Her touch was both gentle and electrifying.

Closing his eyes, he let himself experience the moment. Don’t stop. Not yet.

She must have read his thoughts for she lingered. And lingered.

Her proximity brought with it a heat that invaded his every pore. As did the fragrant scent of her hair. Or was it the lotion she’d used that morning? Not to mention the silky texture of her skin.

Skin? Wait a minute.

Without realizing it, he’d lifted a hand to caress Tatum’s bare arm.

She made the slightest move to pull away. Ryder would have none of it and drew her close. Closer still. He didn’t stop until she was forced to grab hold of his shoulders or risk losing her balance.

“Ryder” was all she got out before he covered her mouth with his, turning a not-quite-innocent peck into a full-blown, make-no-mistake-I-want-you kiss.

Her Rodeo Man

Cathy McDavid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the past eighteen years CATHY McDAVID has been juggling a family, a job and writing, and doing pretty well at it, except for the housecleaning part. “Mostly” retired from the corporate business world, she writes full-time from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains. Her twins have “mostly” left home, returning every now and then to raid her refrigerators. On weekends, she heads to her cabin in the mountains, always taking her laptop with her. You can visit her website at www.cathymcdavid.com.

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To Mike…and the incredible spark you always ignite. Here’s to forever, my love.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The day Ryder Beckett swore would never come had arrived. He’d returned to Reckless, Arizona, and the Easy Money Rodeo Arena. But instead of a hero’s welcome, he was slinking home like a scolded puppy with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Really slinking. He should be meeting his father in the arena office. In fact, he was five minutes late. Only, Ryder had continued walking. Around the main barn, past the row of outdoor horse stalls, all the way to the horse pastures. There he stopped and forced himself to draw a long breath.

He did want to be here, he told himself. Though, to be honest, he needed to be here. Be somewhere, anyway. Why not Reckless, where he could maybe, possibly, mend a bridge or two? He would if his baby sister, Liberty, had her way. For Ryder, the jury was still out.

Keeping a low profile. Yeah, he decided, that had a better ring to it than slinking. Then again, Ryder possessed a talent for putting a positive spin on things. It was what had propelled him to the top in his field. Stupidity was what led to his downfall.

As he stood at the pasture fence, his leather dress shoes sank deep into the soft dirt. He’d have a chore cleaning them later. At the moment, he didn’t care.

When, he absently wondered, was the last time he’d worn a pair of boots? Or ridden a horse, for that matter? The answer came quickly. Five years ago during his last strained visit. He’d sworn then and there he’d never set sight on Reckless again. The aftermath of another falling-out with his mother.

Recent events had altered the circumstance of their enduring disagreement. Liberty, the one most hurt by their mother’s lies, had managed to make peace with both their parents. Not so Ryder. His anger at their mother’s betrayal hadn’t dimmed one bit in the twenty-five years since she’d divorced their father.

Was coming home a mistake? Only time would tell. In any case, he wasn’t staying long.

In the pasture, a woman haltered a large black pony and led it slowly toward the gate. Other horses, a half dozen or so pregnant mares, ambled behind, bobbing their heads and swishing their tails. Whatever might be happening, they wanted in on it.

Ryder leaned his forearms on the top fence railing. Even at this distance, he could tell two things: the pony was severely lame, and the woman was spectacularly attractive. Both drew his attention, and, for the moment, his meeting with his father was forgotten.

The two were a study in contrast. While the pony hobbled painfully, favoring its front left foot, the woman moved with elegance and grace, her long black hair misbehaving in the mild breeze. She stopped frequently to check on the pony and, when she did, rested her hand affectionately on its sleek neck.

Something about her struck a familiar, but elusive, chord with him. Who was she? A memory teased at the fringes of his mind but remained out of reach.

As he watched, the knots of tension residing in his shoulders relaxed. That was until she changed direction and headed toward him. Then, he immediately perked up, and his senses went on high alert.

“Hi,” she said as she approached. “Can I help you?”

She was even prettier up close. Large dark eyes analyzed him with unapologetic interest from a model-perfect oval face. Her full mouth stretched into a warm smile impossible not to return. The red T-shirt tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans emphasized her long legs and slim waist.

“I’m meeting someone.” He didn’t add that he was now ten minutes late or that the someone was, in fact, his father.

“Oh. Okay.” She took him in with a glance that said it all. Visitors to the Easy Money didn’t usually wear suits and ties.

“Mercer Beckett,” Ryder said.

“He’s in the office, I think.”

“That’s what he told me.”

At the gate, she paused and tilted her head, her gaze shifting from mild interest to open curiosity. “Can I show you the way?”

“Thanks. I already know it.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“You...could say that. But it’s been a while.”

“Well, welcome back.”

That smile again, familiar but not, and most appealing. It was almost enough to make Ryder break his promise to himself to steer clear of work romances. He’d learned that lesson the hard way and had paid the price with his now defunct career.

Not that he’d be working with this woman exactly. But she was probably a customer of the Becketts, one who boarded her pony at the arena. Close enough.

“You should fire your farrier and find another one.” Ryder nodded at the pony. “He or she isn’t worth a lick.”

The woman’s brows arched in surprise and emphasized their elegant shape. “I beg your pardon?”

He indicated the pony’s right front hoof. “She has a contracted heel. From incorrect shoeing.”

“No offense intended, but you don’t exactly strike me as an expert.”

“I’m not. But I do have some experience.” Living, breathing, eating and sleeping horses for the first half of his life. “You pull that shoe off, and you’ll see an immediate improvement.”

“Could be laminitis,” she countered. “That’s common in ponies.”

“It’s not laminitis.”

“You sound sure.”

“Remove the shoe, and you’ll see.” When she hesitated, he added, “What could it hurt?”

“I’ll ask one of the hands.” She slid the latch and opened the gate.

“I can do it for you. Remove the shoe.”

“In those clothes?”

“What’s a little dirt?”

She laughed, a low, sexy sound he quite liked. “We’ll see.”

Was he crazy? Flirting with a potential customer. A woman who could be married with three kids, for all he knew.

She started through the gate, leading the pony. The horses behind her also wanted out and began shoving their way into the narrow opening. A bottleneck formed, with the more aggressive of the horses squealing and nipping at their neighbors.

“Back now.” The woman waved a hand, which had almost no effect.

Ryder stepped forward. If the horses succeeded in getting loose, the Easy Money hands would be in for a merry chase.

“I’ll help.”

Before she could object, he positioned himself between her and the brood mares, blocking their escape. Once she and the pony were on the other side, he swung the gate shut.

“Thank you,” she said when he turned around.

“Good thing I happened by. You’d have had a stampede to contend with.”

“My hero.” Her teasing tone matched the twinkle in her eyes.

“Let me remove that too-small shoe, and I’ll really be your hero.”

“What about your meeting with Mercer?”

“It can wait.”

A small exaggeration. Ryder’s father had little patience with people who kept him waiting. Even so, Ryder didn’t change his mind.

They began a slow, painful procession toward the barn. If possible, Ryder would have carried the pony. Fortunately, before long, they reached an empty stall.

“I’ll get a rasp and a pair of hoof clippers.”

“I’ll show you where they’re kept.”

“Not necessary.”

The curiosity was back in her eyes. “I suppose you know where the tack room is, too.”

“Center aisle.”

“You have been here before.”

