Книга - Ambushed!

Ambushed!
Vicki Lewis Thompson


Morgan O’Connelli wants to create a real home in small-town Wyoming. So first she hangs up her estate agent sign. . . then she promptly borrows the horse of the hottest cowboy in town!Rancher Gabe Chance is blown away by the feisty redhead who unexpectedly lands right in his bed. . . and, soon enough, his heart! Morgan’s perfect for him in every way. Until he realises that while she’s turned out to be everything he wants, he’s got the one thing everyone in her profession would want. . . his family’s ranch.And that’s a legacy he’s just not willing to give up – not even for the sexiest woman he’s ever fallen for. . .










Dear Reader,

Welcome back to the Last Chance Ranch! The town of Shoshone, a small community that’s part of the Jackson Hole region in Wyoming, is celebrating the Fourth of July, and the Last Chance always has an entry in the parade. So let’s grab a lawn chair and stake out a spot along Main Street.

There’s nothing like a parade on the Fourth to stir up a little patriotism! And what represents the spirit of this fine country better than cowboys in snug jeans riding magnificent horses? Save me a seat, because I don’t want to miss a thing, especially when the Last Chance entry arrives.

All three Chance men plan to ride those spectacular registered Paints they breed at the ranch. Jack, the oldest, will be mounted on his black and white stallion Bandit, while Nick, the middle son, has chosen his dad’s favorite, a butterscotch Paint named Gold Rush. Gabe, the youngest, will no doubt be riding Top Drawer, a handsome roan Paint.

Nick’s fiancée Dominique is in town for the long weekend, but Jack and Gabe are still unattached. As they ride by, you may hear sighs of longing from the single women along the parade route. It’s understandable that they’d entertain a few fantasies about the Chance men. After all, guys like these are what made the USA great. Come on, the parade’s about to start!

Patriotically yours,

Vicki


Harlequin Mills & Boon® is thrilled to welcome Vicki Lewis Thompson back to Blaze®.

Look what people are saying about this talented author’s latest works …

“Vicki Lewis Thompson gives readers

a sexy, funny tale.”

—Romance Reviews Today on Better Naughty than Nice

“Hang on for the ride of your life … I could

not put this book down!”

—Night Owl Reviews on Blonde with a Wand

“If you thought Over Hexed was phenomenal, wait until you read Wild & Hexy!…. a rip-roaring good time.” —Romance Junkies

“The same trademark blend of comedy and heart that

won Thompson’s Nerd series a loyal following.”

—Publishers Weekly on Over Hexed

“Thompson mixes magic, small-town quirkiness, and

passionate sex for a winsome effect.”

—Booklist on Over Hexed




About the Author


New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON has been writing books for a few (cough, cough) years now, and she has a Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award from Romance Writers of America to prove it. Turns out that after all these years and all these books, the process is as exciting and challenging as ever. In other words, the hundred-and-first book is no easier to write than the first! And she wouldn’t have it any other way. This is a great job and somebody has to do it. She feels lucky that she’s been allowed to share her fantasy world with readers everywhere.


AMBUSHED!



VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON
























www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the undaunted residents of Summerhaven, a small mountain town in Arizona that survived a devastating forest fire in 2004 and has proudly risen from the ashes. Your annual Fourth of July parade is a testament to your resilience and creativity.




Prologue







June 3, 1937

From the diary of Eleanor Chance

WHO WOULD have thought sex in a hayloft could be so much fun? Or that I’d be happy living in a barn? But the barn was in better shape than the house when we arrived at the Last Chance Ranch a month ago, so Archie and I took the hayloft for our bedroom and my brother Seth sleeps in one of the stalls down below.

I won’t pretend the past month’s been easy for me, what with learning to be a bride and a carpenter all at once. Archie says I’m pretty good at being a bride. The two of us burn up the sheets in our makeshift bed. But even Archie, who loves me dearly, admits I’m a little less talented as a carpenter.

Fortunately Seth is better at that skill than I am. Between Archie and Seth’s efforts and my puny contributions, we’ve made a temporary home out of the barn and have a start on building a house. We tore down the old one, with much hooting and hollering because it was such an eyesore. If we work like beavers we might have the house done before the first snow, which would be nice. Winters are hard in Jackson Hole, and besides, I’d like to celebrate Christmas in a real house instead of a barn.

Even though I’m not so great with a hammer, my sewing has helped us out. I made a wedding dress for a nearby rancher’s daughter and took a cow in payment. The barter system works well here, and eventually I hope to stitch my way to another four-legged critter. This time I want a bull. Archie and I are holding off starting a family until we have an income-producing cattle herd.

More news—Seth has taken a liking to Joyce, the woman who owns the Rusty Spur Saloon in nearby Shoshone. Seth can’t afford but one beer a night, so he makes it last and flirts like crazy with Joyce.

She’s a good woman and I know Seth is looking for the same kind of happiness Archie and I have. Archie’s given me a nickname. He calls me Nelsie. I like it.

In between the carpentering, Archie helped me plant a vegetable garden. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, so he had to fence it to keep out the rabbits and deer. The tomato vines have blossomed and carrot tops are waving in the breeze.

It’s funny, but that garden seems almost as important as having a roof over my head. I feel like I’m putting down roots right along with the vegetables. Against all odds, we’re building a life here. I do believe this is where we are meant to be.




1







Present Day

GABE CHANCE hadn’t expected to get all choked up over riding in Shoshone’s annual Fourth of July parade. For the past ten years he’d spent summers competing in cutting-horse events and hadn’t been home to take part in this nonsense. But he was home now and it was the first parade without his dad. Milling around the staging area without Jonathan Chance barking orders seemed plain wrong.

His two older brothers were pretending they weren’t affected. That was easier for Jack, who was four years ahead of Gabe and eons ahead of the human race in his ability to hide his feelings. Nick was struggling a bit. Gabe could see it in his green eyes. As for their mom—well, Sarah had chosen to wear shades for the occasion. Good call.

Thank God Jack had vetoed Nick’s typically sappy idea of tying Gold Rush, their dad’s butterscotch paint, behind the Last Chance wagon driven by Emmett Sterling, the ranch foreman. Talk about maudlin. As a compromise, Nick was riding Gold Rush, because a Fourth of July parade wouldn’t seem right without that flashy horse prancing down Main Street.

Nick kept close to the wagon because his main squeeze, Dominique Jeffries, was riding in it. She was a photographer based in Indiana and was only here for the long weekend, but from the way those two lovebirds were acting, Gabe predicted she’d soon relocate.

Naturally she was shooting a bunch of pictures of Nick on that horse. She’d never met their dad, so she had no reason to be sentimental today, but every time Gabe looked over at Gold Rush all tricked out in his dad’s silver-studded saddle, a baseball-size lump clogged his throat. He needed a distraction and he needed one now.

Well, hallelujah. Just beyond the staging area a gorgeous redhead was struggling to control an Appaloosa. The gelding first tried brushing her off against a post. Then he headed for a patch of grass several yards away and paid no attention as she attempted to steer him back.

Gabe rose in his stirrups and pointed to the redhead as he hollered over at Jack. “I’m gonna help her out. I’ll be right back.”

Jack gave him a stern look that was pure Jonathan Chance, Senior. “Don’t get lost. Parade starts in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be here.” Gabe wasn’t crazy about the way Jack was issuing orders these days, but their dad’s will had put his oldest brother solidly in charge of the ranch. That set Jack and Gabe on a collision course, because Vicki Lewis Thompson suddenly Jack was questioning whether the Last Chance should fund Gabe’s cutting-horse events.

