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  “I can’t let you pay for this,” Poppy protested.

  “Sure you can. You can’t go on the wagon train dressed for a day on the beach.”

  “Why not?”

  “Honey, this is one of the King Ranch events we’re talking here. And this charity is a big deal. Local television stations cover this event.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Poppy said, feeling embarrassed. “I can pay for my own clothes.”

  Kirsten looked at her. “You’re a what? A size eight?”

  “Six.”

  “Real-lee? You look like an eight.”

  “Six,” Poppy said through clenched teeth.

  “Here. Try these.” Kirsten had jammed a handful of western shirts in her arms, and two pairs of Wrangler jeans and sent her into the dressing room.

  Now she was standing here in a cute pink gingham shirt with embroidered yolk and snaps instead of buttons, whitewash denim, a pink straw cowboy hat and matching pink cowboy boots, looking all the world like Elly May Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies.

  “Do you think the cowboy boots are really necessary?” she asked Kirsten. “I mean most likely this is the only time I’ll go on a wagon train.”

  “If you’re with Abel, you’ll be doing a lot of cowboy stuff,” Kirsten said. “That is if you want to spend any time with him at all. There are only two things he cares about and that’s his work and horses and cattle.”

  “He’s taking my yoga class and he came surfing with me,” Poppy pointed out.

  “That was just to get you in bed. You know how men are.”

  It was probably just Kirsten being petty, but the comment hit Poppy like a rock. Was it true? Was Abel just trying to sleep with her?

  This was dumb. Spending money on clothes she would never wear again, or even worse, letting Abel’s ex-fiancée buy them for her. If Zoey was here she’d probably tell her to let Kirsten fork over the cash, but she wasn’t as brash as Zoey. Besides, Poppy had too much pride for that.

  She looked at the price tag dangling from the sleeve of the shirt and almost choked. The shirt alone cost more than she made in a day.

  “You better get used to spending that kind of money if you’re going to be dating Senator Orin Black’s son.”

  “What?”

  “Abel’s dad is a Montana state senator. You didn’t know?”

  Poppy shook her head. “I had no idea.”

  “I’m not surprised he hasn’t told you. He doesn’t like flaunting his family money.”

  Poppy’s knees went weak. She had no business entertaining romantic thoughts about a senator’s son. None at all. “He’s wealthy?”

  “Not Mark Cuban wealthy, but yes, the Blacks are quite well-off.”

  Poppy gulped. If he had megabucks, why was Abel slumming in her modest apartment complex? “You know, maybe it’s better if I don’t go on this wagon train with you guys.”

  The gleam in Kirsten’s eyes told her that’s exactly what she’d been angling for all along. Poppy wondered why the woman had invited her. Had it been too much to hope that she’d just wanted to be nice?

  There you go again, trusting people when you shouldn’t.

  Now she could see the other woman’s ulterior motive. Kirsten wanted to show Poppy up as unworthy. Was she trying to get Abel back? Was that really what was going on here? What about her new fiancé?

  “You know what?” Poppy said. “Screw the cost. I’ll take the outfit.”

  #

  When Kirsten stepped from the western wear pro shop with Poppy, Abel snagged his ex by the elbow. “Could I speak with you in private, please?”

  It had been his intention to intercept Kirsten as soon as they arrived in Kingsville and tell her to keep quiet about his job, but before he’d had a chance, she’d commandeered Poppy and hustled her into the store.

  He was already on edge. Captain Higgins had called him that afternoon and told him he’d gotten the warrant for the wiretap on Poppy’s phone. While they were on the wagon train, Rogers and Kilgore would place a bug in her apartment and set everything up. Abel hated violating her privacy this way.

  Kirsten’s eyes widened. “Sure, sure. Teddy, could you take Poppy to the registration booth and get us signed in. Abel and I will follow you in his vehicle.”

  Teddy scowled as if he didn’t much like the idea, but he held his arm out to Poppy. Poppy, who looked pretty in pink cowgirl duds, tossed a glance at him over her shoulder.