Feeling her stare following him, he grinned and strode down the aisle toward the tack room. The next instant, he remembered his hard-learned lesson and sobered.

Voluntarily resigned. In order to join his family’s business.

That was what his letter to Madison-Monroe Concepts had cited, though there was nothing voluntary about Ryder’s termination. He’d quit his job as senior marketing executive rather than be involved in a messy lawsuit with him named as the defendant. At his lawyer’s suggestion, he’d left Phoenix the second the ink was dry on the settlement agreement and before his former boss changed his mind.

Which, technically, made him four days early, not late to his meeting with his father.

No one in his family knew the details of his termination. As far as they were concerned, Ryder had undergone a change of heart, prompted by his father’s insistence the Easy Money needed a top-notch marketing expert to guide their rapidly growing bucking stock business and a wish to better know his much younger sister, Liberty.

There it was again, massaging the truth to obtain a positive slant. In this case, Ryder had his reasons.

By the time he returned to the stall, the woman had tied the pony to a metal pole by the door. Ryder removed his suit jacket and draped it over the stall wall. He’d been warm anyway. September in Arizona was a lot like summer in other states. Next, he unbuttoned the cuffs on his dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

The woman—should he introduce himself in order to learn her name?—worriedly combed her fingers through the pony’s long mane. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call the vet first? My kids will be devastated if anything happened to Cupcake.”

So, he’d been right. She did have children. Which meant there was a father somewhere in the picture. Ryder was almost relieved and promptly dialed down the charm.

“She’ll be fine. I promise.”

Lifting the pony’s sore hoof, he balanced it on his bent knee. Next, he removed the rasp from his back pocket where he’d placed it and began filing down the ends of the nails used to fasten the shoe to the hoof. Once that was done, the shoe could be removed without causing further damage to the hoof. A few good pries with the clippers, and the shoe fell to the stall floor with a dull clink.

Ryder gently released Cupcake’s hoof and straightened. He swore the pony let out an audible sigh.

“She’ll feel brand-new by morning.”

“You won’t take offense if I have Mercer look at her?” the woman said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Not at all.” Ryder chuckled. “I wouldn’t trust me, either, if I were you.” He brushed at his soiled slacks. “Given the clothes.”

She flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Kids. Likely a husband. He had to remember that. She’d be an easy one to fall for, and Ryder had a bad habit of choosing unwisely. Just look at his current situation. Unemployed and returning home all because he’d gotten involved with the wrong person.

“By the way, I’m—”

“Hey, there you are!” Ryder’s father walked briskly toward them, his whiskered face alight with joy. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Sorry. Got waylaid.” All the tension that had seeped out earlier returned. New knots formed. Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell his father the truth about the real reason he’d quit his job, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “How are you, Dad?” Outside the stall, the two men engaged in a back-thumping hug.

“Good, now that you’re here.” He held Ryder at arm’s length. “Glad to see you, son.”

“I was helping...” Ryder turned to the woman, a little taken aback by her startled expression.

“You’re Ryder Beckett?” The question hinged on an accusation.

“On my good days.”

Only his father laughed. “You should hear what they call him on his bad days.”

The woman stared at him. “You weren’t supposed to be here till Saturday.”

“I got away early.” Ryder felt his defenses rising, though he wasn’t sure why. And how was it she knew his schedule? That elusive familiarity from earlier returned. “Have we met before?”

“This is Tatum Mayweather,” his father said. “You remember her. She’s your sister Cassidy’s best friend.”

Tatum. Of course. The name brought his vague memories into sharp focus. “It’s been a lot of years,” he said by way of an excuse.

“It has.” She removed the halter from Cupcake and shut the stall door behind her. “If you’ll excuse me, my lunch hour is over, and I need to get back to work. Your mother’s been answering the phone for me in the house.”

“Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Sure.”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning.” His father beamed. “Tatum’s our office manager. After I give you a tour of the bucking stock operation, she can go over our contracts with you.”

Office manager. That explained her cool reaction to him.

If Ryder accepted his family offer to be the arena’s new head of marketing and client relations, he’d be in charge of advertising and promotion, duties currently performed by Tatum.

“Look, it’s not...”

What could he say? That he wasn’t after her job? Okay, maybe he was, but only parts of it and only temporarily. She, however, didn’t know that.

“See you in the morning.” She left, her movements no longer graceful but stilted.

Well, at least Ryder didn’t have to worry about becoming involved with a coworker. Any chance of that happening was walking away with Ms. Mayweather.

Only after she’d disappeared through a door across from the tack room did Ryder realize she hadn’t asked Mercer to check on Cupcake.

* * *

RYDER’S FATHER KEPT up a near constant stream of conversation as they covered the short distance from the barn to the house. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me. Your mother, too.”

It was no secret Ryder’s father still loved his ex-wife and intended to win her back. Ryder had agreed to help and support him with the expansion of the rodeo arena. He didn’t, however, understand his father’s enduring feelings regarding his mother.

“Hope you’re hungry,” his father said. “Your mother’s fixed enough food for a dozen people.”

“I don’t want her going to any trouble.”

“Your early arrival put her in quite a tizzy. She made an emergency run to the grocery store last night just to have the food you like on hand.”

“I’m not picky, Dad.”

“Well, this is a big day for her. She’s nervous.”

She wasn’t the only one. Ryder had been fighting anxiety for days now.

Five years was a long time to go without seeing one’s mother. They’d spoken on the phone, but only occasionally when he happened to call his sisters. Mostly on birthdays and Christmas. One or the other insisted he talk to their mother, too. He usually relented, solely for his sisters’ sakes. Ryder simply couldn’t get past what he saw as his mother’s betrayal.

His father always defended his mother, saying she was right to divorce him. Ryder didn’t see it that way. She cared only about herself and hadn’t once considered the effect losing their father would have on her children.

Her selfishness, however, wasn’t the only reason his return was difficult. She’d lied. For twenty-five years. To everyone. And like the divorce, the lies had stolen parts of their lives they could never get back.

“The girls can’t wait to see you.” His father talked about Ryder’s grown sisters as if they were young. Then again, Cassidy had been only ten when their parents divorced, to Ryder’s twelve, and Liberty not even born yet. His father probably did think of Ryder’s sisters as “girls.” “Cassidy’s volunteering at Benjie’s school this morning,” he continued, “and Liberty’s in Globe, picking up lumber. That young man of hers is coming to lunch, too.”

“You like him?”

“If you’re asking me, is he good enough for her, the answer is yes. I like him. Hell, I fixed ’em up.”

“That’s not the story I heard. You darn near ruined their relationship.”

“Water under the bridge.”

Ryder’s sister obviously possessed a forgiving heart. “What’s the lumber for? Fences?”

“Building jumps. We teach English hunter classes now, if you can believe that. Part of our outreach program with the school. We offer riding instruction to students for a discount price. Your mother’s on the school board and spearheaded the whole thing.”

“I had no idea.” What else would Ryder learn about his mother during his stay? Did he care?

“It’s good for the arena, and it’s good for the community. Gives the students something to do in the afternoons and on weekends. Reckless is a small town without funding for local sports programs. But you know that as well as anyone.”

Ryder did. He’d grown up in Reckless until he was fourteen and legally old enough to choose which of his parents he wanted to live with. On the day after his birthday, he’d packed his suitcase. A week later, when nothing his mother said or did and no amount of tears she cried made a difference, Ryder boarded a bus to Kingman where his father had moved.

