The Reluctant Texas Rancher (Harlequin American Romance) Read online

  Talk about the impossible.

  She sighed.

  “Meantime, if I get community service for this, make sure it’s something outside,” J.T. continued. “I hate being cooped up.”

  Liz tried another approach. “You don’t have to plead guilty to the misdemeanor charges. I can get them dropped if you’ll only agree to get some grief counseling.”

  J.T. scowled. “You know how I feel about that.”

  “Nothing is going to make your grief go away, I know,” Liz repeated his oft-muttered sentiment.

  “Exactly.”

  Figuring that, under the circumstances, community service couldn’t hurt, since it would get him out of the house, Liz did as he asked.

  The guilty plea was entered; he was lectured by the exasperated judge and assigned twenty hours of community service cleaning up local streets.

  An hour later, she was headed back to the office.

  It was noon by the time she arrived at the ranch.

  Pale gray clouds were obscuring the horizon. Reba, Tillie and Faye Elizabeth were in the midst of gathering up their purses—and raincoats, just in case.

  “What’s going on?” Liz asked. Given the fact it was a Saturday, they could be headed anywhere.

  Tillie stuffed her notepad and pen in her handbag. Reba grabbed the keys to her own SUV. “We’re making our monthly shopping trip to the warehouse club in San Angelo.”

  Liz wished she’d had more notice. Not having any destroyed her ability to adequately adjust her own workload. Nevertheless, she had a responsibility here. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll go with you.”

  “That would be great!” her grandmother said. “We’ll wait while you change clothes.”

  Reba gave her mother a chiding look, then turned back to Liz. “Actually, honey, we need you here, helping Travis move the cattle from pasture 53 to 62.”

  With ten thousand acres of ranch land and only some of it currently fit for grazing, moving cattle around could be quite a task.

  To her consternation, Tillie quickly reinforced that sentiment. “I don’t care how good Travis is on horseback, he can’t do it alone, dear. Well, not efficiently, anyway. Not with all the newborn calves and their mamas.”

  “I’d do it myself if my hip were up to getting in the saddle,” Reba said.

  Liz knew that to be true. There was nothing her mother liked more than cowgirl activities.

  Liz ignored Faye Elizabeth’s lingering disapproval. There was no use aggravating her mother’s sciatica when it was just starting to mend. “Of course I’ll help with the cattle,” Liz said. She turned to Faye Elizabeth. “You don’t need to worry. I can handle Travis.”

  Her grandmother harrumphed. “See that you do.”

  Through discussing her love life—or lack thereof—Liz continued, practically, “When will you-all be back?”

  “Around dinnertime, if all goes as planned…”

  The ladies took off, and Liz went up to change clothes. Grimly, she downed an energy bar, saddled up and headed out.

  Travis was where they’d said he would be, in pasture 53. He was hardly alone.

  Reins in hand, she cantered over to join him. “Who are your buddies?”

  They hadn’t had ranch dogs for some time.

  These two were beauties.

  Mutts, to be sure, but gorgeous ones. Both fast and agile as could be.

  “Meet Mud.” Travis pointed to the smaller one. He had a thick brown-white-and-black coat and looked to be part border collie, part beagle. “And Jet.” He indicated a glossy black Labrador retriever–German shepherd mix.

  “Hey, fellas.” Liz smiled from her place in the saddle.

  “I borrowed them from my parents’ ranch,” Travis said. “They’ve got about two dozen cattle dogs out there, so we can keep them as long as we want them. What brings you out here?”

  “I was told you needed help moving cattle.”

  His expression didn’t change in the slightest. Yet there was something in his gray eyes. Some small glimmer of bemusement…

  Liz stifled a moan. “They knew you had the dogs helping you, didn’t they?”

  Which made her assistance unnecessary, as there were only seventy-five mama cows, with fifty baby calves to date. A lot for Liz’s mom to handle on her own, but nothing for a cowhand as fit and experienced as Travis. Especially when he was accompanied by two well-trained herding dogs.

