One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry

Chapter Four

“Mind telling me what’s going on around here?” Emily asked, the moment her mother and Xavier Shillingsworth had disappeared inside the house, and shut the door behind them.

Dylan was getting a little tired of being a bit player in the McCabe family drama. He lounged against the rail edging the porch steps and folded his arms in front of him. “You’re going to have to be more specific if you want me to answer that.”

Emily wrapped her hand around his biceps and led him down the steps, across the yard, into the shade. “Fine. You want to cut to the chase, we’ll cut right to the chase.” She glared at him. “I heard you had a meeting with my father.”

Man, she had a temper! Dylan couldn’t help but grin. “Spies everywhere, hmm?” he teased.

Emily regarded him with greatly exaggerated patience. “My mother mentioned it in passing.”

Dylan clapped a hand over his heart, mimicking her damsel-on-high-alert attitude. “Then it was top secret!”

“I’m serious.” Emily stomped closer, the delicate daffodil scent of her freshly washed hair and skin teasing his senses. She’d changed out of her casual work clothes and slipped into a sexy lavender dress that clung nicely to her curves.

His eyes drifted to her feet. Instead of the usual boots, she had on a pair of open-toed sandals, perfect for the warm spring weather.

“What did he say to you?”

Lifting his gaze, Dylan resisted the urge to touch the silky dark strands spilling loosely over her slender shoulders. Instead, he concentrated on the determined pout of her soft, sensual lips before returning his attention to her eyes. “And this is your business because...?”

She tilted her head in a discerning manner. “I know it was about me.”

“Or...” He sidestepped the direct inquiry by producing the check from his shirt pocket. He waved it in front of her, like a matador taunting a bull. “Perhaps it was about...this?”

Emily exhaled loudly. “I know that’s what it was about officially, dummy.” Her pretty chin jutted out. “I also know he would not have missed an opportunity to privately tell you what he tells all the men I’m interested in.”

Dylan liked being lumped in with her other discarded suitors about as much as he liked being interrogated. He blinked in feigned surprise. “You’re interested in me?”

A flash of amusement sparkled in her eyes, then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “Ostensibly,” Emily admitted. “Not really.”

Dylan told himself that was irritation—not disappointment—he was feeling.

Emily paused and appeared to do a double take. “Are you interested in me?”

It was his turn to regard her with a droll expression. “What do you think?” he asked in a smart-alecky tone.

Her delicate dark eyebrows lifted. “That you are without a doubt the most infuriating man I have ever met.”

Dylan noted she had enunciated every word with perfect clarity. He lifted his hat in salute and resettled it on his head. “Thank you.”

Emily harrumphed. “It’s nothing to be proud of.”

“Maybe not in your opinion,” Dylan murmured, aware he was enjoying matching wits and wills with her more than he had enjoyed anything in a long time.

Emily shook her head as if that would get her back on track. “So, why are you suddenly so eager to have dinner with me and my family?”

Good question. It couldn’t be because he had started to feel protective of Emily, could it? He knew better than that. Rich heiresses were not allowed to fall for guys like him. And even if they bucked all propriety and followed their hearts, the misguided affair had little hope of lasting, because of family influence. In their case, they’d have to contend with Shane McCabe and all three of her overbearing brothers.

Aware she was still waiting for an explanation, Dylan said casually, “Maybe I’m in need of a good evening meal?”

“And maybe you’re trying to get under my skin?”

“Always an unexpected bonus.”

Silence fell between them.

Emily continued to study him beneath the fringe of dark lashes. “So you’re not going to tell me what my dad said to you in private?” she said eventually.

And give her even more reason to rebel against her family? For both their sakes, Dylan checked his own desire. “No.” He offered her his arm. “Now, shall we go in?”

* * *

DINNER WITH EMILY’S parents turned out to be a lot less formal, and more comfortable, than Dylan had expected.

Xavier Shillingsworth, on the other hand, was as much of a pain in the rear as ever.

The hopelessly inexperienced restaurateur commandeered the conversation from the moment the five of them sat down at the wicker-and-glass patio table, zeroing in on everything he felt was wrong with the way Emily was running the Daybreak Café.

“I don’t understand why you’re only open for breakfast and lunch, six days a week,” Xavier told Emily. “I’ve seen the line of people waiting to get in. Why not serve dinner, too?”

“There are already plenty of places that serve dinner,” Emily explained. “My mother’s dance hall for one.”

Xavier leaned across the table toward Emily. “So?”

She shrugged. “I don’t want to compete with her.”

Xavier frowned. “You compete with her at lunch.”

