It’s a marriage of convenience for this sexy tycoon!

Barron Entertainment CEO Chasen “Chase” Barron needs a wife like he needs a hangover. But when his latest escapades land him in the tabloids, he faces an ultimatum from the Barron family patriarch: pick a wife or one will be picked for him.

That’s when perfect stranger Savannah Wolfe shows up, out of the blue, in his bed! It’s all a mix-up, but how convenient. The feisty cowgirl fits the bill for a fake wedding. Chase’ll help her with her rodeo career if she plays along. But how inconvenient if he falls for Savannah for real in the process...

The bedroom door swung open soundlessly and he didn’t bother with lights.

Stripping out of his clothes, he slid between the Egyptian cotton sheets and rolled toward the center of his bed. Where he encountered a warm body.

His palm dipped into a nipped-in waist before smoothing over the curve of a hip. Tucker must have hustled to get him this coming-home present. He dipped his head and nuzzled the sweet spot behind the woman’s ear.

The next thing he knew, the woman had rolled, tucked her feet into his chest and kicked. Chase flew off the bed and hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

“What the hell!” The woman scampered to the other side of the bed and turned on the lamp. “Who are you?”

He stood up, naked and unembarrassed. “I might ask you the same thing, wildcat.”

“Oh, my God, you’re naked. Get out!”

Before he could move, she nailed him in the chest with a boot. A Western boot. Covered in mud and... He sniffed the air.

“Get out of here, you pervert! I’m calling security.”

“Good idea, since I’m throwing you out.”

“What? You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can, kitten. This is my apartment.”

Her jaw dropped and then her full lips formed a perfect O.

* * *

Convenient Cowgirl Bride is part of the Red Dirt Royalty series: These Oklahoma millionaires work hard and play harder.

Dear Reader,

Rodeo is a thing. A big thing. It’s both a lifestyle and a business. Cowboys and cowgirls who compete on the pro circuit work hard and are on the road almost constantly. There’s an order to the rodeos and winning points in order to compete in the big daddy of them all—the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. And there are the rodeos that stir the public’s imagination: Cheyenne Frontier Days, Calgary Stampede, San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo, National Western Stock Show and Rodeo in Denver to name a few.

Under normal circumstances, I do a lot of research and make sure places and dates are realistic in my books. In this instance, I admit to fudging Savannah’s schedule for the sake of the story. Hopefully, you’ll be swept up in the romance and won’t begrudge me the poetic license.

I had fun writing this book, revisiting my youth when I trudged out to feed horses no matter the weather, or hooked up the trailer and loaded my horses to head to a rodeo. I was never dedicated enough to make it on the rodeo circuit so I’ll admit to living vicariously through Savannah while I wrote her story.

And now that you know my secret, I hope you enjoy Savvi’s story, and the love Chase wants to share with her, even if she’s a bit more inconveniently convenient than he bargained for.

Happy trails!

Silver James

Convenient Cowgirl Bride

Silver James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SILVER JAMES likes walks on the wild side and coffee. Okay. She LOVES coffee. A cowgirl at heart, she’s been an army officer’s wife and mum, and worked in the legal field, fire service and law enforcement. Now retired from the real world, she lives in Oklahoma, spending her days writing with the assistance of two Newfoundlands, the cat who rules them all and the characters living in her imagination.

MILLS & BOON

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To every reader who is a cowgirl at heart, to the man who taught me about the soul of a horse and to the marvelous Harlequin team who make it easy to let my imagination gallop across the page.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

Chasen “Chase” Barron needed a wife like he needed another hangover. Dark thoughts winnowed through his mind as he surveyed his world from the window of his Gulfstream jet. Below him, Las Vegas looked like a necklace of sparkling neon jewels strung on ribbons of car headlights. Vegas never slept. His kind of place.

His latest escapades had landed him back on the front page of the supermarket tabloids—much to his old man’s disgust. Chase wasn’t a bad guy. Not really. It was just that as head of Barron Entertainment, he was surrounded by beautiful women. And he was definitely a man who enjoyed beautiful women. Frequently. How was he to know the gorgeous actress—who’d told him she was separated—was still very much married to a powerful studio head? Or that she’d invited the paparazzi to record her tryst with Chase in order to... Just thinking about it made his head hurt.

He’d left LA for Nashville to deal with some problems in setting up Barron Entertainment’s new country and Western record label, and there were two cute, young singers who wanted an edge. Being seen getting it on with the CEO of Barron Entertainment was their ticket to glory. Who knew those selfies they took would go viral? Yeah, he definitely should have confiscated their cell phones. Water under the bridge now. And lesson learned.

Despite the social media storm, his trip to Nashville had been productive. The new company, Bent Star Records, had launched, making headlines by signing superstar Deacon Tate, and his band, the Sons of Nashville, as the first act. That Deke was Chase’s cousin was beside the point. Family did business with family. Which brought him back around to the situation at hand.

Waking up, predictably hungover, to his father’s edict to marry the very disagreeable daughter of a business associate, Chase figured there was only one way out—head back to Las Vegas with all speed and ignore his father’s demands. Besides, the old man hadn’t called in his brothers for a family intervention, right? Or maybe dear old Dad was finally getting the message now that Chance, Cord and Clay had all defied the old jackass, married the women they loved and were living the lives they wanted without his permission.

Chase admired his older brothers. He’d fallen in with the old man’s edicts during the family confrontations, but had secretly rooted for his siblings. Now if he could just figure out what was going on with his identical twin. Cash had been a coiled snake ready to strike every time Chase had seen him lately. And he was worried. They used to be so close they knew what the other was thinking. Not anymore.

But solving the mystery of his twin’s behavior would have to wait. Chase had his own problems—mainly figuring out how not to get engaged to Janiece Carroll. While pretty enough, courtesy of a personal trainer and a skilled plastic surgeon, Janiece was High Maintenance, capitalized and trademarked. The former debutante had a voice like nails on a blackboard and the social skills of a spoiled toddler. Yeah, he needed to figure out a way to dodge this particular bullet.

On the ground, he traded the jet for his Jaguar F-type convertible. Once the top was down, he cranked up the sound system and the strains of Deacon’s newest hit, “Heading Home,” filled the hangar. He pulled out, maneuvered off airport property and headed into Las Vegas proper. The dazzling array of lights and throngs of people on the Strip felt like home.

