To Tame a Wild Cowboy Read online

  It was a bitter pill.

  She’d known what she was getting into when she’d become Julie’s foster mom, and she couldn’t regret trying, but shaking off the sadness and resentment was not easy.

  Especially when Rhett was using his money and influence to control her.

  She called her family. They were supportive but agreed that she hadn’t much recourse. They urged her to take comfort in the fact that she was Julie’s aunt by marriage, and even when Rhett assumed custody, she’d still be able to watch her niece grow up.

  But what if Rhett married someone who didn’t want to live on the Silver Feather? What if he took Julie out of state and Tara only got to see her on rare occasions at family gatherings?

  Tara’s heart wrenched.

  Her mom told her to stop living in the land of what if and just be in the moment. Sound advice but so hard to do.

  With her mind made up to do the lemons-to-lemonade thing, Tara called her boss. The hospital administrator, thrilled to have recouped the expense for Julie’s four-month stay in the NICU, eagerly encouraged Tara to take a six-month leave of absence with the promise that her job was waiting for her when she was ready to return.

  The tough part was deciding to stay at Rhett’s house while he was on the road. On the one hand, it made perfect sense. If he was getting custody of Julie, why not take care of her in the house where she would be living? On the other hand, it put him in a position of power over Tara. It was his place. His rules. Her life in his hands.

  But where else would she stay? She could move in with her parents, but they’d downsized with Dad’s retirement and they were in their sixties. Was it fair to bring an infant into their house?

  She could rent something in Cupid, but why waste the money? Especially since she still had to pay the lease on the duplex.

  In the end, she caved and agreed to move into his place. She comforted herself with the thought he wouldn’t be there.

  On Tuesday, Rhett drove her to El Paso to get her things, leaving Julie with Kaia and Ridge. The three-hour car trip was tense, with them disagreeing on just about everything. What music to listen to—he wanted heavy metal, she wanted country. Which route to take—he wanted to hit the freeway, she wanted back roads. Where to stop for lunch—he wanted fast-food tacos, she wanted to zip into a market for fruit and cheese. They didn’t have anything in common, but they did manage to hammer out compromises—an hour and a half of heavy metal, then an hour and a half of country. They took the freeway part of the distance, then switched to back roads. Instead of fast food or a market, they stopped at a little roadside diner for salads.

  Rhett’s lawyer, Lamar Johnston, called him on the drive to let him know that the change of venue had been approved, and the temporary custody hearing had been set for June 24, almost a month away.

  Once they were at the duplex, he helped her box up her clothes and personal items, then he rented a small U-Haul trailer and, separately, they drove back to Cupid. Tara stopped at Kaia’s house to pick up Julie. The minute she saw the baby, pure joy washed over her.

  By midnight on Tuesday, Tara was unpacked and all moved in.

  She stood in the guest-room-turned-nursery, hands on her hips, seeing where she would be living for the next several months. Tara bit her lip. Each step she took was drawing her closer to her deepest fears. Losing Julie to Rhett. Not having anyone to take care of. Not having anyone to love. Not having a husband or child to love her.

  She’d already lost Kit and their unborn baby. Now she was losing Julie too. Why couldn’t she have a family of her own? Why was life so unfair? Why was it so hard to let go?

  Hush! No pity party allowed.

  “You okay?”

  She turned to see Rhett standing in the doorway, the sleeping baby in his arms, his hot eyes pinned on her. “Fine.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “It’s an adjustment.”

  “I just fed Julie and rocked her to sleep.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, even though I’m paying you, this is a team effort. I don’t expect you to do everything for her. I have to learn.”

  “You’re doing great.” She smiled grudgingly. She had to concede that. He was a quick study and he was determined to do a good job. He was great in the short haul, but could he keep it up?

  He moved to settle Julie into the crib they’d brought from Tara’s house. They both gazed down at the sleeping baby. He leaned over and kissed the top of her little head. It was a special moment, the three of them together. As if they were a family.

