had been thinking about buying his own truck, but they already had half a dozen vehicles on the ranch, including two trucks, Tina’s hulking SUV, two ATVs and the little sedan his sister-in-law had brought with her from Kansas, which had been given over to him. He appreciated the gesture, but at six feet three inches and 225 pounds, he found the compact car a tight, uncomfortable fit.
Deliberately walking between Stark’s truck and the black dualie, Ryder took careful stock of the new vehicle. When he spied the chrome emblem just above the wheel well next to the driver’s door, he stopped. He’d seen that emblem before, on the rodeo prize trucks exhibited at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. That event wasn’t scheduled until the end of March, but the national rodeo finals had taken place in Las Vegas less than a month ago. Looked like they had some sort of rodeo royalty visiting.
Ryder took the steps up to the backdoor stoop in two long strides and let himself into the warm, fragrant kitchen that was the heart of the house. Jake’s wife, Kathryn, rolled out a piecrust on the stainless-steel island. As expected, Wyatt and two others sat hunched over coffee cups at the rectangular wrought-iron table at the back of the large, completely remodeled kitchen, while Wyatt’s wife, Tina, relaxed in her chair, her hands folded over her distended belly. The shock of her pregnancy coming so soon after their wedding had given way to the shock of learning she was carrying twins. Ryder couldn’t help worrying about her, but at the moment his attention was focused on the others at the table.
One of the visitors was indeed Stark Burns, whose long, lanky frame could not be mistaken. The other was markedly more petite and shapely, with long dark hair flowing down her back from beneath a brown felt hat with the tall, pinched crown and sharply folded brim of what was known as the rodeo crease. The hat was a little ornate for daily wear, the brim being underlaid with silver lace, but then the wearer was rather ornate herself.
All heads turned as Ryder closed the door against the cold weather and automatically reached up to remove his own hat, but the face beneath that silver lace arrested his movement. Round eyes almost as dark as his own regarded him from beneath slender brows with the barest arch. A small, straight nose, apple cheeks, pale pink lips and a chin that managed to be both pointed and squared-off at the tip in an otherwise oval face completed the picture. Dressed all in brown, she was young and stunningly beautiful.
Ryder managed to get his hat off his head and onto one of a row of pegs mounted on the wall next to the door, but he had a little trouble getting out of his coat, his gaze constantly flying back to the beauty at the table. When he finally hung the coat next to his hat, he could only pray that the collar of his long-sleeved flannel shirt and the white thermal shirt beneath it disguised the flush burning up from the center of his chest. Nodding in silent greeting, he turned toward the coffeepot. Tina called to him from the table.
“Ryder, say hello to our new guest.”
He pulled down a coffee mug from the cabinet and turned to nod again. This time, he added a friendly, casual, slightly disinterested smile. Meanwhile, his heart beat like a big bass drum. He’d never seen anything like her, not in real life.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Jeri, this is Wyatt’s youngest brother,” Tina said. “Ryder, this is Jeri Bogman.”
Jeri seemed like an oddly masculine name for a supremely feminine woman. It was also a name he thought he might have heard before, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Did you have to break ice for the horses?” Wyatt asked.
Ryder shook his head and turned back to the coffeepot. “Nope. I don’t think we’re going to need the heating system. The drapes seem to keep the stalls warm enough.” Drapes, in this case, consisted of thick, insulated plastic sheets that closed off the horse stalls from the rest of the cavernous barn.
With his pregnant sister-in-law absorbed by her son, her coming twins and her B and B, Wyatt managing the cattle, sod production and mineral leases, and Jake busy with his family and auto repair shop, Ryder had fallen into place on the ranch as general handyman and horse wrangler. It wasn’t a bad life for a twenty-five-year-old. He would be twenty-six in less than a month, however, which put him more than halfway to thirty, and he couldn’t help thinking that he ought to be doing something more.
Once, he’d thought he knew what that something more was, but life had proved him wrong. He was good—actually, he was expert—at several martial arts. But he was not a fighter, and why he’d thought he could be, he didn’t know now. He’d also had it in his head to raise horses, but Wyatt was proving surprisingly cautious about such an enterprise.
“You’ve got seven animals in there,” Stark said as Ryder poured coffee into his mug. “The drapes and their body heat should keep them warm enough.”
“It’s sure warmer in there than outside,” Ryder commented, turning back to face the others.
He found Jeri Bogman sitting sideways in her chair, her gaze pinning him in place like a needle through a bug on a specimen board. He had a difficult time widening his gaze to include the others, but he had to look somewhere other than at the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty at the table. He made himself turn to Kathryn.
“Potpie for lunch, I see. Chicken, pork or beef?”
Kathryn smiled. “Beef, of course. That’s what fills our freezer.”
“Yum.”
“You must join us for meals, Jeri,” Tina said. “As you’re our only guest just now, you’re welcome to join us here at the family table.”
That comment drew Ryder’s gaze right back to the newcomer. Her stare, still targeted squarely on him, telegraphed some sort of challenge. He had no idea what that might be about, and it made him almost as uncomfortable as his visceral reaction to the woman. Every time he looked at her, he felt frozen, trapped. Enthralled.
“Jeri’s boarding four horses with me,” Stark said. “We draped their space, too, and added heaters.”
“No armed guards?” Wyatt quipped. “I’d have a hard time letting horses like that out of my sight.”
Jeri turned her head to smile at Wyatt, and Ryder found he could breathe and behave normally again.
“I take it these are registered horses,” he commented, struggling not to stare at Jeri Bogman over the rim of his cup. Purebred horses with proven lineage could be registered with various organizations. His ambitions did not reach as high as registered stock. He’d be happy to produce good riding horses, either through trade or a small breeding program, something he could handle on his own.
He sipped hot coffee and leaned back against the counter, only to have Tina wave him over to the table. Wyatt punctuated the silent order with a flat, big-brother glare. Ryder meandered over and took the seat at the end of the table, with Stark on his left and the beautiful Jeri Bogman with the special horses next to Stark. Wyatt sat at the other end with Tina on his left. Her babies weren’t due until April, so she still had at least three months to go, but twins made quite a bundle.
“My horses are more than just registered,” Jeri informed Ryder in a low, husky alto that sent waves of awareness through him. “They’re champion barrel racers. Or will be.”
He focused on the dark well of his mug, fighting to maintain his equilibrium. “I saw the emblem on the truck outside. Win that at the National Finals Rodeo?”
She