  He shrugged lazily in response to her question. “Introductions were made. Plans announced.”

  Liz bit down on an oath. “Tillie and my mom are matchmaking.”

  “But not Faye Elizabeth.”

  Liz shrugged. “Of all of us, she’s the one who worries the most. So, you take that, plus her past—growing up without a dad, losing her husband so quickly after they married then watching my mom lose hers—I just don’t think she can bear to see any of us experience that kind of heartbreak again.”

  “Whereas Tillie…” Travis prodded.

  “Is still deeply romantic.”

  “And your mom?”

  “Practical to a fault.” To the point Reba was angling to make Travis Liz’s baby daddy. But Travis didn’t need to know that.

  His eyes gleamed. “I figured it was something like that.” Again, he wasn’t the least upset.

  Liz swallowed. It didn’t matter how sexy he looked in the saddle with a cowboy hat pulled low over his brow. She was his lawyer; he was a ranch employee. Their agreement specified nothing about social activities between them. And for good reason. Their lives were already complicated enough.

  Liz grabbed the reins and wheeled her horse around. “As long as I’m here, let’s get to it.”

  The next hour was spent cutting the mama cows and their calves from the herd. While Jet and Mud ran back and forth, barking and chasing the cattle toward the gates, Travis and Liz sorted those with calves into pasture 62, the still-gestating cows into pasture 54.

  Once finished, they met up again, the dogs trotting happily alongside.

  Travis settled his hat more squarely on his head. “I know the ranch isn’t your deal, that you’re not actually running the show, but…got time to look at a few things?”

  Hating the ominous undertone in his voice, Liz nodded. Duty called once again. “Sure.”

  Travis took the lead. On the southernmost part of the ranch, a dozen pastures were in bad shape. Grass was sparse, weeds prevalent.

  “My guess is these were grazed too short in dry conditions last summer,” he said, “limiting the carbohydrate reserves that fuel spring growth.”

  Guiltily, Liz recalled Tillie harping on the way the cattle had been moved—or not—the previous summer. Her mother had insisted that Liz be around to saddle up and help out more, but she hadn’t been able to, due to the demands of her law practice.

  Reba had eventually given up nagging and done what she could, with occasional hired help.

  “At this point in the spring, the grass should be green and thick,” Liz mused.

  Travis nodded. “Ideally, now that it’s not necessary to give the herd supplemental feed and nutrients, as we do in winter, we should put them in fields where the growth is six inches tall. Let them graze it down three inches or so, and move them again. Quick rotation of the herd in spring will help a pasture recover, while preventing grasses from flowering and losing forage quality.”

  Liz clasped the horn on her saddle while her horse danced restlessly. “Great-grandma Tillie is always saying that spring grazing is all about management.”

  “She’s right.” Travis turned his horse in the direction of the ranch house. With a nod of his head, he indicated Liz should follow. “Fortunately, it can be fixed with fertilizer, rain and regular mowing.”

  All of which Travis could do.

  He cantered on ahead, letting his horse—and the dogs—stretch their legs to their hearts’ content.

  “I was serious about getting you to sign a temporary work agreement,” Liz said, after they’d taken ca
re of their mounts and put their tack away.

  Travis stood in the shadow of the barn, a resting dog on either side of him. “I’ve been working on something I want to show you, too,” he said.

  Liz glanced at her watch. It was nearly five. Where had the time gone? And why did she suddenly feel so happy and content?

  She waited for Travis to elaborate, but he didn’t.

  Given how seriously he was taking his position as ranch hand, it was probably something about the Four Winds. Questions about why they had such a small herd these days, or some such thing.

  “We probably don’t have a lot of time before the others get back,” Liz warned. Just this once, she’d like to get whatever news there was about the running of the ranch first. “What do you say we both shower and meet up at the ranch house around six? We can talk while we eat.”

  Travis nodded, his face suddenly inscrutable.

  A tingle slid down her spine at his sudden shift in mood.