  But you aren’t. Stop thinking like that.

  Rhett stepped back, and his eyes met Tara’s. “Thank you for everything. You have no idea what an amazing gift you’ve given me.”

  “Ditto,” she whispered.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Bonding. Appreciating and admiring each other. Each time he stepped up to the plate and accepted responsibility, Tara liked him just a little bit more. It was starting to get scary, how much she liked him.

  “Good night,” he murmured.

  “Good night.” As she watched him walk away, Tara had the wildest urge to chase after him and beg for a good-night kiss.

  On Wednesday, they went shopping in Pecos for baby supplies and decorations for the nursery. The tension of the previous day dropped away in the fun of planning Julie’s room. And when Tara suggested painting the room a muted rose pink, Rhett agreed with a dopey grin.

  “Who knew Home Depot could be such fun?” Tara said as they walked through the parking lot with their purchases.

  “Who knew the baby store could be fun?” Rhett laughed, moving aside the boxed baby supplies in the back of his truck so that they had room to stash the paint cans, brushes, and drop cloths.

  He stretched long as he leaned over, giving her a spectacular view of his backside.

  Good gravy, but the man was gorgeous. Her stomach tightened in an unholy way, filled with excitement that spread through her bloodstream like molten lava.

  Wrangler’s cupped his firm, toned butt. She imagined that glorious butt totally naked. Imagined sinking her fingers into it. Imagined how it would feel beneath her hot palms.

  He stretched deeper into the truck, reaching to grab the jar of spackle that had fallen on its side and rolled down the bed.

  Oh man, he was making things worse. Giving her a glimpse of his taut belly as the tail of his untucked shirt lifted. Excellent body. If she could just use him for sex and then toss him aside, he’d be perfect.

  Cool it, Tara.

  She closed her eyes. But that only accentuated her wild imagination, and she saw herself licking a hot trail down his flat, hard abs.

  Something bumped into her hip.

  Her eyes flew open and she lost her balance. As she fell, she had just enough time to register that a shopping cart had rolled across the parking lot to smack into her. She braced herself to hit the asphalt.

  But Rhett was there. His strong arms going around her waist, catching her before she tumbled to the ground. His body was right against hers.

  She looked up at him. “Thanks,” she whispered breathlessly.

  His eyes met hers. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Could hear his labored breathing. Could feel an erection pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

  She flushed from the inside out.

  And here was the worst part: she was just as charged up by being held in his arms as he was. The burning heat of raw desire blazed inside her. Sizzled. Smoldered. She should be ashamed of her involuntary response . . .

  But she wasn’t.

  A soft moan escaped her lips.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, tightening his grip.

  “Fine,” she said, wriggling out of his arms. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Panting, she turned and raced for the passenger side of the truck. Heard the tailgate slam behind her. Wondered how in the world she thought she was going to live in the same house with him when
her treacherous body overreacted to his simple touch.

  He had a hard-on. You’re not the only one with body problems.

  “Yoo-hoo.”

  Tara glanced around and spied an RN she used to work with in the newborn nursery at Cupid General. She rolled the window down. Waved. “Merylene Renfro! How in the world are you?”

  Merylene was four years older than Tara, and she’d been in the same grade as Archer and Ridge at Cupid High. She stood over six feet tall and was greyhound-thin. She wore short bangs and long earrings and spoke in a quick, up-tempo voice surprisingly squeaky for her height. “Fancy seeing you here. You look amazing.”

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  Merylene squinted against the sun, held the flat of her palm over her brow, and followed Rhett with her eyes as he returned the shopping cart to the cart corral several yards away. “I heard about Rhett’s baby and that you are moving into his home to take care of her as a full-time nanny.”

  Damn, but gossip traveled fast in the Trans-Pecos. “That’s true.”

  “Gotta say, I wouldn’t mind that gig,” Merylene said.

  Merylene was almost a decade older than Rhett and happily married with three kids. Tara knew Merylene wasn’t really interested in Rhett, but the gleam in the woman’s eyes as she watched Rhett putting away the cart punched Tara right in the throat. Dear Lord, she was jealous.

