The Cowboy's Second Chance. Christyne Butler
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romancing me to get my land.”
He smirked. “Sometimes a man’s got to make sacrifices. I never could figure what Alan saw in you. Then I realized he’d stuck around to get his hands on your ranch.”
She spun to him, furious. “Well, he didn’t. And you can forget about getting your hands on it, too.”
They’d reached the trees. Kyle leaned in and grabbed her arms. Whiskey laced his breath. She mentally kicked herself for not noticing sooner. Sober, Kyle was annoying, but after a few drinks, he could get downright mean.
“I can put my hands any damn place I please,” he said.
A flash of a buried memory caused Maggie’s stomach to lurch. Beer splashed over the edges of the cups and dripped over her fingers. “You bastard,” she choked. “Take your hands off me.”
“Not until I’m good and ready.”
A flicker of panic coursed through her, but anger snuffed it out. “Get ready now or you’re going to find yourself with a face full of Budweiser.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
With an angry flick of her wrist, she launched the contents of the cups at him. He jumped back, releasing her with a shove. “Goddammit!”
The liquid splashed on Kyle’s fancy, snap-button shirt and her sundress, leaving enough for round two. “Don’t dare me anything.” A step backwards took her deeper into the trees. “Back off.”
Greeley seized her again, his blunt nails digging into her arms. “You’re gonna pay—”
“She told you to leave her alone.”
Maggie froze as a low, commanding voice rumbled over her shoulder.
Actually, it came more from over the top of her head. She was acutely conscious of a man towering behind her. Overwhelming her. The husky tone causing a ripple of…what? Need? Awareness?
Annoyance crossed Kyle’s face. “This is none of your business, Cartwright.”
“Maybe not, but the lady’s made her feelings quite clear.”
“Let me be clear.” Kyle took a step closer, his attention focused over Maggie’s head as his hands tightened on her. “If you want to keep your job, I suggest you turn and walk away.”
The man behind her took a step closer. “Let. Her. Go.” His voice grew harder with each word.
Kyle flicked his gaze back to Maggie. “We still got business between us.” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Don’t bother showing up at the Triple G tonight, Cartwright. In fact, I suggest you leave Destiny. For good.”
Spinning around, Greeley vanished into the darkness.
Oh, boy, that was…she wasn’t sure what that was, other than Kyle being his usual idiotic self. A deep breath helped. Maggie turned to thank her rescuer, but her foot caught on a tree root, and she stumbled backwards.
A pair of strong hands clamped her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest and rock-hard thighs. The man’s jaw brushed her hair, a rush of hot breath flowed over her ear.
Twisting in his grasp, she tipped her head back to look at his face. Intense eyes stared at her from beneath the crown of a black Stetson. Dark stubble outlined his mouth and covered his jaw. A shiver she couldn’t control raced through her. He dropped his hands and took a step back.
Maggie struggled to speak. “Thank you…for, well, thank you.”
“No problem.” He tucked in his chin, effectively blocking her attempt to peer further under the wide brim of his hat. “You okay?”
“Y-yes.” She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“You better get going before he decides to come back.”
Before she could reply, her rescuer stepped around her and followed Kyle into the darkness. She watched his tall form disappear, trying to ignore the sudden rush of butterflies zooming around her stomach. Placing the blame for them firmly on Greeley, she glanced at what remained of the beer. Racy and Leeann were waiting for her. She’d better get moving. Mindful of the tree roots, she headed toward the crowded dance area.
Maggie offered a few hellos to familiar faces before she caught sight of her best friend in the middle of the dance floor with her seventy-year-old ranch hand. Willie tried his best to keep pace with Racy, who was four decades his junior, but like everyone else, he was distracted by her flame-red curls and undulating curves.
The dance ended and Racy joined Maggie. “Boy, Willie can still do a mean two-step.” She grabbed one of the cups. “About time you got here. Where’ve you been? And what happened to my beer?”
Maggie poured the remains of her drink into Racy’s. “I got sidetracked.”
“Doing what?”
Maggie ignored the question, renewing her determination not to let Kyle Greeley’s antics spoil her fun. “Where’s Leeann? I thought she was meeting us.”
“Her beeper chirped about ten minutes ago.”
“I thought Gage gave her the night off.”
“Yeah, well, being a deputy in a small town means you’re always on call. Besides, you know Sheriff Steele,” Racy snorted. “All work and no play makes for a pain-in-the—”
Maggie cut her off, tired of her friend’s nasty comments about the local lawman. “High school’s long gone, Racy. Let it go.”
“I have!”
Maggie raised an eyebrow.
Racy flushed. “Let’s not waste time on ancient history. Where’s your grandmother and Anna?”
“Nana B. went back to the ranch after collecting her blue ribbons, and Anna’s sleeping over at a friend’s house.”
Racy’s face lit up with a bright smile. “So, you’re a swinging single tonight. Honey, let’s find someone to push that swing!”
Flashes of denim, tanned skin and a black cowboy hat filled Maggie’s head. It’d been dark among the trees, but she easily recalled broad shoulders, shirtsleeves rolled tight against strong forearms and long legs encased in snug jeans.
Maggie pushed away the details and focused on her friend. “Don’t you ever give up? I told you, I’m not interested. And unless you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a few things on my mind. Especially now. Greeley walked off with Spence and Charlie tonight.”
“Those low-down, belly-crawlin’ snakes! And you thought they had staying power. What are you going to do now?”
What was she going to do? She needed help. Hopefully the ads she’d placed all over town would bring in some fresh faces. “The same thing I’ve been doing all along,” she replied, “keep on keeping on.”
“Well, not tonight. Tonight is for fun and what you need is a red-hot cowboy who’ll leave you too sore to move and too tired to care.”
“What I need is to get home. I’ve got a pile of paperwork waiting and—”
“Oh, come on. It’s a holiday!” Racy finished the last of the beer and tossed the cup in the nearby trash. “We’re celebrating our country’s independence, not to mention our own. Besides, the place is swarming with hunky cowboys.”
“Forget it, I’m not interested.”
“Look, I’m gonna find me a dance partner and I suggest you do the same. Then another and another.” She offered a quick wink. “Personally, I’m shooting for double digits.”
Maggie watched as Racy latched onto the closest cowboy and led him onto the dance floor.
“How long does it take to reach zero?” she muttered.
Zero.