What a Rancher Wants Read online

  “Really?” Her eyes brightened, but it was short-lived. “Do you think Papa will allow it?”

  He was willing to bet the answer was going to be no to that one, but he wasn’t about to let something ridiculous like a grown woman asking for parental permission to muck up his date. “Do you want to go out?”

  He hadn’t asked that particular question in, well, probably close to twenty years. Dates as an adult were more “Can I escort you to an event” than “Going out.”

  But what was he supposed to do? Part of Gabriella—the social part—still seemed very much the sheltered young girl. No matter how much energy she’d put into kissing him or how good she looked on a horse, he had the feeling he couldn’t rush it.

  She tilted her head, as if she were debating the question. “Yes,” she said, and it did sound like her final answer. “I would like to go out.”

  Just then, Joaquin came riding up. Beast’s sides were heaving and the man on his back looked mad enough to kill Chance the slow, painful way—and, what’s more, he looked as though he was going to enjoy doing it.

  But before Joaquin could do anything else, Gabriella announced, “Chance will be escorting me out to dinner in Royal tomorrow night, Joaquin,” in that same all-business voice.

  Joaquin opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a hand and cut him off. “I came here to see America. Chance is merely showing me around.”

  There was no merely about it, not after that kiss. But if that’s what it took, then that’s what it took. “Yup. You’re coming, right?” Because he also had a feeling that trying to cut the big man out was the surest way to not get a date with Gabriella del Toro.

  Joaquin towered over them from Beast’s big back, clearly displeased with this situation. Would he sign off on Gabriella coming back out to the ranch tomorrow to spend the day hammering iron?

  “Or,” Gabriella said, and Chance heard a new note in her voice—hard. Stubborn. Suddenly, Gabriella was a woman who could be cruel when she wanted to be—and right now, she wanted to be. “Or I could spend tomorrow cooking. Perhaps I could try lasagna again. I only burned the noodles that one time.”

  Burned the noodles? Hoo, boy—that sounded like something the hogs wouldn’t even eat.

  At the look on Joaquin’s face, Chance had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. It was obvious from the way the big guy’s lips curled in disgust and he rubbed his chest right where heartburn probably hit him that, despite Gabriella’s many talents, cooking was not something she did well.

  “The Texas Cattleman’s Club has a great restaurant.” He said it to Gabriella, but he pitched his voice so that Joaquin would get the message loud and clear. “Some of the best steaks in Texas.”

  Dang, there was that smile again—the one that made him want to haul her off that horse and kiss her until they both felt like whooping and hollering.

  Yeah, he knew what she was playing at. He was only too happy to play along.

  The moment that thought crossed his mind, it dragged a different thought along for the ride. What if this—the sob story about her mom, the smiles, especially the kiss—all of it, was just playing? What if she was playing him?

  He’d thought Alex Santiago had been one of his best friends—a man he could trust with his life. Where had that gotten him?

  Dumped by his lady friend, Cara. The prime suspect in the kidnapping and assault of Alejandro del Toro. A veritable pariah in his hometown.

  Alex Santiago—Alejandro del Toro—whoever the hell was locked up in that house—had done his damnedest to screw up Chance’s whole life.

  How quick had Gabriella del Toro turned on Joaquin to get what she wanted? He wouldn’t have thought a woman could make cooking dinner sound so mean-spirited, but she did.

  What if she didn’t like him? What if she was trying to muck up the works with her bright smiles and warm looks and sweet, hot kisses? What if she was trying to get him distracted or off balance?

  What if she was using him?

  But why? That was the question he couldn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t exactly have a handle as to why Alex had screwed him over, either. All he knew was that he had been screwed over. Royally.

  Then Joaquin sighed so heavily that it almost blew Chance’s hat off his head.

  “Excellent.” She did sound awfully damn pleased. But then she added, “I am sure Papa will be so busy with his work he will not notice I am out,” in the hurt kind of voice that did its best to rip his heart out of his chest.

  He wanted to protect her, by God.

  But who would protect him from her?

  * * *

  Gabriella prepared for her date with the greatest of care. She took extra time with her hair and makeup and chose her outfit with Chance in mind.

  The day had been something special. She’d met Chance at his barn at nine that morning. They’d taken a slow ride out to Slim’s workshop, where Chance had left her and Joaquin for several hours. Then he’d arrived at a quarter to twelve with a basket.

  They’d had lunch at the picnic spot. The sun had been just warm enough. Plus, Joaquin had taken his meal leaning back against a tree, which had provided them with enough privacy to have a real conversation as they ate Franny’s cold fried chicken and potato salad and drank sweet iced tea.

  It had been one of the more romantic events in her life. Just a quiet meal in a secluded, wooded location. She’d almost been able to pretend that Joaquin hadn’t been there.

  But not so much that she’d done the rash thing and kissed Chance again.

  Even though she had wanted to.

  After they’d packed up the saddlebags, they’d ridden back to the workshop. Gabriella had made some good progress in hammering. She’d only been able to produce a slightly flat, lumpy piece of wrought iron, but she’d managed to do so with Slim’s approval.