For a few weeks each summer, he came back. That ended once Ryder graduated high school and left for college, allowing the rift between him and his mother to widen.

Then, a few months ago, Liberty discovered she shared the same biological father as her siblings and made contact, inviting him to Reckless for the purpose of getting acquainted. He did that, along with exercising his right to half ownership of the arena. When Ryder’s mother objected, he threatened her with legal action. Having little choice, she eventually caved.

The result, the Becketts were now all in one place, though not reunited. Perhaps that was too much to ask.

His father led Ryder through the spacious backyard with its well-tended lawn. The swings and slide from Ryder’s youth were gone, replaced by one of those multicolored modular play sets, he assumed for his nephew, Benjie. Just as well. Ryder sported a three-inch scar on his forearm, proof that the swings and slide had been old and dilapidated even in his day.

His father opened the kitchen door without knocking and called, “Sunny, you here?”

Though his father didn’t live at the arena—he rented a small place in town—Ryder suspected he was a frequent visitor to the house. Apparently his mother really was softening toward him.

Her response drifted to them from down the hall. “Be right out.”

Ryder paused inside the door.

“Don’t just stand there.” His father beckoned him with a wave. “It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

Wrong. Ryder was a stranger. He’d lived many more years in Phoenix than Reckless—a mere seventy miles away, yet it might as well have been a million.

He advanced three whole feet before coming to another halt. That was all the distance required to walk from the present straight into the past, and the sensation knocked him off-kilter.

While he stood there, his father went to the fridge and helped himself to a chilled bottled water, further confirming Ryder’s suspicions that he was a regular visitor.

“You want one?” He held out a second bottle.

“Thanks.” Funny how Ryder’s throat had gone completely dry. He accepted the bottle, twisted off the cap and took a long swallow. The cold water restored his balance.

Footsteps warned him of his mother’s approach. He had but a few seconds to replace the bottle cap and prepare himself before she appeared.

“Ryder!” Cheeks flushed, she hurried toward him.

He tried to form his mouth into something resembling a smile. He must have succeeded, for she beamed.

“I’m so happy you came.”

“It’s good to see you, Mom.” He uttered the words automatically.

They hugged, his mother clinging to him while Ryder gave her shoulders a perfunctory squeeze. He’d accepted his father and Liberty’s invitation, it was his responsibility to deal with the consequences. Beside them, his father grunted with approval.

“Are you hungry?” His mother released him and brushed self-consciously at her hair, which was styled perfectly and in no need of tidying. “I made chili and corn bread.”

His favorite meal as a boy. All right, it was still one of his favorite meals. Maybe because it reminded him of the good times, before their lives had imploded.

“Great. Thanks.”

After an awkward moment of silence, she said, “I see you got a water.”

“I did.”

She skimmed her palms down the sides of her jeans. “We could sit in the living room. If you want. Until your sisters get here. Or outside. Though it’s hot.”

“Anywhere’s fine with me,” Ryder said. He’d be on edge and defensive regardless of his surroundings.

His father must have taken pity on his mother, for he said, “Let’s sit at the kitchen table. Like the old days.”

Ryder wasn’t sure about the old days, but he reached for a chair. The same one he’d sat in as a child.

Abruptly, he moved his hand to the next chair over. He refused to slip into former habits just because he was back in Reckless, even habits as seemingly harmless as which chair he occupied.

An awkward silence descended. For no reason really, Ryder attempted to fill it with small talk. “How have you been, Mom?”

“All right. Busy. We now have weekly team penning competitions and bull-riding jackpots, monthly roping clinics and have almost doubled the number of riding classes offered. The Wild West Days Rodeo is in a couple of weeks.”

As a kid, Ryder had loved Wild West Days. The week-long, town-wide event included a parade, an outdoor arts-and-crafts festival, food vendors, square dancing and mock gunfights. Cowfolk and tourists alike traveled halfway across the country to participate in both the rodeo at the Easy Money and the other activities.

Ryder’s mind went in the direction it always did. “Have you done any promotion?”

“The usual,” his mother answered.

“Which is?”

“Tatum updated the website a couple months ago. We’ve sent out notices, both email and postcards. There are posters and flyers in town.”

In Ryder’s opinion, posters and flyers in town were a complete waste of resources. There was no need to advertise locally. The goal was to bring outsiders to Reckless.

“Have you considered reciprocating with other rodeo arenas?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Ask them to advertise our rodeo in exchange for advertising theirs.”

“Why would our competition do us any favors?” his father asked. “Or us them?” The question wasn’t intended to criticize. He appeared genuinely interested.

“It’s not competition as long as the rodeos fall in different months.”

“Would they go along? The other arenas?”

“We can ask.”

His parents exchanged glances, then his father shrugged. “I say yes.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

To Ryder’s ears, his mother’s enthusiasm rang false. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to endorse his ideas just because she was glad to have him home.

“Tatum can compile a list of potential rodeo arenas in the morning,” his father suggested.

His mother readily agreed. “I’ll ask her.”

“Or Ryder can. They’re already meeting.”

Yeah. Ryder couldn’t help wondering how that would go.

The back door abruptly swung open, and his sister Liberty burst into the kitchen, followed closely by a tall cowboy. Ryder guessed the man to be his future brother-in-law.

He’d barely stood when she threw herself at him. “Ryder!”

Unlike with his mother, the hug he gave his baby sister was filled with affection. “Hey, pip-squeak. How are you?”

She buried her face in the front of his shirt. “Better now.”

He leaned back to look at her. “You’re not crying, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose.

Ryder pulled her close again, his heart aching. Not spending time with Liberty, not getting to watch her grow up, was one of his biggest regrets about leaving Reckless and his main reason for returning. That, and guilt. She’d suffered the most from their mother’s lies. If he could make up for that in some small way, he would.

“I’m really happy you came.”

Would she say that, love him less, if she knew the other reason for his return?

“After a week, you’ll probably be sick of me,” he said.

“Not going to happen.” Liberty turned to her fiancé. “This is Deacon.”

Ryder wasn’t the sentimental sort, but the tender way she spoke Deacon’s name affected him. He was glad she’d found happiness; she certainly deserved it.

What kind of mother lied to her child about the identity of her father? The same one who thought only of herself and not her children when she unceremoniously tossed their father out and refused to let him back into their lives.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Putting thoughts of his mother aside, Ryder shook Deacon’s hand. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Same here.”

In his line of work, Ryder often made snap judgments. Deacon’s handshake was firm and offered without hesitation. A good sign. Ryder decided he approved of his sister’s choice in husband.

The pleasantries that followed were cut short when Cassidy and, to Ryder’s surprise, Tatum Mayweather arrived to join them. Wasn’t she supposed to be at work?

For a moment, he and Cassidy simply stared at each other. Once, they’d been inseparable. Then, their parents divorced, and sides were declared. Ryder had chosen their father’s, Cassidy their mother’s. Growing apart from her was another of his regrets.

He made the first move and opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace, and Ryder swore everyone in the room visibly relaxed.

The hug ended too soon. “Mom,” Cassidy said, “I hope you don’t mind, I asked Tatum to lunch. She didn’t get a chance to eat. Too busy taking care of Cupcake.”

“Of course not.”

Tatum smiled apologetically. “I hate imposing on your reunion.”

“Nonsense. You’re like family.”