Their dad had always said that Gabe’s presence on the circuit boosted sales of the ranch’s registered paints, and Gabe’s horse Top Drawer was only ten grand shy of the required earnings for the American Cutting Horse Association’s Hall of Fame. But apparently Jack viewed Gabe’s summers away as a drain on the system. Maybe the lack of support was affecting Gabe’s concentration, because he wasn’t winning as much prize money on Top Drawer this summer, which made for a vicious cycle.

He’d unwittingly brought the issue to a head during an unscheduled trip home with an injured mare he’d saved from the slaughterhouse. Jack had seized the opportunity to keep Gabe at the ranch for a while.

Gabe figured he could change his brother’s attitude eventually, but for today he’d set the conflict aside. It was a holiday, one that made them all super-aware that their dad was gone. He’d try to keep the peace, mostly for his mother’s sake.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t walk Top Drawer over and assist the redhead battling a gelding that didn’t seem to like parades. Because Gabe was following the woman, he had a chance to read the embroidered back of her white satin Western shirt. Morgan O’Connelli Real Estate.

He recognized that strange last name from somewhere. He even remembered that it was a weird-ass combination of Irish and Italian created by parents who hadn’t wanted to hyphenate their kids’ last names. But he wasn’t sure why he knew that.

Before he had a chance to reach the woman, the Appaloosa took a notion and started to trot, nearly dislodging her. She lost her cool but not her seat, although clearly she was now merely a passenger and the horse was in charge, probably headed back to the barn.

Gabe nudged Top Drawer into a canter. Luckily he’d chosen to ride this particular horse today. The roan paint had some thoroughbred in him and was much faster than Finicky, Gabe’s other cutting horse.

When the Appaloosa gathered his speckled hindquarters and put on his own burst of speed, Gabe decided he was done playing games. Leaning over Top Drawer’s neck, he urged his horse on and caught up to the gelding easily. “Hang on!” he called to the woman as he came up on her left.

She abandoned the reins and gripped the saddle horn.

Grabbing the Appaloosa’s bridle, Gabe braced himself. “Whoa, son! Whoa, there!”

The horse slowed in tandem with Top Drawer, proving that he was schooled well enough, but had chosen to take advantage of an inexperienced rider. The two horses stopped in the middle of the empty street.

“That’s better.” Switching his grip from the Appaloosa’s bridle to the knotted reins hanging around the horse’s neck, Gabe glanced over at the redhead to see how she was holding up. “You okay?”

She flashed him a big smile, but her jaw was clenched tighter than a strap on a hay bale and her face was almost as white as her shirt. “Fine!” She barely moved her lips.

He decided she was in shock. “Stay right there and I’ll come get you.”

“Fine!” She had a deer-in-the-headlights look and only a faint ring of blue-green showed around her dilated pupils.

Keeping a firm grip on the Appaloosa’s reins, Gabe maneuvered Top Drawer until he had room to dismount. Then he ground-tied his horse so he could concentrate on helping the redhead out of the saddle.

She had a death-grip on the saddle horn and was breathing fast, fast enough that she drew Gabe’s attention to the front of her shirt. He had a special fondness for big-breasted women, but he knew it was politically incorrect, not to mention rude, to let his gaze linger there. Still, he couldn’t help noticing that the top three snaps were undone and a fourth was threatening to pop any minute.

He glanced up at her. “Ready to come down?”

“Sure!” She favored him with another big smile.

“Want any help?”

“No, thanks!” Without any preliminaries she swung her right leg over the horse’s spotted rump. But the Appaloosa was tall and she wasn’t, so unless she loosened her grip on that horn …

As the dismount started going bad, Gabe stepped in and caught her around the waist. “Easy does it.”

Just then he heard a pop and figured the fourth snap had given up the ghost.

“Shitfire!”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he set her on her booted feet with her back to him. Then he stepped away so she had the privacy to refasten her shirt.

In between muttered swear words, she clicked the snap. “Stupid shirt’s one size smaller than I ordered. By the time it came in the mail, I didn’t have time to get another one.”

“These things happen,” he murmured.

“There!” She spun to face him and she most definitely had her game face on. “Now I can properly thank you for riding to my rescue, Gabriel Chance. That was awesome.”

“You know my name?” He gazed into eyes that were neither green nor blue. He was reminded of the turquoise of tribal jewelry, and again, a memory stirred. He’d swear they’d met before.

“Everybody knows the Chance boys. But besides that, we had one semester together at JHHS our junior year.”

“You’re Morgan O’Connelli!” He pronounced her surname with an emphasis on the last two syllables, as an Italian would.

“That’s me. The daughter of Seamus O’Conner and Bianca Spinelli, the infamous pair who created the confusing last name of O’Connelli, thereby assuring that their children would suffer through each and every class roll call.”

“But it’s distinctive.” She hadn’t changed it, either, so she must not hate it that much. Now that he knew who she was, Gabe started sifting back through his memories. “Didn’t we work on the junior-senior prom together?”

“We did. We spent the afternoon before the prom blowing up helium balloons and sniffing a little gas now and then so we could sing like the Chipmunks.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. Just like that, everything about her came back to him—vagabond parents, modern-day gypsies, really, who drifted from one place to another in an old van. A passel of kids, maybe seven or eight. Morgan had been the oldest. Enrolling in the middle of junior year, when most of the class had lived in the Jackson Hole area all their lives, must have been tough.

But she’d thrown herself into school activities with a vengeance, volunteering for all the little jobs nobody else wanted. He’d been going steady with someone at the time, so he couldn’t ask her out. Besides, the word around school was that she couldn’t date much because she babysat her younger brothers and sisters.

Gabe hadn’t allowed himself to think about her in romantic terms, yet he remembered those eyes and that flame-red hair. If he wanted to be perfectly honest with himself, he’d have to admit he also remembered her rack. She’d almost been accepted as part of the gang, and then … she was gone.

“I remember you worked at the diner for a while after school was out that summer.”

“Uh-huh. I loved making shakes. And it was a great excuse to get out of babysitting.”

He’d loved watching her in that little white uniform, but he didn’t say that. “I went in there one day and they said you’d left.”

“That was right before the Fourth of July celebration,” she said. “And speaking of that, you’d better get back or you’ll be late.” She unclipped a cell phone from her tooled leather belt. “I’ll call the stable and tell them to come get this nag. I’m afraid Geronimo is a parade washout, at least with me on board. Oh, well.” She shrugged. “Chi non risica, non rosica.”

He knew absolutely no Italian. “Which means?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Gabe wasn’t fooled. Her cheerful acceptance of her fate didn’t ring true. From what he remembered of her, she loved to be part of things and a Fourth-of-July parade would be right up her alley.

“Don’t call them,” he said. “We’ll just switch horses.”

She paused in the act of dialing. “That’s very generous, but I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“Don’t you want to ride in the parade?”

“Well, sure, but I don’t think I quite realized how tricky it would be.”

“So this is your first parade?”

She smiled. “Yep. I’m a parade virgin.”

“Then we need to change your status today.” And if their discussion had sexual overtones, he didn’t mind a bit. She’d started it.

