The Wrangler (Cowboys of Silver Spur Security #2)

Chapter 1

1

KEELY

M ilan, Italy

Keely Malone stepped back and surveyed the final touches on the stage, her gaze skimming over the delicate interplay of steel and silk, of sharp modernism and decadent opulence. It was a masterpiece, if she said so herself.

“ Perfecto, signorina ,” Matteo, the lead lighting designer, murmured, hands on his hips. “The show will be unforgettable.”

She flashed him a quick grin. “Damn right it will be.”

Her job was done. Tomorrow, Milan’s fashion elite would marvel at her work, and she’d be halfway across the Atlantic, sipping champagne and pretending not to notice her brother’s latest attempt at playing overprotective caveman.

The familiar tickle at the back of her neck started the second she stepped into the Via della Spiga. Someone was watching her.

Again.

She didn’t let on that she knew, keeping her stride casual, her heels clicking against the cobblestones as she weaved through the throng of impossibly stylish pedestrians. It could be any number of people. A pickpocket. A lovesick designer looking to poach her for another project. A reporter sniffing around for an inside scoop on the show.

Ever since she’d spotted him trailing her back at the fashion venue, all sharp angles and brooding authority, she’d known Reed had sent one of his Silver Spur guys to babysit her. Did he think she hadn’t listened when he taught her to never enter a room without assessing potential escape routes or how to thwart a kidnapping attempt? Her brother meant well, but he was a giant pain in the ass.

And, of course, it had to be Jesse. Jesse Bryant—the man was impossible. He was always so serious, always regarding her as a problem to solve rather than a woman to admire.

Even if she hadn’t caught the brief glimpse of his scowl, she would’ve known by the way her pulse kicked up. Jesse had that effect on her—on everyone, probably—but he’d never been one to acknowledge it.

A mistake on his part.

Well, if he was going to shadow her all over Milan, she might as well make it interesting. Keely bit her lip, holding back a smile. Game on.

She ducked into a side alley, quickening her steps before emerging onto another street. The city was a maze, and she knew every shortcut, every hidden courtyard. She slipped into a boutique, watching from the reflection in a mirrored display as a broad-shouldered man prowled past.

With a flick of her hair, Keely slipped out the back of the boutique, cutting through the café’s narrow alleyway, weaving between tables as she murmured soft apologies in Italian. The air smelled of espresso and fresh pastries, but she had no time to linger. She stepped onto the next street, quickened her pace, and let out a quiet laugh.

Let’s see what you’ve got, cowboy.

She slipped between a pair of strolling tourists, took a sharp right, then ducked into a side alley, her heels clicking against the cobblestones as she made another quick turn. Daring. Testing. Winning.

Keely grinned to herself, slowing her steps as she prepared to loop back toward the main street. Poor Jesse. He must have been furious—probably scowling and muttering curses under his breath, already planning a gruff, bossy lecture about safety for the moment he caught up with her.

Except… The moment she rounded the corner, she crashed into a solid immovable object. All broad shoulders, muscled torso and controlled stillness, watching her like a predator who had known exactly where his prey was going to run.

Her grin faltered.

“Shit.”

A slow, wicked smile curved Jesse’s lips. “Lose something, darlin’?”

Damn it.

Keely let out a dramatic sigh. “I was hoping for someone more exciting. Maybe a dark and dangerous Italian looking to sweep me off my feet.”

Jesse arched an eyebrow. “That so?”

She waved a hand. “Instead, I get you.”

He stepped closer, crowding her, forcing her to lift her chin to meet his gaze. “And what exactly is wrong with me?”

Keely knew better than to play with fire. Knew Jesse wasn’t the kind of man she could push too far before getting burned. But she’d been living on the edges for too long, pretending she didn’t notice the way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching. She refused to believe she was the only one feeling this pull between them.

So, she tilted her head, looking him up and down. Slowly. Deliberately. “You’re predictable.”

Jesse’s eyes darkened. “Am I?”

He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t touch her.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Keely knew—knew—that if Jesse ever laid his hands on her, it wouldn’t be gentle. It wouldn’t be polite.

It would be commanding, unapologetic, and amazing. Jesse was one of five members from her brother’s unit that had banded together to open and operate the Iron Spur, San Antonio’s elite lifestyle club. Her brother Reed might be one of the owners, but he wasn’t the only member of the Malone family that played there.

The thought sent a thrill through her, but she smothered it before it could show on her face. “You’re here because Reed told you to be. Not because you want to be.”

Jesse’s jaw flexed. “You think I don’t have better things to do than chase your ass through Milan?”

“I think you resent being here. And I think,” she lowered her voice, stepping closer, “that you hate how much you like the chase.”

Jesse snorted, and for a second, just a second, Keely thought he might snap. That he might grab her, press her against the wall, and remind her exactly what kind of man he was.

But Jesse was too disciplined for that.

Instead, he let out a rough chuckle. “You’re a brat.”

She smiled. “And, as I said, you’re predictable.”

Jesse shook his head and grabbed her wrist—not rough, but firm enough that there was no mistaking the power behind it. “Enough games. We’re leaving. Now.”

Keely’s belly flip-flopped, but she refused to let him see it. “Or what? You’ll toss me over your shoulder?”

Jesse's lips curled into a deliberate, mischievous smile. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

Oh, hell. This was not going the way she wanted at all. She needed to stop pushing. She needed to let it go. But where was the fun in that?

Keely leaned in, her lips a whisper from his ear. “Be careful, cowboy. Someone might think you actually want to be here.”

Jesse took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, his grip on her tightening for half a second before he let go. “Get in the SUV, Keely.”

