” Corey countered. “And I did—”

“I know. I know,” Travis cut in. “You saved my life.”

Travis returned his pool cue to the rack.

“Nice meeting you,” he said to Sandy and Linda as he headed to sit down.

Corey obviously picked up on Travis’s thinking. He also said goodbye, rather than asking the women to join them.

They hesitated slightly, but then returned to their own table.

“What the hell?” asked Corey as he swung into his chair across from Travis.

“I just want to eat.” Travis stuffed a fry into his mouth then took another swallow of beer.

Corey frowned as he lifted his high-stacked burger. “After I did such a great job of chatting them up for you.”