Книга - Cowboy for Keeps

Cowboy for Keeps
Cathy McDavid


He’s Just A Cowboy Not by choice, Conner Durham has traded in his suit for jeans and cowboy boots. He’s grateful to find work training mustangs—after all, cowboying is in his blood. But for years he’s been pulling down six figures working as a systems analyst. Now he’s lost his job, his house and his whole way of life.The one good thing that has happened is meeting Dallas Sorrenson, a former flame, again. Dallas has some surprising news—she’s pregnant. It’s not the coming baby that has him tied in knots, but his current position in the world.Can a successful photographer fall for a lowly cowboy? And what about Dallas’ ex—who just happens to be the man who ended Conner’s job? The situation couldn’t be more complicated… but maybe there’s no such thing as a bad time to fall in love.







He’s Just A Cowboy

Not by choice, Conner Durham has traded in his suit for jeans and cowboy boots. He’s grateful to find work training mustangs—after all, cowboying is in his blood. But for years he’s been pulling down six figures working as a systems analyst. Now he’s lost his job, his house and his whole way of life. The one good thing that has happened is meeting Dallas Sorrenson, a former flame, again.

Dallas has some surprising news—she’s pregnant. It’s not the coming baby that has Connor tied in knots, but his current position in the world. Can a successful photographer fall for a lowly cowboy? And what about Dallas’ ex—who just happens to be the man who ended Conner’s job? The situation couldn’t be more complicated…but maybe there’s no such thing as a bad time to fall in love.


“I won’t say I’m unhappy you’re single again.”

That was all it took. Desire hit Conner with the force of a head-on collision. He wanted her. Like no other woman before. Wanted her so desperately, he couldn’t be trusted alone with her a moment longer.

“It’s getting late.” He stood, his legs weak at the knees, and removed his jacket from the chair. “I should leave.”

“All right.” She walked with him to the living room. Before they reached the door, she stopped him with a hand on his arm and a soft “Wait.”

“Did I forget something?”

“Only this.” She lifted her lips to his and brushed them lightly across his mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

Fire exploded inside him. He dropped his jacket, grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in place against him. “If I kiss you back, I won’t stop there.”


Dear Reader,

Every story needs an ending, and if you’re a lover of romances like I am, you want that ending to be a happy one! I’m thrilled to bring you Cowboy for Keeps, the fourth installment in my Mustang Valley series. I realized once I’d finished the third book, Baby’s First Homecoming, that we still didn’t know the origin of Prince, the incredible wild mustang found roaming the McDowell Mountains of Arizona. Well, I just couldn’t let that happen.

My hero, Conner Durham, is a different breed of cowboy. Not only is he an incredible horse trainer, he holds two degrees. Brains and brawn. How great is that? Like others in this rough economy, Conner lost his management position due to company downsizing. Dallas Sorrenson, the girl who catches his eye, is on her way up in the world. If that weren’t tough enough to take, she’s pregnant with another man’s baby. Conner should walk away, but he can’t. And we wouldn’t want him to anyway, now, would we?

As in many of my books, I took inspiration from real life for this one. Last year I read a startling news article about an injured horse, and I couldn’t get that story out of my mind. I’ve used bits and pieces from that real-life horse’s terrible ordeal in Cowboy for Keeps, where Conner and Dallas help to save a badly injured mare and her young offspring.

I hope you enjoy this story. As always, I enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact me at www.cathymcdavid.com (http://www.cathymcdavid.com).

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid


Cowboy for Keeps

Cathy McDavid




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


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy makes her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains, where hawks fly overhead, javelina traipse across her front yard and mountain lions occasionally come calling. She embraced the country life at an early age, acquiring her first horse in eighth grade. Dozens of horses followed through the years, along with mules, an obscenely fat donkey, chickens, ducks, goats and a potbellied pig who had her own swimming pool. Nowadays, two spoiled dogs and two spoiled-er cats round out the McDavid pets. Cathy loves contemporary and historical ranch stories and often incorporates her own experiences into her books.

When not writing, Cathy and her family and friends spend as much time as they can at her cabin in the small town of Young. Of course, she takes her laptop with her on the chance inspiration strikes.


To Torno, my first and best horse. You will always run wild and free in my heart.


Contents

Chapter One (#uc19efe2d-aa23-5891-9f25-2b4202637481)

Chapter Two (#ua35719b1-67b2-5759-bd26-ad6ba799c955)

Chapter Three (#uea24d71b-db1f-57e7-b0e3-33e70d3dd883)

Chapter Four (#u51ae3c95-8d1e-5475-b9ad-4c004c22eda3)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

The tie choked worse than a pair of hands around his neck.

Conner Durham yanked at the knot, loosening the tie, and then ripped it off altogether. He flung the offensive garment onto the passenger seat beside him, where his rumpled suit jacket already lay. The interview, his third with this particular company, had been a complete and utter waste of time.

He wasn’t getting the job; the hiring manager had said as much before dismissing him with the dreaded “Thanks, we’ll be in touch.”

Turning his truck onto the long drive leading to Powell Ranch, Conner slowed his speed to the posted ten miles an hour. He’d have to find a different way to vent his frustration other than pressing his pedal to the metal.

Maybe he’d take Dos Rojo out, work the young gelding in the arena. He and the mustang, named for his distinctive red coloring, were still ironing out the kinks in their relationship, deciding who was in charge. So far, they were even, with Dos Rojo coming out ahead some days, Conner on others.

Driving past the main horse barn, he headed for his quarters, a four-hundred-square-foot efficiency apartment. Hard to believe a mere six months ago he’d owned a five-bedroom house and spent money as if it did indeed grow on trees.

No more, and not again in the foreseeable future, unless his luck drastically changed.

Luck, the lack of it, had to be the reason he couldn’t find a decent job. It certainly wasn’t his qualifications. According to the one-in-twenty prospective employers who’d bothered to contact him after receiving his résumé, he had qualifications coming out his ears. Usually more than the job required.

Little did they know Conner was already downplaying his education and experience in order to make himself more hirable.

Inside the apartment, he swapped the rest of his dress clothes for a well-worn work shirt and jeans. Threading his belt through the loops, he fastened the gold buckle. It was one of his most cherished possessions and proclaimed him Arizona State Champion in steer wrestling. He’d won the buckle in college, before abandoning his cowboy ways in order to earn double MBAs and make his mark in corporate America.

Which he did, for six years, only to fall victim to a massive layoff and departmental downsizing. In the five minutes it took Human Resources to inform Conner that his good pal and fellow manager would take over his position and absorb the few remaining members left on Conner’s team, his entire life had changed.

A knock sounding on the door provided a welcome distraction. Another minute and Conner might have started feeling sorry for himself.

Yeah, right. Who was he kidding?

“Door’s open,” he called, pulling on his boots and standing.

“You decent?” Gavin Powell, Conner’s lifelong friend and current boss, barged inside. His glance went straight to the sleeping area, where Conner stood in front of the haphazardly made bed. “Good, you’re ready.”

“You need something done?”

Instead of answering, Gavin sniffed around the kitchen counter.

“Hungry?”

“I missed lunch. How’d the interview g—”

“Don’t ask.” Conner strolled into the kitchen, adjusting his Stetson till it fit snugly on his head. “You live in a house full of people. Didn’t one of them fix you some food?”

“Sage and the baby are taking a nap, since someone kept us up last night, crying. Dad’s down with the flu. Between laundry and helping the girls with their homework, the afternoon got away from me. Do you have any idea how many papers parents are expected to read and sign? Three, just for Isa to go on a field trip.”

Last spring, Gavin and Sage had married, joining them and their two daughters, each from a previous relationship, into one big happy family. Now they had a two-month-old son, making their family even bigger and happier.

“Never mind,” he complained. “I’ll grab some crackers in the office. Which, by the way, is where I need you to be in an hour.”

“What’s up?”

“I finally hired a photographer. She’s meeting with us at four-thirty.”

“Us?” Conner quirked a brow.

“You heard right. I need someone to act as a guide. Who knows the story of Prince and is familiar enough with these mountains to lead a day ride. You’re the only one I can spare fitting that description.”

Conner didn’t argue. He owed Gavin for the roof over his head and the food on his table. Literally. If Gavin hadn’t rescued him a few months ago, when his severance pay ran out, he might now be living in his truck.

“What about Dos Rojo?” Conner asked. “I want to work him in the arena before the equestrian drill team arrives for their practice.”

“Then I guess you’d better get started.”

They parted ways on the porch. As Conner crossed the open area and headed toward the horse barn, the many changes occurring at the ranch during the last two years struck him anew. His own apartment was once a bunkhouse, back in the days when the Powells had owned and operated a thriving cattle business. The smaller of the two horse barns had been expanded to include stud quarters for Prince, the Powells’ pride and joy. And the cattle barn, now a mare motel, housed the many horses brought to the ranch to breed with Prince.

Like Conner, Thunder Ranch and the Powells had suffered a grave financial setback, a combination of the economic downturn, loss of their range and encroaching housing developments.

