Chapter Two
Toby Dixon, the elusive owner of the Legacy, hopped off the curb and sauntered toward Rose Morales, all lean muscle; bare, tan arms; baby blues that twinkled in the desert sunrise locked on hers; and dusty, blond scruff beneath his weathered Stetson. She tried to look away, but her gaze betrayed her. Holy hell, what a surprise. She’d always assumed the head of Dixon Cattle Company was a crusty old man in a ten-gallon hat, similar to the men she’d met as a kid who’d conducted business with her dad, a goat rancher.
Her eyes finally disengaged from his, only to trail down his stomach where his T-shirt hung unevenly on the rim of his belt buckle, summoning to mind the image of a washboard beneath it—
Eyes up, Rosalinda, she scolded herself and dragged her gaze back to his.
He smirked as he sipped his Styrofoam cup, flashing a hand devoid of a wedding ring in the process. Great. He noticed me checking him out—as he’d already done to her more than once, before Stella had introduced them. No doubt the ladies liked to not only look but touch, too, and after the discreet ribbing from the owner of this diner, he clearly indulged them. But she’d grown up in West Texas before moving to Austin, where her life had taken a drastic turn on the heels of a positive pregnancy test. She’d come of age around this redneck type. How on earth, with his slouched jeans and cowboy boots that looked about as old as he was, was he taken seriously? The dude had been wasted last night and didn’t look like he had more than a hundred bucks to his name if she were to judge by looks alone.
She cleared her throat to speak. Looks shouldn’t matter. The Legacy’s one of the wealthiest ranches in Texas. Obviously he doesn’t feel like he has anything to prove with his appearance.
“Guys, listen up.” Rose smiled. “This is Mister Dixon, the property owner.”
“Howdy,” Toby muttered, his voice a low purr and his spare hand jammed into his pockets.
Her crew chorused a greeting, and Toby tried to mask his wince, though there was no denying that her chipper students were wreaking havoc on his hangover.
“Holy crap, he’s fine,” exhaled Kelsey beside her, one of her undergrads and a newbie on this field school trip.
Megan, one of her grad students, snickered appreciatively. “The hot rancher.”
Rose shook her head. Was she going to be mopping up her female students’ drool for the next three weeks? She ignored that both students had basically said what she’d been thinking… Howard Glenmore, her most senior crew member and fellow researcher, stepped up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. There was no mistaking Toby’s gaze fixating upon Howie’s touch. Rose eyed Howie over her shoulder, giving his hand a nudge.
What are you doing?she mouthed.
Howie looked down at her and frowned, but his hand dropped. What? he mouthed back. The guy’s a tool.
She drew her brows together and stifled an eye roll. Toby seemed like the opposite of a tool. He seemed like a guy who didn’t give one F about what anyone thought about him.
And while she and Howie had dated once when they’d been students, he’d lost the right to touch her when they’d broken up. She’d taken a chance and given him a shot—the first one she’d given to any man after her son’s birth. And the last.
Total mistake. Howie had cheated and had moved on—or so it seemed—acting as if they were close friends and always trying to be helpful, as if oblivious to how he’d hurt her. She’d tried to make the best of the friendship, since they were stuck in the same department. But with a little boy to raise and protect, dating incurred too many risks to try further. Why the sudden security detail?
She turned back toward Toby, who was also looking at Howie. His smirk had fallen, and a hard edge made his expression impassive.
“Guess we should get going,” Toby said.
They all looked at each other.
“That’s it?” Rose asked.
“Don’t see a reason to stand around,” he replied.
He started toward the far end of the parking lot. Except she had so much to review with him, since he’d never written back to her, and felt the need to stop him.
“I was thinking, if you don’t mind…” she said, jogging to catch up.
Toby stopped and glanced back at her, his brow quirked. The way his torso twisted emphasized the narrowness of his hips beneath his broad-set shoulders. Man, he was prime, Grade-A guy. She could appreciate such a view, even if he was totally not her type—not to mention a multi-millionaire landowner who raises animals for slaughter. And under contract with the university. Conflict of interest much?
“There’s a lot of stuff to review.” She came up beside him. “Maybe…maybe I could ride with you and we could go over a few details before we get there? That is, since you were too tied up to get back to me.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth. Jeezus, had she just said that? He wasn’t some buddy she could tease back and forth with like the folks in her department, but she always put her foot in her mouth when she was nervous. And he made her nervous. He stared at her, as if trying to decipher if she was teasing or not.
Yes! I’m teasing!She wanted to yell it as her face turned red. “I guess I don’t know you well enough to joke around. I’m sorry.”
He grinned a slow, lady-killing grin, having come to a conclusion and muttering, “Stella. That woman, I swear… Sure. I ain’t got a Bentley—just sayin’—so don’t expect much. And the passenger handle is broken. Gotta crawl across to open it.”
“No worries. I’ve ridden in worse,” she replied.