Downshifting the powerful Jag, he coasted to a stop at a traffic light. Two women in spangly minidresses barely covering their butts sauntered by in the crosswalk in front of him. They watched him, their invitation plain in their expressions. Part of him was tempted. Part of him wanted only to hit his bed in the penthouse apartment at the Barron Crown Hotel and Casino. The light changed and the opportunity was lost. He wasn’t disappointed. He’d had enough female manipulation for a while.

Chase cruised down the street debating whether to pull into the main entrance of the hotel or head around the block to the employees’ parking garage. He hadn’t shaken the headache so he decided to forgo the casino’s clamor. The guard on duty at the garage nodded to him and opened the gate with a quiet “Good to have you back, sir.”

After parking in his spot near the private elevators, he snagged his satchel and overnight bag. Having semipermanent residences in both LA and Nashville made for light travel. He rubbed his jaw as he rode up in the elevator.

Cash had upgraded security and it took Chase’s thumbprint to get to any of the secured floors, including the top floor, where he resided. His card key was in his hand when he stepped into the beautifully appointed foyer. His apartment took up a third of the floor. Three suites—the smallest and cheapest going for ten grand a night—occupied the rest of the space.

Everything about the Crown was five-star, including his apartment. He card-keyed the door and stepped inside, as soft lights slowly brightened. Motion detectors meant he never walked into a darkened room—except the master bedroom. The light switch in there was the old-fashioned kind.

He moved into the open living area and hit the wet bar. He skipped the bottles of top-shelf liquor and grabbed a cold bottle of beer from the fridge instead. Mail was stacked on his desk and he checked it with a bored eye. His vice president of operations would have already handled anything important. Tucker was his cousin and he trusted the man implicitly—again, it was that whole family-doing-business-together thing.

Wandering into the gourmet kitchen, Chase tried to decide if he was hungry. A plastic-wrapped tray of meat, cheese and a variety of artisan breads occupied one shelf in the Sub-Zero refrigerator. His pilot would have alerted Tuck of their pending arrival, and as usual, his cousin had taken care of him before shutting down for the night. The tray was perfect. He slid it out onto the granite top of the breakfast bar and hitched a hip onto the wrought iron bar stool. He ate and drank, watching the play of lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows bracketing the living space.

A few minutes might have passed, or a few hours. He wasn’t sure and didn’t care. His headache had receded and he finally felt drowsy. He covered the tray and shoved it back into the fridge. As he stepped into the hallway leading to his bedroom, the lights behind him faded while the sconces in the hall flickered on. He’d left his briefcase at his desk and his overnight bag in the hallway. Housekeeping would deal with it in the morning, after he went to his business office on the third floor.

It was only one in the morning. He should have been fired up to hit the casino floor, or to check out one of the shows playing at the hotel. He should have hit his office, but he was tired. That fact might have worried him but he was too tired—or too bored—to care.

The bedroom door swung open soundlessly and he didn’t bother with lights. He could navigate this room in the dark. After stripping out of his clothes, he slid between the 1200-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets and rolled toward the center of the bed.

Where he encountered a warm body.

Reaching out, he found the soft cotton of a T-shirt. Chase wondered briefly if it was one of his. His palm dipped into a nipped-in waist before smoothing over the curve of a hip and down to the bare skin of a muscular thigh. Tucker must have hustled to get him this coming-home present. He dipped his head and nuzzled the sweet spot behind the woman’s ear as his hand cupped her full breast.

The next thing he knew, the woman raked her nails down his arm, rolled, tucked her feet into his chest and kicked. Chase flew off the bed and hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

“What the hell!” The woman scampered to the other side of the bed and hit the on button for the lamp on the nightstand. “Who are you?”

He stood up, naked and unembarrassed. She was in his bed in his apartment in his hotel. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. “I might ask you the same thing, wildcat.”

“Oh, my God, you’re naked. Get out!”

Before he could move, she nailed him in the chest with a boot. A Western boot. Covered in mud and...he sniffed the air. Bending, he snatched the boot and stared at it, barely ducking in time when a second boot sailed toward his face.

“Get out of here, you pervert!” She snatched the phone and began dialing. “I’m calling Security.”

“Good idea, since I’m throwing you out.”

“What? You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can, kitten. This is my apartment.”

Her jaw dropped and then her full lips formed a perfect O. Chase liked the looks of that. And it showed. Her eyes dropped and she flushed before tilting her chin to face him eye to eye. She stood on the far side of the bed and he got a good look at her.

She wasn’t too tall—maybe five-six or five-seven—and while the baggy T-shirt covered most of her attributes, he could scope out her legs—long and muscular. Then he caught the saying emblazoned on her shirt: Sometimes A Cowgirl Has To Do What A Cowboy Can’t. Reading the message stretched across her chest didn’t help calm his libido. He dragged his gaze to her face, which was surrounded by a thick curtain of black hair, sleep tousled and begging for a man to run his fingers through it. Brown eyes bored into him from behind thick lashes that swept her high cheekbones with each blink.

“You’re one of the Barrons,” she murmured, her eyes still fastened on his face. Her tongue darted out from between her lips and he had to bite back a groan. “Can you, uh, put on some pants or something?”

He turned and walked to the chair where he’d dropped his jeans. Stepping into them commando, Chase glanced over his shoulder, only to catch her staring at his butt. His libido immediately whispered sweet nothings in his ear, but he’d already been burned twice in the past month. That shut up his libido and his body calmed down immediately.

“You wanna explain why you’re in my bed?”

“I’m Savannah Wolfe.”

She said it as though he should know the name. He didn’t. “Yeah, and?”

“I... I have permission to be here. Kade—”

“No one has permission to be here.”

“But—” Her face flushed as her temper flared. Chase discovered he liked putting that color in her cheeks.

“No one, wildcat, especially not you.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He showed her the four red marks on the inside of his forearm. “I think it fits. However, as much as I’d like to play, you’re not staying. Get your stuff and get out.”

“But—”

“We can do this like civilized people or I can call Security and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“But—”

He pulled his cell from his hip pocket. “Tired of the buts, cat.”

“I—”

He hit a button and she dropped her gaze.

“Fine. Get out so I can get dressed.”

“Not happenin’, girl.” He snagged her boots and tossed them to her. She caught them easily.

“Fine. If you get off on watchin’, then you are a big ol’ pervert.” She strode over to another chair and grabbed her jeans and a plaid shirt. An old canvas duffel bag slouched on the floor next to the chair. She had her shirt on but not buttoned and one leg in her jeans when Security hit the doorway.