Still smiling, she shook her head. “I’ll bet your horse is worth a gazillion dollars.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gabe thought Jack might say it mattered a lot, but Top Drawer was Gabe’s horse and he could loan out the roan paint if he wanted to. That meant Gabe would be riding an Appaloosa instead of one of the Last Chance paints, and Jack might not like that, either. The ranch used the parade to showcase their registered horses, so in the past their entry had been all paints, all the time. But Gabe wasn’t in the mood to please Jack right now.

“No, really, Gabe. If anything were to happen to him, or to someone in the parade while I’m riding him, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Nothing will happen.” Gabe gestured toward his horse. Top Drawer hadn’t moved since Gabe had dropped the reins to the ground. “He’s trained within an inch of his life. You won’t have a single problem, but if you’re worried, you can ride next to me.”

Eagerness gleamed in her eyes for a moment before she looked away. “I really appreciate the offer. You don’t know how much.” She glanced back at him. “But it wouldn’t be right.”

“Why not?”

“I’d be horning in on your parade entry, interrupting your family event, insinuating myself into a situation that isn’t my—”

“Aw, hell, Morgan. You know you want to do it, so just get on my horse and make it snappy or we’ll both be late.”

She hesitated another second and then grinned. “Okay, Gabe. You’re right. I really do want to be in this parade. I’ve been thinking about it ever since … well, since I was sixteen, I guess.”

Thank God he’d offered. “Then let’s do it.”

“I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“Yeah? That sounds promising.”

She laughed. “Don’t get all excited. Opening a business has sucked up most of my capital. But I might be able to swing dinner at Spirits and Spurs if you avoid the steak.” She walked over to Top Drawer and scrambled aboard. The fourth snap on her shirt popped open again.

Instantly Gabe thought of another way she could show her gratitude, and immediately felt like a jerk. He was doing a good deed and expected nothing in return. Absolutely nothing.

“Damnation.” She pulled the shirt together and snapped it.

Doing his level best not to stare, Gabe led the Appaloosa over so he could hold on to the wayward horse while he adjusted her stirrups. No doubt being turned on by a glimpse of her spectacular cleavage reflected poorly on his character.

But there you had it. He was superficial and immature enough to wish that snap would stay open.

“Oh, would you please get my little purse?” she asked. “I left it tied around the saddle horn, and I doubt you’ll want to ride in the parade with it hanging there in full view.”

“That would be a negative.” He fetched the small leather purse, no bigger than a wallet, and handed it up to her.

As she reached for it, the snap popped again. “This is getting annoying.”

“Maybe you should give up and leave it undone.” He figured every guy along the parade route would be grateful.

She looped the purse strap over the saddle horn and snapped her shirt together again. “Now you sound like my mother—if you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

“Your mom said that?” Gabe couldn’t imagine that sentence ever crossing his mother’s lips, especially in relation to one of her kids.

“She’s Italian,” Morgan said, as if that explained everything.

Gabe thought about that as he lengthened his stirrups and mounted up. Kids tended to take after their parents, and obviously Morgan had inherited her red hair and blue-green eyes from her Irish dad, a guy he’d met once at some school function her parents had attended. What had she inherited from her hot-blooded, dark-haired Italian mother? A passionate nature?

In high school he’d been unavailable, but it happened that he was fancy-free at the moment. Even though he expected nothing in return for this good deed, he wasn’t about to refuse if Morgan wanted to renew their friendship. This horse trade might turn out to be one of his better moves.




2







EVEN A dedicated optimist like Morgan couldn’t have predicted that renting that stubborn horse Geronimo would have an upside—a rather spectacular upside, in fact. Although she was a little nervous about busting in on the Chance family’s event, she’d been invited by one of the crown princes to do exactly that. She thought of the Chances as Shoshone’s royal family.

Gabe certainly carried himself like royalty, his posture relaxed and easy in the saddle as he rode beside her to the parade staging area. Morgan had never known one of the Chance boys to look nervous, and why should they? They all had a strong sense of self, a trait she was working hard to make part of her personality.

She’d admired Gabe from the day she’d arrived at JHHS twelve years ago. No, admired was too tame a word. She’d had a crush the size of the Teton Mountain Range. Of course, she’d had no shot back then. As president of the junior class and star running back, Gabe Chance could have had almost any girl in school. He’d been going steady with somebody named Jennifer.

Amazingly, he now appeared to be unattached. With his all-American good looks, sandy hair and laughing blue eyes, she would have expected him to be off the market. Instead he’d asked her to ride with him in the parade, and that didn’t seem like the act of a man with a girlfriend.

He’d also been very interested in her tight shirt. She gave him points for not openly staring, though. She’d suffered through her share of ogling and crude remarks over the years. As a young teen she’d wished for smaller breasts, but eventually she’d learned to accept, even be grateful for the body she had.

Her generous measurements provided a terrific litmus test to see whether a guy had any class. Although she couldn’t expect men to ignore her double-Ds, she appreciated any effort at subtlety. Gabe had made that effort.

Come to think of it, he’d done the same back in high school, too. The afternoon of the prom he’d helped her inflate more than a hundred balloons and had never once made a comparison between the balloons and her girls. She’d fallen a little bit more in love with him that day.

She didn’t mind showing off her assets under certain circumstances, but riding in a family-oriented parade wasn’t one of them. When the embroidered shirt she’d ordered had arrived a size too small, she’d considered not wearing it, but then she’d have no way to advertise her business. Advertising was her excuse for riding, although it wasn’t the reason.

She’d dreamed about this parade and the festivities that followed from the moment she’d been denied the experience as a teenager. During the brief time she’d lived in this town, she’d felt a connection, as if this was where she was ultimately supposed to wind up. She’d hated to leave and had vowed to come back.

It had taken her some time to honor that vow, what with working her way through college and figuring out what she wanted to be when she grew up. Once she’d qualified for her real estate license, she’d worked in Jackson until she’d felt confident enough to open her own office in Shoshone two months ago.

Spending the Fourth of July here marked the beginning of her new life, a life where she would put down roots at last. And she’d be helping others to put down roots by selling houses. She was all about the concept of home.

Meeting Gabe Chance today was a bonus she hadn’t counted on, though. But then, once a girl set out to build the life she wanted, anything could happen. She could find herself riding down the street with the man of her dreams.

At least he had been the man of her dreams twelve years ago. She probably needed to find out a little bit more about him before she cast him in that role now. And at some point, she wanted to express her condolences. She knew he’d lost his dad the previous year.

She settled for a neutral conversational gambit. “So what have you been up to since high school?”

He glanced over at her. “Got a degree in business, but mostly I’ve concentrated on my riding. Top Drawer is one of two cutting horses I use in competition.”

She had no trouble picturing him out there in the ring, doing himself proud. “I’ll bet you’re good at it.”

“Top Drawer is good at it. I just try not to interfere.”

So he hadn’t developed a big head in the years since she’d first met him. He’d been a fierce competitor back then, but not a braggart. She was happy that hadn’t changed.

“And I’m sure you’re also promoting the Last Chance paints when you ride,” she said.

“I think so, and my dad used to think so, but Jack may take some convincing.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met Jack.”

“You may not have. He’d finished high school by then, and that was about the time my dad was getting out of the cattle business and switching over to selling paint horses. He needed Jack to help during the transition.”

She had her opening and she took it. “I was so sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Yeah, it was unexpected.”

“I’m sure.” Last fall she’d been working for a broker in Jackson when she’d heard Jonathan Chance had been killed in a rollover. By that time the funeral was over and she probably wouldn’t have gone, anyway. She hadn’t ever met Jonathan and wasn’t sure if Gabe or Nick would remember her.

