A Cowboy in Manhattan
As she pivoted around the end of the staircase, she was careful not to limp. Then again, Reed would probably tell Caleb, and Caleb would tell Mandy, and once again she’d be the pathetic, weak branch on the robust Jacobs family tree.
She approached the breakfast table to a chorus of good mornings, taking the empty place next to Mandy, searching the table for fruit, or maybe a whole-grain muffin. But a platter of fluffy pancakes was handed her way, followed by maple syrup and a mounded serving tray of eggs.
“Thanks.” She nodded to Abigail, setting the heavy platter down in an empty spot in front of her plate. “Is there maybe an apple or something in the fridge?”
Everything seemed to still for a moment as four sets of eyes turned her way.
“I’m not a huge breakfast eater,” she explained, ignoring the tantalizing scents of melting butter and warming syrup.
Abigail started to stand.
“No, no.” Katrina quickly waved her off, coming to her feet. Pain tripped in her ankle from the sudden movement, but she schooled her features. “I’ll get it.” She quickly headed for the kitchen.
“Abigail and I can stay on the ranch for a few more days,” Seth said, his conversational voice coming through the big, open pass-through between the kitchen and dining room. “But then they’ll need us in Lyndon to help with my campaign.”
Katrina spotted the family cook, Henrietta, in the pantry off the kitchen, restocking the shelves from a cardboard box. She smiled a greeting to the familiar woman as she pulled open one side of the big stainless-steel refrigerator.
In the pocket of her slacks, her cell phone vibrated. She retrieved it to see an unfamiliar New York City number.
“Hello?” she inquired, moving to a far corner of the kitchen, where a solid wall blocked the noise from her siblings’ conversation.
“Hello, Katrina.”
Her teeth clenched at the sound of Quentin Foster’s voice. A member of the Liberty Ballet Board of Directors, the last time they’d spoken, he’d been hitting on her.
“I wanted to see how you were feeling,” he continued, tone solicitous.
“Fine,” she told him evenly, wondering how she could diplomatically end the call. He was an important man in the organization, but his flirtatious manner had gotten entirely out of hand.
“We’re all very worried about you.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be back soon.”
“Back?” His tone slipped. “Have you left the city?”
“I’m visiting family. I really need to go. Thanks for calling.”
“Katrina, wait.”
She braced herself. “Yes?”
“Have you had another chance to think about what I said?”
About becoming his lover? “I haven’t changed my mind.”
In her peripheral vision, she caught her brother Seth’s curious gaze on her. “I do have to go. Thank you for your concern.” She quickly hit the off button then shut down her phone, turning her attention back to her family.
“Mandy’s riding up to take a look at the Blue Lake herd today,” said Travis. “And I’ll check to see how many have moved through the canyon.”
Katrina knew there was a science to herd distribution across their vast rangelands, taking in the seasons, weather reports and rainfall, but she had no idea how it worked. More than once, she’d privately mused that if she’d lived in the 1800s, she’d probably have died young of stupidity or been killed off by her outraged community because of her ineptitude.
“What time is the vet due in?” asked Abigail, refilling her coffee cup.
“He said around eleven,” Mandy offered. “But you know how those things go.”
“I have to touch base with the campaign office before I do anything else,” said Abigail, reminding Katrina of her oldest brother’s upcoming campaign for the mayor’s seat in Lyndon.
Katrina selected a smooth, deep-green Granny Smith apple from the crisper drawer, rinsing it under the tap before returning to the table.
“What about you?” Travis asked her as she sat back down.
“Me?” she responded, confused by his question. Were they still talking about the mayoralty campaign?
“You want to ride up to the lake with me today?” asked Mandy.
Katrina hesitated, glancing at the expressions around the table. She couldn’t believe they’d forgotten. She’d never mastered riding a horse. The animals still frightened her. The thought of sitting on top of one for six hours made her cringe.
“I have a pretty rigorous rehearsal and training routine,” she told everyone.
Seth waved a dismissive hand. “Take a day off.”
“I—”
“The fresh air will be good for you,” Travis declared.
Only Mandy was looking at her curiously.
“I wish I could,” Katrina lied with a shake of her head. “But I need to stay in shape.”