Emily paused, a forkful of baby-lettuce salad halfway to her mouth. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?” Xavier persisted, failing to notice the discreet looks Shane and Greta were giving each other from opposite ends of the dinner table.

Emily shifted in her chair, her knee nudging Dylan’s briefly under the table. “Because the dance hall has live bands on Friday and Saturday evenings, and DJs in the evening the rest of the time.”

Xavier grimaced. “So play music in your café.”

“There’s no room to dance,” Emily said, still trying to talk sense to him.

Xavier finished his salad and pushed his plate to the side. “A lot of people don’t dance anyway.”

Dylan wondered if the kid thought he was going to attract Emily by criticizing her business sense. One thing was certain—he certainly wasn’t scoring any points with her or her folks. And if he treated the rest of the town this way...

“The point is, there is no demand for another dinner place right now,” Emily said matter-of-factly. “Laramie already has a handful of local establishments that have pretty much got the evening food covered.”

“And maybe if you tried, you’d have standing-room-only business at dinner, too, and force someone else to close down.”

Eyebrows raised all around at that.

Not good, dude, Dylan thought. Not good at all...

“I think the point my daughter is trying to make,” Shane McCabe cut in with remarkable kindness, “is that in Laramie, it’s not just the ranchers who help each other out. The business owners look out for one another, too.”

As Dylan expected, that notion didn’t go down well with their teenage guest.

Greta collected the empty salad plates and replaced them with servings of Southwestern-style meat loaf, mashed potatoes and peas. “We want all the restaurants to be successful, and of course that would include yours,” she told Xavier graciously.

Xavier sat up straighter, looking affronted. “I hope you’re not asking me to cut back on the hours the Cowtown Diner is open.”

Shane McCabe lifted a hand. “No one’s going to tell you what to do. It’s your business to run, after all. We’re just suggesting that you might want to join the chamber of commerce and any of the other service organizations in town that interest you. It’s a good way to get to know everyone and become a real part of the community.”

Xavier rejected the notion with a shake of his head. “I’m not interested in charity work. The only thing on my mind is turning as much of a profit as soon as possible.”

The kid just wasn’t getting it, Dylan thought. The McCabes were offering him a hand up. And he was too clueless and arrogant to take it.

“When is the grand opening?” Dylan asked, attempting to draw some fire himself.

Xavier dismissed Dylan with a glance that revealed Xavier still considered him “hired help.” “Friday.”

Emily studied the teen, suddenly on edge again. “You’re really going to be up and running three days from now?”

Nodding proudly, Xavier grinned at Emily. “I’ll bet you can’t wait.”

* * *

“CAN YOU WAIT?” Dylan asked Emily an hour later, after they had thanked her parents for dinner and said their goodbyes.

“Very funny, cowboy.”

Relieved that Xavier had finally rushed off to continue work on his restaurant, Emily ambled down the front steps to her car. Dylan was right beside her, a surprisingly steady presence.

“But as long as we’re recapping...” Emily paused to search through her bag for her keys. She looked at Dylan, wondering what his take on the situation was. His attitude throughout the meal had been so maddeningly inscrutable that she had no clue. “What was Xavier’s deal? He really went overboard with that intense interrogation.”

Dylan leaned against the side of her car, one foot crossed over the other, arms folded in front of him. Dusk had given way to night, and the sky overhead was filled with a full moon and a sprinkling of stars.

He gave her a bemused look. “I think that was Xavier taking self-absorbed to new heights.”

“Not to mention immaturity.” Emily fished the keys out. “Can you believe his father bought him a restaurant?” She closed the clasp on her handbag. “Never mind plunked it down in Laramie, Texas, of all places?”

He moved closer, smelling like soap and man. “I’m sure they both figured there would be less competition here, and hence, it would be easier for a greenhorn like Xavier to succeed.”

Emily bit her lip. Unable to take her eyes off his broad shoulders and nicely muscled chest, she said, “I suppose you’re right about that. If the kid were in Dallas or Houston, it would be a much tougher road for him to travel.”

“Although small towns come with challenges, too.” Dylan looked over at her, seemingly in no hurry to move on. “It was nice of your parents to invite him over, though.”

That was the way her folks were—generous and welcoming, to the bone. “They’re just trying to bring Xavier into the ‘fold’ of Laramie business people. Obviously, my mother did not anticipate the way he was going to go after me with the third degree, hinting that I didn’t know what I was doing, running my business.” Emily sighed, still feeling a little embarrassed about that.

Dylan met her eyes. “And yet you were incredibly nice and patient with the kid, too,” he observed kindly.