Within a month of the accident, Morgan’s broker had gone down to Shoshone to leave his card in case Jonathan’s widow decided to sell the ranch. Morgan had been happy to hear that wasn’t going to happen, both for the family’s sake and for hers. When she moved to Shoshone, she wanted the community to be just as she remembered it, which included having the Chances still in residence.

Thinking about that now, she realized the parade would be the first one since Jonathan’s death. “Gabe, I’m a little slow on the uptake, but this isn’t the time for you to bring a stranger into a family event. You probably have enough to deal with.”

His glance was warm. “That’s considerate of you, Morgan, but in the first place, you’re not a stranger. You’re a friend from high school. In the second place, I think you’re exactly what we need to keep from getting bogged down in nostalgia.”

“Well, okay, but if anybody’s unhappy about it, we can still switch horses and the parade can go on without me.”

“That won’t be happening.” Gabe headed for the cluster of horses and riders near the Last Chance wagon. “Right this way, Miss O’Connelli. Let me introduce you.”

Morgan took a deep breath, but not too deep. That damned snap was going to stay fastened or else. She should have used a safety pin, but the shirt was satin and would show pin holes.

Riding along with Gabe was one thing. She knew him, at least a little bit. But facing the entire family was a daunting experience. Still, she was good at daunting experiences. Being tossed from pillar to post as a kid meant she’d had to learn how to adjust to whatever circumstances she found herself in.

Her first line of defense was her smile, so she trotted out a happy grin once they were close enough for Gabe’s family to notice.

Gabe started the introductions with a trim woman wearing a red Stetson, a Western shirt with red fringe, black jeans and red boots. Sleek white hair peeked out from under her hat but her eyes were covered by sunglasses.

“Mom,” Gabe said, “I’d like you to meet an old friend from high school. This is Morgan O’Connelli. Morgan, this is my mother, Sarah.”

Morgan kept her smile in place as she murmured a greeting.

Sarah returned the smile, but she seemed to be making an effort. “Nice to meet you, Morgan. You must be the new real estate agent in town.”

“That’s right.” Judging from the way Sarah said the words real estate agent, Morgan had the distinct impression that wasn’t a good thing. Maybe her broker hadn’t been the only one knocking on Sarah’s door after her husband’s death. “Have you had problems with agents bothering you?”

“You have no idea.”

Morgan cringed inwardly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It hasn’t been fun.”

“Just so you know, I have no interest in your property.”

Sarah nodded without comment, and Morgan felt dismissed. Her usual charm wasn’t working at all with this woman, but she could understand why. This had to be a tough day for Sarah, and she couldn’t be happy having a rider in the group who was advertising a real estate agency on the back of her shirt.

“Hey, Morgan!” Nick, mounted on a butterscotch paint decked out in a silver-studded saddle, called over from his spot beside the wagon. “I wondered if that was you when the office opened.”

“It’s me!” Morgan was grateful for Nick’s friendliness.

He tilted his head toward a woman sitting in the wagon. “This is my good friend Dominique Jeffries from Indiana.”

Dominique’s short, dark hair peeked out from under a wide-brimmed straw hat and she had an expensive-looking camera on a strap around her neck. She waved at Morgan, her expression cheerful. “Hi! Looks like you two traded horses.”

Morgan started to explain but Gabe got there ahead of her.

“We had to,” he said. “Otherwise Morgan wouldn’t have been in the parade.” Then he introduced the other woman in the wagon—Mary Lou Simms, the ranch cook—and the driver—Emmett Sterling, the ranch foreman. Mary Lou was in charge of throwing candy to the kids along the route.

Both Mary Lou and Emmett gave her a pleasant but reserved greeting. Morgan told herself that was natural, under the circumstances. But so far, only Nick and the woman who was probably his girlfriend had been truly friendly.

Finally Gabe looked over at a dark-haired cowboy on the far side of the wagon. He wore all black, and was mounted on a striking black-and-white paint.

Morgan had no doubt this was Jack, who was now the head of the Chance clan.

Gabe confirmed what she already knew as he introduced them. “Jack, meet Morgan. I’ve invited her to ride in the parade with us today.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, but then he touched the brim of his hat. “Glad to have you, ma’am.”

Morgan heard the words of welcome but didn’t believe them for a second. Once Gabe had announced that she’d be riding with them, a decided chill had settled over the group. She kept her smile firmly in place. Maybe there was still time for her to return Gabe’s horse and call the stables to fetch Geronimo.

“Time to move out!” Jack raised his hand like an old-fashioned trail boss.

So much for that. She’d have to see this through, hold her head high and keep her shirt snaps together.

“MORGAN AND I will follow Nick,” Gabe said as the group started lining up behind Jack. That wasn’t the order they’d planned on, but Gabe thought it was for the best.

When they’d talked about this the night before, his family had settled on having Jack lead, followed by their mother. Gabe was supposed to ride behind her, with the wagon next, and Nick at the end on Gold Rush as a sentimental tribute to their dad, who’d always been the entry’s grand finale. But Gabe didn’t want to be sandwiched in between his mother and the wagon in case Geronimo acted up or Morgan had any problems. He’d rather be at the end where there was a little room to maneuver before the next group came along.

Jack hesitated. “I don’t …” Then he paused and shrugged. “Whatever. We need to go. Ready, Sarah?”

“Yes.” She guided her roan paint, very similar to

Gabe’s in color if not in markings, onto the parade route.

Next Emmett slapped the reins against the rumps of the two matched bay paints pulling the wagon, and it started off with a creak and a groan.

Nick glanced over at Gabe. “You’re sure you want to be last in line?”

“Yep.”

“All righty, then.” Nick gave Gold Rush a nudge with his heels and the butterscotch paint, silver saddle winking in the sunlight, started after the wagon.

“Just stay on my right,” Gabe said to Morgan. “We’re going to be fine.”

“You changed the order, didn’t you?”

“A little.”

Morgan kept her voice down. “This was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Gabe knew what she was talking about. Except for Nick and Dominique, the group had appeared less than thrilled about Morgan’s presence. “It’s just the real estate thing. It’ll be fine. Wave.”

“What?”

“Wave to the people on the sidewalk. It’s what you do in a parade.”

“Oh!” She immediately turned on the charm, swiveling in the saddle so that she could pay attention to the good citizens of Shoshone lining both sides of the street.

Meanwhile Gabe concentrated on keeping the pace slow. Mary Lou was throwing out wrapped candy, and kids scuffled for it. He watched carefully to make sure nobody ran toward the street.

“Hey, Gabe!” It was Elmer, who owned the town’s only gas station. “What’cha doing riding an Appaloosa?”

“Just trying to be different!” Gabe called back.

“I didn’t even think about that.” Morgan kept smiling and waving, but she sounded upset. “Because of me, you’re on the wrong kind of horse.”

“Lighten up, Morgan. I’m not going to ruin the family’s reputation with one ride on a different breed. Besides, you’re supposed to be having fun losing your parade virginity, not obsessing about my rep.”

That made her laugh. “I am having fun. Sort of.”

“You’d better start having even more fun pretty soon. It’s not a very long parade.” He wished like hell his mom and Jack had been more enthusiastic about having Morgan, but he could understand why they weren’t.

Morgan blew a few kisses to the crowd as she continued her conversation with Gabe. “So how bad was the real-estate-agent traffic around your house last fall?”