For someone considered to be like family, Tatum looked ready to bolt. Ryder found that interesting. Then again, he found a lot of things about her interesting. Good thing that, as a Beckett employee, she was off-limits.

With everyone pitching in, lunch was soon on the table. Liberty had inherited their father’s conversational abilities, and between the two of them, there were no more lulls.

That was, until Cassidy said, “Tatum mentioned you two didn’t recognize each other.”

“It’s true,” Ryder admitted.

Tatum echoed his earlier remark. “It’s been a while. We’ve both changed.”

“Do you forget all the women you kiss?” Cassidy asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Or just the first one?”

“Kiss?” He had forgotten.

In a rush, it all came back to him. The Valentine’s Day card. Tatum’s desperate look of hope. The casual peck on the cheek he’d given her.

“I’d have bet money you wouldn’t remember,” Cassidy said.

An undefinable emotion filled Tatum’s eyes before she averted her glance. Something told Ryder this had been some sort of test and that he’d failed it.

Chapter Two

It took a full five minutes for Tatum’s cheeks to cool. How could Cassidy embarrass her like that? They were best friends. Lifelong best friends.

Worse than embarrassing her, Cassidy had intentionally used that long ago chaste kiss—Tatum had been just twelve and Ryder nearly fourteen—to deliver a dig to her brother. Tatum neither wanted to nor deserved to be dragged into any feud between the siblings.

And, seriously, wasn’t it past time they let bygones be bygones? Mercer was sober. He and Sunny were working together running the arena and getting along. For the most part. Business was booming. Liberty had forgiven her mother’s duplicity and was making up for lost years with Mercer by spending time with him. Ryder had come home. Cassidy alone refused to let go of the past.

Tatum’s anger continued to simmer all during the lunch. Cassidy should be glad her brother had returned. For her mother’s sake, if nothing else. Sunny had hated losing Ryder and longed for a reconciliation with him since the day he left to live with Mercer. As a mother herself, Tatum sympathized. She’d been separated only briefly from her children this past spring, yet it had been the worst four months of her life.

Cassidy was also a mother, though Benjie’s father had never been in the picture. Ever. She didn’t have to share her child with an ex or contend with a former, impossible to please, mother-in-law. Tatum sighed. Lucky Cassidy.

“Dad, maybe after lunch you can take a look at Tatum’s pony.”

Her head shot up at hearing Ryder speak her name.

“What’s wrong with Cupcake?” Mercer asked, shoveling a large bite of chili into his mouth.

Tatum swallowed before answering. “I, um, thought she might have foundered. Ryder says her limp’s due to a poorly fitted shoe.”

“One way to find out is remove the shoe.”

“He...already did that.” What was wrong with her? She couldn’t string a simple sentence together without tripping over her words.

Her glance strayed to Ryder, the cause of her unease, though, why, she had no idea. He meant nothing to her, outside of being the recipient of her one-sided childhood crush. The kiss—peck, she corrected herself—while important to her, had meant little to him. She’d presented him with a homemade Valentine’s Day card that she’d labored over for days. He read it, then dipped his head and brushed her cheek with his lips. The next week, he’d left to live with Mercer in Kingman, dashing her fragile hopes and dreams.

Over the years, the memory of her first crush changed, from painful to one she viewed with mild amusement and even fondness. Too bad Cassidy had to go and tarnish that for her.

“Is the foot warm?” Mercer asked, still talking about Cupcake.

“No,” Ryder replied before Tatum could.

Not that she’d have known if the foot was warm or not. She hadn’t checked. Running into Ryder had distracted her.

“Then she probably isn’t foundered.” Mercer scraped the last of the chili from his bowl. “Ryder has a good eye when it comes to horses.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Tatum wished the conversation would shift from her to something else. Like Liberty and Deacon’s upcoming wedding.

“Where is she?”

“Cupcake? I moved her to the horse barn. In that empty stall next to the gray Percheron.”

“I’ll take a look at feeding time.” Mercer patted his stomach as if to settle his meal.

Tatum felt Ryder’s gaze on her and struggled to ignore him. It was impossible. The green-gray color of his eyes was unlike any she’d seen, made more prominent by his strong, masculine features and short cropped brown hair.

To her chagrin, her heart gave a little flutter in return. Good grief. Surely she couldn’t be attracted to him. He wasn’t her type. More than that, he could well be after her job.

Hoping to hide her reaction, she said, “Thank you, Mercer. From me and my kids. You know how they love Cupcake.”

“How old are they?” Ryder’s mouth curved at the corners into a devastatingly charming smile.

Tatum responded by blushing. And all because Cassidy had made Tatum acutely aware of Ryder by mentioning that stupid kiss. When they finished with lunch she was going to give her best friend a well-deserved piece of her mind.

“My daughter’s seven, and the boys are four and two.”

“Are they in school with Benjie?”

“My daughter is, though not in the same grade. The boys attend day care while I work.”

It had been difficult finding reliable and reasonably priced child care in such a small town. The Becketts paid Tatum a fair, even generous, wage. Still, a large chunk of her income went to cover the costs of day care. And rent and food. Making ends meet was a delicate balance. Luckily, her ex paid his child support on time and carried the children as dependents on his health insurance.

If for any reason, that ceased, Tatum would be back to where she was earlier this year. Unable to provide her children with the most basic necessities and at risk of losing them.

The Becketts hadn’t just given her a job when Tatum was laid off, they’d saved her family. Her loyalty to them was deep and abiding.

“Tatum’s a teacher,” Liberty said.

“Was,” Tatum corrected.

“You teach art classes.”

“Really?” Ryder looked at her with interest.

“Just part-time. Lenny Faust at the Ship-With-Ease Store lets me use the empty space next door. I used to teach third and fourth grade at the elementary school. For seven years.” Why had she felt pressured to qualify herself? As if teaching art wasn’t good enough.

“Until last December,” Cassidy added with disgust. “That’s when the school board gave her the boot. Bad decision.”

“Now, now,” Sunny admonished. “We’ve been over this before. There are other teachers who’ve been with the school longer.”

“Budget cuts. Right. You were outvoted, and your hands are tied.”

“We’ll hire Tatum back as soon as we can.” Sunny covered the leftover corn bread with a linen napkin. “The board convenes in a few weeks to approve the new budget.”

Tatum didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help herself. She loved teaching. Other than her own children, nothing gave her greater satisfaction or enjoyment, and she missed it terribly.

To her vast relief, talk turned to the upcoming Wild West Days Rodeo and the arena’s record number of entries.

“Ryder has some notion about...what did you call it?”

“Reciprocal advertising,” Ryder said, then went on to explain the concept.

Tatum thought the idea innovative, though her experience with marketing was limited to her job at the arena and what Sunny had taught her.

Cassidy shrugged. “We’ve always done well enough without having to swap advertising with other rodeo arenas.”

“We could do better,” Ryder said.

“What if it backfires and we lose business?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Look at what Dad’s done with the bulls he purchased. He told me revenue’s increased over fifteen percent in two months.”

“Because of the weekly bull-riding jackpots and team penning.”

“It’s just an idea, Cassidy. I’m not married to it.”

Ryder’s response was casual, as if he couldn’t care less. A stillness of his hand and tension in his jaw gave Tatum the impression he cared very much and didn’t like his methods being questioned.