  “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” Tara said.

  Rhett waved at Merylene as he sauntered toward the pickup.

  Her face brightened, and she waved back madly. “Are you kidding? He’s handsome as the day is long. Worth it strictly for the eye candy. Mmm.”

  Get, Tara thought uncharitably. “He’s not worth the trouble.”

  Merylene’s eyes widened. “You two aren’t hooking up?”

  “God, no! I’m taking care of his daughter. That’s it. End of story.”

  “When I heard you were living at his house I thought maybe—”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. He’ll be on the road most of the time. That’s why I’m there.”

  “That’s good because he’s a heartbreaker and you’ve been through enough heartache.” Merylene dropped her smile, placed a sympathetic hand to her chest.

  “Tell me about it,” Tara mumbled. “Well, it’s been good seeing you again—”

  “Wait, wait,” Merylene said. “I came over for a reason besides just to say hi.” She straightened, and her gaze zeroed in on Rhett, who’d reached Tara’s side of the truck.

  Tara thought, Did she come over here to hover over Rhett?

  “Hi, Merylene.” He tipped his Stetson.

  “Hey, Rhett.” Merylene giggled.

  Tara barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

  “You’re looking good,” he said. “You still running marathons?”

  “That I am.” Merylene swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “Ran the Cupid Marathon in three hours, forty minutes, a personal best.”

  “Good for you.”

  Tara cleared her throat. “How’s Hank?” she asked, referring to Merylene’s husband.

  Both Merylene and Rhett turned to look at her. “Hank’s fine,” Merylene said.

  Tara met Rhett’s gaze and inclined her head toward the steering wheel. “Chop, chop, Mr. Lockhart. We’ve got a lot of things to get done before you hit the road tomorrow.”

  “She’s just as bossy as ever, isn’t she?” Merylene joked, and elbowed Rhett in the ribs.

  Rhett raised an eyebrow, his mouth pulling up in amusement. “That she is.”

  “She’d be perfect for the RN job at the WIC clinic. We need someone organized, disciplined, practical . . .”

  “That’s our Tea in a nutshell,” Rhett said. “But she’s already got a job.”

  “I know that,” Merylene went on. “But we are also in desperate need of someone who can speak Mescalero Apache and Spanish. Not too many people around with those particular language skills. I saw you guys over here and I had to come ask. What do I have to lose by asking?”

  Tara perked up. She loved using her language skills to help out.

  Merylene rested her elbows on the doorsill, peered into the truck. “Tara, I know you’ve got a job taking care of Rhett’s daughter, but would you consider volunteering at the clinic one day a week as a translator? We could arrange for the clients who don’t speak English to show up on the day of your choice.” Merylene pressed her palms together in front of her heart, beseeching. “You would be such a godsend.”

  “Why don’t you do it?” Rhett encouraged. “I can pay your mom to watch Julie one day a week.”

  “Oh my gosh, that would be so wonderful.” Merylene looked relieved. “What do you say, Tara? Could you spare a day out of your schedule?”

  Tara was a big believer in giving back to her community. When she was getting her master’s degree, she’d interned on the Apache reservation in Mescalero, New Mexico. Family heritage and culture were important to her.

  “Of course, I’d be honored to, Merylene.” She offered a genuine smile. “Give me a call tomorrow when Rhett’s on the road and we’ll work out the details.”

  When they got back to his house on the Silver Feather and unloaded their purchases, Rhett rolled up his sleeves and headed for the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” Tara asked. “We have the nursery to paint while Mom’s watching Julie. No time to waste.”

  “I’m going to start a pot of chili, so we’ll have supper ready when we finish putting together the furniture and painting the room.”

  Tara looked skeptical. “You can cook?”

  “I can cook chili. It’s the single dish in my culinary arsenal, but it’s a good one. I won a blue ribbon at the county fair one year.”