He’d called her a brat. Reed often called her the same. Neither of them was wrong. There was a reckless part of her that wanted to argue—to push his buttons—just to see how far she could push him. But there was something about the way he said it—the quiet command, the finality in his voice—that sent a thrill straight through her.

For the first time since this game started, she considered surrendering. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to. Instead, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and sauntered toward the waiting SUV. “Next time, try to keep up.”

Jesse’s voice followed her, low and full of promise.

“Next time, I won’t let you run.”

The following day, Keely adjusted her oversized sunglasses as she strolled through Malpensa Airport, her designer carry-on rolling smoothly behind her. She wasn’t in a rush—she never was when she traveled. Milan had been good to her, as always, but it was time to head home.

As she moved through the terminal, the faintest whisper of unease crawled up her spine. It was subtle, nothing overt, just the kind of awareness that came from experience. Someone was watching her.

She kept her stride easy, casually pausing near a glass storefront, adjusting the strap of her purse as she checked her reflection.

And there he was. Jesse again. She thought she’d given him the slip this morning after leaving the hotel, but then it shouldn’t be surprising that he was here. He probably just accessed her flight itinerary and knew where she’d be.

Leaning against a column like he owned the damn place, arms crossed over that ridiculously broad chest, those sharp blue eyes locked onto her. He wasn’t trying to hide—not really. He wanted her to know he was there, that she’d failed at slipping away unnoticed.

A gradual smile tugged at her lips as she turned, walking away like she hadn’t just spotted the man assigned to babysit her.

Reed sent Jesse, one of the firm’s best operatives, instead of one of the newer guys, and she supposed she should be flattered by that. The idea sent a thrill through her, even as she rolled her eyes. Jesse was one of the best—a problem solver, quick thinker and dominant, especially in high-pressure situations. His discipline was clear; she had never seen him lose his temper or become truly ruffled. But she liked to think she got under his skin in a way no one else did.

And if he was going to follow her all the way back to Texas? She might as well make it fun.

She boarded her flight, tucking herself into her first-class window seat, and let out a satisfied sigh. Over sixteen hours of luxury service awaited her. A glass of champagne, a plush blanket, and a long, peaceful flight.

Until she remembered him. Keely leaned just enough to peer past the curtain dividing first class from coach. Sure enough, Jesse was there, already settled into an aisle seat, long legs sprawled out in a way that made it obvious he was too big for the cramped space.

A wicked idea struck. She pressed the call button.

Moments later, a flight attendant approached, all polished professionalism. “Miss Malone, is there something I can do for you?”

Keely smiled sweetly. “Actually, yes. That gentleman back there...” she gestured toward Jesse, who seemed wholly unaware of his impending relocation “—he’s my bodyguard, and I’d feel so much safer if he were sitting next to me.”

The flight attendant beamed. “Of course, Miss Malone. We’ll have him moved right away.”

Keely settled back in her seat, waiting. Seconds later, she heard the unmistakable clomp of Jesse’s boots approaching.

Then his voice, deep and unmistakably irritated. “Keely.”

She turned, schooling her face into an expression of pure innocence. “Jesse. Fancy seeing you here.”

His jaw tensed, his hands on his hips. “You know damn well what you just did.”

She gestured to the empty seat beside her. “Why don’t you take a seat? The airline frowns on people standing in the aisle, glowering and intimidating people.”

“So, does that mean you find me intimidating?”

“Not at all. I find you to have many of the same qualities found in Neanderthals.”

Jesse groaned, then dropped into the seat beside her, his sheer size making the luxurious first-class seating space feel smaller.

As soon as he buckled in, he turned his head toward her, his voice low and edged with irritation. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Keely sipped her champagne, pretending to think about it before leaning over. “Hot news flash for you cowboy, I don’t even try.”

Jesse’s fingers drummed on the armrest, his knee brushing against hers. “You think this is a joke?”

“I think you being forced to sit in coach when you could be up here is criminal,” she said breezily. “You should talk to Gavin and Reed about that. I did you a favor.”

His eyes narrowed. “Right. Because you’re so concerned about my comfort.”

“But of course. Why else would I do it?”

He exhaled slowly, like a man counting down from ten before doing something reckless. “Someday, Keely, the right guy is going to come along and jerk a knot in your pretty little tail.”

“You think I have a pretty tail? Why Jesse Bryant, you sweet-talking devil you, that may be the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

He made a growling sound. “You just wanted to mess with me.”

Keely grinned. “True, and here you are.”

Jesse didn’t respond immediately, but she felt the shift in his energy. He was watching her now, really watching her. She wondered if she might have pushed him just a little too far this time. He looked like an irritated bear someone had poked at the wrong time.

Jesse leaned in just enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of leather and clean spice wrapping around her like a damn cloak of temptation.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin’,” he murmured, voice like sandpaper and silk all at once.

Her pulse skipped, but she tilted her chin up, refusing to give him the satisfaction of rattling her. “And what are you going to do about it?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he reached over and plucked the champagne flute from her fingers, setting it down on his own tray table.

Keely blinked. “Hey...”

“You’ve had enough.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “You do not get to tell me when I’ve had enough.”

Jesse turned in his seat, angling his broad body toward her, his stare pinning her in place. “You keep pushing, Keely. But we both know what happens when a brat like you finally pushes too far.”

Her stomach did a slow, traitorous flip. Because damn him, he was right. And she hated he knew it.

She folded her arms. “Are you threatening me, cowboy?”

Jesse chuckled, low and dark. “Not a threat, darlin’. A promise.”

Keely swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, as she realized her long flight had just gotten a whole lot longer.