“Problem, Mr. Barron?”

“Not anymore. Please escort this woman off the premises.”

The dark-suited security officer didn’t give Savannah a chance to get dressed. He snagged her bag, draped it over her shoulder, grabbed her boots and jammed them into her chest, gripped her arm and frog-marched her out. Sputtering and cussing, the girl did her best to get her jeans on. Chase followed them to the door and out into the foyer. He was grinning in the face of her scowl as the elevator doors closed. Pink polka-dotted panties. Now that was a sight he wouldn’t forget any time soon.

Two

Savannah had never been so mortified in her life. She was going to kill Kaden Waite the next time she saw him.

“Chase is in Nashville until after the rodeo,” Kade had told her, knowing money was tight and she’d probably be sleeping in her truck or in Indigo’s stall. “No one will be there. I’ll call the hotel and set it up.”

He had. She’d checked in that night with no problem. The desk clerk had barely looked at her. Either Chase Barron had strange women asking for his card key all the time or Kade had totally smoothed the way. Before her ignominious exit, things had been great. She’d gotten Indigo settled into his stall at the Clark County Fairgrounds and had enough grain left to feed him well. She’d unhooked her horse trailer and parked it in the designated area near the barn before driving to the Strip.

She’d found a place in the Crown Hotel and Casino’s parking lot and locked up her old truck. Not that it would take more than a twist of baling wire to pop the locks. Even with the odometer logging 200,000 miles, the old Ford still got her from rodeo to rodeo. She even had half a tank of gas—hopefully enough to last until she won the barrel event that weekend. And she had to win. She had a total of $175.00 in her checking account and twenty bucks in her pocket.

Then she’d woken up to a strange man in bed with her. The man who lived in that penthouse suite. Chase Barron. All six-plus feet of sexy male with his lean, I-run-on-the-treadmill-every-day body, his silky dark hair and those coffee-colored eyes. She jerked her thoughts back and remembered she’d nailed him in the chest with her boot. He deserved it. He was the world’s biggest jerk.

The security guy mostly ignored her, but the walls of the elevator were polished to the point they might as well have been mirrors. She struggled into her jeans, got them buttoned and her belt buckled. He didn’t give her time to dig a pair of socks out of her duffel. Marching her barefoot across the lobby to the obvious entertainment of everyone they encountered just added to her now miserable night.

Security shoved her through the entrance, held open by a smirking doorman. Savannah stumbled a few steps, found her balance and moved to a granite planter. Plopping her butt on the edge of it, she glared at the man standing over her, ready to snatch her up to keep her moving. “Hold your frickin’ horses, dude. I’m putting on my socks and boots.”

It took her a minute to stamp her boots on. Straightening to her full height, chin up, she offered him her glaringest glare. “I can find my way out.”

Turning on her heel, head still high, she stomped across the valet drive and headed into the crowded lot. Her truck was parked in the far corner. She kept walking, and about three rows in, her escort dropped back, then stopped altogether. She ducked behind an RV, and when she peeked back, he was returning to the hotel.

Still seething, she found her truck, only to discover the front tire was flat. That made her choice easy. Rather than driving back to the fairgrounds to sleep in Indy’s stall, she’d sleep in the truck. She was too tired to change the tire tonight. Crawling inside, she swiped at her cheeks. She didn’t have the spare time or energy to waste on tears. She would be back here in Las Vegas come December, competing in the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo, but that meant she had to be at her best for this week’s qualifying rodeo. February was a late start but she was determined.

She pushed her duffel against the passenger door, stretched across the bench seat and jerked the Indian blanket off the back of the seat to cover her legs. She would deal with everything in the morning, including calling Mr. Kaden “I’ll fix it” Waite to tell him not to do her any more favors.

Savannah sat straight up, cussing. She couldn’t call Kade. She couldn’t call anyone. Her phone was plugged in, charging on the nightstand, next to the bed belonging to the jackass who lived on the fiftieth floor of the monster hotel looming just beyond her windshield. Dammit. She would have to face the man again in the morning. With her luck, the jerk face would just throw her phone away when he found it, which would suck because she didn’t have the money to get a new one.

Snatching a baseball cap off the headache rack behind the seat, she put it on and pulled the bill over her eyes. She had to sleep or she’d be sluggish tomorrow. She needed to work Indy in the arena because he’d been off training for three weeks. Her horse needed to settle and be in shape to get a good time for the first round. If her time wasn’t fast enough, there wouldn’t be a second round and she’d be in a world of economic hurt. She was already two rodeos behind on getting points and winnings.

Savvie thumped her duffel and sought a more comfortable position. She eventually drifted off.

* * *

Just before dawn, Chase found the woman’s phone, when it buzzed on his nightstand. Irritated, he rolled over and grabbed it, ready to throw it against the far wall until he saw Kaden calling on the screen. It was the ranch manager of the Crown B. Curious, he answered.

“Yeah?”

“Uh...is Savannah around?”

“No.”

“Where is she?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Who is this?”

“Chase Barron.”

Silence stretched for a long moment before Kade replied. “Chase? Kaden Waite. I thought you were in Nashville.”

“I was until last night. Found someone in my bed, Kade.”

“Damn. I’m sorry. Chance and Cord told me it’d be all right if Savvie stayed in your place while you were gone. They expected you to be in Nashville for at least another two weeks. The rodeo is over Saturday night and Sav would be back on the road Sunday.”

“She your girlfriend?” Chase didn’t expect the burst of laughter from the other man.

“Kissing her would be like kissing my sister. Our mothers were tight and we grew up practically next door to each other.”

“So she’s Chickasaw?” That would help explain the sleek, black hair, carved cheekbones and snapping brown eyes.

“Nope. Choctaw. Is that a problem?” Kade’s voice took on an edge. “Look, Chase, I was trying to help the kid out. She’s living on a shoestring and has big dreams about being the next All-Around Cowgirl. She was gonna sleep in her truck or her horse’s stall, so I figured since you were gone and your brothers said—”

“Yeah, yeah. I rained on her parade by coming home early. Not a big deal, Kade. Look, she’s out right now. Forgot her phone. I’ll have her call you.” Chase was lying through his teeth. He wasn’t about to explain he’d kicked her out last night.

“That’s okay. She’ll just get pissed because I’m checking up on her. I worry about her being out there alone, ya know?”