The Beckett family dynamics were certainly interesting and, at times, bewildering and frustrating. Did none of them realize this was the first time in who knew how many years they were all together? Couldn’t they play nice this once?

Excusing herself, Tatum said, “Duty calls. My voice-mail box has probably reached its limit and is ready to self-destruct.”

“And I have a meeting with a client.” Deacon pushed back from the table. “Thank you for lunch, Sunny.”

“I’ll walk you to your truck.” Before joining Deacon, Liberty bent and gave Ryder a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m really glad you’re home. Let’s have dinner soon.”

“How about tomorrow night? I need someone to show me around town. A lot’s changed.”

“Great! Deacon and I will pick you up at seven.”

A smile spread across Ryder’s face, and Tatum was momentarily disarmed by his handsomeness. It was amazing, really, that, at thirty-six, he remained a bachelor. Women no doubt pursued him in droves.

One by one, everyone left the kitchen. Cassidy had to supervise preparations for the roping practice later that afternoon. Once Liberty saw Deacon off, she’d recruit a couple of the wranglers to help her unload the lumber she’d bought. Mercer was taking Ryder to his place to settle in.

Sunny started clearing the table.

Though she’d been the one to suggest leaving, Tatum offered, “I can stay and help, if you want.”

“Thanks. Then I’ll go with you to the office. There’s a pile of paperwork calling my name.”

Ryder paused on his way to the door, stopping Tatum as she carted an armload of dishes to the sink. “See you in the morning?”

“Right.”

He didn’t move. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not remembering. The kiss.” Those compelling eyes roved her face, then lingered on her mouth. “That wouldn’t happen now, I guarantee it.”

The next instant, he was gone. Thank goodness! One second longer, and he’d have heard her sharp intake of breath.

Tatum tried to tell herself that Ryder was in marketing. Essentially a salesman. Winning people over, even flirting a little, was part of the job and second nature to him. Yet, a thrill wound slowly through her, confirming just how susceptible she was to him. She simultaneously dreaded the coming morning and couldn’t wait for it.

* * *

CASSIDY SAT AT the front desk when Ryder entered the ranch office. “Hi. Tatum’s not here yet.”

Her tone wasn’t exactly welcoming, but neither was it distant. Did she consider him an interloper rather than an asset to the business? She still treated his father that way at times.

“I came early to see you.”

It had been easy enough to learn from his father that Cassidy made a habit of visiting the office ahead of Tatum, who had to drop off her sons at day care. She liked to review the day’s schedule and answer emails. According to their father, it was the only break she’d have all day.

“I didn’t come empty-handed.” He produced two paper cups of steaming coffee. Sitting in the visitor chair across from her, he passed her the cup with caramel latte scrawled in black marker on the side.

After a pause, she accepted it. “Dad tell you this is my favorite?”

“I’ve been picking his brain.”

“You actually stood in line twenty minutes for coffee?” Cassidy sipped tentatively through a hole in the plastic lid.

“I got up early and beat the morning rush. Who’d’ve guessed? Reckless has a gourmet coffee shop.”

She eyed him from over the brim of her cup. “Things change.”

He eyed her back. “They do.”

“Is this a peace offering or a bribe?”

“I don’t want to fight, Cassidy.”

She set down the coffee. “We’re not fighting.”

“You embarrassed Tatum yesterday just to get at me.”

“I do owe her an apology.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re sorry I came home.”

“Why wouldn’t I be glad? Really. Mom’s ready to burst with happiness. And Liberty’s so excited, she’s downright annoying. The whole family’s reunited at last, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“What about you?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Mom, for one. You broke her heart when you left. I don’t want you to do it again.”

“The only promise I made Dad and Liberty when I agreed to come here was that I’d try.”

“An honest effort is all I ask.”

Did she think he’d give anything less? “Mom and I have a lot of bridges to mend. It won’t be easy.”

“It’s going to be as easy or difficult as you make it.”

Interesting comment for someone who was starting out by making things difficult. But, his sister was probably right. “Let’s stick to the reason I waited twenty minutes in line for overpriced coffee.”

“I thought you said you beat the rush.”

“A slight exaggeration.”

Cassidy laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh. More like a dry chuckle. Still, it beat the heck out of their mother’s forced cheerfulness at lunch the day before.

“Why are you really mad at me?” he asked.

“Tatum. She needs this job, Ryder. And you’re a threat to it.”

“Not as much as you think.”

“Dad has other ideas.”

Ryder considered leveling with Cassidy about this being a temporary stay until he landed another position. Gut instinct made him hesitate. “I’m not a threat to Tatum.”

“When she lost her job at the school, she also lost custody of her kids.”

“Wow! You’re kidding.”

“Temporarily lost custody. But she fell apart.”

“What happened?”

“Tatum’s good with money. But the divorce left her without any kind of nest egg. And you know what teachers make, especially in Reckless. Squat. She had no savings to fall back on when the school board laid her off last December. The extra money she makes off of her art classes is barely enough to put groceries on the table.”

“Couldn’t she find another teaching job outside of Reckless?”

“That takes time. She also had her house to consider. She didn’t want to move if she could help it.”

If anyone understood the difficulty of finding a good job and dwindling resources, it was Ryder. The past two months of searching had produced no results other than draining his bank account. Though what hindered his job search had less to do with lack of available employment and more to do with the bad reputation he’d created for himself at Madison-Monroe Concepts.

His stomach involuntarily tightened. He’d live down his mistake. Eventually. Come hell or high water.

“We gave her a job as office manager,” Cassidy continued, “and that took a lot of arm-twisting. Tatum is proud and refused what she called a pity job.”

“Dad says she’s pretty good at what she does.”

“She is. Which is why it’s not a pity job. But then the bank foreclosed on her house anyway when she couldn’t keep up with the payments. She and the kids moved in with us. Rent free. That was charity, and she struggled to accept it.”

“Seven people. Four bedrooms. It must have been crowded.”

“We didn’t care. But her ex-mother-in-law got wind of the situation and convinced her son to hire an attorney, claiming Tatum couldn’t provide adequately for the kids.”

“He sued for custody?” Ryder was appalled. “Why didn’t he help her make her mortgage payments? They’re his children, too.”

“It didn’t go that far. Luckily. Tatum compromised. She turned over care of the kids to her mother-in-law. Just until she saved enough money working for us to rent an apartment. It was a rough period for her. The kids, too. They missed Tatum and hated living with their grandmother.”

“Did she mistreat them?”

“No, no. She’s not the warm, cookie-baking kind of grandmother, but that wasn’t the problem. She lives in Glendale. A four-hour round trip. Tatum only saw the kids once a week at most. The day she signed the lease on her apartment, she broke down and cried in front of the rental agent.”

“She’s lucky to have you and Mom.”

“We’re lucky to have her. She works hard, even if an office manager isn’t her first choice of a job.”

“I do remember her drawing a lot. Always walking around with a sketchbook.”

Cassidy studied him critically. “So, you didn’t forget her entirely.”

“No.” But he hadn’t thought of her in years. A stark contrast to the past twenty-four hours. She’d been on his mind constantly. “You and she barrel raced.”

“We did. She met her ex on the circuit, and for a few years, they traveled from rodeo to rodeo, living in an RV. That wore thin on Tatum. She quit in order to obtain her teaching degree.”

“Her husband continued to compete?”