  “See you in a little while,” he said.

  Liz watched his retreating back, wondering what he was up to.

  Chapter Five

  “Do you want the good news first?” Liz asked the moment Travis walked in the back door to the kitchen, file folder in hand.

  Damn but she was pretty fresh out of the shower, in a pair of dark, boot-cut jeans and a ruffled, ivory, button-up shirt. She smelled good, too, like jasmine and shampoo.

  He strolled closer, taking in the fall of auburn hair bouncing against her slender shoulders, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. Refusing to let his gaze go any lower, he set the folder he carried on the kitchen table and followed her into the mudroom to the upright freezer.

  “Or the bad news?” Liz finished with a wry smile.

  His eyes stayed on her lush, kissable lips. No contest. “The good.”

  Liz opened the freezer and perused the contents thoughtfully, finally reaching for a butcher-paper-wrapped package with “rib eye” scrawled across it.

  She shut the door with her hip and brushed by him, the heels of her fancy burgundy cowgirl boots tapping purposefully across the oak floor. “The rest of my family won’t be back until around nine-thirty.”

  “So we’ve got plenty of time to go over the employment contract I drew up,” she continued, looking more relaxed than he’d seen her.

  Wondering how he could help, Travis watched her put the steak into the microwave to defrost. “What’s the bad news?”

  She made a mournful sound and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead in a parody of misery. “We’re on our own for dinner.”

  Travis chuckled at her antics. “And that’s bad because…?”

  Sober green eyes met his. “I’m not anywhere near the cook my grandmother is.”

  Who cared? The company alone made the evening worthwhile. Travis edged closer. “I think we’ll survive.”

  Liz’s eyes twinkled. “You say that now…”

  He rolled up the sleeves on his chambray shirt. “Tell me what I can do.”

  She wrinkled her nose and gave him a teasing once-over. “I thought you said you can’t cook.”

  “I can’t.” Travis tried not to think about her touching him every place her eyes had been. He lounged against the counter, hands braced on either side of him. “But I can follow directions—sort of.”

  She grinned at the understatement and went over to get the paperwork she’d prepared. “I’ll man the stove. You read through these.”

  While Travis perused the printed pages, Liz got the meat out of the microwave and set a heavy cast-iron skillet on a burner to heat.

  Travis reviewed the proffered terms. “You’re requiring only twenty-four hours’ notice if I decide to quit—which I can do at any time?”

  She nodded, her mouth as abruptly sober as her gaze. “We hired you on short notice. I figure you should be able to leave the same way. Which I assume you will want to do as soon as we get your situation resolved.”

  A few hours ago Travis would have agreed that would be the case. But that had been before he’d spent the afternoon on horseback, chasing cows with Liz.

  “‘Room and board is supplied in full,’” he read out loud, “‘in addition to a salary of four thousand a month, minus any outstanding legal fees.’”

  Liz drizzled olive oil into the skillet, adding a couple tablespoons of butter, then eyed him over her shoulder. “The language in the contract’s okay with you?” The steaks hit the pan with a satisfying sizzle.

  Not surprised to find her as generous as ever, Travis nodded and signed. “Now take a look at what I drew up for you.” Their fingers touched as he handed her the file.

  “A prerelationship contract?” she asked in disbelief.

  Travis didn’t just set goals; he believed in hedging his bets whenever and wherever possible. “Sometimes called a ‘love contract’ by human resource departments. Or in our case,” he allowed softly, “a predating agreement.”

  “Hmm. Precedent setting. At least on the Four Winds Ranch!” She read on, pausing to turn the steaks before they started to burn. “Basically, this says any relationship we should choose to have is of our free will and hence will not impact our work with each other in any way.”

  Judging by her expression, just reading the words made her feel better. Which had been Travis’s intent.

  “Right.” He grabbed a chair and spun it around, straddling it. “If we do decide to go down that road, and it doesn’t work out, there is no legal remedy to be had. I can’t sue you. You can’t sue me. Neither of us can say we were blindsided by anything that does or does not develop, because signing this document establishes that we had a past relationship. And have already shared one kiss.”