“Gotcha. Anything else? I gotta go, man.” Yeah, he had to go find her before Kade found out.

“Thanks, Chase.”

“Anytime, bro.” And that last slipped out before he could catch it. Luckily, Kade hung up without comment. Chase was convinced Kade was a product of one of the old man’s liaisons. The guy didn’t act like he had a clue and he always kept an employer-employee barrier up between him and the Barron boys. Still, they all had their suspicions.

At the moment, though, figuring out Kade’s parentage was less pressing than finding the girl Chase had tossed out like yesterday’s garbage. He realized, belatedly, that she’d tried to explain her presence, and he never gave her the chance. Plus, he’d forced her into a walk of shame with Security—with everyone in the lobby there to witness every step. He could be a right bastard sometimes. He called Tucker about sending someone to the fairgrounds later to locate Savannah, and arranging a comped room for the girl.

A shower and a cup of coffee later, Chase dressed in an impeccable suit and custom black boots, then stood staring out the window. Activity in the parking lot below drew his attention. Red and blue flashing lights. Police. Members of hotel security. And a beat-up old truck. He slammed his mug on the counter and headed to the door at a trot.

Downstairs, the doorman got the heavy glass door open half a second before Chase would have slammed it open himself. He ignored the valet and strode into the parking lot. As he approached the knot of cops and security personnel, he heard the woman’s indignant voice.

“But I wasn’t soliciting that dude. He came on to me!” Her fisted hands hung stiffly at her sides and she had a smear of grease across one cheek. “I was just changing my tire.”

Chase noticed the jack, the flat tire and the sorry state of the old Ford truck in general. Kade hadn’t lied about her circumstances. And now that Chase wasn’t pissed off and worried he was being set up again, he realized how gorgeous she looked, even in the same faded T-shirt from last night. She also had on a plaid shirt, faded jeans, muddy boots, and her face was dirty. She barely kept her temper in check, and Chase had the insane desire to find out what would happen when she snapped. Instead, he pushed into the group.

“I see you’re still here, Miss Wolfe.”

She glared, and he had to bite back a smile.

“You know her, boss?” Bart Stevens, head of hotel security, stepped up beside him.

“Kade called this morning,” Chase said to her, without answering his security chief’s question. He held out her phone. “You left this behind last night.”

Savannah stared at him but didn’t reach for the phone. Her expression reminded him of Miz Beth, the woman who’d helped raise the Barron brothers, staring at a rattlesnake—as if she didn’t know whether to be afraid or take a hoe to his neck. He stepped closer, unsnapped the flap on the pocket over her left breast and slipped the phone inside. Turning to Stevens, he added, “Call the garage and have them send someone over to change the tire and move the truck.”

“I can change my own tire,” she growled at him, and he was reminded again of her wildcat tendencies.

“I’m sure you can, Savannah. But I’m paying people to change tires whether they are changing them or sitting on their butts. Grab your stuff and come with me.”

“No.” Her fists were now planted on her hips, her face darkening as her eyes narrowed. “Don’t do me any favors, Mr. Barron.”

Oh, yeah, this was going to be fun. “Do you really want to do this in front of an audience?” He gestured toward the three uniformed security guards, his suited security chief and the four LVPD officers circling them.

“No. I just want to change my flat, get in my truck and get to the fairgrounds so I can work my horse.”

“While the hotel garage is servicing your truck, I’ll take you to the fairgrounds and you can work your horse.”

Savannah glanced around before she stepped close to him and snarled into his ear. “Why are you being nice? You threw me out on my ass last night.”

“I apologize.” He said it quietly, his gaze covering the other men. “Long story. I’ll explain later.” He stepped back and said more loudly, “C’mon, Savannah, I’ll buy you breakfast and then we’ll head out to Clark County.”

He offered his most appealing smile, the one most women begged to get. This woman just rolled her eyes, pivoted and reached into her truck to grab the duffel. She jerked her keys from her front pocket and dangled them from her fingers. Chase nodded to one of the guards to take the keys. A second guard reached for the duffel. Savannah relinquished it after a short tussle.

“I can carry my own stuff,” she muttered.

“Yes, but this is my hotel and guests don’t carry their own luggage.”

She arched a brow at Chase. “Guest?”

“Come back to my apartment for breakfast and we’ll talk.”

Her gaze raked over him from his face to his boots and back to his eyes. “You don’t impress me as a man who talks much, unless he’s issuing orders.”

Chase threw back his head and laughed. He dropped his arm across her shoulders and drew her along with him. “You think you have my number, wildcat. C’mon.” When they had a modicum of privacy, he lowered his head closer to hers. “You can grab a hot shower and clean clothes while we’re waiting for room service.”

“Your bathroom better have a lock on the door.”

He snorted and another deep belly laugh erupted as he squeezed her in a side hug. She tensed and tried to lean away, but he didn’t let her. “I promise to be on my best behavior. Besides, Kade would probably beat me up if I tried anything.”

The tension left her body. “You really did talk to him?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t say anything else until they crossed the lobby and entered the penthouse elevator. Chase took her duffel from the guard and the doors closed behind them. “I’m sorry I jumped the gun and didn’t let you explain. I was coming off a situation that had to do with two girls and some selfies posted to social media and subsequently picked up by the press. That’s why I came back to Vegas early. I also bypassed the front desk coming in, so they didn’t have a chance to tell me I had a guest.”

She turned her head and her lips quirked. A flash of heat washed over him as he watched her mouth. She stiffened beside him almost as if she’d read his mind. He needed to work on his poker face. Chase blinked to break the connection growing between them. She was a beautiful woman, sexy in a blunt, earthy way, and totally unlike his usual side dish. Still, the attraction remained—an attraction he wanted to explore. She’d be in town only a week. That was more than enough time.

Three

Chase leaned on the metal railing of the outdoor arena fence and watched Savannah ride the big black horse. The gelding loped around the perimeter, a rocking-chair gait that made the rider’s hips undulate in a way that every part of Chase stood up and noticed. He’d grown up around horses, and cattle, but nothing had ever turned him on like watching Savannah simply ride in circles. Which was completely crazy. He wasn’t a cowboy. He’d never hit the rodeo circuit like Cord and Chance, or Cash for that matter. He could ride. He’d grown up on the Crown B. But this? He shifted uncomfortably, and jerked when his phone buzzed in his hip pocket.