“Nothing would stop him. Tatum did her best to make the marriage work. Full-time job, full-time mom, part-time husband. When she got pregnant for the third time, he left for good, saying something like, ‘baby, I just can’t be tied down.’ She took it hard. I say the jerk didn’t deserve her, and she was better off without him.”

Ryder tended to agree.

“I’m not gossiping, so don’t think that.” Cassidy sipped again at her coffee. “I only wanted you to know what Tatum’s been through and why this job is important to her.” Her voice dropped. “Don’t mess it up for her.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Cassidy looked skeptical.

“My plan is to create and implement a sound marketing strategy for the arena.” One Tatum or his mother could manage after he was gone.

Funny. He hadn’t realized until this moment how similar his and Tatum’s situations were. Both of them working interim jobs while hoping for a better one. Both of them resisting to take what they considered charity.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t so funny.

“What exactly is going on with Mom and Dad?” Ryder didn’t want to talk about Tatum anymore. “Do you think they’ll get back together?”

“God, I hope not.” Cassidy turned away from him to stare out the window.

It wasn’t eight in the morning, yet the ranch was alive with activity. Hands cleaning stalls. Customers exercising their horses. The carpenters Liberty had hired to construct the horse jumps were making a ruckus behind the barn, banging hammers and running the chain saw. Mercer conferred with a rep from the grain dealer.

“For once I agree with you.”

Her head swung back around. “Why do I think there’s a catch?”

“No catch. Mom threw him out. Abandoned him in his hour of need. Lied to him about being Liberty’s father. He’d be a fool to get involved again.”

“She had every right to throw him out,” Cassidy argued hotly. “He’s an alcoholic.”

Their parents had purchased the Easy Money before Ryder was born and had taken it from a run-down, dirt-poor arena to the best facility in the southern part of the state. That all changed when Ryder’s grandfather died suddenly from a heart attack, and his father began drowning his grief with whiskey. Daily.

In less than a year, the arena went from prospering to the verge of bankruptcy, and Ryder’s mother kicked him to the curb. What Ryder knew and his sisters didn’t until recently was that their father retained his half ownership of the arena. Their mother had also never paid their father his share of the profits per their settlement agreement. The sum was staggering.

“Reformed alcoholic,” Ryder said. “He hasn’t touched a drink in over twenty years.” He’d stopped shortly after Ryder moved in with him.

“Once an alcoholic, always—”

“Let it go, Cassidy.”

“He didn’t almost kill you!”

“It was a fender bender. You were fine.”

She drew back, her expression one of shock. “What if he’d been going faster?”

One night, their father had picked up Cassidy en route home from the bar. While pulling on to the property, he’d lost control of the truck and rammed into the well house. He’d been sorry. Their mother outraged.

“Mom was justified. He wasn’t only a lousy husband, he was a danger to our well-being.”

“He’s paid for his sins, Cassidy. We all have. Mom divorced him and told everyone some cowboy passing through was Liberty’s father. Our little sister deserved to know the truth. Mom had no right denying either her or Dad.”

“She had her reasons. Good ones.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“In this case, they do.”

“She didn’t just reject him.” Ryder’s anger rose, its grip like a vise around his chest. “She tore our family apart. Took our father away from us. That wasn’t fair.”

“She’s not the only one to tear our family apart.” Tears welled in Cassidy’s eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“You left. And you hardly ever visited. You’re only here now because you quit your job. You don’t love us or want us. We’re just your last resort.”

Ryder sat in stunned silence. She thought he’d rejected them?

Before he could say more, Tatum entered the office. One glance at them, and she pulled up short. “Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Chapter Three

Both Ryder and Cassidy insisted that Tatum hadn’t inadvertently walked in on a private and sensitive conversation. She didn’t believe them. Ryder had stood so fast, he almost upended the visitor chair. Cassidy averted her gaze but not before Tatum spied the look of utter distress on her friend’s face.

Old wounds. When the Becketts weren’t hiding them, they were poking them with sharp sticks.

“Why don’t we start with a tour of the place?” Ryder suggested, depositing his empty coffee cup into the wastebasket near Tatum’s desk. That put him in close proximity to Cassidy, and she noticeably tensed. “If you’re free,” he added.

He must have visited the Dawn to Dusk Coffee shop on his way in this morning. Cassidy wouldn’t have gone despite her penchant for caramel lattes. “I shouldn’t leave the office unattended,” Tatum said. Lunch yesterday had been an exception. Usually Sunny relieved her.

“It’s okay,” Cassidy volunteered. “I’ll watch the phones.”

“Are you sure?” Tatum was about to suggest that Cassidy give her brother the tour when he cut her short.

“Come on.” He motioned toward the door.

“Let me put my things away first.”

“Meet you in the barn.” The next instant, he was gone.

Wow. Whatever had happened between him and his sister must have been worse than Tatum thought. She stowed her lunch in the small countertop refrigerator and her purse in the desk drawer.

“You okay?” she asked Cassidy in a whisper, though Ryder was well beyond earshot.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have mentioned the kiss.”

“We were kids.” Tatum straightened, her previous anger at her friend dissipating.

“Yeah, but it was a big deal for you. At the time.”

“Forget about it, okay?” On impulse, Tatum gave her friend’s shoulders a quick squeeze.

“What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“I guess not.” Cassidy’s face relaxed. “Go on, get out of here. I need my daily dose of Facebook.”

Tatum laughed. It was a joke the two frequently shared. Both were borderline workaholics and wouldn’t ever wile away the hours surfing the net.

In the barn, she met up with Ryder. “Where do you want to start?”

“How’s Cupcake?”

They strolled the long aisle. “I haven’t had a chance to check on her this morning.”

“Let’s start there.”

“She’s better,” Tatum had to admit after they took the pony on a short walk around the wash bays.

“When’s the farrier due next?”

“Unless there’s an emergency, he’s here every Thursday.”

“She’ll be okay until then. If you do take her out for a ride, put a hoof boot on her.”

“Thank you. I probably shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It was the clothes.” He smiled.

Tatum had to stop herself from ogling. Today he wore jeans, a Western-cut shirt that molded nicely to his broad shoulders and a cowboy hat that was scuffed in all the right places. He looked as if he’d never left the ranch.

“What made you give up rodeoing?” She recalled Sunny bragging on her son, who’d won several junior rodeo championships before abandoning a promising pro career.

“College.”

“Not enough time to do both?”

“Not enough money. Finances were tight. I had to make a choice.”

Tatum was familiar with that dilemma. She lived it on a daily basis.

They returned Cupcake to her stall, hung the halter on a nearby peg and continued their tour of the grounds. He was careful to take her arm when they walked over a hole or navigated an obstacle. Tatum didn’t need the assistance. She liked it, nonetheless.

“I always figured I’d wind up like my dad and make rodeo my life,” he said.

“You’re more like your mother than you realize. She’s really savvy when it comes to business.”

Lines appeared on Ryder’s brow. “I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

He avoided commenting by asking, “Besides the bulls, what else is new?”

“Not much. Tom Pratt gives monthly roping clinics.”

They wandered toward the bull pens, which were located on the other side of the arena, far from the horses. The two didn’t always mix, and it was best to maintain a healthy distance between them.

“He was smart to do that. Nothing will grow the arena faster than good bucking stock.”

“We can hardly keep up with the requests.”

