The Cowboy's Texas Rose (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 1)

“He isn’t going to be around forever. And no one says you can’t make the Legacy into your own after we’re gone and give it anew legacy. Someday, I have faith you’ll see this, too. Someday, I have faith you’ll listen to what’s in your heart and go for it. Maybe you’ll have an accident in the arena that gives you a good hard reality check. Maybe it’ll be a girl who finally gets under your skin and makes you evaluate what’s important to you—”

He froze, standing at his kitchen sink with his empty glass still hanging in his hand. Yeah, a girl was under his skin. The perfect woman to be the steward of panther shaman while he forged ahead with his conservation grassland project. Who was leaving after field school ended.

She’d said just last night that she was really going to miss working here once she got her new job. But he’d need someone to manage his archaeological resources. What a team they’d make if he managed the land and she managed the archaeology. What if she could apply for a research grant to document his canyon, head the excavations, and write up some sweet papers that saw her work published in journals and her job prospects soar? Did he dare tell her about the string of shelters up and down the gorge? Of course he should. He knew well enough he had to open up this land to research if he was going to sustain it, once the profits from cattle ranching ran dry—

“Howdy.”

He whirled around. There Rose stood, her hair wet but the moisture evaporating into the thirsty air. Her face, still makeup-less, was smooth and moisturized, and an air of not just cleanliness but freshness and relaxation surrounded her. He tried to vanquish the image of her naked, but it resurfaced regardless of his efforts, and for a moment, he was certain he looked like a deer in high beams.

“Hey.” If it was possible to stammer one word, he did it.

Still, she didn’t slink away in embarrassment. He smiled. Then dropped the smile in case she thought he was smiling about seeing her in her birthday suit, her dusky nipples like candied tips upon the plush flesh of her breasts, her little innie belly button, the flare of her hips, or the dark triangle of hair nestled between her smooth thighs. Goddammit, and that tattoo, snaking down and around her shoulder also twined partway around one breast. Sexy as hell. She said she’d once lived in the fast lane, and he could see those vestiges of a carefree Rose from before she’d had a son. Seriously, she said she used to have moves? Hell, she still had them and had wielded them against him so expertly last night, his body had done nothing but cry out for another scrap of her attention. Who hadn’t gone through some hiatus when hitting adulthood?

She watched him, a shadow of uncertainty contorting her brow.

He shook his head as if shaking away a daydream. “Yeah, so, uh, you hungry?”

“I snacked on my way up here.”

“Sure. Okay.”

He turned back to the sink to rinse out his cup. More so to busy his hands because a water cup didn’t need rinsing. He tossed a dishrag over his shoulder and pulled out the soap, squeezing the bottle so that a stream of soap drizzled out, only to realize he had way too much detergent for one glass. He grabbed the scrub brush and flipped on the hot water, scrubbing it, and glancing out the window at his barn.

“I’m sorry I barged in on you.” He whipped the towel off his shoulder to dry the cup and put it back in the cupboard, then turned around, drying his hands. “I didn’t really think when I heard you, just sorta’ jumped into action. I didn’t mean to weird you out.”

She smiled, shrugging. “No big deal. It’s not like we all haven’t seen the female body before.” And yet in spite of the playful grin she tossed his way, her body language showed a level of discomfort as she folded her arms across her chest, no matter how nonchalant she seemed as she turned from him and meandered back out into the great room. “It’s just a body, and judging by that cute bra in your SUV, you’ve seen hotter ones anyway.”

He stared at her back, that deer-in-high-beams haze pausing him for a moment while her crack about his Bronco fell by the wayside. She might’ve been trying to joke, but had she suggested what he thought she had? She didn’t realize how beautiful she was? He slapped the towel over the sink rim and chased her out, grabbing her arm to turn her around.

“Girl, what the hell did you just say?”

She crinkled her brow. “What’s your deal?”

“You’re my deal,” he blurted out. They both fell silent, and he swallowed. What a dumbass thing to say. “I just…I…if you think this bod of yours doesn’t rock a dude’s fantasy, then you’re living in a delusion.”

“I’m not trying to ‘rock a dude’s fantasy,’” she quipped, her brow furrowing tighter.

He really ought to put something bigger than his boot in his mouth to shut the hell up, but he only smiled at her prickly feminism.

He leaned down to her ear, whispering, “That only makes a guy want you more.” Backing up a step, he swiveled on his heel and marched down a hall shooting off from the great room in the other direction. “So, uh, the artifacts. They’re this way.”

He could feel her eyes on him. He didn’t turn to look, not wanting to see wariness, irritation, or, worst of all, incredulity and rejection at his remark. But he supposed there was no point in hiding his interest—not that he’d been trying very hard to do so. He’d already acted like a fool, danced her up, fantasized about her, and it was because she was under his skin.

The hallway led to his office. Ushering her inside, he arrived at an old closet-turned-archival-storage and opened the door. She looked at him, and as their eyes met, none of the sentiments that he feared might have been on her face were. She was evaluating him. Was she evaluating whether or not he was worth taking a chance on? And what did he mean by “taking a chance on”? As in a relationship? Dating? Whoa there, racehorse, she ain’t even said anything yet. She probably thinks you’re a sleaze who becomes obsessed with a chick in less than a week. But the idea of dating someone—her—sent a tremor of trepidation and a shiver of anticipation warring through his mind and chest.

It was stupid to think about dating her. Why dwell on it? She wouldn’t buy into a proposal to manage his archaeological resources on a whim after barely meeting him. How would they make the whole dating thing work when she returned to Austin and left him out here among the horned lizards? Not to mention, she had a boy. If her son didn’t approve of his momma dating, any “relationship” they might have would be dead in the water before it even started. Women who had kids were a package deal, and because they’d been burned before, they were gun-shy about being hurt again.

“This is my office. The storage is here in my closet… I mean, my old closet.”

She leveled a weird look at him.

“This used to be my room when I was a kid.” She looked around at his desk, some bookshelves, some rodeo paraphernalia on the walls glorifying bull riders he’d idolized as a teen, and a belt buckle in a glass case sitting atop a shelf, as if evaluating the truth of his words. The desk was wide and set up to receive business meetings with his suppliers, his buyers, and potential business partners.

Suck it, Pops, turns out I didn’t drive a stake through the financial heart of this company, he mused.

And then her eyes settled on the diploma frames. Shit.

“Toby,” she said incredulously, her eyes widening as she stared at him, like she didn’t know him. “What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything about these?”