Tucker. Chase swiped his thumb across the phone to answer. “Yeah, bud. What’s up?”

“I have her booked into a room with full comp.”

“Thanks.”

“You wanna explain what’s going on?”

He would if he understood it himself. Instead, he went for the easy answer. “She’s a friend of Kade’s.”

“A...friend.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Tuck. Not that kind of friend. They grew up together, sort of like brother and sister. She’s here for the rodeo this weekend. I’m doing him a favor.”

“Uh-huh.”

Silence stretched between them before Chase finally broke it. “Say what’s on your mind, Tuck.”

“I got a look at the security footage, man.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. The video has been deleted.” The uncomfortable silence returned, but Tucker sliced through it this time. “She’s not a stray dog, Chase. You can’t toss her out, then leave food on the porch.”

Chase thought fast because after talking to Kade, he did feel sorry he’d thrown her out, but there was something more—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “If I’d known who she was, Tuck, I would have comped her a room last night. She’s not a stray. She’s Kade’s friend.”

“Whatever, cuz.” Voices hummed in the background before Tuck continued. “When are you coming back?”

“What’s up?”

“Not sure. Security thinks there might be something hinky going on out on the floor.”

“Keep them on it. I’ll be back after lunch.”

“Okay.”

He continued to silently watch Savannah exercise her horse, but when he noticed the animal’s gait was off, he started to say something. She’d already realized there was a problem, reining the animal to a stop and slipping off his back. She checked his rear leg, then walked him to the gate. Chase met her there and took in her slumped shoulders and tight expression with one sweep of his gaze as he opened it for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Indy was kicked three weeks ago. I dropped out of that rodeo and didn’t enter another to give him a chance to heal up. He seemed fine when we got here so I paid my entry. If I don’t run him, I lose the fee.”

“What’s the vet say?”

She mumbled something Chase couldn’t understand, so he touched her shoulder. Her muscles twitched but she didn’t jerk away. “Savannah?”

“I don’t have the money for a vet.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze, keeping her chin tucked in and her eyes downcast. “It’s just a deep muscle bruise. I had someone look at it. Rest, heat, mild exercise.”

“But...”

She pulled away from him and began leading the horse toward the long barn with the rental stalls. “But nothing. If he can’t run, my season is over. I can’t afford to buy another horse as good as Indy. Thing is, I have to win to keep going. I don’t even know if I can get him back to Oklahoma and keep him long enough to heal. Grain isn’t cheap.” Snapping her mouth shut, she tucked her chin against her chest again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you. It’s none of your business. I’ll deal with it.” She moved away from him, putting the big horse between them when she added, “I need to cool Indy down, muck his stall and brush him. Can you stick around to give me a ride back to pick up my truck?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

When they entered the barn, and he figured out which stall was hers, Chase sent her off to cool down the horse. He took off his bespoke suit coat, stripped off his designer tie and rolled up his sleeves. Before he grabbed the shovel and hay fork, he placed a call to Tuck to get the best large-animal vet in Vegas to the fairgrounds to check out Savannah’s horse.

While Chase shoveled manure out of the stall, then raked the dirt and clean straw into place, his internal dialogue was short and sarcastic. He didn’t need to get wrapped up in this girl’s problems. Not his style. At all. But her tough-girl exterior and the flashes of vulnerability he glimpsed stirred something deep inside—something more than his libido.

Chase knew better than to examine that feeling too closely. He wasn’t a white knight and this girl didn’t need him riding to her rescue. Her clothes were old, her boots scuffed and run-down at the heels, her tack fixed so many times the repairs had repairs. She needed more than a quick roll in the hay and that was his standard operating procedure. He was definitely a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. Plus, he preferred his women sleek, designer and aware of the rules of his game. He didn’t want—and definitely didn’t need—a down-home cowgirl next door like Savannah Wolfe.

By the time Savannah returned with Indigo, Chase had bought fresh alfalfa hay and a bag of grain and filled the stall’s manger and feed bucket.

He’d learned long ago it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Far fewer arguments that way. But he didn’t quite manage to get her off the property before the vet showed up. They had that argument while the doctor examined her horse. When he delivered his prognosis—a deep muscle bruise, possibly bone chipping—all the fight went out of her. And Chase’s heart went out to her—a wholly unexpected, and unusual, feeling.

Savannah didn’t argue when he led her to his Jag. She looked defeated as he settled her into the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel and glanced at her before putting the sleek car into gear and driving off. “I’m sorry, Savannah. Indy will recover, though. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” She wouldn’t look at him, and her flat tone didn’t make him feel better.

They rode in silence for several miles. Savannah inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak, but the ringing of his phone interrupted. He hit the answer button on the steering wheel.

“Chase Barron.”

“Where are you, Chase?”

“We’re driving back to the hotel, Tuck. What’s up?” He didn’t like the tight sound of his cousin’s voice.

“You need to pull over and take me off Bluetooth.”

“Okay.” He located a convenience store up ahead and pulled in. With a few deft motions, he disconnected the phone function and held his cell next to his ear. “Talk to me.”

“I just got a request to free up two of the suites on the penthouse floor. For Uncle Cyrus and the Carrolls—father and daughter.”

Chase glanced at Savannah, who was pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping, not that she had a choice in the close confines of the sports car. “When?”

“They’re arriving Friday.” Tucker cleared his throat on a choked chortle. “I’m not supposed to tell you. Your old man is planning to ambush you.”

“Ha. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“What are you going to do?”

He cut his eyes to the passenger seat, an idea starting to form in his brain. A really bad idea. Or one that was utterly brilliant. Chase couldn’t decide. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

Disconnecting the call, he put the Jag in gear and pulled back out into traffic. For the entire ride, until he turned into the valet lane at the Crown, he didn’t give Savannah a chance to question him. With his hand gripping her arm just above the elbow, he guided her inside and to the VIP clerk at check-in to get a card key. In the private elevator, he punched in the number for her floor.

“We’ve comped you a room, and your things are already there. Grab a shower and clean clothes, then buzz me at extension seven star star one. I’ll come down to get you, and we’ll go back up to the apartment. We’ll decide on lunch and order.”

“Mr. Barron—”

“Chase. Please, Savannah? Just do this for me. We’ll figure out something about your situation, okay?”

“Okay.” The doors slithered open silently and she stepped out. He leaned against the panel, keeping the elevator open. “It’ll be okay, Savannah.”