He blew out a breath. “Bad. After Dad died, a gazillion of them beat a path to our door with all kinds of dreams and schemes, thinking we’d want to sell all or part of the ranch and they’d make a bundle. They drove my mom crazy and the whole subject of real estate agents was taboo for months. Finally they quit calling.”

“So your family thinks I’ll do the same thing, now that I’ve met you and been invited to ride in the parade with them?”

“Maybe.” And Gabe wasn’t sure if she would or not. He hadn’t thought that far. “Would you?”

“Absolutely not! I love the idea that your family has owned that land for years. My parents never owned so much as a parking space for the van.”

And he could tell that still bothered her, even now when she was an adult and didn’t have to deal with their drifter ways. “Keep waving.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She went back to her parade duties.

“How are you liking the parade now?”

“Better. I wish I’d brought candy to throw out to the kids. I didn’t think of it.”

Gabe took advantage of a temporary halt and called out to Nick. “Hey, bro, can you snag a bag of candy from the wagon and pass it back?”

“Sure thing.” Nick trotted forward, reached for the bag Mary Lou handed him and fell back until he was on Gabe’s left. “Here you go.” He handed the bag over to Gabe. “Gonna impress the rug rats?”

“Morgan wants to.” Gabe held out the bag to her.

She took it with a smile. “Thanks! And thanks to you, too, Nick.”

“My pleasure, Morgan.” Nick touched the brim of his hat.

Gabe expected Nick to move back into his position ahead of them, but instead he stayed even with Gabe.

“Everything all right back here?” he asked.

“We’re doing okay.” Gabe glanced over at Morgan, who seemed totally absorbed in tossing candy to the kids. “Thanks for asking.”

Nick lowered his voice. “You know it’s the real estate thing.”

“I know. I explained it to her.”

“Did you also explain that she’d better not make a sales pitch for her services?”

“I didn’t have to. She has great respect for the Chance family heritage, probably even more than I do.”

“Good. Then rock on, bro.” Nick urged his horse forward and got back into line ahead of them.

Gabe wasn’t sure what rock on meant in this context. Nick had found himself a woman, one he’d no doubt marry some day. Maybe he thought his two brothers should do the same.

Gabe wasn’t thinking that way himself. He was enjoying competing too much, and that wasn’t the kind of life he envisioned leading as a family man. One of these days, maybe after Top Drawer made the Hall of Fame, he’d retire from the circuit, but for now he still loved the challenge.

Sure, he’d been temporarily sidelined by Jack’s penny-pinching, but Gabe wouldn’t allow his brother to deny him permanently and rob Top Drawer of his chance to shine. They’d work something out. Gabe believed his dad would have wanted him to continue competing, especially with Top Drawer getting closer to that milestone.

In the meantime, though, Gabe was here and so was Morgan. He admitted that he found her sexy. Each time she tossed out that candy her breasts quivered. He couldn’t help noticing the fit of her jeans, either. Yeah, if given the chance, he’d be more than willing to get cozy with Morgan.

She seemed to like him okay, too. They could have some adult-rated fun together until he managed to convince Jack to send him back out on the circuit. As long as Morgan didn’t expect wedding bells, the two of them could have a lot of fun.




3







THROWING OUT candy toward the end of the parade route lifted Morgan’s spirits considerably. At the other end of town another field had been designated as the gathering point for participants. Those who were on foot dispersed. Morgan noticed a large horse trailer with the distinctive intertwined L and C parked on the far side of the field.

Jack led their group toward the trailer, and because Morgan was on Gabe’s horse, she had to go along. Then she saw another trailer, considerably less elegant, from the stable where she’d rented Geronimo. The owners had agreed to meet her at the end of the parade. Belatedly she wondered if she’d have any liability for letting someone else ride the horse.

She looked over at Gabe. “How should we work this?”

“Simple. I’ll turn in your horse and you turn in mine.”

“If they ask you any questions about why—”

“I’ll tell them Geronimo needed a more experienced rider in a parade situation. They should be made aware of that.”

“Great. Thanks.” Morgan wondered what it would be like to feel so sure of yourself all the time. She never had, although she’d learned to put up a good front. Maybe, when she’d created a solid situation here in Shoshone, she’d feel more grounded.

Until then, she was in fake-it-till-you-make-it territory.

She headed over to the Last Chance trailer. At least she understood now why Sarah and Jack hadn’t been as warm as she might have hoped. They thought she’d try to talk them into selling their beloved ranch.

Her wayward shirt had behaved so far, mostly because she’d learned to breathe more shallowly. She kept up that program as she rode Top Drawer over to the trailer, where Jack had dismounted and was organizing the reloading operation.

He glanced up as she approached.

“Gabe asked me to bring Top Drawer here,” she said.

“All right. Thanks.” Jack’s tone was businesslike.

“I’ll just get off him and he’s all yours.”

“That’s fine.” Jack’s dark gaze gave nothing away as he turned to help his mother off her horse.

Looping her purse strap over her shoulder, Morgan prepared to dismount. Whew, the ground was really far away.

Gabe had shortened the stirrups for her, which had helped while she was riding, but now that she had to get off, she had a longer drop to the ground. She managed as best she could, but sure enough, her shirt popped open again.

Once she got back to town, she’d detour past her house—a block off Main Street—and change out of this blasted shirt. She wasn’t about to struggle with it for the rest of the day.

As she tried to refasten it quickly, Jack appeared at her elbow. “Just so you know, no part of the Last Chance is for sale. And I mean no part, not even the acreage closest to the road.”

Her fingers still gripping the two parts of the snap, Morgan looked up. “I have no designs on your ranch,” she said. “I realize you’ve been plagued by real estate agents eager to make a buck, but that’s not me.”

His expression didn’t soften. “I’m hoping that’s true. But it is your job to sell property, so logically the ranch would look like an opportunity.”

“Perhaps, but I have no plans in that direction.”

Jack’s gaze flicked to the other side of the field where Gabe was talking to the owners of the riding stable. “Just so you know, getting chummy with one of the Chance boys won’t make any difference.”

“I beg your pardon?” The combination of Irish temper and Italian fire was starting to create a burning sensation in her gut.

“Shoshone’s a small town, and ‘most everyone knows that Gabe prefers a certain … physical attribute in a woman.”

“Oh?” As Morgan held her shirt together, flames of fury danced through her system.

“I’d hate to think that you were using that weakness of Gabe’s to your advantage.”

The fury erupted. “Are we talking about my breasts, Mr. Chance?”

He had the decency to flush. “I’m just worried about—”

“Well, don’t trouble yourself for another second! I realize this is a difficult time for your family, and because I respect all that the Chance legacy stands for in this town, I won’t tell you exactly what I think of your crude insinuations.”

“Listen, I—”

“No, you listen.” Her voice quivered with rage. “Gabe did me a favor so that I could ride in the parade, and I’m extremely grateful. Please let him know how much that means to me.”

Jack looked a little disoriented, as if the conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t been prepared for. “Uh, you can tell him yourself when he comes back.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. My breasts and I don’t want to cause either you or your family greater distress, so we’re leaving.” Ah, the pleasure of turning on her heel and striding away. She had to hold her shirt together because she still hadn’t managed to fasten the snap, but even so, it was a most excellent exit.

TALKING WITH the cowboy from the riding stable took longer than Gabe had anticipated, but finally he headed back over toward the Last Chance trailer to find Morgan. The watermelon-eating contest was scheduled to start in thirty minutes, and he had a feeling she’d want to take part. After that would come the sack race, if the activities followed the traditional schedule, and then the hot-dog roast.