Unlike Conner, the Powells had bounced back, thanks in large part to Prince, a stallion Gavin had discovered roaming free in the nearby McDowell Mountain Preserve. More significant perhaps, the Powells had adapted, turning what remained of their cattle ranch into Scottsdale’s most successful public riding stable.

“Hey, boy.”

Dos Rojo eyed Conner warily as he approached the stall. The mustang needed an attitude adjustment if he expected to continue living the cushy life of a working ranch horse. Otherwise, he might end up back where he’d come from at the Bureau of Land Management’s facility in Show Low, his fate uncertain and, though Conner didn’t like thinking about it, possibly doomed.

Not entirely unlike his own fate.

He was determined that the horse remain at Powell Ranch, just as he was determined to find another job.

“Let’s go, boy.”

They spent forty minutes in the arena, Conner putting Dos Rojo through his paces on a lunge line. When they’d finished, he walked out the horse and gave his coat a good brushing before returning him to his stall. To his delight, Dos Rojo sniffed Conner’s hat and nudged his arm as he latched the stall door.

“I agree.” He patted the horse’s neck. “Good workout. Maybe next time we’ll try getting a saddle blanket on you.”

There were many things Conner had liked about his former job. The challenges he regularly faced and overcame, the sense of accomplishment, the respect and admiration of his peers and superiors, greeting every new day with purpose.

To be honest, he also found some of those same rewards working for Gavin.

It wasn’t enough, however.

The ranch office was located in the barn, beside the tack and storage rooms. As he neared, he could hear voices, Gavin’s and a woman’s.

Conner’s steps faltered, and then stopped altogether. It couldn’t be her! He must be mistaken.

The laughter, light and musical, struck a too familiar chord.

His hands involuntarily clenched. Gavin wouldn’t blindside him like this. He’d assured Conner weeks ago that Dallas Sorrenson had declined their request to work on the book about Prince due to a schedule conflict. Her wedding, Conner had assumed.

And yet there was no mistaking that laughter, which drifted again through the closed office door.

He contemplated turning around, then thought better of it. Whatever Gavin required of him, he’d do. He owed his friend that much.

Still, a warning would have been nice.

With an arm that suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, he grasped the knob, pushed the door open and entered the office.

Dallas turned immediately and greeted him with a huge smile. The kind of bright, sexy smile that had most men—Conner included—angling for the chance to get near her.

Except she was married, or soon to be married. He couldn’t remember the date.

And her husband, or husband-to-be, was Conner’s former coworker and pal. The same man who’d taken over Conner’s department. Supervised his employees. Expanded his office into Conner’s old space.

The man whose life remained perfect while Conner’s had taken a nosedive.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Dallas came toward him.

He reached out his hand to shake hers. “Hey, Dallas.”

She ignored his hand and wound her arms loosely around his neck for a friendly hug. Against his better judgment, Conner folded her in his embrace and drew her close. She smelled like spring flowers and felt like every man’s fantasy. Then again, she always had.

Richard was one lucky guy to snare a woman like her.

And, like a fool, Conner had made it easy for him.

She drew slowly back and assessed him in that interested way old friends do after not seeing each other for a while. “How have you been?”

Rather than state the obvious, that he was still looking for a job and just managing to survive, he answered, “Fine. How ’bout yourself?”

“Great.”

She looked as happy as she sounded. Flushed—no, glowing, her brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. She’d swept her brunette hair, shorter than when he’d seen her last month, off her face with a colorful band.

Conner could be mistaken, but he thought she might have put on a little weight. It looked good, giving her curves in all the right places.

Married life obviously agreed with her.

“I thought you turned down the photography job.” He tried not to stare, dimly aware that he’d interrupted Gavin.

His friend shot him an impatient look. “Like I was saying, Dallas’s calendar unexpectedly cleared. She called me last night and volunteered to take the pictures, if we still needed someone, which we do.”

She broke out in that incredible smile again.

Conner’s heart disregarded his brain’s directive and beat triple time.

This had to stop. She was taken, and Conner didn’t trespass on another man’s territory, even when he disliked the guy.

He needed to get a grip on himself, and fast. How could he expect to work with her otherwise?

The coffee-table-style book, in the planning stages for months, would chronicle the life of Prince, beginning with his capture, to his success as a stud horse, as well as tell the story of the mustang sanctuary, from its inception to today. All profits from the sale of the book would go toward funding the sanctuary and raising awareness of the plight of wild mustangs.

As an avid advocate of no-kill animal shelters, and a professional photographer, Dallas had been the Powells’ first choice. It was Conner, in fact, who’d introduced her to them back in the day, when he was on good terms with Richard. Since then, she’d become friends with the Powells, frequently volunteering at the sanctuary. She’d initially agreed to work on the book, but then there had been that conflict.

No more, apparently.

Conner would do whatever was required of him to help the Powells and Clay Duvall, whose rodeo arena currently housed the sanctuary. They weren’t just his good friends, he also supported their efforts to rehabilitate former wild mustangs and place them in good homes.

He just wished he didn’t have to work with Dallas.

“I thought maybe you two could head out to the sanctuary this morning,” Gavin continued, oblivious of the internal battle waging inside Conner. “Get started with some pictures, figure out what all needs doing and how you’re going to manage it.”

Dallas beamed. “Wonderful idea!”

“I have a class at five.” When Conner wasn’t overseeing the bucking and roping stock at the Duvall’s rodeo arena, he taught riding classes at Powell Ranch and lead trail rides.

“I’ll cover for you.” Gavin started for the door.

“O...kay.” Done deal. Conner was going with Dallas to the sanctuary. “We’ll take my truck.”

She accompanied him out of the office and to the apartment, where he’d parked.

“I thought you drove a Dodge,” she commented, upon seeing his older model Ford.

“Used to.” He didn’t elaborate, preferring not to advertise that he’d traded in the Dodge, along with his convertible and motorcycle, for a secondhand truck without monthly payments.

“Oh.” Understanding registered on Dallas’s face. “I’m sorry about your job. Triad Energy Systems lost a good department head.”

He opened the door for her. “Guess they kept the better man.”

She met his gaze. “They kept the man with more seniority.”

Not the kind of remark he’d expect from Richard’s better half.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t ask how he’s doing.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t know.” An indefinable emotion flickered in her eyes. “As of two months ago, we’re no longer engaged.”

It took several seconds for her words to register, longer for their implication to sink in.

Dallas Sorrenson was not just single, she was available.

* * *

CONNER HAD ALWAYS BEEN easy to talk to, his boyish charm encouraging conversation. It wasn’t the only quality Dallas had liked about him.

Did like about him.

Talk flowed easily on the ten-minute drive from Powell Ranch to the mustang sanctuary at Duvall Rodeo Arena. Well, with two minor exceptions.

When Dallas inquired after Conner’s job search, he gave her one of those nonanswers and promptly changed the subject. They also didn’t discuss what had happened between her and Richard, though the news of their breakup had clearly stunned him, requiring a full minute for him to regain his ability to speak.

Not that Dallas blamed Conner for avoiding any discussion of her former fiancé. Richard had been retained and awarded a raise while Conner was let go. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t harbor a grudge.

“I always love coming here,” she said as they drove past the rodeo arena with its bucking chutes, bleachers and livestock holding pens. A group of men were practicing on their cutting horses, separating calves from a small herd and driving them one by one into a pen. Correction, several men and two women, Dallas observed upon closer inspection.

She wouldn’t mind getting pictures of the women. Maybe she’d ask Conner to stop briefly on their way out if the group was still practicing.

“Not too much happening this time of day.” Conner aimed the truck onto a long, straight dirt road, at the end of which were the pastures where the mustangs were kept. “If you want some photos of calf roping or bull riding, there should be a decent turnout tonight. Guys practicing for tomorrow’s jackpot.”

“Will you be working the jackpot?”

“Yeah. I fill in for Clay during events and on weekends. When Gavin doesn’t need me.”

Despite her curiosity, she didn’t pressure Conner for details. Did he enjoy living the cowboy life 24/7 instead of now and then? Prefer it over the manufacturing plant and the constant mental grind? What had happened to his girlfriend, the tall, willowy swimsuit model?

“Sage mentioned you’re at the sanctuary almost as much as at Powell Ranch.”

He cast her a sideways glance. “You talked to her about me?”

“Only in passing. I was there last week. Taking pictures of the baby.” Dallas pressed a hand to her stomach as they went over a pothole.

“How’s the documentary photography coming?”

She was surprised he remembered, and flattered. “I’m continuing to pursue it. In between weddings and family reunions and conventions.”

Being a commercial photographer was her livelihood but not her passion. She had hopes that the book on Prince and the mustang sanctuary would launch her artistic career. That and the volunteer photography she did for several local no-kill animal shelters.

“Don’t forget baby pictures,” Conner added.

“Right.” She smiled, glad the momentary awkwardness between the two of them had passed. Not only for the sake of the book, which would require them to spend considerable time together during the next few weeks, but also because of her fondness for him.