  A kiss that had rocked his world.

  And hers—if the look in her eyes immediately after had been any indication.

  A reluctant smile flickered on her lips. “It’s a nifty little insurance policy, I’ll hand you that,” she admitted.

  “One that will protect both of us, in the event anything happens. Or—” Travis paused, carefully weighting his words “—nothing else does.”

  WAS THAT WHAT SHE WANTED to happen? Liz wondered a little unsteadily. Nothing? Or was she already hovering on the brink, wishing they could go back, go forward, go somewhere that would leave her feeling less unsettled than she did now?

  The scent of slightly charred meat teased her nostrils.

  Realizing their dinner would go up in flames unless she did something, she grabbed a fork and lifted the steaks onto a plate. Covering them with foil and setting them aside, she turned off the burner, then added a quarter cup of whiskey to deglaze the pan. When the brown bits had been scooped up and the liquid evaporated, she poured in beef stock and motioned him over as she turned the burner back on low. “Could you stir this for me, please?”

  “Sure.” His hand nudged hers as he took the wooden spoon. An awkward silence fell. “So you’re okay with the predating disclosure agreement?” he asked.

  Liz picked up a pen and signed on the line reserved for her. The lawyer in her knew he was just being practical and going the extra mile to protect—and reassure—them both. “It’s a good idea. Thanks for drafting the document.” Finished, she handed him the pen and watched him sign the document, too. Going to the fridge, she brought out the leftover skillet corn and a head of lettuce.

  Wordlessly, he stirred as she cut thick wedges and drizzled them with ranch dressing. She realized she wasn’t the only one keeping her own counsel.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m making assumptions,” Travis said eventually. “I just want us to be able to feel comfortable moving forward.”

  That would be easy, with all liability out of the way. Liz walked back to the stove and added a dash of cream to the simmering broth.

  “I know…and I appreciate it,” she replied, with the same professional calm, glad they were both thinking and acting like lawyers again. It was a heck of a lot better than behaving like lovestruck teens, mak
ing out on the street in plain view of anyone who might pass by.

  “So, back to concentrating on the malpractice charges. I’m going to need copies of all the emails and letters you sent to Olympia and to Digger Dobbs regarding the business deal that fell through,” Liz said as they sat down at the table with their meal.

  Travis cut into his steak. “I’ll put it together for you.”

  “Did you keep a journal?”

  The sauce-covered meat melted in his mouth. “No.”

  “Meeting notes?”

  “Yes. I followed up everything with a memo.”

  “Great.” Liz forked up her own steak with gusto. “What about to-do lists?”

  “I have some on my personal computer, but they’re cryptic. I’m not sure my shorthand to myself will hold up in court.”

  Her gaze met his. “That’s okay. We can use them to bolster your recollections and help reconstruct.”

  Liz looked up at the sound of a vehicle rumbling up to the ranch house. Confused, she glanced at the clock. “They’re home early.”

  Only, Travis soon discovered, the Cartwright women were not in the drive.

  His parents were.

  “I TAKE IT YOU WEREN’T expecting company?” Liz murmured, glancing out the window beside him. Nervously, she watched Kelsey and Brady Anderson emerge from the pickup truck bearing the Double Deal Ranch logo.

  Travis’s mother was as slim and fit as one would expect a woman rancher to be, her thick cinnamon-red hair, threaded with silver, falling over one shoulder in a loose braid. Brady was as tall and solidly built as his sons, and carried himself in the confident, purposeful manner of a wildly successful cattleman.

  Neither looked happy at the moment.

  Travis shook his head. “My folks must have heard about the suspension or the lawsuit—or both.”

  Liz finished gathering up the files. She knew how difficult a family confrontation could be. It was bad enough when it was your own. “Hey.” She shot him a commiserating look. “If you want me to make myself scarce…”