Gabe had been a teenager when he’d last taken part in Shoshone’s Fourth of July celebration, and he discovered to his surprise that he was looking forward to the day’s events once again. Morgan had a lot to do with that. Her excitement was catching. He wanted to spend the day with her and experience Shoshone through her eyes.

Jack was loading his black-and-white paint Bandit into the trailer, and everyone else seemed to have left. Gabe didn’t see Morgan anywhere. He hadn’t specifically asked her to wait for him, but he’d thought she would. Taking off without saying a word didn’t seem like something she’d do. True, he didn’t know her all that well, but he had a tough time imagining her being so rude.

Walking to the back of the trailer, Gabe asked Jack if he’d seen Morgan.

“Yeah.” Jack closed up the trailer and turned to Gabe. “She said to tell you she appreciated what you’d done for her.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

Something was going on. Gabe could feel it, even though Jack was very good at hiding his emotions. “So, she didn’t mention where she’d be after this, didn’t ask me to meet her somewhere in town?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe she left her cell number.”

“Nope.”

“Damn it, Jack, this smells fishy. She’s not the kind of person to leave a message and walk off. I loaned her my horse.”

“Not the wisest move you’ve ever made.”

Gabe went on alert. “You said something to her, didn’t you?”

“I told her we’re not selling any part of the Last Chance, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, well, she knows that, and she’s not interested, anyway.” Gabe didn’t believe for a minute that was the sum total of their conversation. “What else did you say to her?”

Jack blew out a breath. “Look, I realize she’s exactly the kind of woman you go for, but—”

“Because she’s stacked.”

“Well, yeah. And don’t tell me she isn’t out to capitalize on that. All you have to do is look at her shirt.”

“The company that stitched it sent her the wrong size.”

“So she says.”

“You’re calling her a liar?” Gabe stared at his brother in disbelief. “What in hell gives you the right to pass that kind of judgment on a person you don’t even know?”

“Common sense! The Last Chance is a real estate goldmine. She’s in real estate. Do you really believe she wouldn’t like to have a piece of the action?”

“There’s no action to have a piece of!”

“She might figure getting horizontal with you could change that.”

Gabe pointed a finger at him. “You accused her of having ulterior motives, didn’t you?”

Jack shrugged. “I only suggested that—”

“You son of a bitch. I’d punch you in the nose, except for two things. I need to find Morgan and I don’t want Mom to know we had a fight.” Gabe turned and left before his temper got the best of him.

Punching Jack would feel great, but it would cause more problems than it would solve. Jack would probably punch back, and Gabe needed his face to be in working order today. He had watermelon and hot dogs to eat. Later on, if he could repair the damage his brother had done, he might even have some kissing to do.

Gabe wasn’t a big fan of walking, but he wasn’t about to ask Jack to take him into town on his way back to the ranch. Fortunately he was less than a mile from the center of town. Shoshone didn’t have a square like some small towns, so everything happened along Main Street. Traditionally one block was closed off on the Fourth. Gabe hoped he’d find Morgan there.

As he neared the roped-off area, he spotted a crowd gathered near a long table covered with butcher paper. Ten folding chairs lined one side. Gabe knew he’d found the site of the watermelon-eating contest. He just had to hope that his instincts were right and Morgan would have come here.

The country band from Spirits and Spurs had set up in a makeshift bandstand near the watermelon contest, and a few people were two-stepping on the asphalt. Red, white and blue banners and crepe paper hung from windows and doorways all along the street and every business was flying a flag. Kids with squirt guns chased each other through the crowd.

Gabe looked for Morgan, but a quick glance around told him she wasn’t in the immediate vicinity. With her bright-red hair, he’d spot her immediately. If Jack had ruined this day for her, Gabe might have to go back to the ranch and pound on his brother, after all.

Then he saw her over by the Shoshone Diner, where Madge and Edgar Perkins were distributing plastic bibs advertising their business. Apparently they were still sponsoring the contest, as they’d done for as long as Gabe could remember. He’d never paid much attention to that kind of comforting stability, but after talking with Morgan, he had a new appreciation for it.

As Morgan tied on her bib, Gabe noticed that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt instead of her satin Western shirt. She might have decided to change clothes because of the snap issue, but he could also believe Jack’s comments might have had something to do with it. His older brother had a lot to answer for.

Adjusting the brim of his gray Stetson, Gabe walked over to the diner. Morgan was laughing at something Edgar had said and obviously hadn’t spotted him yet.

“Hey, Gabe!” Madge called out. “Come on over here and get a bib. You were always real good at this.”

Morgan’s head came up with a start, and the happy laughter faded as she looked in Gabe’s direction. Her body stiffened and she clenched her jaw.

Yep, Jack would pay for this. “You bet I’ll take a bib, Mrs. Perkins.” Gabe accepted the piece of plastic and tied the ends around his neck. “Hi there, Morgan.”

“Hi, Gabe.”

“Say, weren’t you two riding together in the parade a while ago?” Madge asked.

“Yes.” Morgan turned to her. “Gabe was nice enough to switch horses with me. His was better trained than mine, and I’m not a very good rider.”

“You had a very stubborn horse,” Gabe said.

“Yes, well.” She swallowed. “Did you happen to talk to Jack?”

“I did, as a matter of fact. I gather you talked to him, too.”

“Yes. We had a … conversation.” Her expression was carefully controlled.

“You two can catch up later,” Edgar said. “It’s time to eat us some watermelon!” He lifted an old-fashioned school bell and started ringing it. “Watermelon-eating contest! Last chance to enter!”

Morgan reached for the ties around her neck. “You know what? I don’t think I’ll do this, after all.”

Gabe caught both her hands in his. “Don’t you dare chicken out on me, Morgan O’Connelli.” He hadn’t counted on her hands being quite so soft and warm. Or her mouth being quite so close and inviting.

She glanced up at him. “Gabe, it’s not a good idea.” Her eyes darkened as they had when he’d chased down Geronimo.

He didn’t think fear was the reason this time. He’d bet good money she was as sexually aware of him as he was of her. As further evidence, pink tinged her cheeks and her breathing changed.

“Go on, both of you.” Madge shooed them toward the table as if they were five-year-olds, and Gabe was forced to let go of Morgan.

She allowed herself to be herded toward the table, but fumbled with the ties of her bib along the way. “Seriously, I’m taking myself out of the competition.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Madge shot back. “There’s too much seriousness these days. It does people good to act foolish once in a while. Sit right there, Morgan. Gabe, you take the next seat.”

Gabe sat down and glanced over at Morgan with a shrug. “I think you’re outvoted.”

“All right.” Morgan met his gaze and a flicker of her usual good humor returned. “But I need to warn you, I’ve been looking forward to these events for a long time, and when it comes to watermelon contests, I eat to win.”

Gabe smiled. “Them’s fighting words, ma’am.”

Madge put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Morgan, it’s only fair to tell you that when Gabe was in high school he won this competition three years out of four.”

“Because one year I beat his ass.” Nick clapped Gabe on the back and sat down next to him. “You’re toast, bro. I’ve been practicing.”

“So that explains the love handles!” Gabe had never been so glad to see Nick in his life. Maybe Nick’s cheerful acceptance of Morgan would erase the bad impression Jack had left.

