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Everything’s bigger in Texas, even surprises!
Rodeo superstar Houston Calloway lives to chase championships. But an injury sends him straight to Jill Amherst, aka world’s toughest athletic trainer, then home to the sprawling family estate—with Jill in tow. Of course his brother offered her a job at the ranch. She’s highly qualified, but now Houston can’t get the green-eyed beauty out of his mind.
Rolling in the hay with Houston is a lot more fun than butting heads on the rodeo circuit. But unexpected consequences have Jill wondering what’s next with this bull-riding risk taker. Can he find a new dream to chase—a family of his own?
Expecting the Rancher’s Baby? is part of the Texas Extreme series.
He looked up from the last bite to find Jill staring at him.
“That hit the spot,” he said.
“I can tell, and you weren’t kidding when you said you would eat those pancakes fast.” She was obviously amused.
“Good food and good company. Nothing better after a long night.”
A long, frustrating night, in this case. He hated the damn cast on his wrist and the fact he could be out of commission for weeks, if not months. He really hated that he didn’t know Jill well enough to kiss her good morning. Or good night. Or all day.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
“I bet I know exactly what you’re thinking, Houston Calloway.”
Only if she could read minds, and he sure hoped she couldn’t. “Huh?”
“You’re lamenting the fact you’re injured.”
He wasn’t too injured to stop fantasizing about her.
* * *
Expecting the Rancher’s Baby? is part of the Texas Extreme series: Six rich and sexy cowboy brothers live—and love—to the extreme!
Expecting the Rancher’s Baby?
Kristi Gold
www.millsandboon.co.uk
KRISTI GOLD has a fondness for beaches, baseball and bridal reality shows. She firmly believes that love has remarkable healing powers, and she feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of love and commitment. As a bestselling author, a National Readers’ Choice Award winner and a three-time Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, Kristi has learned that although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from networking with readers. She can be reached through her website at www.kristigold.com, or through Facebook.
To my daughter, Kendall—I am so proud of the woman you’ve become. And to my dear friend and fellow author Kathy D. for all the brainstorming on this particular book. Couldn’t have done it without you...again.
Many thanks to my daughter, Kendall, MLA, ATC, LAT, for all the endless technical questions during the making of this book. Any errors in interpretation are definitely my own.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Extract
Copyright
One
He wore his cowboy charisma like a practiced charmer, but the storm in his dark eyes told Jillian Amherst this rugged risk taker wasn’t completely immune to pain.
When Houston Calloway strode across the first-aid tent, his black hat tipped low on his brow, the licensed athletic trainer in Jill noticed the gash in his well-worn jeans above his right knee, and that his right hand was wrapped around his left wrist below the cuff of the red shirt. Had she not been a professional, she would have only noticed his confident gait, the shading of whiskers surrounding his mouth and his above-average height. But she was a professional and always had been.
Besides, as a member of an elite rodeo medical program, Jill had treated the likes of him before. In fact, she’d treated him before. Several times. The ever-popular rodeo superstar had enough bull-riding championship trophies to fill a football stadium and several concussions on his injury résumé. He also had a penchant for being an uncooperative patient, something she’d discovered the hard way over the past two years.
Jill rolled her chair back from the counter, swiveled completely around to face him and suppressed a frown. “What is it this time, Mr. Calloway?”
He worked his way onto the exam table across from her without an invitation. “Got my left hand caught in the rope when I was trying to get my right hand free, and I took a horn to my leg. But I made it to the buzzer.”
Good for you, she thought as she stood. “Are you right-handed?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a plus. Any chance you fell on your head again?”
He cracked a cynical smile. “Not this time.”
“That’s new and different. Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
Doubting she could believe him, Jill held up a finger. “Follow my movement without turning your head.”
He grumbled and scowled. “I told you I didn’t fall on my head. I landed square on my feet and if you don’t believe me, ask Henry.”
Like she’d really believe a rodeo clown wouldn’t cover for him. Jill lowered her hand in resignation, but stared at him straight on. “Okay. Fine. For now. But I’ll be watching you for any latent signs. You’ve already had two concussions that I’ve treated, and who knows how many you had before that.”
That earned Jill a frustrated look. “Why are you so bent on giving me grief, Jilly?”
Only one person had ever been allowed to call her by that name, and the loss of that special someone still hurt her to the core. She shook off the memories and faked a calm demeanor. “Why are you so determined to annoy me with that Jilly thing?”
He inclined his head and studied her. “It fits you better.”
“Well, I don’t like it and I suspect that’s why you do it.”
He had the gall to grin. “Would you feel better if I let you call me by a nickname?”
Jill grabbed for a little levity to defuse her frustration. “Overly confident?”