In addition to providing bucking stock for their four annual rodeos, the Easy Money leased horses and now bulls to other rodeos. It was their single highest source of revenue. Tatum had felt guilty when the Becketts first hired her, thinking they were giving her a job solely because she was a close family friend. That opinion soon changed. With the increase in business, she was earning her keep and then some.

What more could Ryder do to grow the business than Mercer already had? It seemed to Tatum they were at their capacity for bucking stock contracts. Unless the Becketts purchased more bulls. Or Ryder assumed even more of Tatum’s duties. Then she really would be a charity case.

A pair of lone riders were making use of the arena. Tatum and Ryder stopped at the fence to observe them.

“Dad mentioned the after-school program,” he said.

“That’s going well. So well, your dad’s considering building a second practice ring just for the students.”

“But rodeo events are where the real money is.”

“Lessons and horse boarding more than pay for themselves.”

“I wasn’t insinuating Mom and my sisters’ contribution weren’t an important part of the arena. There’s room for both.”

As they started for the office, Liberty passed them, riding one horse and leading a second. She stopped to say good morning and to remind Ryder of their dinner plans that evening.

“What are you up to?” Ryder asked her.

“Endurance training. This is a client’s horse.” She indicated the tall gelding behind her prancing nervously in place. Pulling on the lead rope, she groaned in frustration. “He’s raring to go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Ryder stared after her. “I wouldn’t have guessed she’d be the one to take after Dad. Then again, none of us knew she was related to him.”

Tatum and Cassidy had shared many a long discussion about her parents. Tatum understood Sunny’s motives for lying to Liberty—she didn’t want to give a raging alcoholic any reason to remain part of their lives. But Tatum wasn’t sure she’d do the same thing in Sunny’s shoes, if only because of the wedge it had driven between Sunny and Ryder. Losing her children for a mere four months had been unbearable. Sunny lost Ryder for twenty-two years, and she still didn’t have him back.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Where to now?”

“The outdoor stalls and back pastures,” she suggested.

They went in the same direction as Liberty. Ryder, Tatum noticed, slowed his steps to keep pace with her shorter strides. He was tall. Her chin barely reached his shoulder. He must have grown six inches after he left. If he kissed her now, he’d have to dip his head considerably further.

Stop it!

The mental reprimand was useless. How could she not think of Ryder when he walked beside her, near enough to touch if she extended her hand a mere three inches to the right?

What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah, lessons and boarding.

“Liberty’s also in charge of the trail rides,” Tatum said. “There’s usually one every weekend when we don’t have a rodeo.”

“Just one?”

“We don’t have enough requests for more than that on weekends.”

“Are they profitable?”

“Actually, yes.”

“What’s the margin?”

“I’d say about the same as riding lessons.”

“How do we advertise the rides? And don’t tell me on the website and posters in town.”

“Okay, I won’t. But that’s what we do.”

He muttered under his breath.

“There are tourists in town,” she protested. “They see the posters.”

“What about the marina at Roosevelt Lake? Do we have a poster in their window?”

“No.”

“We should.”

Did he notice he was talking in the plural? “Is that more of your reciprocal advertising?”

“You catch on fast.”

“I’ll call them and ask if we can deliver a poster.”

“I’ll do it. In fact, I’ll just take one over this afternoon. That way, I can bring back one of theirs.”

“Good idea.” She supposed a face-to-face meeting was better than a phone call. Harder to say no.

Twenty minutes later they were through with the tour. Approaching the office from the outside entrance rather than the barn, they climbed the three steps to the awning-covered porch. Cassidy still sat at Tatum’s desk. Sunny wasn’t there. Tatum could see her empty office through the open connecting door.

Was she avoiding Ryder? Had Cassidy told her mother about her fight, or whatever it was, with Ryder?

“You’re back.” Cassidy quickly closed the webpage she had open on the computer and stood.

“Stay longer if you aren’t done,” Tatum offered.

“It’s all right. I have to make a run into Globe for supplies.”

“Didn’t Liberty do that yesterday?” Ryder asked.

“She bought lumber. I’m getting vet supplies. Dewormer and penicillin. There’s been three cases of strangles reported this month in the Mesa area. We don’t want to be caught with a low supply if it should move to Reckless.”

“That’s serious.”

Tatum concurred. She’d seen a strangles epidemic before. The highly contagious infection attacked the lymph nodes between a horse’s jaw or in its throat and caused flu-like symptoms lasting weeks, if not months. Should the Becketts’ bucking stock or boarded horses succumb, their entire business would be in jeopardy.

“It is serious,” Cassidy said. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

“We can order penicillin online, and for a lot cheaper, with a prescription.”

“I’ve already thought of that.” Cassidy lifted her chin. “Doctor Spence is coming tomorrow.”

Ryder softened his voice. “I wasn’t questioning your abilities.”

“See you later.”

“That went well,” he said after Cassidy left.

Tatum ignored him and sat at her desk.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Look.” She leveled her stare at him. “If you weren’t questioning her abilities, you were questioning something.”

“You’re right.” He dropped down into the visitor chair. “I’m sorry to involve you in our squabble.”

“Squabble?” That hardly described their longstanding clash.

“This big reconciliation Liberty and Dad are hoping for may not happen.”

“It definitely won’t happen if you don’t try and get along.”

“We argued about Mom. And,” he admitted, “the way I’ve acted in recent years.”

Big surprise. Not. “How about we institute a new rule? No discussion regarding family at work, unless it relates to work. I’ll tell Cassidy and Sunny. You tell Liberty and Mercer.” She felt as if she was refereeing a fight between her children.

He considered for a moment, then relented with a shrug. “All right.”

“That’s what I like to see. Progress.” She rolled her chair over to the lateral file cabinet by her desk, deciding they should start the office part of Ryder’s orientation with the current bucking stock contracts. She opened the drawer and removed a dozen manila folders. “I probably shouldn’t point this out...”

“But you will.”

“Your resentment toward your mother. It mirrors Cassidy’s toward your father.”

“Are you saying we’ll never find a common ground?”

“I’m saying there’s more common ground than you think.” She slapped the folders on to the desk, the impact making a loud noise. “Let’s start on these.”

* * *

RYDER STOPPED TO refuel his truck on the way into Reckless. Based on the number of things he’d accomplished, it had been a productive day. He’d spent the morning with Tatum, interfering with her work but also gaining an understanding of how the office ran, including an overview of the accounting system and record keeping. He and his father had had lunch at the Flat Iron Restaurant with one of the arena’s oldest clients.

After that, Ryder had headed to the marina at Roosevelt Lake, posters and flyers on the seat beside him. The marina manager, a crusty old guy who could have played an extra in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, was agreeable to Ryder’s suggestion that they help each other out.

On impulse, he’d driven to the outskirts of Globe and the mining company offices. After being passed from one person to the next, he’d finally been granted a meeting with the personnel manager’s secretary. The middle-aged woman had listened patiently to his pitch—the Easy Money Rodeo Arena would be a great place for employee parties or retreats. She’d agreed to give the material Ryder left with her to her boss and thanked him for his time.

Productive day. No question about it. But nothing a trained monkey couldn’t do. Ryder had been a senior marketing executive in charge of several multimillion-dollar accounts. And here he was, delivering posters and flyers and trolling for business. Something he could have done in high school.

Running errands. Sleeping on the trundle bed in his dad’s spare room. Fighting with his sister. He might as well be in high school again.

“Ryder Beckett,” someone shouted. “Buddy, is that you?”

