Chapter 4
hell on heels
DUKE
I clench my fist, admiring it for a second—can’t wait to see it make contact with Topper’s face.
Told him I wanted no part of these shenanigans, yet here he comes, all charm and chatter, driving the golf cart with those New Yorkers in tow.
With a sigh, I rest my forehead against Goose, the only friend I can trust now, before leading him into the paddock for a drink.
“That’s a good boy,” I say, scratching his side, “C’mon now. Get a drink before we ride the hell away from these people.”
Goose bobs his head.
He knows.
He then dips his head in the trough as Topper rolls up.
“Howdy, Duke!” Topper exclaims. “The team from World Explorer is here.”
“I can see that,” I say, turning my attention back to Goose.
A man wearing crisp khakis and a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows gets out first after talking to the two women sitting in the back seat of the cart. He looks like a pretty boy who models sweaters in his spare time, but surprisingly, he has a strong grip when he shakes my hand.
“I’m Leo, the videographer,” he says, flashing the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. “This is Allie Whitlock, production manager and that’s Roxanne Denning. She’s the writer.”
Leo tips his chin toward the blond waiting in the golf cart as Allie steps forward to shake my hand.
“Oh my goodness, you are a sight,” Allie says with an equally strong grip. “What’s in the water in Colorado? Am I right?”
Topper laughs. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Of course. Sorry, didn’t mean to make you blush.
Actually, maybe I did.” She’s cute enough with a mound of brown hair on top of her head.
Rosy lips and cheeks and a fit body in a loose onesie jumper over a tank top.
She looks like a yoga instructor, and I’m surprised she’s as friendly as she is being from New York.
My eyes dart away from Allie and land on Roxanne who finally steps out of the cart. I can’t stop staring, A, because she’s stunning, and B, because she’s out in a damn horse paddock with high heels on. Thank goodness I’m wearing sunglasses because I can’t help but take in the rest of her.
Long legs, and not the skinny kind that unhealthy models have.
Her legs have a lovely shape to them. This woman was probably an athlete at some point in her life.
She’s wearing a dress that is a thousand percent inappropriate for the setting, but a billion times appropriate for hugging every curvaceous part of her body.
Ruby red pouty lips and long blond hair.
Mercy.
The last thing I notice …
She doesn’t shake my hand when we’re introduced.
Leo and Allie seem kind of pleasant … for New Yorkers.
Roxanne Denning on the other hand …
I have a feeling she’s going to be a sharp pain in my ass.
“You really shouldn’t be out here with those shoes on,” I say.
She glances down. “This is how I dress when I travel. Since we haven’t been shown our accommodations yet, I didn’t have time to change.”
Goose grunts.
He knows.
“And who is this?” Allie asks.
“Oh, this is Goose, my best friend,” I say, giving Topper a side-eye. “We were stopping here for a drink. Y’all can pet him, just don’t step behind him.”
Leo folds his expensive shades and tucks them in the front of his button-down. “Allie, you go ahead.”
“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Allie says, petting Goose’s side. “Rox, come and pet him.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Roxanne starts. “Uh, Mr. Topper—”
He smiles. “Just Topper, ma’am.”
Roxanne nods and pushes her large oval sunglasses up her nose. “When might I be able to see my room? It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll take you up shortly, ma’am,” Topper says. “We’ll get you settled and then we can have some chow.”
“Outstanding,” Roxanne says. “Thank you.”
“I feel like, oh my gah, like I already have this spiritual connection to him,” Allie says, scratching Goose between the eyes. “Rox, please pet him. It will be good for you.”
Roxanne sighs before taking a timid step forward, and with a shaky hand reaches out toward Goose. She almost makes contact when Goose twitches, rears his head up and gives the ground a stomp.
Roxanne jumps and before any of us can react, she wobbles on a shaky heel and falls back.
A laugh would have escaped me if it wasn’t for a strong hand latching onto my arm, jerking me off my feet.
In a blur, Roxanne and I land with a massive splash in the trough.
She lets out a yelp, and suddenly I’m smack between her legs, face-first in her chest before she shoves me off.
“Oh no!” Allie cries. “Roxanne!”
She flails for a second while I try to break free, but the elongated trough really brings us together, so to speak. I whip my head back and get a grip on the side as I spit out a mouthful of water. As I scramble to right myself in the water, my hand latches onto her thigh.
Her toned thigh.
Even with all the commotion, that little action sends an electric pulse through my body. I tell myself it was an accident. My body isn’t convinced. This woman seems super uptight, and women from the city are not my type, but damn she’s beautiful.
Everyone scrambles to get Roxanne out of the trough, and I hop out so that I can help. I avert my eyes since that stupid dress of hers is clinging to her shapely body like a second skin.
“Can I please go now?” Roxanne asks through gritted teeth.
The image of this woman in the shower pops into my mind and it’s time to go.
I tug my soggy white T-shirt over my head and wring it out.
Then, I shove my jeans down and do the same with them.
When I glance back up at everyone, they’re all gaping at me wide-eyed, especially Leo, while Topper releases an exasperated sigh.
“Oh my gah, I love it here,” Allie says.
Roxanne glances away, wrings out her hair and steps into the back of the cart.
Her shoes are still in the water so I fish them out and calmly bring them to her, though she can’t bring herself to meet my gaze.