“Hmm...” He streaked his right hand over his stubbled jaw. “Overly Confident Calloway. Has a nice ring to it, but it’s too long. I was thinking more along the lines of Handsome.”
Shocker. “How about Crazy Calloway?”
“Been called that before. Charming?”
This exchange could go on all night if she didn’t put a halt to it now. With that in mind, Jill morphed back into medical mode and turned to retrieve a pair of disposable gloves, then approached the table to inspect the cut beneath the slit in his jeans. “You’re lucky. Your leg was protected from certain doom by denim. This is superficial and nothing a little antiseptic and a bandage won’t cure. Now let me see your wrist.”
He gingerly held the appendage out for her to examine. “Probably just a sprain,” he muttered.
She pressed the fleshy part of his palm next to his thumb and immediately heard a litany of oaths. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but in my opinion you have a scaphoid fracture. You’ll need to confirm that with an X-ray.”
“I don’t have time for a fracture.”
She shrugged. “You’re going to have to make the time if my assessment is correct.”
He frowned. “How much time?”
She reached behind her, grabbed an antiseptic packet and tore it open. “That will be up to a doctor to decide.”
His jaw tightened when she began to dab at the cut. “Give me a hint,” he said.
After discarding the damp pad in the appropriate bin, Jill applied a plastic strip to the abrasion. “Best case scenario, three months. Worst case, six months.”
Surprise passed over his expression before turning to anger. “If I’m laid up for even three months, I might as well forget making it to the finals in December.”
Always chasing those championships, as were most of the cowboys who came to her for aid. “If you don’t comply with any treatment you might need, you could complicate matters.”
He released a rough sigh. “Can’t imagine this being any more complicated than it already is.”
Oh, if he only knew...and now he would. “If you go back to riding before the fracture heals, you could suffer a ruptured tendon.”
“It’s my left hand. All I have to do is hold it over my head to balance.”
“And if you lose your balance, you risk landing on it again. I assure you that would not be pleasant.”
He swiped his arm across his forehead. “None of this is pleasant.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s unfortunately a risk you take when you climb onto a raging animal. Do you have someone who can drive you to an emergency room?”
Houston looked even more defeated. “My brother took off in the rig to hook up with some old girlfriend.”
“Which one?”
He scowled. “Hell if I know who she is.”
Suppressing a smile, she stripped the gloves off and tossed them into the bin behind her. “I meant which brother.”
“Tyler.”
Jill had treated the bronc rider once or twice, only he had always been polite and accommodating, unlike his big brother. “I’m sure if you give him a call—”
“I did before my ride. He told me to find a way back to the motel and I’d see him in the morning.”
“You might try calling him again.”
“Did that, too. It went straight to voice mail, which means he’s tied up for the night. Literally.”
Clearly he’d run out of brother-based options. “Surely you can find one of your rodeo cronies to give you a ride.”
He slid off the table and groaned. “I was the last entry so everyone’s probably headed out. I should’ve done the same thing and would have if Henry hadn’t convinced me to come in here to see you. I could have just as easily waited to see my doctor at home.”
A new nickname for him came to mind—Foolish. “It’s a long way from Fort Worth to South Texas. It’s never wise to delay treatment.”
“I can have my private plane here in two hours. Problem solved.”
Not quite. “Sure. You could do that, and if you have any blood-flow issues, they can fit you for a prosthetic hand when you get there.”
He blew out a long breath. “Since you put it that way, guess I better call a cab and get this over with, although I figure it’s probably going to be a waste of time.”
Jill couldn’t trust he wouldn’t bypass medical care and opt for the plane trip, leading her to the last resort she’d been trying to avoid. “Look, there’s a satellite ER two blocks from here. You’ll be in and out much faster that way, and if it’s only a sprain, you can tell me ‘I told you so.’ I’ll take you there and drop you off at your hotel after you’re finished with the exam.”
He seemed seriously perplexed. “Why would you do that for me?”
Her answer would reflect her strong sense of responsibility, and possibly a serious lack of wisdom. “I can report my findings to the staff while I’m there and make sure you actually go inside.”
“No one waiting for you at home?”
The next response would indicate the sad state of her life. “No. Tonight I have nothing better to do aside from grabbing something to eat and settling in to my motel room. If you accept my offer, we can go as soon as I close up here.”
Houston mulled that over for a moment and smiled in earnest. “Tell you what. If you’ll do this for me, I’ll buy you breakfast since I’m sure we won’t be done before dawn.”
Heavens, she hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Spending all night in a waiting room as a favor for a cranky cowboy wasn’t her idea of a good time.
* * *
At 5:00 a.m., with his wrist and thumb bound in a cast, Houston followed the demanding athletic trainer through the double glass doors and into the warm September night. As he trailed behind her toward the sedan, he realized he’d never observed this side of her before. He’d never really considered that she was taller than most women. He’d never seen her shiny auburn hair out of a ponytail, never noticed the way it swayed against her back when she walked. He’d sure as hell never paid much mind to how well she filled out her jeans, but then again, she was usually facing him when she tended his wounds.