“Horseback-riding is good exercise,” said Travis.
“Is there a bicycle anywhere around here?” She tried to change the subject. Jogging would be the simplest exercise, since she didn’t have access to a gym. But the jarring would be too hard on her healing ankle, especially over uneven ground.
Her siblings glanced at each other.
“A bicycle?” Seth repeated the question.
“I like to bike,” said Katrina. “It’s good for my quads.”
Travis snorted. “A little productive work would be good for your quads too.”
“Travis,” Abigail warned.
“There might be an old bike in the blue shed,” said Mandy. “We can look after breakfast.” She glanced at the apple in Katrina’s hand. “You sure you don’t want something hot?”
Katrina shook her head. “I’m good.” She took a big bite of the apple, mumbling her appreciation of the tart flavor.
After a drawn-out moment, everyone’s attention went back to their own meals.
After a few minutes, Mandy rose to take her dishes into the kitchen then returned to the dining room and slid back into her chair. “We’ll go whenever you’re ready,” she said to Katrina.
“I’m ready now.” Katrina rose. She’d rather eat her apple on the run than sit here on edge, waiting for more uncomfortable questions and opinions.
She’d worn blue jeans and a simple white blouse this morning, and she popped her feet into a pair of sneakers.
Mandy stuck a battered Stetson onto her head. Her boot heels clunked on the wooden porch, while Katrina followed silently on rubber soles. She wished she’d thought to bring along a hat. She had a white baseball cap from the Met that she could easily have tucked into her suitcase.
It took about five minutes to walk the path to the blue shed, called that because of its blue door. There was also the green shed, the yellow shed and the view shed, which had a red door. Katrina had never figured out why her family wasn’t consistent with the names. But she’d stopped asking questions like that a long time ago.
Mandy pushed open the door and made her way into the crowded storage building. “You haven’t told me what you thought of Caleb.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” Katrina answered honestly as she followed inside. Caleb had been friendly, polite and funny last night.
Mandy turned to stare, her tone turning incredulous. “‘A nice guy’? That’s all you’ve got for my fiancé? He’s an amazing guy.”
“I only just met him again.”
Caleb was six years older than Katrina, and she barely remembered him from when she was a child.
“Well, sure. But it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”
Katrina couldn’t help but grin at her sister’s mock outrage. “I’m sure he’s amazing. And it’s pretty obvious he’s got it bad for you.”
“Yes, he does,” Mandy answered with conviction, wrinkling her nose and sticking it primly in the air. She turned sideways to slip between a set of shelves and an ATV.
Katrina followed, tone playfully placating. “And who could blame him? You’re a great catch.”
Even in the dim light, Mandy’s eyes sparkled as she moved some plastic bins out of the way. “What about you?”
“I’m not a particularly good catch.” What could Katrina bring to a relationship? An extensive designer wardrobe? An ability to make small talk at cocktail parties? A demanding and precarious career?
“I meant are you seeing anyone?”
“Oh.”
Mandy moved a tarp as she made her way farther into the shed. “But of course you’re a great catch. You’re like some kind of dream trophy wife.”
Katrina didn’t want to be a trophy wife. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Really? What about all those debonair rich guys who go to the same parties as you?”
“None of them have asked me out.”
“They have so,” Mandy contradicted.
“Okay, some of them have. But nobody lately.” Unless you counted Quentin Foster. Katrina shuddered at the mere thought of the offensive man. He hadn’t asked her for a date. His had been a bald proposition, followed by an unsettling threat.
“New York men don’t know a good woman when they see one,” Mandy put in staunchly. “Aha. Here we go.”
Katrina banished thoughts of Quentin, coming up on her toes to peer over a wooden crate. Sure enough, there was a sturdy-looking mountain bike propped up against a workbench. She normally rode a stationary one at the gym a few blocks from her apartment, but she was willing to adapt.
“Will we be able to get it out of there?” she asked Mandy.
“Easy.” Mandy hoisted it in the air, over the clutter and outside. There she pumped up the flat tires at the compressor.
Katrina was more than a bit in awe of her older sister. “I can’t believe you did all that.”
“All what?”
“Pumped up the tires. You actually know how to run a compressor.”