He glanced up to see a hefty young man approaching, a friendly grin splitting his full face.

“It is you. Son of a gun!”

“Guilty as charged.” Ryder hoped the man’s name would come to him without having to ask. “How are you...?” At the last second, his brain kicked in. “Tank.”

“Dandy as a pig with slop.” They shook hands. “I heard you were back and working for the family.”

He’d said for the family, not with the family. To Ryder, there was a large distinction. Did everyone in town think like Tank, that Ryder had been given a job as opposed to being made a part of the business?

Then again, did he care? He was leaving soon.

Once more, Ryder questioned his motives for returning. He could have chosen somewhere else to lay low. Eventually found temporary employment. But he’d allowed loyalty to his father and Liberty’s heartfelt pleas to sway him.

“What happened to that fancy job you had in Phoenix?” Tank asked. “Your mom was always telling everyone what a big shot you were and how much money you made. This must be a step down.”

Damned if Tank could hit below the belt.

“Dad asked for my help, and here I am. Family comes first.”

“Sure. Course.” Tank may or may not have believed Ryder, but he didn’t dispute him. “Got me a family of my own now. A wife and little boy.”

“Congratulations.”

“Heard about your divorce. Sorry, man.” Tank didn’t sound particularly remorseful or sympathetic.

“It was a long time ago.”

Ryder did the math. Thirteen years.

He’d met Sasha, a woman eight years his senior, right out of college, and she was like no one he’d ever known. Confident, sexy and adventurous, in and out of bed. Unfortunately, they fell out of love as quickly as they’d fallen in and spent the next year making each other miserable before coming to their senses.

The only good part about the marriage had been Sasha’s little girls. Ryder had liked them and frequently spent more time with them than their own mother did, especially near the end. They, in turn, adored him. Leaving them behind had hurt.

One short-lived relationship after another had him swearing off any commitments for the foreseeable future. This last debacle with his coworker had only reinforced it.

“One of these days, you’ll meet the right person,” Tank said.

“I guess.”

Beside him, the gas nozzle clicked loudly. Ryder reached for it. “Nice seeing you, Tank. You ever bring your family around the Easy Money?”

“We’re coming to the Wild West Days Rodeo. Already bought our tickets.”

“Good. Looking forward to seeing you there.”

They shook hands again, and Ryder climbed into his truck. Starting the engine, he heard Tank’s words again—working for your family—then slammed the heels of both hands on the steering wheel. He wasn’t mad at Tank; he was mad at himself.

Enough was enough. He’d let this happen, he thought, and he could remedy it. Pulling out his smartphone, he went through his saved emails. There! He found it. The one from a friend giving Ryder the name of a headhunter. He dialed the number and set the phone down. The next second, his Bluetooth kicked in, and he could hear ringing through the speaker on his dash. When the receptionist answered, he asked to be put through to Myra Solomon.

“This is Myra.”

Ryder introduced himself, giving the name of his friend. “He suggested I give you a call.”

“I’m glad you did. Tell me a little about yourself and what kind of job you’re looking for.”

Ryder talked as he drove, casting his termination in the best possible light. When he finished, Myra groaned tiredly.

“Cut the B.S., Ryder. If we’re going to work together, you have to be straight with me. Save the sugarcoated version for prospective employers.”

“I quit.”

“I know that. I’m interested in why.”

“My boss and I didn’t share the same visions.”

“Whatever happened, we’ll work around it,” Myra said. “But in order to help you, I have to know what really went down. If not, you’re wasting both our time.”

Ryder swallowed. He’d been through this before with another headhunter. “I quit rather than be sued.”

“For what?”

“Inappropriate conduct.”

Myra whistled. “How inappropriate?”

“Not at all.”

“Then, why?”

Now it was Ryder’s turn to groan. “I was dating a woman at work. One of my subordinates. A member of my team, actually. And before you ask, there was no company policy against employees fraternizing.”

“Did you advise HR? Sign any kind of agreement?”

“Yes, we advised HR, and there was no agreement for us to sign. When the relationship ended, I advised HR of that, as well.”

“Then, where does the inappropriate conduct come in?”

“We dated for four months. She wanted more, to move in together, and I didn’t. Rather than string her along, I ended things.”

“That’s it?”

“Not entirely. She didn’t take the breakup well. She’d call me at all hours and corner me in the office. A couple of our discussions got a little heated. About a week later, one of the other team members received a promotion she was also in line for. She believed I blackballed her.”

“And did you?”

“Absolutely not. I was asked for my input on both candidates and gave them both good recommendations. No favoritism. The next day she filed a complaint.”

“You just said you showed no favoritism. What were her grounds?”

“During one of those heated discussions, she got carried away. I tried calming her by putting my hand on her arm. She later claimed that I touched her inappropriately.”

“Were there any witnesses?”

“A few. They reported seeing me touch her but not where. They weren’t close enough.”

“Excuse me for stating the obvious, Ryder, but that was stupid. You should have avoided this woman at all costs. Especially after she started calling you. In fact, you should have alerted HR that she was harassing you.”

“Live and learn.”

“Is any of this in your personnel records?”

“No. That was part of the deal we reached. She dropped the suit, and I quit.”

“Well, that’s one good thing.”

“Not really. Advertising is a small world, and it’s filled with big mouths. Even though I did nothing wrong, a lot of companies are reluctant to hire me. She got what she wanted after all.”

“Then you move out of state,” Myra said matter-of-factly.

“I’m considering it.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll email you our representation contract. Once you send it back, we’ll set up a meeting. Wear your best tie. My assistant will film a short interview with standard questions. We should be able to generate some interest with that. We’ll also polish your résumé and rehearse answers to potentially difficult questions. What’s your email address?”

They discussed a few more details before disconnecting. Ryder felt both better—he was being proactive and taking steps—and discouraged. How could he have screwed up this badly? Getting involved with a coworker? Worse, a subordinate. He should have his head examined.

Pulling into the arena, he parked by the office and got out. Still plagued by the conversation with the headhunter and not quite ready to face anyone, he went instead to the barn. Without quite realizing where he was going, he found himself standing in front of Cupcake’s stall.

The pony snickered and came over for a petting. Ryder automatically gave her a scratch between her short, stubby ears. The next minute, he was in the stall, examining her sore hoof.

“I think you’ll live.”

Cupcake investigated him, snorting lustily when she encountered his hair.

“Quit it, will you?” Ryder laughed and dropped her hoof.

He and Cassidy once had a pony a lot like this one when they were young. A sorrel named Flame. With two parents involved in rodeo, they’d learned to ride at a very young age.

Suddenly, Ryder missed being on a horse. He’d remedy that this weekend, he decided.

“Hey! What are you doing to our pony?” The annoyed voice belonged to a pint-size girl who, given her long black hair, could only be Tatum’s daughter. She stood in the open stall door, hands fisted and planted at her sides.

“Checking her foot.”

“I don’t know you.” The girl backed away and gave Ryder a very suspicious once-over.

“I work here. With your mother.”

“Then, why haven’t I seen you before?”

“I’m new.”

“I’m going to tell my mom.”

He expected her to take off running. She didn’t. Instead, she opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Mom!”

“Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to—”

She screamed again.

The next second, Tatum came charging up the aisle, one boy in tow, the other, younger one bouncing on her hip. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ryder said.

The girl pointed accusingly at him. “This man is trying to hurt Cupcake.”

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