The Accidental Cowboy
He nodded, and then his head moved up and she saw his eyes scan the horizon.
She started her own lecture. “This region was heavily settled at different times, not like the pueblos up at Montezuma Castle...you know, up at Camp Verde.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not looking for anything that old anyway. This area was heavily settled when Father Kino came through here building missions and churches. You should go see San Xavier, even though Kino didn’t build that one.”
He squinted cowboy-style into the open desert but didn’t say anything.
She felt obligated to go on to fill in the strong-silent-type quiet. It’s what she did when there was a lull in conversation. “It’s a huge tourist attraction. The priest founded a string of missions, from Mexico over to Baja, California.”
He stood and gestured for her to go first.
She looked at him without looking at him. Had she bored the pants off him? If only. Dang it. She went on to distract herself from the memory of him, her and nothing between them but a thin layer of cotton. “We became part of the US in 1854 with the Gadsden Purchase. Before that it was definitely claimed by Mexico... Spain. Actually, it was Hohokam land... You know all that.”
When she saw he now had on his patient, professorial expression she was certain he used on particularly dull students, her babble dried up. “Here’s our lunch. Empanadas—”
“Spanish pasties. They stole the idea from us.”
He startled a laugh out of her and, without thinking, she touched his arm. Tingling awareness shot through her body. She seriously considered whether one of them should steal a kiss. His lips softened. He must have read that on her face because his green eyes darkened. She leaned in enough to capture his cool and dark moss scent. Stop. She subtly shifted her body away and his features moved back into something that was a mix of “aloof academic” and Clint Eastwood in Two Mules for Sister Sara—a classic, according to Daddy. She didn’t want to start anything, even if he was interested, which was hard to know for sure. It just wasn’t the time or place, right? She’d been at a crossroads and restless for months now. On the other hand, maybe going against her usual type would knock her out of her holding pattern and onto a new path. Yep, keep telling yourself that, sister. This could be a disaster of epic proportions.
“Here.” She thrust an empanada at him. She picked up her own and sat three boulders away, near Reese. He was just about as good at conversation as the professor, anyway.
* * *
TWO DAYS AFTER his hike in the desert, the image of Lavonda with the cartoon-princess eyes and luscious lips kept distracting him while he video-chatted with his colleagues in Glasgow. The chair had asked him three times if they needed to reschedule the call because Jones had missed key points in the presentation. The situation was ludicrous. He’d pulled it together enough to finish the call and tie up loose ends on a joint project. One or two more calls, a review of the material and the project would be complete.
He was sure he’d never have been invited to work on this paper after Dolly-Acropolis—or the “ancient” burial site created by a manufacturer of baby dolls, as it had been described by the papers. The university had insisted on publicity for his find. They’d called in the press, thinking, as he had, that he’d find a significant Viking site, not a doll dumping ground. The toys had been destroyed and hidden because they’d been made with illicit products during World War II. The company could have been fined and shut down, so they buried the evidence.
The damned dolls were the reason—at least part of it—he had to keep his search for Kincaid’s Cache secret. If it came to nothing, no one would know and it wouldn’t play over and over again on YouTube, courtesy of the video shot on camera phones by student workers.
If he found the cache, though, the dolls would be forgotten and he’d be back on his way to the top of the department. His colleagues would also have to acknowledge that he’d not gotten his position because of his brother.
Jones gathered his laptop and overstuffed file folder for the short walk to the nondescript building that housed Stanley’s office. The man was head of the history department for the university’s Angel Crossing campus, and Jones hoped he would have another recommendation for a guide. He’d looked at his problem from all sides. He didn’t have the time to find a guide on his own in an unfamiliar place. Plus, after going out into the desert with Lavonda, he realized that while he might stumble on something on his own, a guide familiar with the area could help him quickly eliminate dead ends.
He also wanted to confirm the teaching schedule he had agreed to for the remainder of the spring and the full summer semesters. The seminar on identification techniques would not meet every day. Plenty of time to do both sets of explorations.
Jones paused at Stanley’s door. The professor was speaking with Dr. Gwen Hernandez. He recognized the president of the college from her picture on the website. He hesitated but Stanley said, “Jones, come in. How are you settling in at Hacienda Bunuelos?”
“Pardon?”
“The ranch,” Dr. Hernandez said. “It’s the traditional name of the ranch, although we will be renaming it to honor the very generous alum who donated the property to the university.”
“Very comfortable now that we’ve sorted the cat problem.”
“The cat problem?”
Jones had been keeping himself dosed with medication. The damned animal had decided that she was his personal exterminator. Today there had been a small lizard outside his bedroom door.
“Have you met our president?” Stanley asked. Jones shook his head and his colleague made the introductions before gesturing for Jones to sit. “Now. What did you need from me?”
“I am currently without a guide. The gentleman I contracted cannot provide his services—”
“Wait,” Dr. Hernandez said. “I know I authorized reimbursement for the guide.”
“You did and I paid him. Now he says that he cannot begin the job for another month, which is unacceptable. He also was reluctant to return the deposit, but I believe I convinced him otherwise.”
“Well, hell,” Dr. Hernandez said.
“That’s why I’ve stopped by for new recommendations for a guide, Stanley.”
Stanley and Gwen had a back-and-forth about the legalities. Since he was not familiar with the area or the university’s systems, Jones didn’t have anything to contribute. Finally, Gwen snapped her fingers and grinned. “I’ve got it. Lavonda.”
“What about Lavonda?” Jones asked.
“She can guide you. She knows the area well and has plenty of desert experience. It will allow you to do the preliminary explorations. Perfect short-term solution.”