“You actually know how to stand up in toe shoes. So, what’s the plan? How far do you want to ride?”
Katrina shrugged. “Fifteen, twenty miles.” Then she’d limber up, work on her arms a bit, and see how her ankle was holding up.
“I’m going up to Caleb’s later,” said Mandy.
“That’s nice.”
Mandy glanced at her watch. “If you wait until afternoon to leave and take the river trail, I can meet you at the Terrells’ and drive you home after dinner.”
Katrina hesitated. She wasn’t wild about spending more time with Reed. The man made her jumpy and self-conscious. But Mandy was the closest thing she had to a buffer against her other siblings. If Mandy wasn’t around, she feared her brothers would try to railroad her into something uncomfortable, like riding a horse.
“Sure,” she found herself saying. “I’ll meet you up at Terrells’.”
Two
Reed couldn’t seem to get his father’s voice out of his head. As he had when Wilton Terrell was alive, he got up every morning focused on an ambitious list of jobs around the ranch. Then he worked as hard as he could until the end of the day. And if something went wrong, if he made a mistake, did less than one hundred percent, he’d reflexively brace himself for Wilton’s anger.
Obviously he knew he’d never have to deal with his father’s anger again, but his emotions were taking a while to catch up. He couldn’t say he was sorry the obstinate old man had died, though he was beginning to recognize what a powerful impact Wilton had had on his life.
His brother Caleb told him it was crazy to keep up the breakneck pace. Caleb was searching for a full-time ranch manager to add to the foreman and ranch hands that helped with the day-to-day work. But Reed couldn’t switch gears that easily.
Now, he returned the cleaning supplies to the tack room, hung up his saddle and emptied the combs and brushes he’d used on his horse, replacing them in their respective drawers and closing the cabinet before shutting off the light and exiting the room.
The sun was hitting the horizon in an orange ball, decorated by pink clouds above the snowy peaks of the distant Rockies. He crossed the wide driveway turnaround, heading for the house. A truck pulled up, and he caught sight of the Jacobs’ ranch logo on the door. Before he could stop it, a hitch of excitement shot through him. But then he saw that only Mandy was inside the cab. No Katrina.
He lengthened his stride, coming up to the driver’s door and pulling it open for her. “Hey, Mandy.”
She smiled a greeting as she slid out of the cab, reaching back inside for a baking tin sitting in the center of the bench seat.
“Brownies,” she offered, waving it in front of his nose.
“Sounds great. Caleb’s probably inside.”
“With Katrina?”
Reed felt another small shot of adrenaline. “Katrina’s here?”
“I sure hope so. Mom left her a box of things to sort through in the attic, then she was coming up here.”
“I’ve been in the barn for a while.” He might have missed Katrina’s arrival. Then again, he didn’t see another Jacobs’ pickup anywhere, so perhaps Mandy was mistaken.
“Hmm.” Mandy’s gaze searched the yard.
“What?”
“She rode up here on a bike.”
“You mean a horse?”
Mandy gave an eye-roll as she started for the front door. “Yeah, because I usually mix those two things up.”
Reed automatically fell into step and lifted the tin from her hands. “Katrina rides a motorcycle?” He simply couldn’t picture it.
“A bicycle. She wanted to get some exercise.”
Okay. Weird, but okay. They mounted the stairs, and Reed pushed the door open, waiting for Mandy to go inside.
“I don’t see how they could possibly make it any more complicated,” Caleb was saying into the phone as he paced from the living room into the entry hall. He lifted his chin in a greeting to them both. “I don’t think Danielle wants to fly all the way down to Brazil.” He paused. “In person? Really?” He braced his hand against the end of the archway and gave a disgusted shake of his head.
Mandy moved down the hall to the kitchen, glanced inside, then came back.
“Katrina here?” she stage-whispered to Caleb.
He narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“Is Katrina here?” she repeated.
He gave her a shrug of incomprehension. “Tell her to take the jet,” he said into the phone. “We’re going to have to give that woman a huge bonus.”
Mandy turned to Reed, her forehead wrinkling in worry. “She was going to ride up the river trail. She should have been here by now.”
“On it,” said Reed, moving immediately back to the door and heading outside.