He was fond of her, too, and attracted to her. Still. Dallas could tell. When they’d first met—she’d been retained by Triad Energy for a company brochure—there were instantaneous sparks. First, they’d gone on a group lunch together. Then a happy-hour gathering after work. Their next happy hour had included just the two of them. It had ended with a kiss that left her thinking of nothing else for days.

By the end of her two-week project, she’d been completely smitten and convinced he had all the potential to be the one.

During that same period of time, Richard had also made his interest in her known. Dallas liked him, but kept him at arm’s length, her attention focused entirely on Conner. After her stint at Triad was over, however, he’d stopped calling her so much, then not at all. He cited work and spending weekends at the office as the reason, and apologized. Dallas had believed him. She’d heard the employees talking about a potential large contract and that Conner would be in charge.

After two weeks without a single peep from him, she gave up hope. Richard’s call and invitation to a movie wasn’t entirely unexpected, and she’d accepted. The rest, as the saying went, was history.

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit Richard was a rebound romance. And that she’d occasionally wondered what might have been if Conner hadn’t become buried in work.

Well, they were both unattached now.

Dallas instantly dismissed the notion. She couldn’t think about seeing anyone right now, and not for a while. She and Richard had only recently split. And then there was the matter of—

“Is this close enough?” Conner asked, interrupting her train of thought.

“Perfect.”

He’d pulled the truck alongside the larger of the three connecting pastures, not far from a gate. About a hundred yards off, four mustangs had raised their heads to stare at them. Not completely used to humans, they were content to stay put and watch. That would change as soon as Conner removed the bucket of grain he’d brought along.

Dallas hopped out of the truck, grabbing and then discarding her sweater. It was early October, and, typical for southern Arizona, the seasons were only now starting to change from summer to fall. The mildly nippy early-morning air had warmed as the sun rose. By afternoon, they would be running the air-conditioning in their vehicles.

Standing with the door open, Dallas rifled through her equipment bag, grabbing her digital camera and two lenses, one a zoom on the slim chance the horses proved able to resist the lure of a treat. Depending on the shot, she occasionally used a 35mm camera. A good photographer always allowed for choices.

She met up with Conner at the gate.

“Wait here,” he instructed. “These ponies are fresh off the Navajo Reservation and pretty unpredictable. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Dallas started to tell him she wasn’t a novice where horses were concerned and could handle herself, then reconsidered. Things were different now, and she’d be wise to practice caution. So she did as instructed and waited beside the gate, readying her camera.

Conner shook the bucket. That got the attention of the horses, and they meandered toward him. Dallas raised her camera and studied the scene through the viewfinder.

These mostly untamed horses were perfect for the book, in looks and disposition. Despite their shaggy coats, long manes and tails, and compact muscled bodies, they were extraordinary, and they knew it.

Not just any horse, they carried the blood of their Spanish ancestors, brought over on ships crossing the Atlantic Ocean nearly five hundred years ago. It showed in the proud, regal way they held their heads, the intelligence reflecting in their eyes and the graceful movements of their bodies.

Dallas was transfixed—by the horses and also by Conner.

He might possess two MBAs and be as smart as a rocket scientist, but he belonged to this land every bit as much as these mustangs. How many systems analysts handled a rope as if it was an extension of their arm? Had an uncanny ability to predict a horse’s next move? Wore their jeans, Western shirt and cowboy hat with the comfort and ease of a suit?

Conner did.

Except Dallas liked him infinitely better in jeans.

She snapped several pictures of him while he waited for the mustangs to approach, certain he had no idea he was the focal point of all her shots.

A mild breeze tousled the lock of unruly blond hair that swept across his tanned forehead. His hazel eyes narrowed with interest as he studied the approaching horses. A shade shy of six feet, he had the build of an athlete despite spending the last six years in an office, and he carried himself with confidence, completely ignorant of his effect on the opposite sex.

For every hundred or so pictures Dallas took, she might use one for the book. To that end, she snapped away.

“I want to get a few shots of the baby.” Without waiting for Conner to reply, she climbed the fence and straddled the top rail, careful to maintain her balance.

The filly, no more than six months old, cooperated nicely, turning her sweet face toward the camera. When Dallas went to climb down the fence, the material of her slacks caught on a piece of wire. She momentarily wobbled and let out a startled yelp.

“Don’t move!” In a flash, Conner was at her side, assisting her down.

The horses fidgeted, not entirely happy with this new intruder on their side of the fence.

When both of Dallas’s feet were firmly planted on the ground, she looked up and went instantly still. Conner’s nearness, not to mention his strong hands resting protectively on her waist, brought a rush of heat to her cheeks.

“Th-thanks. I’m all right.”

“You sure?”

No, she wasn’t. Sure or all right.

“I’m fine. Really,” she insisted, silently scolding herself. She wasn’t some silly buckle bunny or schoolgirl, and her reaction to Conner was entirely over the top.

He turned from her in that unhurried manner of his. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab a cup of coffee at the Corner Diner when you’re done here. Strictly work,” he clarified, when she didn’t respond. “To go over what you need to do and how we’ll accomplish it.”

“Of course. Strictly work.” She shoved her disappointment aside. Conner was right; they needed to maintain a professional relationship. For many reasons. “Except, if you don’t mind, I’d like something a little more substantial. I wasn’t feeling like eating earlier, and now I’m starving.”

Twenty minutes later, they made their way toward Conner’s truck. The ride to Mustang Village, where the diner was located, didn’t take long. The uniquely designed, equestrian-friendly community had been constructed on land formerly owned by the Powell family.

Where cattle once roamed, commercial buildings, a retail center, apartments, condos and houses sat. The slow flowing river remained, but the lush vegetation growing on its banks had been replaced by a fence and keep-out signs. Horses still carried their riders across the valley—on bridle paths networking the area, not the open range.

Powell Ranch, four generations strong, looked down on Mustang Village from its place on the mountainside, a witness to the wheels of progress.

“You grew up in this area,” Dallas commented as they pulled into the diner’s parking lot. “Does it seem strange to you, seeing all the changes?”

“Sometimes.” He grinned affably. “When I was twelve, Gavin’s dad started letting me go with them on cattle roundups. The corrals were over there.” He pointed to the park a block down the street. “The loading station just beyond them. We’d drive those cows from all over the valley right past this very spot.”

“What a sight that must have been.” She imagined the pictures she’d have taken. Hundreds of cows on the move. “I bet you loved it.”

“Are you kidding? It was dirty and sweaty and backbreaking work.”

“You did love it!”

He grinned again. “The only thing more fun was the night we captured Prince.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it.”

“For the book?”

She shook her head. “I’m only responsible for the photographs. I just want to hear any stories you have from the days before Mustang Village was built. For inspiration.”

They entered the half-empty restaurant and were promptly seated.

“If I do, you’ll fall asleep,” Conner said, opening his menu.

“I doubt that. The last thing you are is boring.”

He looked up at her.

When their gazes connected, a zing went through Dallas, half warm and pleasant, half...

Wow!

So much for keeping their relationship professional.

Was he feeling it, too? Did he also sometimes think about what might have been?

Attempting to distract herself, she perused the diner’s daily specials and waited for her unpredictable stomach to protest. It didn’t. Whew. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself in front of Conner.

After giving their orders to the waitress, he removed a pen from his shirt pocket and began making notes on a paper napkin. “I was thinking of Saturday for our trip into the mountains. Unless you have plans for the weekend.”

“No plans.” She peered at the list he was making, tilting her head and reading upside down. Water, snacks, twine, a tarp, a map, GPS, first aid kit, rain ponchos.

“Is eight o’clock too early?” He continued to scribble as he talked.

“No. I’m up at six most days.”

“Any preference on a mount?”

“Just something broke. Very broke. Like, if there’s a freak earthquake while we’re out, the horse won’t so much as swish his tail.”

Conner’s brows drew together. “You’re an experienced rider, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’d rather not take any chances.”

“If you’re worried about the trails being rugged, we can always take the easier ones.”

“It’s not that.” She set her fork down, suddenly nervous.

“What then?”

She hadn’t planned on making any announcements until she started showing.

“Well.” She mustered a smile while rubbing her damp palms on her slacks. “I’m pregnant.”

Conner spilled several drops of coffee onto the table before managing to steady his mug. “Pregnant! Wha...when?”

“When did I find out? A couple weeks ago. And to answer both questions you’re too polite to ask, yes, Richard knows about the baby and no, we didn’t discover I was pregnant until after we’d called off the engagement.”


Chapter Two

Twice in one morning Dallas had thrown Conner for a loop. First, when she’d told him about her broken engagement. Then the really big bombshell.

She was pregnant. With Richard’s baby.

A hundred thoughts raced through Conner’s head. First and foremost, there went the possibility of him asking her on a date.

“Do you think it’s wise, riding a horse in your condition?”

“The thought occurred to me, too. What if we took ATVs?”

“Motorized vehicles aren’t allowed in the preserve.” Conner shook his head. “We’ll cancel the trip. Gavin can find another photographer.”