It hadn’t been easy, given how obnoxious Xavier had been. But Emily had nevertheless tried to give the clueless teenager the benefit of the doubt. “I figure he probably doesn’t know any other way to interact with people, given how he was likely raised.”

Dylan lifted a brow and guessed. “With too much money and too little guidance?”

Emily nodded, aware she and Dylan were now close enough to feel each other’s body heat. She swallowed and stepped back slightly. “Think about it. Rather than help Xavier deal with whatever issues he has that are keeping him from wanting to go to college with his peers, his father bought him a franchise and sent him off to the boondocks alone to run it.” She frowned. “That doesn’t exactly foretell a lot of tender loving care.”

* * *

DYLAN KNEW WHAT it was like to be on the receiving end of a family with too much money and too little heart. A family that just wanted you out of the way... To his surprise, he suddenly felt a little sorry for the kid. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

Empathy radiated in Emily’s blue eyes. “Unfortunately, Xavier won’t survive in this town for long if he continues the way he has been.”

“Also true,” Dylan said. Kindness and concern for one’s neighbor was the norm in Laramie County, not cutthroat aggression.

Emily shrugged. “So...I figured...since my parents had taken the initiative and tried to help him acclimate more successfully, I would be as compassionate as possible, too.”

That would have been fine had it not been for her personal history. Dylan lifted a brow. “Another of your makeover projects?”

Just that quickly the flash of temper appeared on her face. Emily propped her hands on her hips. “That would imply Xavier and I are romantically involved,” she retorted, resentment simmering in her low tone. “You know very well we’re not, and are never going to be.”

Dylan smiled—she had just given him the answer he was looking for. “So you admit you try and make over the guys you date?” he pressed.

Did her father also get in the act—behind the scenes, of course? Was that what had really prompted Shane’s offer to him earlier?

Dylan hated to think so. He wanted to think the proposal put to him was merit-based. On the other hand, he also knew Shane and Greta McCabe adored their only daughter and would do whatever they had to do to see she was well matched.

Even by giving her current “love interest” a hand up...?

Oblivious to the downward spiral to his thoughts, Emily continued, “Isn’t that what love is supposed to be about? Changing for the better because you’re involved with your ideal mate?”

Her lips looked so soft and inviting, he wondered what it would feel like to silence her with a kiss. But he told himself to stay focused. “I thought relationships were supposed to be about not having to change. Being adored for who and what you already were. What’s that saying?” He attempted to lighten the mood. “‘I love you just the way you are.’”

Emily scoffed. “It’s a song lyric, not a saying. And for the record—” she softened her tone wistfully “—I kind of like that you-complete-me thing.”

He should have figured she would be a Jerry Maguire fan. Knowing this had to be said if they were going to be friends, he pointed out sagely, “If the man and the woman ‘complete’ each other, then that would imply they can’t live without the other person.”

“So?”

Lazily, Dylan tracked the way the breeze was ruffling her hair. He reached over to tuck an errant strand behind her ear, then let his hand drop. “What kind of life would that be?” he asked unhappily. “If everything hinged on a person who might or might not live up to your expectations?”

* * *

IT WOULD NOT be the kind of life Dylan apparently wanted, Emily thought.

She sighed, her emotions abruptly as turbulent as his.

“Anyway,” Dylan continued, dropping his hand back to his side. He studied her expression. “I’m guessing your parents don’t know that Xavier hit on you.”

Thrilling from his brief, casual touch, Emily turned so her back was to the car. She lounged against the driver door, wishing Dylan wasn’t such a hard man to get to know. But he was extremely independent—and as emotionally elusive as the wild mustangs he was going to tame....

So she needed to forget about making him her next “diamond in the rough.”

After all, there was no point in pretending he would be willing to transform himself into what she wanted—any more than she would be willing to convert into what he wanted.

“I’ve been trying to forget that incident with Xavier.” Emily forced herself to get their conversation back on track. “And for the record, Dylan,” she warned, locking gazes with him, “I would prefer my family never know about all that cougar silliness.”

Suddenly, the humor was back in the situation. “Why not?” he said as his lips formed a most devil-may-care smile.

Emily’s exasperation returned anew. “Because Xavier’s pass was ludicrous enough without adding another layer of ridiculousness to it by having my father call him to his study and sit him down for The Talk.”

Abruptly, Dylan went very still, a fact which only confirmed Emily’s worst suspicions. Seeing her chance to do a little more sleuthing, she added cheekily, “You know, kind of like the one I suspect my father had with you today, about me?”

The kind that generally sent weaker men running for the hills...

Just like that, a wall went up. “It’s not going to work, Emily.” Dylan was the picture of lazy male self-assurance.