Katrina was probably stuck somewhere along the trail. Or maybe she’d grown tired and was resting. There was a slim chance she gotten herself into real trouble. But the river trail was well-marked and relatively smooth and safe. The odds were definitely on the side of a delay rather than a catastrophe.
He strode back across the driveway, hopping onto an ATV that was parked next to the barn. He turned the key and the machine roared to life beneath him. He glanced at the sky, judging he had at least an hour before dark. It should be plenty of time, but he wasn’t going to waste any of it.
He drove about four miles down the trail before he spotted her. The bike was tipped at the edge of the trail, and Katrina was crouched over it, looking small and forlorn in the midst of an aspen grove. She stood as he approached, and her shoulders relaxed as she obviously recognized that it was him. He saw the chain was off the bike, and her small hands were black with oil.
He’d give her an A for effort, but a failing grade for actual accomplishment. He knew six-year-olds who could reattach a bicycle chain. He brought the ATV to a stop and killed the engine as he dismounted.
“Looks like you’ve got a problem,” he opened, struggling not to smile at her rather adorable helplessness.
She gestured to the bike. “I came around the corner, hit a bump, and the chain fell off.”
His smile broke through as he checked out her blackened hands. “Any luck putting it back on?”
“Are you mocking me?”
He moved on to inspect the broken-down bicycle. “I’m making small talk, Katrina. Quit being so sensitive.”
“I’m not being—”
“You’ve got a chip a mile wide on those skinny little shoulders.”
“I’m not an auto mechanic,” she harrumphed.
“And I’m not a ballerina.”
She didn’t seem to have a response to that.
“There’s no point in getting my hands dirty fixing it here,” he noted, lifting the bike by the frame and carrying it to the ATV. “Unless you’re set on riding it the rest of the way.”
“In the dark?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He balanced the bike on the wide front rack, uncoiling a bungee cord to fasten it down. “But it’s up to you.”
“No,” she responded tartly. “I don’t want to ride a bike the rest of the way.”
“You okay?” he asked belatedly, wrapping the cord around the bike frame and hooking the end to the rack. She didn’t appear hurt, but he supposed that should have been the first question out of his mouth. That was a miss.
“I’m fine,” she huffed.
He glanced up, taking a more detailed look at her. “You didn’t fall or anything?”
She shook her head. “The chain came off.” She held up her hands. “I stopped and I tried to put it back on.”
“I can see that.”
“I didn’t just sit down and wait for a knight in shining armor.”
“That’s a relief. Because you got me instead.”
She blinked sheepishly, seeming to remember her own manners. “Thank you,” she offered.
He couldn’t help but grin at her discomfort. “That wasn’t what I was fishing for. But you’re welcome.” The sight of her looking so vulnerable in the vastness of the landscape tightened his chest. “Anytime.”
“I guess these things come in threes.”
“Threes?” He glanced around, wondering if he’d missed something.
“I had that ballet shoe come apart on me,” she offered ruefully, glancing at her ankle. “And I almost took a tumble over some cables near the stage because they were partially hidden by a curtain.”
He sure didn’t like that mental picture. But he kept his tone easy. “You do seem to be accident-prone.”
“Ironic.” She sighed. “Because this time I was purposely attempting to stay out of trouble.”
“Admirable,” he acknowledged.
“Mandy wanted me to go horseback riding,” she continued. “And my brothers wouldn’t let me say no, and I knew I’d just slow the whole process down. And I thought …” She gestured to the disabled bike. “Bike-riding is one of my favorite exercises.”
Surely she didn’t ride a bike in the bumper-to-bumper traffic of New York City. “Through Central Park?” he hoped.
“In my gym,” she admitted. “A stationary bike.”
He wanted to tease her about that. But the truth was, he was glad to hear it. Better to be inside a building than fighting for road space with delivery vans, buses and taxis.
“I can set this one up as a stationary for you,” he found himself offering. “In the barn. On a stand. It wouldn’t be high-tech, but I can add a little resistance, and you’ll stay safe and sound.” Even as the words poured out of this mouth, he asked himself what the hell he thought he was doing? He had a million more pressing jobs that needed his attention.
She moved toward the ATV. “Wouldn’t my brothers have a laugh at that.”