  Chance had returned for her at three. He’d admired her lump of iron and then offered to race her back to the barn. However, her arms had felt like lead after the work she’d done, so they’d rode at an easy pace.

  “I’ll pick you up tonight...say, around six-thirty?” is what he’d said from the safety of the saddle.

  “Yes. Dinner at your club, correct?”

  And he’d flashed her that grin that always made her feel as though she’d returned home after a long, arduous journey. “You betcha.”

  So now, after one of the best days in her memory, she was trying to gauge what people wore to dine at private clubs in Texas. Was her black pencil skirt and green silk top too much? But they were in Texas. Perhaps it would not be enough. This was the nicest outfit that wasn’t a gown and wasn’t pants she’d packed. If she threw the matching jacket on over it, she could attend a business meeting with Papa or go to court, if that was what was required.

  She was a mess of confusion. She couldn’t believe she’d kissed Chance yesterday—and so boldly, in front of Joaquin. That was out of character for her. What was worse, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t kissed him today.

  What was she thinking? Chance hadn’t been cleared in Alejandro’s abduction. Her brother could have been concealed in any one of those buildings—and those were the ones that Chance had chosen to show her. He probably had any number of other buildings across his property.

  He’d taken her riding. He’d introduced her to those people who seemed closest to him. Heavens, she was learning to work in wrought iron because he had realized how much she missed her work.

  Never before had she felt a man pay such attention to her—her, not her security detail, not to everyone around her.

  Just her. When she was with Chance, she felt as if she was the only woman in the world.

  As she tried to decide if she would stick with her emerald Tres Cruces set or if she wanted to go with the bold gold necklace that was comprised of a rectangu
lar plate inlaid with emeralds and rubies, someone knocked on her door. “Yes?”

  It was Alejandro. He looked better today than he had yesterday and three times better than he had the day before. He seemed to be remembering how to exist in his own skin again after a long holiday somewhere else.

  “Alejandro! How are you? Is everything all right?”

  He flinched. “Fine,” he said, coming in to sit on the end of her bed.

  “Are you sure? Do you feel well?”

  “No. I just...”

  “What? Do you remember something? Something about Chance?”

  “No—why?” He looked her over—her tight skirt and the close-cut emerald-green silk top. For her, the outfit displayed a surprising amount of cleavage.

  They stared at each other. Gabriella was trying to gauge what her brother might do if he correctly guessed that her interest in Chance McDaniel had nothing to do with the kidnapping. Would he forbid her from seeing Chance? Or tell Papa—who would then forbid her from seeing Chance again and also subject her to another lecture about her safety being the most important thing?

  She could not bear another lecture about how her safety was his only priority. What of her happiness? Did that mean nothing to him?

  Did that mean anything to Alejandro?

  “I want you to call me Alex from now on,” Alejandro announced into the tense silence.

  “What?”

  “Alex. That’s my name.”

  She opened her mouth to ask if he was feeling well or perhaps if he had bumped his head again. But she quickly shut it. The look on her brother’s face was not confused or unsure. He was quite serious.

  What was she to make of this? He’d said it in that American accent of his. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him say a thing in Spanish since she’d arrived in Texas. And now he was choosing his American name.

  “I’m going out with Chance tonight.” She couldn’t imagine another situation where she would be so honest about her feelings, except for this one. “He has also extended an open invitation to ride whenever I so choose and also to join Slim in the workshop, should I wish to learn how to work wrought iron.”

  Alejandro—Alex—nodded. “Which horse does he have you riding?”

  “Nightingale.”

  Alex gave her a surprised look. “She’s one of his prize mares. He doesn’t normally let anyone ride her.”

  “Who did you ride?” It seemed as if a great deal of his memory had “suddenly” returned.

  “Quarter horse named Spike. He gave me that horse because he knew his Ranger could always beat Spike.”

  She grinned at him. “Joaquin rides this massive animal called Beast. I think he may be afraid of the...mule? Yes, mule.”

  “Beast?” Alex laughed and slapped his knee. It seemed very much the sort of thing Chance would do, but it was not something she could remember her brother doing. How much better was he feeling? “I’d like to see Joaquin afraid of anything!”

  “Joaquin does not trust Chance. He does not want me to see him.”

  Now was the time for honesty. If Alejandro—Alex—oh, heavens, that was going to take some getting used to— objected to her being in Chance’s company, he would have to speak his piece or hold it forever.

  He did no such thing. Instead he said, “Now that I’m better, Papa expects me to spend more time working with him. He has some deals that are taking up his time.”

  Although she did not think he meant the words to hurt her, they did anyway. All Papa cared about was that she was safe. After that basic requirement had been met, he cared very little at all.

  Alex stood. “I can keep him distracted. There’s no need for you to stare at the walls.” Gabriella was struck dumb as he walked over to her and placed a brotherly kiss on her forehead. “Go. Have fun.”

  “I shall,” she managed to reply.

  Alex turned to leave, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I have one request.”

  “Name it.” For the gift he was giving her, she would do anything he asked.

  “Take Joaquin, to be safe—and don’t tell Chance I’m better. Not yet.”

  Before she could ask him what he meant by that, he was gone.

