Chapter 2
What in the devil is he doing here?
“Just chill, girlie! He’s here to help ya. Bout time, I’d say.”
Savannah brushed the sweaty mane of her five-year-old American quarter horse, Beretta, more fiercely than usual. One—because Mama Wedgefield would be here soon, and the horse did not need to show signs of her exertions in the ring. Two—her nerves were still on fire from the adrenaline rush of racing around the barrels at breakneck speed. Three—having Beretta be the voice of common sense sometimes cut Savannah the wrong way. It was one thing to have the most sure-footed and agile horse in the rodeo circuit. It was quite another when that horse scolded her like a child through their telepathic connection. And four—seeing the very man from her visions waltz into her arena unsettled her in a way she could never attempt to describe.
“I don’t need anyone’s help, especially his help.” Savannah felt a familiar twinge in her gut—the one she got whenever someone thought she needed saving, like she was a friggin’ damsel in distress or something. She had been an orphan most of her life, living from one foster home to the next until at fifteen years old she ran away to join the rodeo. At least, it hadn’t been the circus even if her job was that of the rodeo clown—although she preferred the more proper term of bullfighter.
Bullfighters did not need to be rescued.
Beretta flung her chestnut mane back and stepped out of Savannah’s reach. She turned to stare her square in the eyes. “No one’s saying you need to be rescued. But”—she whinnied—”everyone needs a helping hand every now and then. Besides…He’s kinda hot if you ask me.”
Savannah stalked around to the horse’s other side to brush it down. “Like I need that kind of distraction right now either.”
Yes, the tall drink of leathered-up gorgeousness with eyes of pure glacial ice was handsome. Hell, she’d seen him in every dream she’d had over the last week. Those eyes followed her into her waking hours, sometimes intruding at the most embarrassing times to distract her from her job. It was a miracle they had even made it safely to this Podunk town when the previous night’s scintillating dream had risen while she was driving around a particularly dangerous bend in the road. Mama Wedgefield had nearly decapitated Savannah with her walking stick when they had reached the location.
“I’m handling the situation just fine by myself,” she bit out.
No, she wasn’t. But if there was one trait she had inherited from her derelict mother, it was that she was too prideful to ever ask for help.
“Whatever.” Thankfully, Beretta let the subject drop with a resigned neigh.
Just in time, too, as the dreaded Mama Wedgefield hollered for her over the arena’s loudspeaker system. “Savannah”—with a little too much emphasis on the Sav part—”meet me at the back of the steer barn. Now!”
Savannah hurriedly tucked Beretta into her stall with a couple of extra carrots she’d pilfered from the staff fridge. With a quick kiss on the horse’s neck, she steeled herself for another verbal thrashing by the rodeo’s matriarch. It had only been three hours since the last altercation.
***
Yanking her long, white-blonde hair up into a half-assed ponytail, Savannah rounded the corner to the steer barn and collided with a hard, solid wall of black leather, black jeans, and shiny black cowboy boots. “I’m so sorry…”
The rest of the words died on her lips as she craned her neck to peer up into the very eyes she wanted to avoid. The deep dimple from his Cheshire cat smile did something funny to her stomach.
“Dang it, girl. No manners. No manners whatsoever.” Mama Wedgefield glared at Savannah in such a way it was clear the older woman wanted nothing more than to swing the walking cane at her head. She turned to the wall of black leather. “Please accept my apologies on behalf of Miss Moses. She’s as klutzy in the ring as she is outside of it, I’m afraid.”
The way the hefty, fifty-something woman was looking the newcomer up and down, one hand lingering at the base of her neck to twirl her obsidian amulet with the weird carvings on it, was comical.
As if tall, dark, and handsome would want an old heifer in his bed!
“Mr. Moreau”—Mama giggled like a schoolgirl—”this is our clown, Savi.” She wrenched her gaze away from the visitor to glower at Savannah.
“Please, call me Jasper. Only my banker calls me Mr. Moreau.” He stretched out a long tan hand toward Savannah. Damn, even his nails were perfectly manicured without a speck of dirt.
Suddenly conscious of how dirty her hands were—never mind the rest of her—Savannah backed away a step with her hands up to show the grime. “Nice to meet you.” She smirked. If he wanted to pretend they were strangers, then… Fine! “No need to sully your manicured nails by shaking hands.”