But he had witnessed the impatience in her green eyes on several occasions when he’d put up a good argument as to why he didn’t require her attention. He sure wouldn’t mind her attention now...
Whoa, Calloway.
He had no business lusting after a member of the rodeo medical staff, even if she happened to be a really good-looking member.
Once they reached Jill’s sardine-can car, Houston practically had to fold himself in half to slide into the passenger seat. Having a damn cast on his wrist didn’t help much.
Jill settled behind the wheel, turned the ignition and asked, “Where to now?”
“We need to find someplace to eat.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “I’m too tired to eat.”
“Well, I could eat a whole side of beef. And don’t forget I promised you breakfast.”
“Maybe later.”
For some reason he wasn’t quite ready to part company with her. “I know you’re itching to tell me ‘I told you so,’ and you can do that over a cup of coffee.”
She sighed. “I’ve had at least four cups of coffee over the past five hours.”
“That leads me to believe you won’t be falling asleep soon.”
She shifted slightly to face him. “You have to be the most persistent man I’ve ever met.”
“Persistence pays off most of the time.” He tried on a persuasive smile. “Come on. Join me. I promise to eat fast and talk less.”
She put the car in Reverse and guided it out of the space. “Oh, all right. We can go to the diner next to my motel.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The place where everyone tied to the rodeo stays,” she said.
“The Buckout Inn?”
“The one and only.”
He couldn’t imagine her taking a room in a dive populated with crude cowboys. “That’s where I’m laying over, too.”
“No four-star penthouse suite?”
He stretched his legs out as far as they would go in the cramped sedan. “Nah. I’m more of a down home kinda guy.”
“A down home kinda guy with a private plane.”
Apparently she wasn’t all that impressed. “Technically, the ranch owns the plane. I just use it now and then.”
She sent him a skeptical smirk before pulling onto the street. “Ah. That explains it.”
As they drove down the Fort Worth streets in silence, Houston couldn’t seem to stop stealing covert glances at Jill. He took note of how well she filled out that white tailored shirt stamped with her name right above her breast. Nice, full breasts. And if she caught him staring at that immediate area, she’d probably slam on the brakes and kick his ass to the next curb. Good motivation for avoiding that. He didn’t care to call a cab at the moment.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the deserted diner and claimed a booth near the window. Houston scanned the menu for a few minutes while Jill checked her cell. He raised his gaze to find her frowning.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said as she grabbed her purse, slid out of the booth and stood.
Houston figured she either planned to climb back in the car and leave him, or she needed to make a call. “Do you want me to order something for you?” he asked as she walked away.
“A glass of orange juice,” she said without looking back.
Must be the phone theory, and that pleased him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about Jillian Amherst intrigued him. He decided to spend the meal trying to peg exactly what that something might be, provided she cooperated. First, he had to make a call, too.
After fishing his cell out of his front pocket, Houston pulled up his contacts and chose the number listed as The Tyrant. He waited through two rings before Dallas answered with, “What do you want at this time of the morning?”
“You’re always up by five.”
“Yeah, and Luke had us up until two.”
“Sorry, but this is kind of important. I had an accident last night and—”
“Did you fall on your head again?”
“Nope. Got my hand tangled up and it’s fractured, so I’m pretty much done for the next couple of months. Since I can’t find Tyler, I need you to send the plane this afternoon.”
“Fine, but you’ll have to arrange for transportation to the airport. I’d say having you at the ranch might be a good thing, but not if you only have the use of one hand.”
He started to argue that he could do more with one functioning hand than some men could do with two, but thought better of it. “It’s my left hand and I can still manage.”
“I damn sure hope so. And while I have you on the phone, I need to talk to you about Fort’s latest demands.”
Houston didn’t have the time or energy to deal with Worth’s twin. “Look, can it wait? I’m having breakfast with someone and she should be joining me at any minute.”
“You must not be too banged up if you’re with a woman.”
“She’s not a woman.” Hell, that sounded weird. “I meant she’s not a date. She’s the rodeo’s athletic trainer and she took me to the ER.”
“Oh, yeah? How old is she?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Does she have a lot of experience in the medical field?”
“You could say that. She’s tough as hell but she knows what she’s doing.”
“Then see if she might consider the job here.”
Sleep deprivation had obviously robbed his brother of his senses. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.”
“Right now I’m pretty desperate. I’ve made a few calls but athletic trainers are in such high demand, there aren’t a whole lot available around here. At least not any who are qualified to manage a program or who are willing to move to the middle of nowhere.”