“A guy has to do what a guy has to do.” Nick leaned around Gabe to talk to Morgan. “Watch out for my brother. He cheats.”

“I do not!” Gabe looked at Morgan and was gratified to see a smile back on her face. “Don’t listen to him. It’s character assassination, pure and simple. Nick’s the sneaky brother.”

“I’ll vouch for that.” Aiming her camera at the two men, Dominique crouched in front of the table and took a shot. “Nick is very sneaky. I found this taped to my lens cap an hour ago.” She waggled the ring finger of her left hand, where a diamond caught the sunlight.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Gabe left his seat and came around the table. “Could we have a short delay in the proceedings? My brother Nick just had the good sense to propose to Dominique.”

“And I had the good sense to accept,” Dominique said.

Gabe hugged her. “Welcome to the family. Nick’s a lucky guy.”

Nick joined them on the other side of the table and put an arm around his fiancée. “Grandpa Archie used to say that Chance men are lucky when it counts.”

“Nice going, Nick.” Gabe shook Nick’s hand as the rest of the people at the table and in the surrounding crowd came up to offer their congratulations.

Morgan joined in as naturally as if she’d lived in Shoshone for years. Gabe liked seeing her relax back into her normal upbeat personality. Best of all, he didn’t detect any envy or wistfulness on her part. No engagement fever going on, there. She probably wanted to keep focused on her career, and that was a good thing.

At last Edgar Perkins rang the school bell again. “This is all very exciting, but we’re falling behind schedule. I need the contestants to be seated so we can bring out the watermelon.”

Gabe watched Morgan to make sure she didn’t use this interruption to sneak out, but she hurried back to her chair beside him.

Once Nick sat down, Gabe leaned toward him. “Does Mom know about this?”

“Yeah, and Jack and Emmett and Mary Lou. You would’ve, too, but you were over dealing with the Appaloosa.”

“Must’ve been a pretty quiet announcement. I didn’t hear any commotion over there.”

“It was a quietly emotional announcement, not a wild and crazy one. Mom’s feeling kind of teary today, anyway, and this started up the waterworks again. You know how Jack gets when she cries.”

Gabe’s gut tightened. “Speaking of Jack, I—”

“Here are your watermelon wedges, ladies and gents.” Edgar came over with two plates and Madge followed with two more. On each plate sat a quarter of a melon sliced lengthwise. The process was repeated until all ten contestants had watermelon.

“We’ll talk,” Nick said. “But not now.”

“Nope, not now.” Gabe tucked his Stetson under his chair before giving Nick and then Morgan the evil eye. “I hope you both know you’re going down.”

Excitement sparkled in Morgan’s blue-green gaze. “We’ll just see about that, Gabe Chance.” Pulling a scrunchie out of her pocket, she tied back her hair. “I intend to chomp my way to victory.”

Now that was the Morgan he liked to see—full of piss and vinegar. He thought again about that Italian mother of hers. This could be a very interesting day, and quite possibly a more interesting night.




4







WHEN MORGAN had heard about the watermelon-eating contest a week ago, she’d decided to sign up for it, as well as any other activity going on during the celebration. She’d always enjoyed contests, but her parents frowned on competition. Besides, their wanderlust had pretty much guaranteed Morgan wouldn’t be playing organized sports.

Watermelon-eating wasn’t exactly a sport, but she would take what she could get, although she hadn’t expected to be squaring off against the Chance brothers. Somewhere she’d heard that a woman had to be careful of a man’s ego and not beat him at games. Forget that noise. As long as she was here, she planned to whip everyone at this table, including the gorgeous Gabe Chance.

Edgar Perkins raised his hand. “The rules are that you may not hold on to the plate. You can touch it to pull it closer, but you may not hold on. Anyone caught holding the plate will be disqualified. We’ll start on my signal.”

Morgan’s blood was up. After her set-to with Jack she’d headed to town ready to show everyone this girl knew how to have a good time. She’d changed her shirt because it was a pain in the ass having to worry about that snap, but otherwise, she intended to enjoy herself fully.

Then Gabe had appeared, and her bravado had disappeared. His family didn’t like her, so she’d decided she didn’t like them, either, and that had to include Gabe. No doubt he’d choose pleasing his family over pleasing her, so why bother with him? She’d only set herself up for heartbreak.

Madge Perkins hadn’t made it easy to duck out, though, and now Morgan had recommitted herself to the contest and to a day of fun. Gabe’s mother and his oldest brother weren’t around, so if he wanted to share that day with her, she wouldn’t push him away. It was a free country—which was what they were celebrating—after all.

“On my signal,” said Edgar. “Ready, set, go!”

Morgan dove in. She ate without stopping, swallowing pieces whole and biting off gigantic chunks of the sweet melon. She swallowed her share of seeds in the process.

She might be sick after this, but she didn’t care. Watermelon juice coated her mouth and her chin. As she buried her face deep in the cool pulp, even her cheeks became slicked with pink slime.

She paid no attention to Gabe, chomping away on his melon next to her. Focus was the name of the game. But even through her intense concentration she heard people starting to chant her name. Dominique was pulling for Nick, of course. All the other contestants, including

Gabe, had cheering sections. But Morgan didn’t know many people, so if they were shouting her name, she must be ahead.

She ate faster and realized Edgar was leaning close, watching her and Gabe intently. She was down to the white part when he sang out “winner!” Looking up, she discovered Edgar’s hand poised over her head. She’d done it.

“Congratulations, champ.”

She turned, her chin dripping with juice, to find Gabe in the same condition, and he was grinning at her.

“You did it.” He didn’t sound upset. He even seemed happy that she’d won. Then he did the most amazing thing. He put his hand behind her head, pulled her close, and kissed her, watermelon juice and all.

A cheer went up from the crowd.

Morgan was too shocked to react at first. Gabe was kissing her? In public? When they were both totally slimed with watermelon juice?

Then the heat of his kiss began to register. He was using his tongue. And so was she. Watermelon juice made for one sexy kissing session.

She forgot where they were. She forgot to breathe. She forgot her name. Whistling and stomping noises caused her to realize vaguely that their behavior wasn’t particularly appropriate for this venue. Even so, she had the urge to pull Gabe under the table and continue the kiss a long time.

Mercifully, he drew back before she did something really embarrassing. A low chuckle rich with implications told her that he’d been a little surprised by the intensity, too. “We might want to try that again sometime,” he murmured.

She lifted heavy-lidded eyes to his. “I’m game.”

“So I gathered.”

Edgar approached with the prize, which was a gift certificate for two lunches at the Shoshone Diner. “Well, Gabe, you are sure a good loser. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a good loser in my life.”

“No kidding,” Nick said. “Good thing I didn’t win. I don’t think I could have handled playing tonsil hockey with my brother.”

Dominique walked forward. “Wanna see the pics?”

“You took pictures?” Morgan wasn’t so sure about that.

“Get used to it,” Nick said. “Dominique takes pictures of everything. Don’t be surprised if this ends up in a gallery in Jackson, although I promise she’ll ask first.”

“Don’t worry,” Dominique said. “Just say the word and I’ll delete it. But I hope you don’t tell me to, because I think it’s great.” She turned the camera so that Morgan could see the shot on the back screen.

There she was, kissing Gabe for all she was worth. Good thing he was kissing her for all he was worth, too, or she’d have been mortified. As it was, she was sort of … fascinated. She’d never seen a picture of herself kissing anyone, let alone a hottie like Gabe Chance. She couldn’t look away. The photo captured exactly what she’d been feeling—wonder, passion, discovery.