“I’m doing this. With or without you.”

He’d forgotten how stubborn she could be when she set her mind to something.

“I know the book’s important to you,” he stated.

“Honestly, I don’t think you have any idea. Yes, it will educate people on the plight of wild mustangs. And the profits will benefit the sanctuary. But this book has the potential to launch my career. Take it to an entirely new level.” She continued in a gentler tone. “It may also be my last opportunity before the baby’s born.”

“What if you’d fallen off that fence earlier?” Conner asked. “You might have been hurt. Or worse.”

“What if you walk in front of a moving car when we leave the diner? There are no guarantees in life.”

“And no reason to take foolish chances—which riding a horse when you’re pregnant is.”

“You said yourself we can take the easy trails.”

“Not happening.” He could be as stubborn as Dallas. “And don’t think you can find someone else. I’ll put the word out. Most cowboys in these parts are my friends.”

Dallas startled him by reaching across the table for his hand, slipping her fingers easily, naturally, into his. “I appreciate your concern.”

Conner stared at their joined hands, unable to tear his gaze away. The rest of what she said dissolved into a jumble of unintelligible words.

Her fingers, with their pink-tipped nails, were delicate and soft as silk. He could imagine them stroking his cheek or caressing his arm. Imagine lifting her hand to his mouth and brushing his lips across her warm, smooth skin.

He suddenly straightened, reason prevailing.

She was pregnant. With Richard’s baby.

He should not, under any circumstances, be having these kinds of thoughts about her.

“Please, Conner.” Her index finger drew tiny circles on the back of his knuckles. “There isn’t anyone else I want to work with on this assignment.”

So much for reason prevailing.

Instead of telling her to stop, he prayed she would go on indefinitely.

“Does, um, Gavin know about the baby?” he managed to ask in a hoarse voice.

“No.” The tracing of circles abruptly stopped. “I haven’t told him.”

“Because you’re afraid he wouldn’t give you the job?”

“I’m only ten weeks along.” She withdrew her hand and squared her shoulders. “I can do this. My pregnancy will not interfere. And if you’re considering telling Gavin—”

“I’m not telling him.” Conner picked up his coffee mug. It didn’t feel anywhere near as nice as Dallas’s fingers. The haze surrounding his brain, however, had dissipated. “You are.”

“What?”

“Seriously, Dallas. He has a right to know.”

“Are you making that a stipulation of working with me?”

“No. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” He’d also do whatever was necessary to protect her.

“Except into the mountains.”

“Not until you tell Gavin and he agrees.”

“You’ll let me ride a horse?”

“Hell, no!” His loud response had several heads swiveling in their direction.

“You just said—”

“We’ll take the wagon. Less jarring than on horseback.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve never ridden in a wagon before.”

“We can’t go everywhere we could on horseback.”

“What about the canyon where you captured Prince?”

“I’ll check the maps, verify the trails. We might have to take a longer route, but we’ll get there.”

She sat back, a satisfied and most appealing grin on her face. “Thank you, Conner.”

“Promise you’ll let me know if the going gets too rough.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious.”

“Taskmaster.” Her brown eyes sparked with delight.

“You have no idea.”

“Right.”

Clearly, she saw straight though him. The last thing Conner would do was push her, physically or emotionally.

“We’ll find Gavin when we get back to Powell Ranch.”

Dallas made a face. “I have to tell him today?”

“It will take me a while to ready the wagon and the team of horses. I’m not starting until he gives me the okay. The ranch is liable, after all.”

“You going to make me get a note from my doctor, too?”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

Dallas grumbled, then dived into her remaining salad, polishing it off in a few bites, along with the rest of her meal.

Conner watched, forgetting about his coffee. Did all pregnant women inhale their food? He hadn’t paid much attention to Sage and Caitlin’s eating habits during their pregnancies.

“I’m not keeping you from your work?” Dallas asked when the last bit of sandwich had disappeared.

“You heard Gavin. You are my work for the next few weeks.”

“Good.” Rising from the table, she smiled seductively.

Conner waited a moment before snatching the tab and following her to the front of the restaurant, his legs alarmingly unsteady.

Had she just flirted with him?

No, he must be mistaken. Dallas was always that way, friendly and outgoing, with a thousand-watt personality. It was the reason men found her so attractive, Conner included.

Only his interest in her went well beyond casual.

He reminded himself yet again of her current condition and the man responsible for it. Acting on his attraction would surely result in trouble. And until Conner’s life was back on track, trouble was the last thing he needed.

* * *

THE FRONT DOOR OPENED even before Dallas came to a complete stop in the driveway. Her mother stepped onto the porch and raised a slender arm in greeting, the folds of her vibrantly colored peasant skirt hugging her legs. Gold bangles on her wrists and neck glinted, catching the last rays of a disappearing sun.

The bohemian style of dress was much like the woman herself, free-spirited and uninhibited.

Dallas grabbed the casserole dish off the passenger seat, fussing with the loose foil covering it. Purse in tow and dinner contribution secure, she climbed out of her Prius Hybrid and headed toward the house.

“You’re early.” Marina Camponella stood waiting with open arms.

Dallas leaned in and let her mother hug her, the most she could manage with the load she carried. “Mom, you look great.”

“Thank you, dear.” Marina accepted the compliment as she did most things in life: graciously and humbly. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?”

“It comes and goes, generally without me having to run to the nearest bathroom. For which I’m grateful.”

“Be happy. Morning sickness is the sign of a healthy baby.” She gave Dallas’s stomach a quick pat and relieved her of the casserole dish.

They went through the tastefully appointed living room on their way to the kitchen. Many of the exquisite pieces on display had been crafted by her mother. A talented sculptress, she’d abandoned a promising artistic career to marry Dallas’s stepfather, Hank, and raise her two children.

She still sculpted for personal enjoyment, completing only two or three pieces a year. Teaching at the Horizon School of Art in Tempe took up most of her time.

Glimpsing her newest piece reminded Dallas that her mother wasn’t enjoying the fulfilling life she might have if Hank had encouraged rather than discouraged her dreams.

Speaking of which...

“Where’s Hank?” Dallas asked, draping her jacket over a kitchen chair and stowing her purse on the counter.

“In the den. Watching the presidential address on TV.”

“Ah.” Dallas rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”

“You know Hank and his politics.” Her mother opened the oven, and the aroma of baking chicken immediately filled the air.

Curry chicken, Dallas could tell. So could her stomach, which roiled at the prospect of any spicy food.

“I do know Hank,” she mused aloud.

How could she not? She’d spent twelve years living under the same roof with him. Arguing with him, disobeying him, rebelling against him and finally just tolerating him until the day she could move out. It wasn’t that she hated Hank. Not at all. They were simply polar opposites.

Dallas took after her unconventional mother, something her conservative financial-advisor stepfather didn’t understand. If he had, he wouldn’t have established such strict rules for two teenagers simply eager to get their feet wet in a big, wide world.

Real-life blended families, Dallas had concluded, weren’t like the ones portrayed on TV. They didn’t always, well, blend. Dallas’s younger brother held a similar opinion and had left home the year after she did.

“Heard from Liam recently?” she asked.

“He’s in Colorado. Mapping a remote part of the national forest.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Liam had also inherited their mother’s free-spiritedness. Dallas wasn’t sure he’d ever trade his job as a surveyor for a permanent address.

Like her brother, Dallas valued her independence, but she also longed for stability. A husband and children. She believed all things were possible with the right person.

For the last two years, she had assumed that person was Richard. Except then they’d called it quits.

Dallas’s mother handed her a stack of plates from the cupboard. “You mind setting the table?”

“Of course not.”

She didn’t wait for the next item, fetching glasses and flatware while her mom sliced a loaf of freshly baked bread.

“Hank,” Marina called, then sighed with exasperation. “He can’t hear me over the TV.”

“I’ll get him.” Dallas made her way to the den, following the sound of what had to be a news commentator recapping the address. “Hi, Hank,” she said, stepping into the decidedly masculine room, the only one not decorated by her mother. “Mom sent me to tell you dinner’s ready.”

“Hey.” He pushed himself up from the recliner, turned off the TV with the remote control. “I didn’t hear the doorbell ring.”

“Mom met me outside.”

“She loves it when you come to dinner.”

Dallas detected a hint of reproach in his voice. As if she didn’t already know her visits were too infrequent.

“Work’s piled up lately.”

“You need your rest.” Hank placed a large hand on her shoulder, the gesture more stilted than affectionate.

It was, Dallas had long ago accepted, the best he could manage.

“Have you heard from Richard lately?” Hank asked as they entered the kitchen.

He was fit and tall, and the gray at his temples gave him a distinguished appearance. Dallas could see how her mother had become enamored with him.

“He called Tuesday.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“And?”

“I just thought he might check on you more often.”

Dallas automatically tensed. “Why would he?”

Her mother sent Hank a let-it-go warning.

He didn’t heed it. “You’re pregnant.”

Dallas poured iced herbal tea from a pitcher. “I’m only in my first trimester. It’s not like there’s much change day to day.”

