home. And I’d also like to know where I can reach you tomorrow.”
“Seriously?” She shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way back to the hotel. And I can’t see why you’d need to reach me when you’ve made it clear you don’t want a single soul on your private land.”
He caught her off guard by reaching toward her and smoothing aside a curl that fell over her eyes. His touch, unexpectedly tender, reminded her of all the heat he’d roused in her before. What they’d shared had taken her breath away.
Even if he was being difficult and unreasonable now.
“First of all, I kept you out late and I want to at least walk you to your car, because that’s what a gentleman does.” His voice stirred memories of everything they’d shared, from a dance to so much more. “Second, I want to speak to you once the dust settles from tonight, because I owe you an explanation.”
He had a point. She was dealing with too much sensory overload to wade through it all now.
“And third,” he continued, opening the door that led back out to the bar, “we need to stay in touch because no matter what the doctors say about your fertility there could still be repercussions.” He spoke in a low voice, his hand splayed across her back as they made their way across the dance floor toward the exit. “And I can assure you, if there are, I won’t be a difficult man to reach.”
Cody knew he needed to head back home. He didn’t usually grant himself perks like a midafternoon horse ride to clear his head—even on a mild, sunny Sunday like this one. But he didn’t know how else to fix his state of mind.
His bad mood could be traced back to Friday night and the arrival of Jillian Ross in town. Then he’d spent an unproductive Saturday arguing with the company fixing the ranch’s irrigation system. He’d handled it with so little diplomacy his contractor had walked off the job. Afterward, Cody had argued with Carson when his twin called to invite him to a Sunday noontime meal where Malcolm McNeill was going to be present.
As if he wanted anything to do with that branch of the family.
Giving Buxby, a retired stallion from the family’s quarter horse breeding program, a nudge to the flank, Cody steered the animal through a thicket of cottonwood trees toward the stables at the Black Creek Ranch. He had done his damnedest to put the sexy and deceitful location scout out of his mind after he’d walked her to her car on Friday. But she’d shown up in his dreams both nights since then, and she’d barged into his waking thoughts, too.
He found himself remembering her laugh during a meeting with his ranch manager on Saturday morning. And recalling the way she’d murmured his twin’s name at the peak of passion while Cody was directing the excavation for the irrigation system. He had been ornery and angry all weekend, and he blamed her.
He’d warned Carson about her presence in town when they’d spoken briefly on the phone this morning, skipping over the personal details of their encounter. Cody had thought it was important to let the family know that a Hollywood film company was angling to use McNeill land in a movie. He needed them to thwart her efforts, too. There was enough strife in the family over land rights and inheritance now that their estranged grandfather had entered the picture. Cody’s dad hated Malcolm and wouldn’t appreciate any of his sons or daughters breaking bread with their grandfather. But apparently, Cody was the lone holdout on that score. His half sisters had all decided Malcolm was a nice enough guy. Even Carson and their other brother, Brock, were coming around to recognize Malcolm McNeill as family.
That was fine for them.
But Cody’s allegiance was to his dad, a man who’d built a ranching empire on his own, without any help from the billionaire who’d raised him. Cody not only respected that, he admired it. And if that meant missing out on a Sunday meal with his siblings, so be it.
As he cleared the cottonwood trees and came within sight of the stables, Cody recognized the familiar silhouette of one of those siblings now. Scarlett, the youngest of his three half sisters, paced circles behind the stable, her red boots kicking up dust. Her long, dark hair spilled over the shoulders of a fluttery yellow blouse tucked into a denim skirt that was too damned short. She was talking nonstop on her cell phone.
When she noticed Cody, she quit pacing and ended the call, tucking her phone in her back pocket. Her dark bangs fell in her eyes as she peered up at him. She patted Buxby’s haunch when he slowed the horse to a stop near the paddock.
“Is it true?” she blurted without preamble. “Is there a film scout in town who wants to do a movie at Black Creek?”
“Hello to you, too, sis.” Hauling a leg over the stallion’s back, Cody swung down to stand beside Scarlett.
He took an extra moment to plant a kiss on her forehead, stalling just because she was clearly beside herself and eager for details. The least he could do was wrest a small amount of fun from tormenting his sister. His other half sisters, Maisie and Madeline, wouldn’t much care about a film crew in Cheyenne. But Scarlett had been born with stars in her eyes. While she could ride and rope as well as any woman he’d ever seen, she’d made it clear from the time she could talk that ranch life wasn’t for her.
“Hello.” Sighing, she arched up on her toes and landed a haphazard return kiss on his jaw. “Now, spill it. Carson said you met a location scout at Wrangler’s on Friday night. Is she still in town? Did you find out what movie they want to make? Or when?”
Cody passed off Buxby’s reins to one of the ranch hands’ kids. Thirteen-year-old Nate was as excited about working with the animals as Scarlett was about moviemaking, and Cody had given the okay for him to help out in the barns as long as his dad was overseeing him.
“Make sure you brush him down thoroughly, and water him, too.” Nate nodded as Cody kept talking. “Hang all the tack back where it belongs, and put the brush away afterward.”
While the kid took over the care of the horse, Cody headed toward the main house. Scarlett kept pace beside him.
“Cody? I don’t respond well to silence,” she said as they passed her sporty silver Jag in the driveway. “And I drove all the way over here—”
“You live here,” he reminded her.
They’d all been raised on the Black Creek Ranch. Carson had moved out long ago to run another of their father’s holdings, the Creek Spill Ranch. And Madeline lived on site at the White Canyon, a small guest ranch. But all their places were within a dozen miles of each other.
Scarlett had remodeled an old bunkhouse after college when their father hired her to help the farm-operations side of the business. Technically, she was an assistant to the foreman. But lately she spent more of her time at the White Canyon with Madeline now that the guest ranch enterprise had expanded.
“But I hadn’t been planning to come back here, since I’m leading a fly-fishing outing for Maddy’s guests later,” she argued, following him into the equipment shed.
Halting beside an old International Harvester tractor he was restoring in his spare time, Cody turned on her. “That’s some outfit for fly-fishing.”
She grinned. “I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still in there somewhere.” She poked