“I want a copy,” Gabe said.

She stared at him. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “Wouldn’t you like one, too? To commemorate winning the watermelon-eating contest?”

“Maybe.” She thought about it. “But what would you be commemorating?”

His gaze was open and his voice rang with sincerity. “Our first kiss.”

A chorus of awww went up from the crowd.

Morgan felt as if someone had poured warm syrup in the general area of her heart. She couldn’t remember any guy saying something that sweet to her. She studied Gabe to make sure he wasn’t poking fun, but she saw no evidence that he was.

“I’ll be happy to get each of you copies,” Dominique said. “But how would you feel about me turning it into a gallery shot?”

Gabe shrugged. “It’s okay with me.”

Morgan wondered if he’d thought about potential consequences. “Maybe you should check with your family first.”

Gabe didn’t hesitate. “It’s none of their business.”

“That’s the spirit.” Nick pushed back his chair and accepted one of the wipe cloths Madge handed to each of the contestants. “Maintaining the Chance family reputation has been highly overrated, wouldn’t you say, little brother?”

“That’s for sure, big brother.” From his tone of voice, Gabe seemed to be making more than a casual remark.

Morgan recognized the kind of unspoken communication that happened between siblings. She and her brothers and sisters, all seven of them, shared certain truths that could only come from weathering a common past. From the look that passed between Nick and Gabe, she gathered that both of them had some problems with what had happened in that shared past. Well, join the club.

“Sack races in fifteen minutes!” shouted someone from the door of the Shoshone Feed Store. “Come collect your sacks if you’re gonna be in it!”

“That’s me,” Gabe said. “Morgan, are you up for this?”

She grinned at him. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Nick? You racing?”

“Yes, he is,” said Dominique. “I made him promise to be in everything so I could take pictures.”

Nick groaned. “Pictures that will be used against me when we have kids.”

“And grandkids!” Dominique said, laughing.

Morgan listened without a smidgen of envy. As the oldest in a large family, she’d grown up taking care of her brothers and sisters and in many cases sacrificing her own needs to theirs. She wouldn’t mind hooking up with someone for fun and games, but she wanted to enjoy her freedom a while longer. The idea of having kids didn’t excite her at all.

GABE HADN’T MINDED losing the watermelon-eating contest, but the sack race was going to be all his. When he crossed the finish line only a foot ahead of Morgan, he claimed a victory kiss. Games that ended in kissing Morgan were a good thing.

Hanging out with Morgan, Nick and Dominique was a good thing, too. If Morgan hadn’t been there, Gabe might have felt like a fifth wheel tagging along after Nick and Dominique. A foursome was better, and they made up their own team for events like the spoon-and-egg relay.

Gabe couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a pressure-free day. Sure, he played the games to win, but when he didn’t win, he could still dream up an excuse to kiss Morgan. Kissing Morgan beat winning all to hell.

Late in the afternoon the four of them helped Josie, owner of Spirits and Spurs, carry her tables outside. Traditionally Shoshone’s Fourth of July ended with a street dance, and Josie was no fool. She’d figured out that serving food and drinks in the open air made a lot more sense than trying to coax people into the saloon.

She rewarded the four of them with bottles of beer and a prime table next to the section of street where the dancing would take place. Once they were settled, Morgan and Dominique left to repair their hair and makeup in the saloon’s bathroom.

That presented Gabe with his first chance to talk with Nick alone. He might not have another one, so he latched onto it. Taking a pull on his beer, he glanced over at Nick. “Jack’s getting out of hand.”

“He’s been out of hand for a while now. Demanding that you stop competing is only the latest stunt in a long line of weirdness.”

“I’m gonna find a way to compete so Top Drawer can make the Hall of Fame.”

Nick picked at the label on his beer bottle. “I know you are. And you should.” He glanced up. “Of the three of us, you have the most right to be out there representing the family, and Top Drawer deserves his shot.”

“Let’s not start that half-brother shit again. As far as I’m concerned, we’re all just brothers.” Gabe had never felt any differently, but convincing Jack and Nick was an uphill battle.

Jack’s mother had left the ranch and her marriage when Jack was a toddler. Despite Sarah’s continued requests, Jack had never called her Mom, as if he felt obligated to make the distinction that he was her stepson.

Nick and Gabe had both thought they were Sarah’s kids, but just recently Nick had found a document proving that Sarah wasn’t his biological mother, either. Instead he was the result of an affair his father had had prior to meeting Sarah. Nick’s mother had died, and Nick had come to the ranch as a baby. His father and Sarah had never told him the truth, and the community had helped keep their secret.

That left Gabe as the only son born to Jonathan and Sarah. Three sons, three different mothers. It made no difference to Gabe. In fact, he was determined to hang on to a sense of unity, even though Jack was currently behaving like an ass. But Nick and Jack weren’t so dedicated to the concept. Jack was the most stubborn about it, but Nick had his moments. Like now.

“Dad had a special feeling for you,” Nick said. “That’s why he encouraged you to get into the cutting-horse competition in the first place.”

“He had a special feeling for all of us. You know damned well he didn’t play favorites. He was busting his buttons over you becoming a large-animal vet.”

“Nah, that wasn’t the same. My degree isn’t exciting.

You winning ribbons and trophies and then getting prize money on top of it—that’s exciting. He got a vicarious thrill out of you being out there.”

Gabe considered that as he took another swig of his beer. “Is there any chance Jack is jealous of how Dad felt about me competing and that’s why he wants to shut me down?”

Nick shook his head. “Don’t think so. Jack’s never seemed jealous of either of us. I think he’s always cherished his position as first-born. But, dear God, is he turning into an anal son of a bitch! All he thinks about is the bottom line, preserving the ranch exactly as Dad left it. He’s taking his responsibility way too seriously.”

Gabe sighed. “Yeah, well, guilt is a powerful thing.”

“And so stupid! That rollover was all Dad’s fault. He should have waited for better weather or until Jack was available to go fetch that horse.”

“What horse?” Morgan asked as the women returned to the table and took their seats.

“Nothing,” Gabe said. “You know cowboys. Always talking about some horse or other.”

Morgan didn’t pursue it. Gabe liked that about her. She was interested in things without being nosy. He hadn’t had time to tell Nick about Jack’s treatment of Morgan, but maybe that should stay between him and Jack, anyway.

Gabe didn’t know for sure where this new friendship with Morgan was headed, but every time he looked at her, he thought of mixing it up on some rumpled bedsheets. More important, he didn’t see white lace and promises, so whether Jack ever warmed to Morgan might not matter.

What a great day they’d had, though. Night was settling in, soft and mild, and the mosquitoes hadn’t been bad at all. Gabe looked forward to dancing with Morgan and having a reason to hold her close. In the meantime, they’d drink beer and eat some of Josie’s food, probably hamburgers. It was that kind of night.

“You know what?” Morgan’s eyes shone with excitement. “Dominique just told me about the ghosts that supposedly hang out in the bar. I want to help carry the furniture back in when Josie locks up so I can see if any come around tonight. Fourth of July seems like a prime time to me.”

Gabe chuckled. “There’re no ghosts. Josie came up with a marketing angle and she’s playing it for all it’s worth, even renaming the place Spirits and Spurs. I gotta hand it to her.”

“Aw.” Morgan looked disappointed. “I was all set to see some—what was the name you used, Dominique?”





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