“I’d think, as the father, he’d be more concerned.”

“Richard’s plenty concerned,”

Dallas sat across from her mother, who gave her a he’ll-run-out-of-steam-soon head bobble in reply. Marina could conduct entire conversations without speaking a single word.

“He is.” Hank harrumphed in agreement. “Concerned enough to make an honest woman of you and give his child his name.”

“We’re not getting married.”

The moment Richard had learned about Dallas’s pregnancy, he’d proposed. Or reproposed, in this case. She’d declined. Her parents had married solely because Marina was pregnant with Dallas—not for love.

“You could do worse than Richard.”

Dallas bit down, swallowed her retort. She’d come here for dinner, not to argue with her stepfather.

“Hank cares about you, honey,” Dallas’s mother said in an attempt to smooth things over. “After all, your pregnancy is nothing short of a minor miracle.”

“I was supposed to have trouble conceiving, Mom, not carrying.”

“And yet you did conceive. Without any trouble.” Her face radiated joy. “When you first told us you had PID, I was so sure you were in for a tough road. And then so grateful Richard was willing to brave it with you.”

“He was willing because it meant postponing starting a family. His job came first with him.”

“He wanted to wait until he was financially secure.” Hank helped himself to a serving of chicken. “I think that shows responsibility.”

“And you had your budding photography business to consider,” her mother added.

A bout with appendicitis in college had left Dallas with pelvic inflammatory disease. Because of scarring on her fallopian tubes, she was told she’d likely require the assistance of a fertility doctor in order to conceive. Finding out she was pregnant couldn’t have come as a bigger shock, to her, her family and Richard.

Terminating her pregnancy or giving her child up for adoption weren’t options. Dallas was having the family she wanted, simply a little ahead of schedule. And without a husband. Or a house. Or having become a successful documentary photographer.

A knot formed in her middle.

“You should give him another chance,” Hank said.

Her mother nodded thoughtfully. “Try living together instead of rushing into marriage.”

“We were engaged over a year without ever setting a date. Our instincts were telling us we didn’t have what it takes for a successful marriage. A baby doesn’t change that.”

Dallas was feeling ganged up on. Her mother was fond of Richard and Hank thought there wasn’t a better guy out there.

“But Richard is thrilled about becoming a father,” Marina gushed. “It would be nice for his sake if you could work things out.”

Dallas sighed. It was past time to level with her mother and stepfather.

“I hate to break it to you, but Richard isn’t thrilled.”

“What?” Her mother gasped. “But he... You said—”

“I didn’t want to upset you.” Dallas buttered a piece of bread, but she’d lost her appetite. “He wants to marry me because he believes it’s the right thing to do.”

“He loves you.”

“He did. Once.” Not for a while.

“I’ll talk to him,” Hank interjected.

“You will not! I mean it, Hank.”

“Someone needs to set him straight.”

“That’s not your job.”

He looked hurt, and Dallas instantly regretted the harsh tone she’d used.

“Are you sure he just doesn’t need more time to adjust?” Marina asked, always the mediator.

“I’m asking for you and Hank to respect my wishes and let me handle Richard my own way. Now, please, can we change the subject?”

Awkward silence followed, until Marina chimed in with “How’s the book coming?”

“Great. I got some nice pictures of a mustang family at the sanctuary yesterday. Conner took me.”

“Conner Durham?” Her mother visibly perked up. She and Hank had met Conner before, during various cookouts and holiday gatherings. “Richard’s friend who was laid off?”

“Yeah. He’s working for the Powells and the Duvalls, splitting his time between the two places, from what he told me.”

“They need a systems analyst?” Hank’s brows furrowed.

“Hardly.” Dallas laughed. “He’s teaching riding classes, supervising trail rides, overseeing the rodeo livestock and managing the mustang sanctuary.”

“Such a shame he lost his job,” her mother commiserated.

“Richard felt terrible. It ended their friendship.”

“Not Richard’s fault the economy tanked,” Hank muttered. “Sometimes management has to make tough decisions.”

“It’s not Conner’s fault, either. But he’s the one out of a job and living in an apartment on Powell Ranch.”

“Apartment?” Marina looked perplexed. “What happened to his house?”

“He still owns it. From what Sage Powell told me, he’s renting it out to cover the mortgage payment, except the monthly rent isn’t enough, and he has to make up the difference.”

“That’s terrible. It’s such a beautiful house.”

Dallas remembered visiting it. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, game room, three-car garage, a pool and a beautifully landscaped backyard. Living in the apartment must be a huge adjustment for Conner.

“He’ll move back into the house as soon as he finds a new job.”

“Positions like the one he had are few and far between,” Hank said. “And the competition is ruthless these days.”

Inspiration sprang suddenly to Dallas’s mind. “Maybe one of your clients has a job opening.”

“Possibly. Let me make some calls on Monday.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“When are you seeing him next?”

“Tomorrow. We’re taking a trip into the mountains to view some of Prince’s old stomping grounds.”

“Honey, is that wise?”

“Don’t worry, Mom. We’re taking the wagon, which is much safer than riding horses. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know....”

“Trust me. Conner has seen to every precaution.”

Marina marginally relaxed. “There’s a reason I always liked him. Be sure and tell him I said hello. And call me the second you come down off the mountain. I’ll worry.”

Dallas smiled. “I love you, too.”

She was convinced the trip would be uneventful, other than her getting a lot of shots for the book.

Dinner progressed comfortably and was soon over. “Let me help you clean the kitchen, Mom. I can’t stay long. I have an early morning.”

“You sound excited.”

“I am. Great weather, fantastic scenery, fresh air. It’ll be fun.”

“Having Conner for company all day will be fun, too.” Her mother winked, another nonverbal communication that Dallas pretended to miss.

She didn’t like admitting she’d been entertaining the exact same thought.


Chapter Three

“Easy does it, girls.” Conner walked behind the pair of fully harnessed draft horses, the long reins gripped firmly in his hands. Because the team was well broke and used to being hitched to a wagon, he was able to accomplish alone what might normally require two men. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Almost there.”

Molly, the older of the pair, eased into position on the left side of the wagon tongue. Her partner, Dolly, suddenly started veering the wrong way.

“Haw, haw,” Conner hollered, using the command to go left.

Dolly obeyed and promptly changed direction, the chains on her harness rattling like the ghost of Christmas past’s.

Molly watched, head bobbing and tail swishing. When both horses were lined up, Conner called out, “Whoa,” and let up on the reins.

“Need a hand?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Gavin’s approach. “You can help me hitch them to the wagon.”

While Conner attached the neck yoke to the collars, Gavin hooked the trace chains to the doubletree.

“You seen Ethan this morning?”

“Earlier,” Conner answered. “He called to say he was heading over to the rodeo arena. Clay’s new bull is arriving.”

Like Conner, Gavin’s younger brother worked for their friend Clay. And like Gavin, Ethan had recently added to his family, when his wife, Caitlin, gave birth to a baby girl.

Conner thought about Dallas being pregnant. Just about all of his married friends seemed to be having babies lately.

Except Dallas wasn’t married to Richard, and he and Conner were no longer friends.

Checking the britchens and back straps one last time, he tied the mares to the hitching post. Eager to get started, Dolly pawed the ground with her heavy hoof.

Gavin came around the wagon to Conner’s side, stopping briefly to unlatch and lower the tailgate. “Maybe you should wait for Ethan to get back before you and Dallas leave.”

“What for?”

“He’s the expert and could go with you in case there’s a problem.”

“I know enough about wagons and driving a team to manage.”

“Just a suggestion.” Gavin shrugged. “Or I can take her.”

“I’m taking Dallas.” Conner dropped the ice chest he’d packed into the wagon bed, shoving it beneath the seat. “My job, as I recall.”

“No need to get riled.”

“I’m not.” He tossed the rain ponchos and rope behind the ice chest.

“You’re throwing things around for the heck of it?”

Okay, so maybe he was a little riled at the prospect of Ethan or Gavin replacing him.

“Ask her out,” Gavin said.

That halted Conner in his tracks. “On a date?”

“Yeah, on a date.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Together Conner and Gavin loaded several bales of hay into the rear of the wagon. The extra weight would provide needed balance on the steep hills.

“Why not? You’re both single. You like each other. If you hadn’t let her slip through your fingers when you did, you two might still be together.”

Would they? It was possible. Conner did like her. More than he should. As good of pals as he and Richard were, he’d always been a little jealous of his friend and mad at himself for letting Richard steal her.

“No.” Conner all but barked out the word and wiped his damp brow with the sleeve of his jacket. “Not happening.”

“Because she’s pregnant?” Dallas had told Gavin about her condition and, after checking with his wife and sister-in-law, he’d reluctantly agreed to let her go on the ride into the mountains.

“I don’t care that she’s pregnant.”

“Didn’t think so, because your old girlfriend had a little girl and that didn’t bother you.”

It hadn’t bothered Conner. He’d gotten along well with the child and missed her. More than he did her mother, who’d dumped him when his severance pay ran out and he could no longer afford her expensive tastes.