  Abel smiled reassuringly at her. “This won’t take long.”

  He dragged Kirsten to his pickup truck while Teddy and Poppy got into a Porsche Cayenne. The start of the wagon train was just a mile away, but the covered wagons were already backed up through the middle of Kingsville.

  “Look,” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you about Poppy.”

  “You’re crazy about her,” Kirsten said flatly.

  Abel was startled. “What? No.”

  “You don’t have to deny it to spare my feelings. It’s written all over you.”

  Unwilling to deal with that comment, he shoved it aside. “Did you tell her anything about me?”

  “I told her you were rich and who your dad was.”

  Abel shifted nervously. “How did she react?”

  “She looked panicky. She’s out of her league with you and she knows it.”

  That ticked him off. “Poppy can hold her own with anyone.”

  “What would your parents think of her? A poorly inked tattoo on her shoulder? Tacky.”

  He wanted to give Kirsten’s arm a good shake and tell her to stop judging Poppy, but he held his temper. “Did you tell her I was with the Texas Rangers?”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  “No. I have her under surveillance.”

  Kirsten’s eyes widened. “She’s an assignment?”

  Abel blew out his breath and plastered a palm to the nape of his neck. “Yeah.”

  “Ah, that explains a lot. For a minute there I wasn’t getting the connection. Why you’d be dating someone like her.”

  “Don’t disrespect Poppy. She’s a wonderful person. Kind and generous and funny and—”

  “You’ve fallen for her.” Kirsten clicked her tongue. “You are so screwed. When she finds out you’ve been spying on her, lying to her. And what’s your commanding officer going to say?”

  Abel shoved his palm over his head. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Cheer up. It wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kirsten wrinkled her nose. “I don’t see it. Not long term, anyway.”

  “Why not?” he challenged.

  “Besides the fact you’re investigating her?”

  He wasn’t really investigating Poppy, more like protecting her, but he didn’t bother enlightening Kirsten to the differences. “Yeah.”

  “You’re so opposite. Night and day.”

  “Opposites attract.” He followed Teddy’s Porsche, not wanting to let Poppy out of his sight.

  “Up to a point. Maybe. But it will only last if your values are similar. Are your values similar?”

  Hell if he knew.

  Kirsten must have read his doubt on his face. “You haven’t even talked about the important things, have you?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  She shook her head. “You haven’t changed in that respect. You never were much of a talker. Lord knows I tried to get you to tell me what was going on in that thick skull of yours.”

  “I’m talking now.”

  “About another woman. You never wanted to talk about us.”

  “You say Poppy and I are too dissimilar to make it—”

  “You’re like a peanut butter and sausage sandwich. Nothing goes together.”

  “Well, you and I were too much alike. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches get damned boring.”

  “Now you’re just being mean.” Her tone turned frosty.

  “You were bored with me, too.” He jer
ked his head in Teddy’s direction. “Is he more than just a plaything?”

  “We’re engaged.”

  “Because you have similar values.”

  “Exactly. Teddy and I both want the same things from life. Do you and yoga girl? Oh, wait. I forgot. You haven’t talked. I’m sure you’ve been spending too much time surfing and sexing it up for that.”

  “Why, yes,” Abel said, knowing he sounded malicious but not caring at this point. He wasn’t going to let Kirsten malign Poppy. “She sure knows how to sex me up.”

  “You’re saying I didn’t?”

  He shrugged.

  Kirsten’s eyes flashed fire.

  “Okay,” he apologized. “That wasn’t fair. What we had was nice—”

  “Yes, just nice and for the record, Teddy is excellent in bed.”

  “Good for you both.”

  They reached the main parking area for the wagon train participants to leave their cars in a secured area. There would be shuttles to bring back attendees who weren’t staying for the full event. The place was buzzing, with cowboys and cowgirls everywhere, loading up their wagons, checking their horses, calling greetings to one another.