She tilted her head and watched him through unblinking eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a sardonic smile before he could stop himself. “I have no idea. I just know that I want to.” He freed the door and it closed on her bemused expression.

Upstairs, he paced through the apartment, fitting pieces of a plan together. He had a crap ton of stuff to do and very little time to do it in.

Forty-five minutes later, he had a handle on almost everything. All he needed now was Savannah’s cooperation. Considering the deal he’d put together, he figured it wouldn’t be too hard to win her over, despite misgivings expressed by his brother Chance, and by Kade.

* * *

Savannah stood under the hot water pouring from the rainfall showerhead. Her room was like a little minisuite. There was a sitting area with a huge LED TV, and a small table for two next to the window that looked out over the Strip. The mattress on the king-size bed bounced her a little when she flopped on it, and then sucked her into its memory-foam goodness. The bathroom was...huge, sporting a whirlpool garden tub big enough for two and a separate granite-walled shower big enough for even more.

She pressed her hands against the stone wall and bowed her head. If some tears mixed in with the water, who would know? Besides her. She didn’t cry. Didn’t have the time or the inclination for it. But here she was, bawling twice in less than twenty-four hours. Letting go of a dream was hard, but she had no choice.

Indigo was hurt too badly to race. In fact, the vet had wanted to take him to the clinic for X-rays. Her horse was done. Out for at least three months, if not forever. The whole thing was so stupid. She’d been mounted, waiting her turn to run at a rodeo last month in Denver. Another competitor had ridden up beside her and within seconds, the other horse had freaked, whirled and nailed poor Indigo in the gaskin, the area between the thigh and hock. She’d checked Indy, but there was no broken skin. Thinking the flighty horse had missed, she’d run the barrels that night and Indy pulled up lame at the end of the run.

Guilt swamped her. One of the guys with the rodeo stock company had looked at Indy for her. He knew almost as much as a vet and had diagnosed a deep bruise. He’d recommended rest. Hot packs. Then alternate hot and cold packs. She didn’t have money for a vet and she darn sure wasn’t going to call home for a bailout. Her mother and Tom, Mom’s latest loser boyfriend, would be all up in her face with the I-told-you-so’s. Well, they’d told her so, and now she had no choice but to tuck her tail between her legs and sneak home. Her shoulders shook as she cried harder.

Maybe Kade would loan her enough money to get back to Oklahoma, though she didn’t know what she’d do once she got there. Surely some of the restaurants or clubs in Oklahoma City were hiring. She’d need good tips to pay Kade back. She’d have to sell Indy. She couldn’t afford to board him—or get him properly doctored by a vet—and with Tom living with her mom, she couldn’t stay at the farm.

The thought of losing her horse hurt her heart. The first time she’d put him through his paces she knew she had a winner, and it had revived her dream of becoming the Champion All-Around Cowgirl at the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo.

And now that dream was dead, ground into the red dirt she’d never be able to shake off her boots.

Savannah twirled the shower handle and the water flow stopped. Braiding her hair while it was still wet, she didn’t bother with makeup—not that she often wore any—and pulled on a pair of clean jeans, her boots and a T-shirt. She didn’t want to see Chase Barron, sit in the same room with him, have lunch with him. Chase knew too much, saw too much. And with his dark hair, coffee-colored eyes and dimpled grin, he was far too dangerous for her to deal with when she was feeling this vulnerable.

Still, she picked up the phone and dialed his extension. While he’d been a major jerk in the beginning, he had stepped up to help when no one else had. Not that she needed help. She was just fine on her own—had proved that since she was twelve, when her mother brought that first scumbag home and he’d tried to get into bed with Savannah. She’d handled everything life had thrown at her so far. She would handle this, too. Because she had no choice.

* * *

When his phone beeped to announce Savannah was waiting, Chase was as ready as he could be. He went down in the elevator to retrieve her. Over hamburgers—her choice for lunch—he laid out his plan.

“I want to sponsor you.”

She choked, grabbed the glass of expensive spring water he’d poured for her and chugged it. “Excuse me?” she sputtered once she could talk.

“You want to go to the National Finals, right?”

She nodded but didn’t speak.

“I know Indigo is out of commission for now. I know you’re on your last dime, almost literally. I know that piece-of-shit truck won’t make another thousand miles, much less the ten thousand you’ll need to drive to hit enough rodeos to qualify for Nationals.”

Savannah just watched him, brow knitted, lips pursed. He really wanted to kiss those lips. Which was crazy, given what he was about to propose. When silence stretched between them, he pulled his eyes away from her mouth and refocused on her eyes.

“I’ll sponsor you. Well, technically, Barron Entertainment will. The company will provide you with a new truck, a new trailer—both carrying our name. I’ve talked to Kade about a replacement horse. He has one in mind and can have it here before the first round Friday night. I’ll pay your gas, all other travel expenses, entry fees, insurance, stall rentals and whatever rodeo-related expenses you have.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her eyes wide now, and unbelieving. He wanted to chase her tongue with his lips. That could wait. He had to win her over to his plan first. “After Nationals, win, lose or draw, I’ll pay you a bonus of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“There has to be catch.”

His little wildcat didn’t trust easily. That was okay. He had every expectation he could convince her this was all to her benefit.

“What, besides barrel racing, do I have to do to receive this Barron bounty?”

“Marry me.”

Four

“Marry you.” Her voice was flat to her own ears, though she all but screeched her next question. “Are you out of your frickin’ mind?”

“Maybe.”

Savannah stared at Chase, wondering what bizarre thing would come out of his mouth next. “You’re crazy. I’m not going to marry you. I... You...” She breathed through the tightness in her chest. He’d dangled her dream in front of her only to jerk it out of her reach. “No. You’re completely nuts. Less than twenty-four hours ago you had Security perp walk me out of this hotel. Now you’re all...” She fluttered her hands, at a loss for how to describe his actions. “Crazy. Just crazy.”

“Please hear me out, Savannah.”

She folded her arms across her chest, leaned back in the very comfortable chair and cocked a brow. “Fine. I’m listening.”

“I find I’m in need of a wife.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A wife of my choosing, not my father’s.”

She leaned forward, curious despite her misgivings. This explanation was going to be a doozy.

“I’m fairly certain you’re aware of my...reputation.”