“Be a big step, getting involved with a woman carrying another man’s baby.” Gavin’s voice was absent of judgment.

Conner paused and rested his arm on the side of the wagon. “It’s not her pregnancy stopping me.”

“Her ex-fiancé? Kind of awkward with him still in the picture.”

“No fooling.”

Gavin scratched behind his ear. “I’d be wondering if she was comparing me to him.”

Conner’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t considered that unpleasant possibility.

“’Course, there would be a certain satisfaction in dating her. Paybacks are hell.”

Conner rarely got mad, but his temper abruptly flared. “If I was to ever go out with Dallas, and I’m not, it wouldn’t be to get back at Richard. She’s too good for that.”

Gavin chuckled and retreated a step. “Hey, relax. I wasn’t serious.”

Conner reached for the canvas satchel containing the snacks he’d packed, shoving it next to the ice chest.

Gavin watched him closely. “What’s the real reason you won’t ask her out?”

“Richard being her baby’s father isn’t enough of one?”

“I know you, buddy, and you’ve got a hankering for Dallas. Did from the first time you laid eyes on her.”

Conner wished his friend was less astute.

He had always been drawn to her. She was pretty and genuinely nice, with a heart of gold. Her small, curvy body enticed him more than his model-thin ex-girlfriend’s ever did.

What really appealed to him, however, was her gumption. Her adventurous nature and love of life. Her many passions and her dedication to them. The fearless way she pursued her ambitions.

Conner had been the same once. Passionate and fearless, with an endless supply of gumption.

Then he’d lost his job and a large chunk of his self-esteem in the face of countless thanks-but-no-thankses.

“Richard was a fool to let her go.”

“Here’s your chance, buddy,” Gavin continued. “You don’t ask her out, I guarantee you someone else will, pregnant or not.”

“I’m not asking her out,” Conner repeated.

“She doesn’t care that you aren’t bringing home six figures a year.”

He jerked at the reminder of his former circumstances. “I care.”

“Money’s not important to her.”

“Easy to say.” Conner’s ex-girlfriend used to profess a similar sentiment. Funny how people change.

A horn beeped, causing both men to turn. Dallas waved from her Prius, then headed behind the barn, where the parking area was located.

“You’re wrong.” Conner returned to loading the wagon. “A husband who can provide for her and her child is what’s important to her.”

“She tell you that?” Gavin asked.

“It’s what she deserves.” And what, at the moment, Conner couldn’t give her.

“She’s planning on raising her child alone. If money was important to her, she’d have stayed with Richard.”

“He’s paying child support, or will. On his salary, it ought to be plenty generous.”

“Ah,” Gavin said knowingly.

“What does that mean?”

“If your ego was any bigger, it’d swallow you whole.”

Conner glanced at Dallas, who was quickly approaching and almost within earshot. “This has nothing to do with my ego.”

“Right.” Gavin let loose another chuckle.

Connor cursed under his breath. Once again, his friend’s insightfulness was right on the mark.

* * *

THEY ENTERED the mountains at one of the trailheads behind Powell Ranch. For the first twenty minutes, Dallas could hardly sit still. Head swiveling, she took in the view from her elevated vantage point on the wagon seat.

“Nice.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

They reached the first hill and began their ascent. Conner clucked to the horses, which leaned into the harness as they pulled their heavy load.

Dallas swallowed. “This is steeper than I thought it would be.”

“You want to turn back?”

She dug her fingers into the seat. “Absolutely not!”

The trail, barely wide enough to accommodate the wagon, curved sharply. Conner guided the team of horses, talking to them in a calming tone.

Dallas told herself he’d promised they’d take the easy routes, and she trusted him.

That was until she looked down.

No one had warned her how different riding in a wagon was from sitting astride a horse. How much higher it was.

Large boulders flanked the trail, close enough to clip a wheel. If that happened, they’d careen over the edge. And what an edge it was. On the other side of the boulders, the ground gave way, ending far below in an overgrown gully.

Perhaps she should have given more consideration to this day trip.

“Pretty, huh?” Conner asked.

“Very.” When she didn’t look down.

“You’ll appreciate the view even more when we get to the top.”

“How, um, reliable is this brake?” She ran her hand over the smooth handle, finding comfort in its nearness.

Conner’s hardy chuckle allayed some of Dallas’s worries

“You don’t have anything to worry about. Once we crest the top, it’s all downhill from there.”

“Until the next one.”

“True. But the second half of the trip is mostly flat,” he added.

She let out a sigh of relief.

“And here I always figured you for having nerves of steel.”

“I do have nerves of steel.” She lifted her chin. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I’m just more comfortable when I’m in the driver’s seat.”

“You want to take over for a while?” He started to pass her the reins.

She shook her head. “You’re doing great.”

“Seriously, if you want to try driving awhile, you can. When we reach flat ground and the girls are tired out. Less chance of a runaway then.”

Her fingers clenched the wagon seat tighter. “What exactly are our chances of a runaway?”

“Almost none.” He turned to face her. “Do you think Gavin and Ethan would have given all those people rides around the park during the Holly Daze Festival last Christmas if they thought for one second they’d have a runaway?”

“I guess not.”

Conner stared at her. At her mouth. Then his gaze traveled to her eyes, where it stayed...and stayed. “I wouldn’t do anything to put you in danger.”

She melted, inside and out, and let go of the wagon seat.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked.

“No.” She could, she thought, go anywhere with him. “What was it like?” she asked after a moment. “Capturing Prince.”

“Not easy, I can tell you that. He’s a wily one and gave us a run for our money. Took six of us to herd him into a corner and get a rope around his neck.”

“What did you think when you first saw him?”

“That I’d met my match. I’d never worked with a wild horse before, much less rounded one up and brought him in.”

“And now you work with wild horses every day.” Too late, Dallas realized her slip. He hadn’t worked with horses every day, wild or otherwise, until he’d lost his job. Before then, it had been restricted to weekends.

If her remark bothered him, he hid it well. “Only until they’re trained. Which doesn’t usually take long.”

“You are good at it. You could train horses for a living if you wanted.” Shoot, another stupid slip. Would she ever learn? “Not that you aren’t a great systems analyst.”

Ugh! That sounded worse.

“Ethan’s the resident horse trainer on Powell Ranch. I wouldn’t want to take his job away from him.”

Like Richard had taken Conner’s job.

“I, um, was just—”

“It’s okay, Dallas. You don’t have to walk on eggshells. I got laid off. Now I’m training horses and leading trail rides, and glad to have a job. Plenty of the people I worked with at Triad Energy still don’t.”

“Something’s going to break for you soon. I have faith.”

“Glad one of us does.”

“It’s all about networking,” she said enthusiastically.

“So I’ve heard.” His grin strived for teasing—and fell short.

Had she overstepped?

Dallas kept quiet rather than commit another blunder.

Conner broke the silence first. “Do you mind if I ask a personal question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Why did you break up with Richard?”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Technically, it was mutual.”

“It still must have hurt.”

“Not really. Which says a lot. I took it in stride. Sure, I was a little lost at first. But by the end of the following week, I was ready to move on. Which says even more.”

“What happened? Between you.”

“Nothing happened, which was the problem. Whatever we had, it wasn’t head-over-heels, can’t-live-without-you love.”

“When did you find out you were pregnant?”

“A week later.”

Conner nodded, watched the trail ahead as it grew steeper and steeper.

Her curiosity got the best of her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t change your mind and decide to get married, after all. Richard has his faults, but he’s a responsible guy.”

“If you must know, he did ask me.”

“Hmm.”

“I said no. Nothing’s changed.”

“Except you’re having his baby.”

“Which hasn’t affected my feelings for him. I care for him, I really do. And I imagine I always will. But not enough to marry him.”

“You could do worse.”

Dallas stiffened. Now Conner sounded like Hank.

“My mother spent five years married to a man she didn’t love. He wound up walking out on her and my brother and me. It sucked, and it’s the last thing I’d want for my child. Given a choice, I’d rather call off the wedding than go through with it, only to wind up divorced a few years later.”

“Sounds like you’re justifying the breakup.”

She scowled at him. “I am not.”

“A father has a duty to fulfill.”

“My father? Or are you referring to Richard? Forget it,” she said, before Conner could answer. “Richard will do his duty. We just won’t be married.”

“I admire you. It’s a big risk you’re taking. Most women would be scared.”

“I’m scared, all right. Petrified. But I have the support of my family and friends. And my work. Photography is something I can continue while I’m pregnant, and after the baby’s born.”

He made a face.

“What?” she demanded.

“You’d bring a baby along on a wagon ride?”

“Not all my shoots are in the mountains.”

“Or from three thousand feet up?”

He’d remembered the photos she took last year that now appeared in a calendar. “Guess I won’t be hot-air ballooning for a while, either.”

He was right. Her entire life would soon be completely different.

Was she making the right decisions for everyone concerned? Most important, her baby?

She and Conner reached the top of the hill. He drew the horses to a stop so they could rest.