Houston could debate why Jill might not be a good fit, then he realized having her around wouldn’t be so awful since he wouldn’t be her patient, or her boss. “I’ll ask, but don’t get your hopes up. She seems pretty happy with her current position.”
“Okay, but I expect you to use your powers of persuasion. By that I mean persuade her that it’s a good opportunity without trying to seduce her. I’ll have the plane there by four.”
Before Houston could respond, Dallas hung up the phone in time for Jill to return to the booth, sporting black-framed glasses. “Sorry,” she said. “My contacts were killing me. I had to take them off.”
“You look good with glasses.” And she did—smart and sexy.
She released a short laugh. “Oh, yeah. You know the old saying about women in glasses never getting passes.”
“That old adage has never been in my verbal repertoire.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise. “Verbal repertoire? I’m impressed.”
He leaned forward and smiled. “I might look like a hayseed, but I don’t just climb on the backs of cantankerous bulls. I have a degree in business with a minor in marketing.”
“Really? I suppose that comes in handy with all those energy drink ads featuring your smiling face that I keep seeing everywhere.”
Hell, he didn’t like thinking about those, much less talking about them. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
She opened the menu and turned her attention to the limited offerings. “I’m sure it helps pay the bills, like all the expenses involved in owning a private plane.”
At least she’d said it with a smile. “Yeah. That, and horses and entry fees.”
After setting the menu aside, she finally focused on him. “Those entry fees are pricey, especially for the cowboys just starting out. I don’t know how they manage the rodeo life and a family, like many of them do.”
He leaned back and sighed. “I learned a long time ago that a wife and kids and rodeos aren’t a good mix. I’ve seen a lot of relationship casualties over the past fifteen years.”
“I’m sure you have, and I assume that’s why you haven’t gone down that path.”
“You’d be right about that.” At least partially. Truth was, he’d never met anyone he’d wanted to settle down with, or anyone he’d be willing to give up the life for.
A young woman with a lopsided blond ponytail arrived at the table, set two glasses of water before them and hid a yawn behind her hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s been a long night. Someone didn’t show up for their shift so I pulled a double, which wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have class in four hours.”
“I remember those days,” Jill said. “I use to wait tables in college to avoid student loans.”
“You do what you have to do to make ends meet without borrowing money,” the sleepy young woman replied. “But times like these have me reconsidering.”
Jill sent her a sympathetic smile. “I hear you. But rest assured it will be worth it when you don’t have any debt after you get your degree.”
“I hope so. Are you folks ready to order?”
“I’ll just have some wheat toast and a glass of milk,” Jill answered. “And some honey if you have it.”
Houston frowned. “That’s it? Remember, I’m buying.”
“I’m a cheap date.” A faint blush colored Jill’s cheeks as she handed the menu to the waitress. “Not that we’re on a date. And I’m not cheap. I’m just not hungry.”
He chuckled. “Glad you clarified that,” he said as he regarded the now smiling server. “I’ll take the Western omelet with a side of pancakes and bacon. And if it’s not too much trouble—” he glanced at her name tag “—Ashley, just bring me a whole pot of coffee. I’m going to need it.”
The coed grinned. “No problem at all. I’ll have that out shortly.”
Jill took a sip of water and shifted slightly in the seat. “I hope I’m not boring you so badly that you need a whole pot of high-octane caffeine to stay awake.”
Not hardly. He didn’t find anything boring about her mouth or her eyes or the way she rimmed the top of her glass with one fingertip. He sure as heck didn’t see anything boring about the slightly dirty thoughts that little gesture brought about. “You’re not boring me at all. I’ve learned a lot about you in a short amount time.”
She rested her elbow on the table and supported her cheek with her palm. “Such as?”
“You don’t like nicknames. You don’t eat enough to feed a parakeet. And you worked your way through college waiting tables, although I have a hard time picturing you slinging hash in a greasy spoon.”
She straightened and smiled. “Who said I worked in a diner?”
“I just assumed—”
“Assumptions aren’t always accurate. Actually, I was a cocktail waitress in a casino.”
He wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years. “Where?”
“Vegas, where else? That’s where I discovered rodeo in relation to athletic training. I interned with my current company and that landed me a job after I received my master’s degree.”
And he thought nothing about her would surprise him. “Let me get this straight. You worked your way through undergraduate and graduate school by working in a casino and managed to get by without financial aid.”
“I did. The money was very good. Being objectified on a nightly basis was not. But I did what I had to do to survive.”
The idea of some drunk groping Jill didn’t set well with Houston. He started to ask why her parents didn’t help her pay for her education, but he decided that wasn’t any of his business. “I admire your guts, Jill. I had no idea you could make that much serving booze. Exactly how much did you make?”
She frowned. “If you must know, on average, fifty grand a year. Some of my fellow servers made twice that much working full-time.”