  The doorbell rang. Chance was here for her.

  She knew that Alex would not answer it.

  Ten

  Chance was feeling good about tonight. Mostly because Gabriella had given him a little peck on the cheek when she’d come to the door, but also because she’d been up in the front seat of his extended cab F-250 and Joaquin had sat in the back.

  Chance held the door for Gabriella at the entrance to the Texas Cattleman’s Club. He hadn’t been here in a long while. Things had gotten to the point where he hadn’t been comfortable coming into his favorite hangout. The TCC had become less a place to have a beer than an exercise in navigating shark-infested waters. Better to stay home and eat Franny’s cooking or shoot the breeze with Marty and Slim. There, at least, no one treated him like a convicted criminal who hadn’t managed to get arrested yet.

  Coming here tonight was a risk. But Alex was back. Maybe not all back in the head, but he was no longer missing. People had to have realized that Chance hadn’t had a damn thing to do with the whole mess. Right?

  He sure as hell hoped so as Joaquin brought up the rear of their little party. Three was starting to be very crowded. But he put on a happy face and guided Gabriella into the TCC.

  “They just added the day care,” he said, showing Gabriella the new center.

  She gave him an odd look as she said, “Very nice,” and he realized what he’d said.

  They. Not we.

  “I voted for it,” he hurried to add. When had the TCC become a they? Probably about the time he’d become a suspect.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  Before he could do anything—point toward the dining room, announce that he’d remembered the restaurant was closed tonight and they should try Claire’s instead, a voice called out, “Chance! Where have you been, man?”

  Chance whipped around to see Sam Gordon bearing down on them, a huge grin on his face. Someone here was glad to see him. Thank God for small favors. “Sam, you old dog—what’s this I hear about Lila?”

  “Twins! Girls! Twin girls! Brook was six pounds, six ounces and Eve—she was seven minutes after Brook—was six pounds, four ounces.” Sam giggled—a sound that Chance was positive he’d never heard the man make.

  “That Lila of yours is quite a woman!” He meant it. Even though there wasn’t a lot of love lost between Chance and Beau Hacket, Lila had always gone to great lengths to distance herself from her father and brother. Chance had admired her for striking out on her own and making her own way. A way that now included Sam Gordon.

  “I’m so amazed by her.” Sam’s voice drifted off into sheer awe. But then he snapped back to himself. “Here—cigars for everyone!” And he thrust two cigars at Chance.

  Then, a moment later, he offered one to Joaquin. “Here you go, amigo.” This time he didn’t sound quite so overjoyed.

  Sam’s gaze darted from Chance to Gabriella to Joaquin—who, after a moment’s hesitation, took the proffered cigar with a mumbled, “Gracias. Felicitaciónes.”

  Was this about to go south on him? Only one way to find out. Chance bit the bullet. “Sam Gordon, this is Gabriella del Toro and Joaquin. They’re my guests for dinner tonight.”

  Sam’s eyebrows shot so far up at this announcement that they darn near cleared his forehead. “Well, a pleasure to meet you, Ms. del Toro.” But he didn’t offer his hand. Instead he sort of bowed—without taking his eyes off Joaquin or the slight bulge in his jacket where his gun was. “Uh, how is Alex? Or is it Alejandro?”

  Chance felt Gabriella stiffen beside him, but her
face betrayed no other emotion than pleasantness. It was the exact same expression she’d had on her face when he’d walked into Alex’s house and found her the first time.

  Then, he hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. Now? Now that he’d spent his afternoons riding with her and had meals with her and seen the real her? Now he could tell that she was nervous. Unsure of what to do next.

  He could sympathize.

  “Thank you for your concern,” she finally said in her soft voice. “He is doing better. And he prefers to be called Alex.”

  “Okay, great—good to hear.” Sam and Gabriella made a little more small talk about babies, but Chance wasn’t paying attention.

  Instead he was staring at Gabriella. They’d spent a better part of the past week together and she’d said nothing about Alex wanting to be called Alex. She’d called him Alejandro when they were together. Always.

  Whenever he asked about Alex, she said he was the same. When had he decided he wanted to be called Alex? And why hadn’t she told Chance that?

  Was she lying to Sam? Or had she been lying to him?

  Damn.

  “Well, see you around, old dog,” Sam said as he clapped Chance on the back.

  “And congratulations again on the girls,” Chance said as Sam left them.

  The three of them stood there for a second. Across the room, Chance noticed Paul Windsor talking to some of his buddies. He’d spent time with Paul when he and Cara had been dating. Paul was a nice enough fellow, but Chance hadn’t liked the man’s attitude toward his daughter—as if she were merely a pawn to be used as he saw fit for the family business, Windsor Energy. Chance had always had the feeling that he didn’t bring enough to the table for Cara and that, if the relationship had gotten that far, Paul wouldn’t have given him permission to ask for Cara’s hand in marriage.

  Since Chance had become a suspect in Alex Santiago’s disappearance, Paul Windsor had acted plenty justified in feeling that Chance had never been good enough for Cara. Paul had been one of the first to question Chance’s possible motives. Hell, it was almost as if the man wanted Chance to take the blame.