Dallas had lived in the Scottsdale area her entire life and considered herself familiar with the landscape, having photographed it countless times. Even so, the view sent a rush of awe coursing through her.

“Cool, huh?” Conner grinned as if he’d discovered this view himself.

“Way cool.” Without thinking, she bent and reached for her camera bag on the floorboard beneath their feet. The strap evaded her grasp, and she had to abandon her efforts. “Is it possible for us to get out? I’d love some shots.”

“No problem. The girls could use a rest.”

He reached around her and set the brake. Gripping her hand, he steadied her as she climbed down the side of the wagon. Only when she was safely afoot did he wrap the reins around the handle and descend. Dolly and Molly didn’t budge, except to give each other a disinterested sniff.

While Dallas clicked away, Conner waited beside the horses, gripping Molly’s bridle.

“You were right. The view is amazing.” Dallas was already mentally composing the list of contacts she’d send the photos to in the hopes of making a sale.

Conner materialized beside her. “Watch you don’t get too close to the edge.” He took her elbow, drew her back a step.

A step that brought her up close and personal with him.

Tall. Broad. Strong. Masculine. The words blinked in her mind like a flashing neon sign. Conner was all those things and more.

“I’ll be careful,” she assured him. Careful to keep a watch on her heart. He could easily steal it.

She returned to the wagon bed and reached in the ice chest for a bottle of water. What she really needed was space. No reason to put ideas in either of their heads.

Dallas might be over Richard, but she was still vulnerable. She didn’t need a man messing with her priorities. Derailing her plans.

She’d seen the results of that firsthand with her mother.

Moving to a different spot, she continued snapping pictures. The mountains, harsh and primitive, erupted from the earth like an offering to the heavens. At their base, the city, with all its modern wonders, spread out in every direction, devouring the landscape.

These were the kind of photographs Dallas sought, the ones that told a story.

Conner appeared in her viewfinder, unaware that the camera had found him. He stood staring at the city. Behind him, a rocky brown ridge rose like a wall. Cacti and shrubs grew out of it, clinging to existence against impossible odds.

Molly, her head beside Conner’s, also stared at the city, with a look of ancient wisdom in her eyes.

It was as if the past and present were colliding right there in front of Dallas.

Talk about a story.

Chills ran up her arms as she snapped a quick shot. Then a half dozen more. Instinct told her these would be her best pictures of the day.

“You done?” Conner asked.

“I am.” God, she loved her work.

The drive to the box canyon took another hour and a half, during which Dallas and Conner chatted amiably.

In the canyon, he tethered the horses to a tree and then fetched water for them from a natural spring. They drank lustily, emptying one bucketful after another.

Dallas unloaded the ice chest, adding the trail mix and protein bars she’d brought to Conner’s canned tuna fish, crackers and apples. It was, in her opinion, a perfect lunch.

Afterward, they walked the length of the box canyon. He watched over her as she got all the pictures she needed and then some. Several shots included him, but none were as compelling as the ones from the top of that first hill.

When they finally pulled out, about two o’clock, Dallas’s eyelids were drooping. Sleeping was impossible with the wagon bumping noisily along the narrow trail.

“Thanks again for taking me today,” she said.

“My pleasure.”

Hers, too.

“Can you imagine what it must have been like, crossing the country in a wagon? How incredibly tough those people were to have endured the hardships they did.”

Her comment sparked a lively discussion about pioneers heading west, which eventually segued into one about the history of Mustang Valley. Before Dallas knew it, they were ascending the first of the large hills.

She scanned the horizon, always on the lookout for more photo ops. All at once, a metallic twang sounded, like a coiled spring being released.

Conner glanced down and swore, then yanked on the reins. “Whoa, girls.” To Dallas, he said, “Pull the brake.”

“What’s wrong?” She responded to the urgency in his voice, her fingers grabbing for the brake handle as a spear of alarm sliced through her.


Chapter Four

Once the draft horses were at a standstill, Conner peered over the side of the wagon and assessed the damage. He didn’t like what he saw.

In a matter of seconds, the entire flat iron tire had separated, remaining attached to the wheel by a single bolt.

“Conner?” The concern in Dallas’s voice reminded him that he hadn’t answered her question.

“We’ve damaged a wheel.” He reached behind her and checked the brake, making sure it was set firmly. Handing her the reins, he started to climb down. “Stay put.”

“Wait!” She perched on the edge of the seat. “What if the horses bolt? I’m not sure I can hold them back.”

“They won’t bolt.” He threaded the reins through her fingers. “Just keep a steady hold on these.”

Dolly and Molly waited patiently, though holding the heavy wagon on an uphill grade couldn’t be easy.

“You sure?”

“I need you to stay calm.” He reached up and rested a hand on her shin. “The only reason these horses would run off is to get away from your squealing.”

“I’m not squealing,” she insisted, doing precisely that.

“Right.” Conner hid a grin as he squatted beside the wagon to examine the damaged wheel.

“How bad is it?”

“The tire came off.”

“I thought wagons had wheels.”

He touched the dangling band of metal. “This is called a flat iron tire. It protects the wood.”

She scooted to the edge of the seat and angled her head for a better look. “Can you just take it off?”

“I could try, but we wouldn’t get far before damaging the wheel beyond repair. Then we’d really be stuck, and Gavin would have to come after us with a truck and trailer.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Call for backup.” He removed his phone from his belt and checked the reception, which could be hit-or-miss in the mountains. “Have Gavin bring us a drill and spare bolts so we can repair the tire enough to make it home.”

When he powered up his phone, the screen flashed No Service. “Dammit,” he muttered. Served him right for changing to a cheaper carrier. “Where’s your phone?”

Dallas looked stricken. “In my purse. Locked in my car. I didn’t think it would work up here, so I didn’t bother bringing it.”

He scanned the area, debated his options. “I’ll walk up the hill. Should have better reception up there. But first...”

Seeing what he needed, he set out on foot.

“Where are you going?” Dallas stared over her shoulder at him, her grip on the reins viselike.

“Not far.” Collecting two large rocks, he wedged them tightly behind the rear wagon wheels. He quickly located two more rocks and did the same with the front wheels. The extra precaution should prevent the wagon from rolling backward until they were rescued.

Next, he began unhitching the horses.

“Should I get down now?”

“Sit still. Keep hold of the reins until I tell you it’s okay.”

She grimaced nervously but complied.

Conner hurried.

“Good job, girls,” he said, unhooking the last chain and giving Molly’s rump a pat. He returned to Dallas, who was more than happy to relinquish the reins.

He watched her every move as she climbed down, ready to grab her if she slipped.

It turned out Dallas was nimble as a monkey. On the ground, she swiped her hands together with a job-well-done flourish. “Need any help?”

“I’m good.”

“Too bad we didn’t bring along a spare saddle and bridle. We could have ridden out.”

“I’d have rather brought a toolbox. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Conner led the horses to a tree, the largest in the vicinity, and tied them securely. “Be right back,” he said, and headed in the direction of the hilltop.

“Can I come with you?” Dallas chased after him.

“Better stay. Someone has to watch the wagon and horses.”

“If that wagon rolls backward, I won’t be much help.”

“You can holler. I’ll come running.”

“By then it will be too late.”

“Would you rather call Gavin? He’ll need directions on where to find us. And a list of what tools to bring.”

“I won’t be much help with that, either.” She shrugged. “I have no clue where we are.”

He brushed a tousled lock of hair from her face. Her skin was cool to the touch and incredibly soft. “It’s going to be fine. The worse that will happen is we’re late for dinner.”

Possibly really late if he didn’t get through to Gavin.

He’d be stuck with Dallas. For hours. Maybe all night. They’d have to cuddle in the wagon under the tarp to stay warm.

“I, um—” he cleared his suddenly dry throat “—I’d better get going.”

Her fingers clutched his jacket sleeve, delaying him. “I’m sorry to be such a wimp.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” She lifted her face to his. “Not with you.”

He was sure she could read his every thought, sense his every emotion.

Warning bells went off inside Conner’s head, creating an enormous din. He moved quickly away before temptation won out and he crossed the line into dangerous territory.

* * *

HALFWAY TO THE TOP, Conner glanced back at Dallas. She’d perched on a large boulder not far from the wagon, hugging her knees. Was she thinking of him? Of those moments that kept occurring between them?

He was.

Impatient, he dug out his phone. One bar appeared in the corner. Enough to try.

The signal took forever to connect, the icon blinking endlessly. Frustrated, Conner hit the end-call button and tried again. Finally, Gavin answered.

“Conner, what’s up?”

“We have a problem.”

“You there? I can barely hear you, buddy.”

Sharp static cut off every third word. Conner strode farther up the hill. “Is this better?”

“Some.”

Speaking loudly, he quickly summarized their predicament.

“We’ll take the ATVs,” Gavin told him. “It’ll be quicker than riding. I doubt the Forest Service will give us grief for using them, since it’s an emergency.”

