Crazy For Lovin' You. Teresa Southwick
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“So what do you think?” Taylor asked Mitch.
“What do I think?” he mused.
She had parked her truck beside the barn and they walked the short distance to the corrals. They stood side by side with their forearms resting on the top of the fence. Well, he was standing in the dirt and she was on the first slat, but their shoulders were even—and the occasional brushing together generated a sizzle of awareness. Actually more like sparks which created a serious fire hazard in her parched heart. What would it take to fan the embers into flames?
Taylor tried her darnedest not to notice the subtle scent of his aftershave, or the warmth of his body beside hers. She tried hard to shove the sensations to the back of her mind. She had more important things to worry about. Like getting the contract for the championships. Like forgetting that he was not the angry man who had told her she kissed like a little girl. Now he was very much a man. And she was a woman, standing close enough for her to feel the unbridled effects of his masculinity.
Her breath caught when his gaze met hers. She’d seen the Pacific Ocean on a cloudless, blue-sky day. She’d marveled at the breathtaking water that glittered like diamonds, yet wondered what dangers lurked below its surface. Even in the shadow of his hat Mitch’s eyes glinted, too, and she couldn’t help questioning what was going on in his mind.
“Tell me what you think,” she said again.
“The ranch looks good,” he said carefully. “Even better than I remember. You’ve made some changes. Are you ready to tell me about the project you’re working on?”
No, she wanted to say. She was afraid to let him know how much she needed him. It was bad enough when all she’d had to worry about was his memory of what she’d done ten years ago. But now she knew how he’d found out that the girl he loved had loved someone else. She knew better than anyone how deep that hurt could go.
If he’d waited for revenge, time had supplied him with the perfect means. All he had to do was hold the rodeo somewhere else. Her plan wouldn’t necessarily fail, but it would take her a lot longer to succeed. Time was her enemy. The added boost of publicity right out of the chute would give her a leg up on a win.
Maybe she could sidestep his question. “What are you looking for in a rodeo site?” she asked.
He thumbed his black hat higher on his forehead. “Lots of land, first off,” he said. “There has to be room for vehicle parking and that includes horse trailers and campers. You’re not too far off Interstate 20, so that’s a plus.”
“What else?”
“Space for portable grandstands and food vendors, a freestanding corral big enough for the events.”
“I’ve got that,” she said pointing to the areas encircled by pipe fencing. “Three arenas, and one is long enough for the barrel racing, goat tying, and pole bending events.”
“I noticed. What I want to know is why.”
“Why what?” she asked.
“Why you have three. What do you need them for and why is the dirt soft and churned up?” He met her gaze again and asked, “What have you got up your sleeve?”
“You make it sound like I’m trying to pull a fast one.”
“I didn’t mean to.” He turned away from the corral and leaned back against the fence, folding his arms over a pretty impressive chest.
To distract herself from his masculine pose, Taylor took the brunt of his full-on stare. Then she stepped off the fence and stood up straight. “I’m getting ready to open the ranch to visitors.”
“You don’t mean a dude ranch,” he said, looking as shocked as when he’d gone backwards into the pool.
She nodded. “B&B, Texas style. The arenas are for activities—riding, roping. If a greenhorn takes a tumble, soft dirt is more forgiving.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s softer and—”
He shook his head. “I meant why are you altering the operation from a working ranch?”
“It will still be a working ranch. As long as there’s breath in my body I’ll do that kind of work. But I think that will add to the charm. This is something I’ve always wanted to do—take people with harried lifestyles and show them what silence is like. Give them a taste of a traditional Western lifestyle.”
“And?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Anyone in Destiny could tell him if he asked. “I needed to do something not so closely tied to agriculture. Drought, beef and feed prices, all that can make a financial difference.”
“Why is that so important now?”
“I’ve got a mortgage.”
“Since when?” He frowned. “I thought your dad owned the land outright. Did something happen?”
“He died. Mom put the ranch up for sale.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Why does that surprise you?” she asked, studying the expression on his face.
“Your family is proud. A pillar of the community. Landowners in Destiny for several generations. It just wouldn’t occur to me that a Stevens would sell out.” A frown settled in his eyes, making his expression dark.
Was he thinking about her sister? Jensen had sold him out with another guy. At least Mitch believed she had, even though her sister had followed her heart.
She sighed. “My mother was born and raised in North Dallas, a sophisticated city girl through and through. She was happy here as long as my dad was alive and running the operation.”
“But not after he was gone?”
She shook her head. “She missed him. And there were too many memories here. He inherited the land so she had no emotional connection except through him.”
“But to sell it out from under you,” he said. “That seems a little harsh.”
“Even for a Stevens,” she finished for him.
“You said it, I didn’t,” he answered with a shrug.
“Not that it matters, but she was a Stevens by marriage.” So much for water under the bridge and not holding a grudge. It would be best not to count on any help from him, she decided. “Mom needed the money for retirement in Dallas,” Taylor explained. “She couldn’t stay here and didn’t have the resources to get away. It was her only choice.”
“And you couldn’t let the land out of the family.” It wasn’t a question.
Vaguely she wondered how he’d known her so well. “I guess I’m like my dad in that way. It means something to me that there’s been a Stevens on this ranch as far back as anyone can remember. Roots that deep are hard to pull.”
“I’ve done pretty well without roots.” His mouth hardened into a tight, straight line.
“I’m not rubbing your nose in it, Mitch. I’m just explaining why I’m in charge now.”
“Okay. But why a dude ranch?”
“I’m excited about the prospect of having guests and showing them a way of life that I love. And—” She stopped, wondering if she dared expose even a hint of weakness. But she had little to lose in telling him. “I think I can make this place profitable.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
That was something she’d tried not to think about. All her energy had gone into positive planning. She kept telling herself failure was not an option. Now she was almost ready to open the chute and she was scared to the bone.
“Taylor?”
“If