Mama harrumphed loudly in disapproval. Jasper chuckled softly, like a feather tickled his foot. “No worries there. Trust me. I know how to get quite filthy myself. Actually, I gotta feeling I will be doing a lot of that here.”
How on earth could this man, who was more suitable on a runway in Milan or New York, intend to get dirty with the riffraff of their small-time rodeo show?
“Yes, yes.” Mama giggled. “I’m sure you will find it quite enjoyable.”
Savannah stared at the woman in wonder. The powerhouse, no-nonsense, Attila the Hun of the rodeo circuit, was panting after the guy. She glanced up at Jasper to see his own amused expression. Yes, he probably witnessed women coming undone by his sheer presence often.
Well, I’m not going to.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the trio as Mama’s giggling died away. Finally, she recovered enough to continue. “Mister, I mean, Jasper is looking for a rodeo to invest in. However, he has an unconventional method of making his decision.”
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Savannah asked the million-dollar question. “And what would that be?” The inflection in her tone rose at the end and she cocked her head to the side with one eyebrow raised.
“I intend to work here, in the rodeo, while you’re in town. I’ll do a little of this, a little of that, to get the feel for the people and the organization. It is vitally important to immerse myself in a company prior to making the decision to invest my hard-earned money. If I don’t resonate with the people, I certainly can’t invest in them.” He dipped his head, his own eyebrow arched under the jet-black hair falling in his face. Those eyes pierced right through her.
He must be joking! This guy getting his hands dirty? Ha! Not going to happen.
Mama grinned at him like he had hung the moon and stars. It was funny, in a way, to see the old cow panting like a teenage girl at a Bangtan Boys concert. What wasn’t funny was the smug, self-satisfied grin that grew even bigger on Jasper’s face.
“Really? Interesting investment strategy. Not many suits like to dirty themselves with the day-to-day operations, especially when it means really getting filthy. I mean if you’re gonna insist on being hands on in the daily operations, there’s shoveling horse shit out of the stalls and don’t get me started on how gross cleaning the latrines can be.” Savannah had hoped to crack his perfect veneer, but her words only earned her Mama’s wrath.
Without so much as moving a facial muscle, Jasper grasped Mama’s wrist mere inches from slapping Savannah’s face. “That’s completely unnecessary.” His silky-smooth voice drawled out with a flair of a French accent.
Discomfited, Mama paled underneath her weathered, leathery tanned skin. She mumbled an apology while her eyes stayed glued to the floor. Savannah wished she had a camera to commemorate the occasion. Seeing the boss so flabbergasted and tolerating someone reprimanding her—that was priceless.
Several moments of awkward silence passed. Jasper decided to spare Mama any more uneasiness. “Mrs. Wedgefield…”
“It’s Miss, if you please.”
Savannah forced herself not to laugh at the woman’s obvious flirty tone. Mama had been a Mrs. at some point, but no one knew what ever happened to Mr. Wedgefield. It was something no one dared to speculate on.
The way Jasper’s lips quirked up led Savannah to believe he also was amused.
“Okay, Miss Wedgefield was going to show me around the grounds, give me the inside information on the running of the rodeo, but I think Savi would be best equipped as she’s one of the crew. I can get the real lowdown on what happens before and after the buzzer sounds.” He turned the full force of his smile and icy blue eyes on her.
Oh, shit!
“Besides, the boss lady must have other more pressing matters than dealing with a new workhand.”
An excuse fumbled on Savannah’s lips, but no logical reason for denying his request would manifest in her mind.
Without waiting for her reply, Jasper grasped her by the elbow and steered her back toward the horse barn. Savannah craned her neck to look at Mama. The poor woman stood staring forlornly as if her prom date had just walked off to dance with someone else.
Once they rounded a corner, she wrung her arm away from Jasper and turned on him like a pit viper. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Strong hands grabbed her biceps and pushed her up against the rusty red barn door. His breath, smelling of smooth whiskey and cigars, warmed her face. Those piercing eyes, cold as steel, melted the fibers of her muscles as he pressed in close.
“I’m here to save your ass again, baby doll.”