Before Conner finished with the details of their location, he lost the connection. Moving to a new spot made no difference. He blamed the clouds, which had drifted to gather overhead. Not rain clouds, fortunately. Tomorrow, however, would be a different story, according to the weather report.

He could only hope he’d relayed enough information to Gavin for him to find them. In their favor, no one else in these parts knew the McDowell Mountains better than his friend.

Dallas hopped to her feet at Conner’s approach, relief written all over her face. “I heard you talking to someone.”

“Gavin’s on his way.” Conner decided not to worry her about the incomplete directions. “My guess is he’ll bring one or two guys with him.”

“How soon till they get here?” She rubbed her arms through the material of her thin jacket.

“An hour. Two at the most. Are you cold?”

“Not yet.” She peered anxiously at the clouds.

“I brought the rain ponchos. They’re also good for conserving body heat.”

“That may come in handy if Gavin’s late.” She reached over the side of the wagon for the ice chest and opened the lid. “Right now, I’m thirsty.” She removed two bottles of water. “Want one?”

“How comfortable is that boulder?” Conner downed half his bottle.

“Not very.”

“There’s a nice spot over there.” He indicated a place near the horses. “We can sit while we wait for Gavin.”

Her mouth turned down at the corners. “Looks a little rocky.”

“I can fix that.” Conner stepped around her, gripped the edge of the wagon seat and pushed up. It immediately came loose.

Dallas gasped. “You mean to tell me that thing’s not nailed down? What if it had come off during the ride?”

Conner removed the seat and set it on the ground. “We’d have had to be going over a pretty big bump at a full gallop for that to happen.”

She didn’t look reassured.

“Come on.” He carried the wagon seat to the spot he’d chosen and set it down, making sure it was stable. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing grandly.

Playing along, she gave a little curtsy before sitting. “Thank you, sir.”

He joined her, the seat bouncing on its spindly legs.

The location was a good one. It allowed them an unobstructed view of the trail, the wagon, the horses and the city.

“What are the chances someone will come riding by?” Dallas asked.

“Not much. This isn’t the most popular route.”

“I should get my camera.” Dallas’s gaze wandered. “Could be worse. At least the scenery’s beautiful.”

Conner studied her profile. “It sure is.”

“I know that’s South Mountain, and over there’s Camelback.” She pointed to a craggy range in the far distance. “Which mountains are those?”

“The White Tanks,” he answered, without taking his eyes off her face.

“Incredible,” she breathed. “We can see the entire valley from here.”

She must have become aware of his scrutiny because she turned to face him. “Do you even know where I was pointing?”

“Yes.”

Laughter bubbled out of her, lively and enchanting.

If not for his mouth having gone completely dry, he’d have joined her.

Was she the least bit aware of her effect on him?

“I had dinner at my parents’ last night.”

She was distracting him with small talk.

“How are they?”

“Good.

“I bet your mom’s happy about the baby.”

“Are you kidding? She’s ecstatic. Already making plans. Has a furniture maker friend building a cradle and an artist friend designing a mural for the nursery wall. She said to tell you hello, by the way.”

“Give her my regards.” The wagon seat creaked in protest as Conner shifted. There wasn’t much room, and their thighs inadvertently brushed, then their elbows.

Dallas didn’t seem to mind. Conner sure didn’t.

“Hank mentioned he may have some clients who are hiring. He’s going to make some calls tomorrow.”

Conner’s defenses rose. He hated the idea of Dallas and her family discussing his lack of employment. “I don’t want to impose on him.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Conner didn’t need help. Not from Dallas or her family. He was more than capable of finding a job on his own. “Since when did I become dinner conversation?”

“I was telling them about our trip today, and they asked how you were.”

“I see.” He leaned forward and struck a closed fist on his knee.

Dallas must have realized all was not well. “Did I do something wrong?” She placed a hand on his arm.

Her tenderness and compassion could be his undoing if he let it.

“I’m not one to take handouts from people.” He had enough trouble with Gavin and Clay. At least he could repay their generosity with hard work.

“Hank calling some of his clients isn’t a handout. He’s being nice.”

She was right. Conner was letting that damnable pride of his get in the way. Instead, he should be exploring every opportunity regardless of the source.

“Thanks.” He covered her hand, which still rested on his arm. “I like that you’re thinking of me.”

“It’s only fair, after all the help you’re giving me.”

“You really think the book can boost your career?”

“I hope so.” A wistfulness came over her. “Someday, my photos are going to be hanging right there alongside Dorothea Lange’s.”

“Who’s that?”

Dallas gawked at him in disbelief. “Only the most influential documentary photographer of the twentieth century.”

“Oh, her.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I thought your commercial business was doing well.”

“It is. Pays the bills. Keeps me busy and out of trouble.”

“But you want more.”

“What can I say? I crave fame and success. You understand.”

He did. The success part, anyway. He also understood how reaching for the stars could result in a spectacular fall.

“Mostly, I want people to look at my pictures and do more than say isn’t that nice.” The wistfulness from earlier returned. “I want them to get goose bumps. Be inspired. Moved to tears. Have their perspectives changed. Heck, maybe even their lives.”

“Wow.”

“I know it’s a lot.” Her cheeks reddened. “And I sound like an egomaniac.”

“No, I’m just...impressed. And jealous.”

“Of what?”

“You’re lucky to be so passionate about your job. Most of us head off to the office, put in our eight hours and head home.”

“Didn’t you have that kind of passion when you were at Triad?”

He nodded. “I figured on a promotion every few years and staying put till I retired. I never thought for one second it would end like it did.”

“Or that Richard would take over your job?”

“That, either.” He tamped down the anger that still hovered just beneath the surface.

“You must hate him,” she said sympathetically.

“Not hate.”

“Despise?”

“I held a grudge. Hold a grudge, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not angry at him. Not over the company-wide downsizing and his promotion.” Conner rubbed his closed fist on his thigh. “He’s also trying to do right by you and the baby, and I respect that.”

“You think I should marry him?”

“I think you should consider it. Seriously. He can take good care of both of you. Provide a financially stable life.”

Unlike Conner.

“What about love?”

“You said yourself you’ll always care for him. And you loved him once. Enough to get engaged.”

“I think I was enamored with the idea of being in love. And vulnerable at the time.”

Because of him? Conner was hesitant to ask, not sure how he’d respond if she answered yes.

“Richard was everything I thought I was looking for then.” She stared forlornly at the horizon.” I’ve been unfair to him, and I won’t compound it by marrying for the wrong reason.”

Conner saw her point. But he’d been raised by parents who instilled traditional values in him. “Richard’s trying to do the honorable thing. You might be happier than you think you’ll be.”

“We both know that a marriage license is no guarantee. My father left when I was a child. Yours when you were, what? Eighteen?”

“Twenty.”

“And I bet being older didn’t make it hurt any less.”

“My argument exactly. If Richard were to bail on you and the baby—”

“Then I’d go after him.” She finished Conner’s sentence for him. “I don’t need a marriage license for that. But he won’t bail, because he isn’t the kind of man to abandon his child. Like you said before, he’s responsible. Dependable. He’s paying for any medical expenses my insurance doesn’t cover. Agreed to buy baby furniture and clothes. List me and the baby on as beneficiaries on his life insurance.”

It was difficult for Conner to concentrate with their legs glued together, her chest rising and falling, and those laser sharp eyes fastened on him.

“What about visitation?”

“I’ll make sure Richard has every opportunity to play as large a role in our child’s life as he chooses.”

“It’s not the same as a kid living with his dad. Just look at your own childhood.”

She bristled. “This really is none of your business.”

“You’re right,” Conner admitted, chagrined.

“Would you marry someone you weren’t crazy about?”

“That’s just it.” Conner quit listening to the voice of reason and leaned in. Lowered his head. “Richard’s a damn idiot for not being crazy about you. Any man in his right mind would be.”

She stared at him wordlessly.

“Dallas, I...” He’d blown it. Said something he shouldn’t have. “I’m just...”

“Are you?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Crazy about me?”

“Yes.” Crazy about her and plain crazy. He had to be. If not, he wouldn’t be closing the small distance separating them and seeking her mouth with his.

Their lips grazed briefly. Before his could settle possessively on hers, one of the horses whinnied shrilly. The possibility that their rescuers had arrived was enough to give Conner a jolt and bring him to his senses. Was he insane?

He broke off their near kiss and listened for the ATVs, acutely aware of their incriminating proximity. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Really?” Dallas gazed deeply at him. “Because I did.”

His heart, already hammering, nearly exploded.

Dolly whinnied again.

“We should probably talk about this. Later.” Rising from the wagon seat, Conner craned his neck and peered up the hill, the direction from which he expected Gavin to appear.

“Do you see them?” Dallas pushed to her feet, as well.

“No.” And that was strange. What had alerted the horses?

It was then that he noticed Molly and Dolly staring in the opposite direction, toward the bottom of the hill, their eyes wide and ears pricked forward.

The skin on the back of Conner’s neck began to tingle. More than one kind of predator made these mountains their home. Bobcats, mountain lions and coyotes to name a few. He reached for Dallas’s hand.





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