The snort escaped before she could hold it back. “Reputation? What? You mean the one that lands you on the front cover of every tabloid from LA to London? A different woman in your bed every night? Or do you mean the sex tapes floating around the internet? Yeah. I think the whole world is aware of your reputation, Mr. Barron.”

He attempted to look contrite but she didn’t buy it for a second.

“Call me Chase, please.” He brushed a manicured hand through his expertly styled hair. “Look, Savannah, this is a win-win for you. And for me.”

“You still haven’t explained your reasons, Chase.”

“My father has decided I need to settle down, and I need to get married in order to do that.”

“So why me?”

“Because he has an acceptable wife picked out for me already.”

She couldn’t breathe for a moment, and her voice sounded slightly strangled as she pushed out words she didn’t want to say. “An acceptable wife. And I’m not. You want to marry me because I’m a dirt-poor, Choctaw cowgirl and it will piss your old man off.” Heat surged in her cheeks and her fingers tingled from adrenaline. She wanted to hit him. Or run. Anything but sit here and be embarrassed by this rich clown.

“No, Savannah. That’s not true. Not really. Yes, I need to be legally married before he gets here Friday. Yes, you happen to be here and in a position where we can help each other out. But no, it didn’t occur to me that you’re...that you would be something to taunt him with. Well, beyond the fact that I’d be preemptively marrying you before he could try to force me to marry Janiece.”

He sank onto the granite block that served as a coffee table, scrubbing at his face with the palms of his hands—hands, she reminded herself, with a better manicure than her own. There he sat in designer slacks, a starched cotton shirt with so many threads she probably couldn’t count that high, his high-dollar haircut and boots that likely cost more than she’d made last year. And here she sat in faded jeans fraying at the back pockets, scuffed boots all but falling apart, a T-shirt advertising a boot company, and her hair semitamed into a braid.

“But I have to be honest, now that you’ve brought it to my attention. Yes, if you marry me, there will be flack. From the old man and probably from my family. I’ve already talked to my brother Chance. He’s an attorney. I want him to draw up a prenuptial agreement.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Chase held up a hand to stay her argument.

“It’s to protect you as much as me. I’m making certain promises to you. You have every expectation that I’ll deliver. The prenup ensures that you’ll be taken care of, as promised. I won’t lie. Chance is not happy with me, but that’s par for the course. I’m sort of the bad seed in the family.” He offered a boyish grin meant to disarm her, and it succeeded—to a point.

“I’m not your type, Chase.” She tried to meet his gaze head-on and add a glower, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from sliding to the side as she spoke the truth. “I’m rough. I live from payday to payday. I don’t wear heels or designer duds. I don’t talk like you. Heck, I bet your hands are softer than mine. No one is going to buy this marriage as anything other than what it is—a marriage of convenience to get you out of trouble with your father.”

Chase couldn’t deny her words, nor would he do her the disservice of trying. She told the truth, but at the same time, there was something compelling about that. Most women—okay, every woman he’d ever dated—wanted something from him and would tell him whatever they thought he wanted to hear in order to get it. Savannah was different. She was...real. What he saw was what he’d get. And what he saw fascinated him.

She was prickly, stubborn, full of pride, curvy, tomboyish—all the things he stayed away from when it came to women. She’d be way more trouble than she was worth. She’d be a crimp in his social life. She’d bedevil him like crazy. And some perverse part of him looked forward to the challenge, actually craved it. He watched her struggle to meet his eyes, realized she was feeling exposed and didn’t like the feeling.

Despite his social failings where the opposite sex was concerned, Chase understood people and their motivations on a visceral level. That made him extremely successful in the entertainment business. He sensed this woman would always speak the truth, at least as she perceived it. He’d appreciate that in the long run, if not always in the present. And despite her strength, there was a vulnerability shrouding her that stirred a deeply buried protective streak.

“I won’t embarrass you, Savannah. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll take care of you for the length of the contract between us. You’ll walk away at the end with what I’ve promised—new truck, the trailer, the horse we get from Kade, all your expenses. Clothes. Food. Hotels. Vets for the horse, including Indigo. I’ll get Kade to bring your new horse out and he’ll take Indigo back to the ranch to heal. You keep the money you win. You’ll have enough to keep you going when we divorce. I’ll even do something stupid so it’s all on me. You can walk away free and clear with your head high.”

“Why, Chase? I still don’t get it. Why not just tell your father to go...” She stopped before using the word on the tip of her tongue and corrected it to “Uh...take a flying leap? You’re an adult. Why let him control you?”

She had a point, but his reasons were so messed up, a battery of psychiatrists would have a field day trying to figure out his family dynamics. “Look up the term dysfunctional family in the dictionary. The definition will be two words. The Barrons.” He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “But you deserve the truth. I’m weak, Savannah. And a coward, pretty much. My father is a right bastard, and he’s ridden roughshod over every one of us. He’s threatened to fire me. Chance fixed the family trust so I’ll be taken care of, but I wouldn’t be in charge of Barron Entertainment.”

He pushed off the table and strode to the windows. Las Vegas and the desert beyond spread before him in a seemingly endless vista. “I like what I do. Hell, I love it. But more important, I’m good at it. I wasn’t good at anything growing up.”

Chase snapped his mouth shut and stiffened. What the hell was wrong with him? He never revealed his true thoughts to anyone. Not even Cash, especially not now. He wasn’t smart like Chance. He wasn’t a leader like Clay. He wasn’t honorable like Cord. And he sure wasn’t like his twin, always putting the family before his own needs. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“We’re not consummating the marriage.”

Thankfully, her words interrupted his reverie. He turned his head, and heat curled deep inside as he swept his gaze over her. She really was beautiful in a down-to-earth way. He didn’t miss the widening of her eyes, the quick intake of breath that swelled her breasts or the delicate shiver that skittered over her skin as he watched her.

“But we are sleeping in the same bed,” he countered.

“Whoa. What?”

“We have to convince my father we’re married. That means you sleep in my bed—with me—while he’s here. You’ll be headed out on the circuit after the rodeo, right?”

She nodded, apprehension warring with something else in her expression. Was that interest? Maybe a touch of curious lust? He liked that idea.

“We won’t necessarily be together under one roof. Except when you come back here and there’s a long stretch between your appearances.”

“Why can’t I go home to Oklahoma?”

“Because you’ll be my wife, and since this is my main residence, you’ll come here. I’ll arrange for permanent stable and training facilities for you.” He walked back across the room and stopped in front of her so she had to crane her neck to look at him.