  “No kidding?”

  “I have hidden depths.”

  “Seduce a lot of women with your chili, do you?” she asked dryly.

  “Don’t you know it.” He winked, exaggerated and outrageous.

  She rolled her eyes, but he caught the hint of a smile beneath it. She was looking extra hot today in a short denim skirt and a snug-fitting sage green top that complemented her tawny coloring. Her long hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and she wore pink lip gloss and little other makeup. She didn’t need makeup. She was a natural beauty.

  “Seems counterproductive to serve chili before a seduction.”

  He laughed. God, he loved her dry wit. “Trust me, the seduction comes first. The chili is the reward.”

  “For having slept with you? Chili is the best you can do?”

  He lowered his voice. “Clearly, you’ve never had my chili.”

  “What’s so special about your chili?”

  His gaze dipped quickly to her cleavage and he tried hard not to ogle, but she was just so damn sexy. “It’s hot and spicy and has a little something extra.”

  “What’s the secret ingredient?”

  “Besides the quarter cup of good-quality tequila? It’s a labor of love,” he said. “I make everything from scratch. Roast my own chiles, toast and grind the cumin and coriander seeds . . .”

  “Do you need any help?”

  The idea of them working side by side at the kitchen counter brought a smile to his lips. “Sure.”

  “Where do you keep your aprons?”

  “Aprons?”

  “You know, those things you tie around your waist to protect your clothes while you’re cooking?”

  “I don’t need no stinking aprons.”

  “Maybe not, but not everyone is as loosey-goosey as you are. I need an apron.”

  “Hang on.” He dashed to the bathroom and got a towel. Came back to the kitchen. Dug around in a kitchen drawer for industrial-sized zip ties. Knotted and tied two corners of the towel with the big zip ties. “C’mere.”

  She eyed his makeshift apron suspiciously. “That’s not going to work.”

  “Are you always so negative?”

  “Fine.” She came over, and her wonderful scent lit hi
m up inside. “I’ll give it a chance.”

  “Turn around.”

  She put her back to him.

  Rhett was surprised to find his hands were trembling as he reached around her waist to cover her with the towel and cinch it in place with a third zip tie that connected the other two. His thumbs brushed her curvy hips and he felt himself start to unspool.

  Quickly, he stepped away. “How’s that?”

  She tested the makeshift apron, tugging on it slightly. The zip ties held. “Hmm,” she said. “It’ll do.”

  “Would it kill you to give me a compliment?”

  She turned and gave him a saucy grin. “Quite possibly.”

  “I’m getting a beer,” he said. “You want one?”

  “I’ll get it.” She cracked open the fridge and pulled out two Coronas. Handed him one. “Limes?”

  “Crisper,” he said, trying hard not to stare at her ass.

  “Who taught you how to make chili?” She brought the lime to the counter and took the wooden cutting board in the shape of Texas off the wall.

  He watched her long fingers gracefully slice the lime. “A girl I dated who worked for Texas Monthly. But I adapted her recipe. Made it my own.”

  “But of course. I should have known one of your buckle bunnies taught you to make chili.” Her voice dragged down in judgment.

  “I have an active dating life. Why do you find that so offensive?”

  “I think ‘indiscriminate’ is the correct word.”

  “I like to have a good time. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Um, you end up having children you don’t want.”

  Ouch. Out came the claws. “Look at it this way: if I hadn’t been indiscriminate, I wouldn’t have Julie.”

  “A happy accident.” Her tone softened.

  He took a pair of rubber gloves from a box in the pantry, stemmed and seeded the ancho and pasilla peppers he’d brought in from his travel trailer that morning with chili-making on his mind.

  “What can I do?”

  “Mince two onions and fifteen cloves of garlic.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of garlic.”

  “Eat my chili and you never have to worry about vampires,” he bragged, taking a porcelain-enameled cast-iron Dutch oven skillet from the copper rack hanging over the kitchen island, switching on the gas burner to medium high, and adding a layer of chili peppers.