She stared at him.

He stared right back. “I’m still not telling you what was said.”

Emily sighed—she could have predicted that. Pushing away from the car, she suddenly felt reinvigorated. “Then how about doing something to cheer me up instead?”

Dylan pushed away from her car, too. “And what would that be?” he inquired with mock seriousness.

“Allow me to come and visit the mustangs again,” Emily said, this time stepping forward to invade his space.

Dylan stayed where he was even as respect glimmered in his eyes. “Are you going to have time?”

Emily ignored the tingle of excitement that started within her whenever they were within kissing distance. “I will if we go tonight.”

For a minute, Emily thought Dylan was going to turn her down. “Isn’t it a little past your bedtime?” he teased in a tone sexy enough to make her want to melt right then and there.

Stubbornly, Emily held her ground, knowing she wasn’t ready for her time with Dylan to end. “It’s only nine-thirty.”

He continued to look down at her, considering. “And you have to go to work at four tomorrow morning.”

“I can get by on very little sleep, when I want,” Emily murmured in her most cajoling voice. “Please, Dylan. I’ve been thinking about the mustangs all day. Wondering how they’re adjusting. If you’ve given them names yet.”

Seeming to realize her interest and concern were genuine, his expression softened. “They’re settling in. And no, I haven’t given them names.”

“Maybe I could help with that.”

“Thirty minutes,” he warned. “Tops. Then you have to be on your way.”

“Great.” Emily felt a completely uncalled-for fluttering in her middle. “You won’t regret it.”

* * *

THE TRUTH WAS, Dylan already regretted it. Emily McCabe might be all wrong for him, but she was also the kind of woman he could fall hard for. And the last thing either of them needed was any more complications in their already overburdened lives.

So on the drive over, he figured out how to get what needed to be done accomplished in the shortest time possible so he could send her on her way.

He led the way in his pickup truck. She followed in her car. The first problem appeared as soon as they had parked and she got out of her sporty little sedan. He looked at her shoes. No question, her sandals were not appropriate for the pen.

Emily caught his gaze and lifted a hand. “Not to worry, cowboy. I’ve got that covered.”

And to prove it, she sashayed back to the trunk and opened it up. Inside were enough clothes, shoes and purses to fill a closet. Deliberately, Emily fished out a pair of cowgirl boots.

“Come prepared, do you?” Dylan quipped, wondering if there was a toothbrush and nightie in there somewhere, too.

Emily shot him an arch look over her shoulder. “I’m a Texan, after all,” she declared with a warm, winning smile.

She was so darn charming he couldn’t help but smile back. “So naturally it follows...?”

She winked mischievously. “That I can’t go anywhere without at least one pair of boots.”

Dylan stood by while she bent to slip off her sandals. She donned a pair of socks and her cowgirl boots, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs as she did so.

Dylan ignored the immediate response of his body and headed for the barn. There, he switched on both interior and exterior lights, the yellow glow a beacon of reassurance in the moonlit, starry Texas night.

He came back with two bunches of alfalfa leaves.

As always, Emily was raring to go. “You always feed them this late?”

“They require up to fifteen-pound rations of hay per horse per day. Because of their small stomachs, it’s better to feed and let them forage all day.”

“Makes sense.” Emily fell into step beside Dylan.

“And it’s a way to rapidly increase their trust of me and now you.”

The three horses were in a high wood-rail-sided paddock, linked by a fenced aisleway to the two round training pens—one with a roof, one without—on either end. From where the horses stood, they could see everything that was going on. Another schooling plus. By the time it got to be their turn, the mustangs knew what to expect. Which again, made it easier for all of them.

With the ease of someone who had grown up around horses, and loved them dearly, Emily followed Dylan into the paddock. “How invested are you in actually doing the naming?” she asked curiously.

“Not at all.” Focused on the feeding, Dylan tore off leaves of alfalfa and put them just ahead of the trio of horses. Emily followed suit.

And so they went—dropping, moving on, dropping another two leaves, moving on—until finally the horses were following them.

Emily kept her voice low and calm. “Does that mean you’ll let me do it?”

Dylan shrugged and replied before he could think, “If it makes you happy.”

Emily chuckled in delight. “Oh...so you want me happy now....”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Clearing his throat, he nodded toward their equine companions. “So back to the stars of the show....”

Emily regarded them carefully. “The three-year-old should be Ginger. The yearlings, Salt and Pepper.”

Made sense. Dylan nodded. “I’ll let the interested parties know.” Finished, they stepped out of the paddock. As they strode toward the barn, Emily asked, “Do you have a horse of your own?”