“We work together in public to make sure no one gets the wrong perception.” He resisted the urge to cup her cheek. “We’ll paint a picture of a happy couple in love. I’ll have Tucker set up accounts for you at the hotel’s boutiques. Buy whatever you need. I promise not to drag you to a fancy party unless absolutely necessary, and I’ll prep you before that happens. We’ll hold hands in public. Smile at each other. Do that sort of thing. Here in the apartment, when we’re alone, we act as normal. My bed is huge. You can put pillows down the middle or whatever you need to feel comfortable. I promise not to put the moves on you.”

He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

* * *

Savvie’s palm itched, and the muscles in her right arm contracted in preparation for the shake that would seal her fate—at least for the next year. A look crossed Chase’s face as his gaze swept over her, much as it had when he stood across the room. This time, the impact was immediate. She couldn’t ignore the thrill zinging through her. She couldn’t help it. Despite being a royal jerk, he was sexy. And handsome. And charming. And she was a red-blooded Oklahoma cowgirl who knew prime breeding stock when she saw it. The guy had good genes—and jeans, or at least slacks. She shook her head to clear the sexual tension building in her middle. Getting involved with him was Trouble with a capital T.

But could she afford to walk away? He was offering her the chance to fulfill her dream. Making this deal with the devil would ensure she could keep Indy, and he’d get the treatment he needed. She wouldn’t have to tuck tail and sneak home. All she had to do was live in a fishbowl for the next twelve months. She shouldn’t trust this guy any farther than she could throw him but some twisted part of her urged her to accept him at face value. He was a scandal waiting to happen, but his boyish charm held a touch of uncertainty with a side helping of wistful desperation.

“Deal.” She raised her hand and he clasped it. Had she been a romantic, she would have expected a bolt of energy or awareness or some mystical connection to surge between them at the touch of their hands. But she felt nothing beyond smooth skin, gentle pressure and a sense of relief.

“Excellent. We have a lot to do between now and Friday.” He whipped out his phone and pressed a number. “Tucker, I need you in the apartment.” He hung up and hit a second number. He listened for a moment, then left a message. “Chance, draw up the paperwork we discussed. Courier the originals out here. I’ll have Tucker witness and notarize. Thanks, bro.”

He paused to wink at her. “I’ll have Security give you a code for the elevator. Tuck will take you downstairs to shop. In the meantime, call Kade. Tell him exactly what you need.” He turned away, already keying in the next number on his cell.

“Uh... Chase?”

He refocused his attention her. “Yeah, kitten?”

Huh. She’d gone from wildcat to kitten. She wasn’t quite sure how to process that. Instead, she pushed forward. “I...um... I don’t mean to be greedy or anything, but could I talk to Kade about borrowing two horses? If I have a roping horse to go with a barrel horse, I can double up on my events and points. I won’t keep them or anything, after...well...next year. I just want Indy. I’ll ride the other horses, but they’ll still belong to you. Okay?”

His gaze narrowed and then cleared as she babbled. “Babe, whatever you need. Don’t worry about expenses. I have money. Feel free to spend it. And those horses are yours. No matter what.” With that, he moved away from her and into the recessed space that served as his office, his phone pressed to his ear.

She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Kade. She didn’t expect the first words out of his mouth.

“Are you out of your freaking mind?”

“Uh, hi, Kade. I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Pissed, little girl. You need to get as far away from Las Vegas as you can get.”

“Nope. Can’t do that.”

“What have you done?”

“We shook on it, Kade.” She huffed out a breath heavy enough to stir the thick strand of hair straggling over her forehead. “Look, this is a good deal for me. If I don’t take it, I slink home so my mother and that jackass warming her bed can rub it in my face. I can’t do that. I won’t do it. Chase is offering me a deal I can’t walk away from.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Yeah, I do. I read the tabloids. I know he’s a womanizing jerk face with entitlement issues.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them before Kade’s voice whispered in her ear. “Itek soba, he’ll break your heart.”

Sister of the horse. Kade hadn’t called her that in a long time. Using the childhood Chickasaw nickname he’d given her brought home just how worried he was. “No, he won’t. I’d have to love him first, and that is so not gonna happen, anakfi.” She used the Choctaw word for brother. “There’s paperwork so we’re both covered. I have to do this, Kade. You know that. Are you going to help me?”

“Of course I am, Savvie. But I damn well don’t have to like it.”

“So... I need two horses.”

“I figured you might. I have two Crown B bred horses I think will work. Tansy Reed’s been working Cimarron. He’s rough and still needs seasoning but he’s fast, and I think the two of you will work well. He has a soft mouth.”

“Okay.” Wow. Tansy Reed was the premier barrel racer and trainer. She’d retired from the rodeo circuit to raise her family and train horses. “What about a roping horse?”

“Have the perfect guy for you. I’ve been working Big Red myself. He’s quick, responsive and I swear he knows where the calf is gonna be before I do. I’ve also done both heading and heeling with him in case you want to add team roping.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Don’t have a partner for that.” She pursed her lips, considering. “Yet. I’ll look around, see who’s available.”

“I’ll load up and head that way today. I’ll be there by Thursday morning. You’ll have time to ride them both, and they’ll have their ground legs back before the rodeo starts.”

A knock on the door caught her attention. “Call me when you get here. I’ll meet you at Clark County. Somebody’s at the door. I gotta go, Kade.”

His heavy sigh hung between them. “Are you sure, little girl?”

“Yeah. Everything is gonna be fine. You’ll take care of Indy for me, right?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

She ended the call, and when she caught Chase’s attention, he waved her toward the door. She opened it, only to be confronted by a handsome man. He vaguely resembled Chase, except instead of sharp brown eyes, this man’s were a startling blue and his hair was a dark russet brown instead of black.

“Huh.” He stared at her, obviously not very impressed. “I can’t wait until Uncle Cyrus gets a load of you. Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah. I’m Tucker, soon to be your cousin-in-law. I’m taking you shopping. Clothes. Truck. Trailer. Sound familiar?”

“Before we sign the paperwork?”

“Nothing goes into your name until after the marriage.”

“Oh.” Savannah wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.

Tucker looked over the top of her head and called to Chase. “We’ll stop by Security and get her into the system. See you for dinner.”

He grabbed her arm and tugged, but she jerked free. “Wait. My purse.”

Reaching around her, Tucker pulled the door closed. “You won’t need it.”

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