“Ma’am,” I say, letting the shoes dangle on my index finger by their straps.
The corner of her mouth quirks up, and I decide right then and there that I’m going to have fun ruffling Roxanne Denning’s feathers. “See you at dinner.”
She snatches her shoes without meeting my eyes as Topper backs the cart away, leaving me standing in my underwear, soaked and grinning like a fool.
Part of me is sorry that I stripped down to my skivvies in front of the city folk, but I would’ve done that whether they were in attendance or not.
Something about the way Roxanne’s cheeks flushed when I handed her those ridiculous shoes struck me.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed making her squirm—but I did.
Hell, I don’t even know her. Probably shouldn’t poke at her either, not when the future of this ranch depends on her and her crew sticking around.
But damn if I’m not curious to see what happens when that polished exterior cracks.
“Nice form, Faraday,” one of the ranch hands hollers as I pass. Laughter follows me all the way to the fence.
“Looking hot, sweetie,” another guy calls.
I shake my head and smirk, tipping a wink in their direction before heading back to the house to clean up before supper.
I’m rubbing my head with a towel when there’s a knock at my bedroom door. Jameson rolls in his bed. He’s had a long day on the ranch so he’s down for the night.
“Evening, friend,” I say, opening the door to Topper. “What brings you ‘round these parts?”
“Do you mind telling me what the hell that was back there?”
“What was what?”
“You know.” Topper thrusts his hands on his hips. “Stripping down to your underwear in front of our special guests.”
“My clothes were wet.” I shrug. “Don’t like the feel of soaking wet jeans.”
“I hate it when you act like this.” He takes a step into the room and freezes once he sees what I’ve laid out on the bed. “What in the blazes is that?”
“Stedman’s rodeo uniform.”
Topper rakes his hand through his hair. “And what are you going to do with it?”
“Want to give our new guests a taste of a real cowboy at dinner,” I say, picking the rhinestone-studded shirt off the bed to admire it.
“That would be kind of a treat if you were a real cowboy.”
I frown. “I am.”
“Wrong. Stedman is a real cowboy, you’re a mountain man wannabe cowboy.”
“Who hurt you? I mean, seriously, why are you like this?”
Topper flops down in the leather armchair in the corner of the room. “Can you rope a calf?”
“Well, no,” I say, slipping a white tee over my head.
“Can you ride a bull?”
“Not really.”
“Can you barrel race?”
“Listen, I help bring the horses in from pasture.”
“With Stedman and Millie.”
I pull on my jeans and then slide into Stedman’s ornate rodeo chaps complete with white leather fringe. Okay, so Stedman is a beast of a man, and everything is a little big, but I still marvel at myself in the mirror as I finish getting dressed.
“What happened to me being the guide for the guests so you can keep your stress down and remain on the sidelines?”
More images of Roxanne being pulled from the trough wander through my mind. “Can’t a person change their mind?”
“I don’t want you to blow this for us,” Topper says.
“I’m not going to blow this,” I say, adding my ten-gallon to complete the ensemble. “Going to have a little fun, that’s all. If they can’t take this cowboy heat, they better get out of my kitchen.”
Topper buries his head in his hands. “Okay, but Rusty and I will not hesitate to lock you in the barn for the summer if our guests don’t happen to take a shine to you.”
“Don’t worry. These people are going to love this,” I say, tightening my steer horn bolo tie complete with turquoise tips. “How is Roxanne doing?”
“She felt better when she saw her room. Don’t think she was expecting something so nice. That’s why I’m excited about them being here. They will see this is not-your-average ranch in the mountains.”
“We could have sent them a picture.”
“Ignoring that,” Topper says. “So that Roxanne sure is something though, huh? Being dunked in a trough didn’t even diminish her beauty. She reminds me of a 1940s old Hollywood movie star or something.”
I turn from the mirror and frown at Topper. Why did my chest pang at the thought of him noticing her?
“Oh, hadn’t noticed,” I lie. “Don’t start down that path my friend. She’s only here for the summer. She’s a city gal and that’s not your type.”
“You should be telling yourself the same thing. I saw how you looked at her.”
“She didn’t shake my hand. Did you notice that? Everyone else did, but her.”
Topper stands and follows me out of the room. “I think she was just tired.”
“Did she shake your hand?”
Topper shrugs. “Well, yeah, but—”
“Whatever. As long as we win the money.” My spurs chime as I make my way down the staircase, where Rusty stands scowling from the bottom. “Hmm, maybe I should turn on my charm and melt that cold New York heart of hers.”
“Who?”
“Roxanne.”
“I don’t think she’s the type of woman to respond to shiny white chaps with fringe.”
“What are you doin’, boy?” Rusty asks.
“He’s putting on a show for our guests.” Topper slaps me on the back so hard I cough. “Showin’ what a real cowboy looks like.”
Rusty rolls his eyes. “You’re not a real cowboy, Duke.”
Topper grunts. “We’ve already had this discussion.”
“What happened to you wanting no part in this?” Rusty asks.
Topper and I say something about me changing my mind in unison.
Rusty grumbles and straightens his shirt collar. He does clean up nice and has donned his best suit coat and pressed pants. He even trimmed his beard.
“Y’all go on without me,” I say. “I want to make a real entrance.”