  Teddy parked and Abel pulled up beside him.

  “Good luck,” Kirsten muttered to Abel as she unbuckled her seat belt. “You’re going to need it.”

  “Please don’t say anything to Poppy about what I do. I’ll owe you one.”

  “Don’t worry.” Kirsten smirked. “I’ll leave that shocking little surprise to you to deliver.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Feeling a bit dazed, Poppy let Teddy lead them to their wagon. Abel and Kirsten were still sitting in his pickup and it looked like they were arguing.

  “This way,” Teddy said, giving her a genuine smile and she liked him better for it. “Watch out for all the wires and cords and hoses.”

  They threaded their way around camera crews and minor celebrities who’d shown up to ride in the charity event.

  As much as she hated to admit it, she was glad Kirsten had coerced her to buy the cowgirl clothes. At least she didn’t stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. Around them, horses were neighing and wagon wheels were creaking. The air smell of saddle leather and hay and sandy earth.

  Banjo players in the lead wagon were picking a lively country tune and Poppy found herself moving in time to the music. That was the way to get through this thing, just have fun and not worry too much about what anyone thought of her. That attitude had served her well for most of her life. Heck, this was for charity after all. Fun was the whole point.

  Teddy showed her where to sign in. He wasn’t such a bad sort, once you got past the hair, the super white teeth, and the fake tan.

  She pulled her credit card from her wallet to pay the—yikes—two-hundred-dollar entry fee only to be told her fee had already been covered by Kirsten and Teddy. That embarrassed her. Why was everyone trying to pay her way? Did she come across as that broke? Sure, she wasn’t rolling in dough, but she could cough up two hundred dollars for a good cause.

  On top of the new cowgirl outfit?

  Okay, yes, she’d have to eat ramen noodles for the rest of the month, but she’d blown money on more frivolous things than this.

  Their wagon train had been assigned a driver, and Poppy was surprised to discover it was a ruddy-faced, tough-talking, middle-aged woman.

  “Hi,” the woman said, extending her hand to Poppy. “I’m Patti Carlson, your trail driver.”

  “Nice to meet you, Patti. I’m Poppy. What do you do when you’re not guiding a team of horses?”

  “I guide horses for a living. I work on the King Ranch as a horse wrangler. Held that job for all my life. Where’s your gear?”

  “Um...” Gear. Why hadn’t she thought about the gear she would need? She’d brought an overnight bag; was that what Patti meant? She’d left that in Abel’s truck.

  “Here’s our gear,” Abel said, carrying their overnight bags and two bedrolls. He was dressed in black wranglers, a green plaid short-sleeved western shirt, straw Stetson, and eel-skin boots. He looked like he’d stepped from a Louis L’Amour novel and Poppy’s heart swooned. He looked so edible. Like homemade brownies or fudge or chocolate chip cookies—something delectable and completely decadent.

  “You bought me a sleeping bag?” Poppy stared at him in disbelief.

  “Did you have your own?”

  She swallowed as if she had a hunk of bread caught in her throat. Who was this gorgeous man and why hadn’t someone already snapped him up? “No, but—”

  “Now you do.”

  “Abel, I can’t accept this.”

  “My gift to you.”

  “It’s too extravagant.”

  “You needed a sleeping bag.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have bought one.”

  “I didn’t want you to have to do that, Poppy. Besides, you might fall in love with camping.”

  As a child, Poppy had slept in enough odd places that she wasn’t that keen on sleeping in the outdoors. She met his gaze.

  A small, vulnerable smile tipped his lips. Did this mean he wanted her to go camping with him in the future? Her heart did a backflip.

  Do not get ahead of yourself.

  “Please accept the bedroll,” Abel said. “Let me do this for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said finally because she really didn’t have much of a choice. How was she going to camp out without a sleeping bag? Idiotically, she’d thought sleeping accommodations would be provided. Yeah, boy, around this crowd she felt like an utter city girl. “That’s really nice of you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s a very generous gift, especially since I got us into this.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” Abel turned to load the gear in the back of the wagon.