He watched her grow close, transfixed by her beautiful face, the depths of her eyes, the motion of her deep pink mouth.
“We can keep it our secret,” he offered.
She hesitated, watching him closely. “I’d jog, but I can’t because of my ankle. And I have to do something.” She drew a deep sigh. “I spent all day yesterday sitting on airplanes. I was going to warm up on this ride, and then get in some stretching. But now, my muscles are cold.”
“You’re cold?”
“Too cold to stretch.”
He quickly unbuttoned his shirt.
“What are you—”
He stepped in and draped it over her shoulders. “Put it on,” he said gruffly. It was going to get even colder once they got up to speed on the trail and the wind hit them.
“I don’t need—” Her gaze caught and held on his bare chest. She blinked twice, then looked away, wordlessly slipping her arms into the sleeves. They hung about six inches past her fingertips, so she rolled them up to a thick band around her forearms.
She fastened the shirt buttons, and her cute black tights and pink T-shirt disappeared beneath the voluminous cotton.
She glanced down at herself. “Lovely.”
He cocked his head to one side. “I think it’s the spring tent collection from Dior.”
“You know Dior?”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s a fashion-design house.”
“No kidding,” he drawled.
“It’s just—”
“We do have satellite television out here.”
“And you use it to watch fashion shows?”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “But they make the occasional pop-culture reference during professional bull-riding.”
“Did I insult you?” she asked, looking genuinely regretful.
“I’m not living under a rock, Katrina.”
“I never thought you were.”
He swung his leg over the wide seat of the ATV. He wasn’t insulted. He couldn’t care less what she thought of his television-watching habits.
Truth was, he didn’t know why she’d struck a nerve. Maybe it was because she pointed out the vast differences between them, and how far she was out of his league. Not that it mattered, he ruthlessly reminded himself. No matter how sexy Miss Katrina Jacobs might appear, he was keeping his hands and his thoughts to himself. His life was complicated enough.
“Hop on,” he told her gruffly, sliding forward to give her room on the seat behind.
She approached the ATV with caution, obviously sizing it up.
“You need some help?”
“No,” she flashed.
“Hand on my shoulder,” he instructed.
After a long hesitation, she touched him tentatively.
“Other hand.”
“Sorry.”
“Left foot on that peg.”
“Okay.”
He captured her forearm to steady her. “Step up and swing your leg over the seat. Grab my other shoulder if you need to.”
She did. Her slight weight rocked the ATV, and her butt came down on the seat, her breasts brushing his back and her thighs coming up against his.
She sucked in a breath.
“You’re going to have to hang on to me,” he warned.
“I know.”
He turned the key, and the ATV rumbled to life.
“Katrina?” he intoned, waiting for her to follow his instructions.
“My hands are filthy.”
“I can take it.” He reached back and grasped each of her wrists, wrapping her slim arms around his waist and anchoring her hands to his bare stomach.
Her breasts pressed tighter against his back, her cheek rested between his shoulder blades, while her inner thighs cradled his hips. Raw, painful desire rocketed through him, and he wondered how long he could reasonably take to drive back to the house. He wanted her to stay wrapped around his body for hours and hours.
In the shower on the second floor of the Terrells’ house, Katrina’s skin still tingled where she’d been pressed up against Reed’s body—which was pretty much everywhere, from the inside of her knees to the hairline above her temple. The ATV had rumbled between her legs, while the heat from Reed’s bare back had seeped its way through his shirt, her T-shirt and right through her bra.
Mandy had brought along a change of clothes for Katrina. In fact, she’d brought along Katrina’s entire suitcase. She’d drawn Katrina aside and confessed she was plotting to have them spend the night at the Terrells’, so she could be with Caleb. Katrina had easily agreed to stay. Away from her family’s ranch was good for her state of mind. And it was less emotionally draining to be here with Mandy than interacting with all of her siblings. Caleb had been warmly receptive to the plan. Reed was best described as neutral.
Now, Katrina pulled back the blue-and-green-striped shower curtain and carefully climbed out of the deep tub. The bathroom was neat but compact, with little counter room around the sink and only a couple of spots for hanging clothes and towels on the back of the door. While she dried off and wrapped a white towel around her wet hair, she realized the error in her planning.