  “Your boyfriend is very sweet,” Patti whispered to Poppy. “And I do appreciate him loading those bags for me. You wouldn’t believe how many men just leave it to me.”

  “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

  Patti arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Does he know that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “From the way he looks at you.” Patti shook her head. “That man has more than just friendship on his mind.”

  Was it that obvious? Poppy peeked over at Abel, only to catch him studying her speculatively. She ducked her head and glanced away.

  “Ready?” Abel asked, coming over to hold out his hand to help her into the wagon.

  As if she needed help getting into a wagon. She pretended she didn’t see his hand—the sexual tension was acute enough without touching him—and slid across the seat of the buckboard and sat next to Patti.

  Patti clicked her tongue to get the horses started as the wagon train began moving forward. Teddy and Kirsten were in the wagon ahead of them, and Kirsten turned around to wave at them.

  The afternoon sun beamed down bright and hot as they headed south across the King Ranch. Kill deer chirped and ran along the ground between the mesquite trees and the air stirred with excited voices, banjo music, and the smell of livestock.

  Poppy noticed the fluffy clouds on the western horizon had darkened since they’d started the trip. She hoped it didn’t rain. She should have checked the weather. Something else she’d neglected to plan for.

  “Relax,” Abel said. “You’re going to ace dry camping.”

  “Who says I’m not relaxed.” And if it rained, they wouldn’t be dry camping.

  “The way you’re gripping the seat. Your knuckles are white.”

  “That’s a bit of a switch,” she said. “You’re instructing me to relax.”

  “You give good advice. I’m handing it back to you.”

  “It’s hard not to be nervous when I’m around all these celebrities and wealthy people. I had no idea it was going to be like this. I had no idea you were wealthy. How come you didn’t tell me that you were rich?”

  “I’m not wealthy,�
�� Patti said. “Stick with me, homegirl.”

  “Thanks,” she told the friendly driver.

  “My family’s rich,” Abel said. “I’m not. I just make a regular salary.”

  “A salary good enough to pay for my stuff.”

  “You sound angry.”

  “I feel blindsided. Why is a guy like you living in an apartment complex like mine?”

  He shrugged. “Our apartment complex is nice.”

  “Not that nice. And you led me to believe you didn’t know anyone in the area. You’ve attended this event before with Kirsten. I’m assuming that means you know someone in Kingsville or Brownsville.”

  “Okay, you win. I just wanted you to take pity on me,” he admitted.

  “I feel used.”

  “But hopefully in a good way?” He grinned.

  Yes, dammit, in a good way.

  “I have a terrible feeling this isn’t going to go well,” Poppy told him.

  “Don’t worry about it. I promise you’ll do fine. It’s for charity. No one is going to judge you. Patti here is doing all the work.”

  “How can I not worry about it?” Poppy fretted. “I barely know a horse from a donkey.”

  “I guarantee you’ll know a donkey when you hear one,” Patti said. “Their bray is unmistakable.”

  “Or a Holstein from a heifer.”

  “A Holstein is a breed of cattle. A heifer is a cow who has never borne a calf,” he said.

  “Oh. See there. I’m a dummy.”

  Abel laughed. “Do you think Kirsten knows a Holstein from a heifer?”

  “She’s doesn’t?”

  “No way.”

  “Whew! I do feel a little better.” Poppy grinned. “Does that make me petty?”

  “It makes you human.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  “Kirsten is here for the charity and to rub elbows with celebrities. Take a page from her playbook and just have a good time.”

  “Sports metaphors. How come guys always talk in sports metaphors?”

  “I think it’s genetic. Something in our Y chromosome, maybe.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Your last boyfriend spoke in sports metaphors?”

  “Why do you want to know so much about him? I told you, it’s over. Ancient history. Wasn’t really anything to begin with.”