“Lavonda?” He had been keeping her at arm’s length, worried his housemate would figure out his trip wasn’t about beans. She was much smarter than he’d assumed a cowgirl would be. Of course, he’d been picturing a cowgirl with big hair, sprayed-on trousers, and big—
“Absolutely.”
“But she—”
“I know she doesn’t look like a roughing-it camper, but believe me, she’s tougher than she looks. That girl has a bronc riding champion buckle.”
Jones still hadn’t reconciled her rodeo riding with the pixie-sized woman with the sleek hair, polished nails and soft skin, but her boots looked well used. “I don’t know that—”
“Let me call her.” Gwen pulled a phone from her pocket. “Stanley can help you look for a professional guide, but this will get you out in the field right away.” She stood and walked out as she spoke to Lavonda.
“Gwen is a problem solver,” Stanley said. “I’ll call around, but most guides are booked in advance.”
Jones’s stomach roiled with excitement, fear, anticipation—he had no idea with what. He and Lavonda alone in the desert could be a recipe for disaster or... Affairs happened at dig sites. He’d seen more than one start during the plotting of a Bronze Age village. His current decision must be based on what was best for his career, not what might get him into Lavonda’s sleeping bag.
“Is there a problem with this woman?” Stanley asked.
Jones pulled himself together. “I just didn’t understand that she had trail skills.”
Stanley shrugged his narrow shoulders. “If Gwen says she does, then she does. It’s not that unusual for a cowgirl.”
Gwen entered, smiling, “She’ll do it, and she’s the kind of price we need. Free.”
“Free? I don’t think that we can—”
“Don’t worry. We’ve have worked out an agreement. She understands that it’s a temporary thing until you find a real guide. Her words. Not mine. So, Dr. Kincaid, we have that little problem solved. This is working out well. Our students are very excited for your seminar. I didn’t realize that beans were so popular. Got to go,” she finished abruptly.
Jones shook her hand and tried to read the older woman’s face. There was something there that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was like finding a number of pottery shards and piecing them back together. You knew it was a pot but not its shape.
Jones made himself leave the office at a stroll, unconcerned and confident. What had he just committed himself to? Days on end with a sexy woman affiliated with the university from which he was attempting to hide his real mission. Having an affair with a cowgirl had not been on the map or his plan, even if it seemed as though the Fates were setting things up that way.
Chapter Four
Back in her old life, Lavonda had been fearless, telling 60 Minutes they couldn’t film on her company’s property and pushing away Anderson Cooper’s mic. But when Gwen called, she’d caved, saying yes to leading the kilted giant on his search for beans. The older woman had been Lavonda’s first boss. She’d helped her find her footing in the corporate world, from what to wear to understanding the hierarchy of vice presidents. Giving in to one friend meant facing another. Lavonda would have to call Olympia to back out of helping at her and her attorney husband’s ranch. Lavonda felt bad about letting her down and worse because she’d been ducking calls. She just wasn’t up to defending herself from questions about why living at the university’s run-down ranch as the “caretaker” was a good career move.
“Hi, Lavonda.”
Darn her friend. Why had she answered? Lavonda had hoped to just leave a message. “How’s it going?”
“You don’t want to know. Remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to get married?” Olympia asked, her tone somewhere between exasperation and affection.
“Because it was easier than arguing with a lawyer about it?”
Olympia laughed. “You got that right. What’s up?”
“The university roped me into helping out an archaeologist. I’ve got to babysit him while he wanders the desert, make sure that he doesn’t die, that sort of thing. I’ll be out on the trail for at least a week, and I might have to go out with him again later. I’m sorry but I won’t be able to come to the ranch for a while.”
“No problem. Cal’s getting better at helping, and Spence’s law practice is doing well enough that we’ve even hired someone to come out a couple of times a week to help around the place.”
“That’s good.” Lavonda could see Olympia’s stepson puffing out his chest as he did barn work. He’d been so sick as a little guy that any kind of “man’s work” made him strut around proudly.
“What about you? Besides this guide thing, what else do you have going on?”
“I’m still doing work for the university when they need it.” She knew her friends and even her family had begun to worry at her lack of focus. “I’ve got a couple of possible projects on the horizon.”
“If you say so. What’s he like? Egghead, right?”
“Why would you assume my guidee is a man?”
“Sorry. This person.”
“It is a man. Scottish. He showed up in a kilt and everything.”
“What? Wait. A kilt?”
“He competes in Highland games and agreed to be on the Angel Crossing campus team at an event in Tucson. Although why anyone would think Arizona was a good place to wear wool is beyond me.”
“So he wears a kilt, does manly competitions and digs in the dirt?”
Lavonda ignored the implied question and went on, “He’s studying beans, which apparently is an exciting thing if you’re an archaeologist. Gwen is trying to talk me into writing press releases. Not sure how that’s going to work, but I could be up for the challenge. I mean how do you make studying beans not the punch line to a fart joke?”
“The beans are definitely lowering his sexy level.”
“What do you care about his sexy level?”
“I’m looking out for you. If you’re not concentrating on finding a job, then you should be concentrating on your love life.”
“Who decided you should be my own private dating service?” Lavonda did not want to think about the havoc Olympia and Lavonda’s sister, Jessie, could wreak if they had any idea that Lavonda had looked at Professor McNerdy and imagined...things that should not be said to nosy sisters and friends.
“I didn’t realize you were so touchy.” Lavonda almost heard the shrug through the phone. “Anything else going on besides the hottie in the kilt?”
“He’s not hot,” Lavonda protested.
“I knew it. He’s hot and you’re interested.”
“How could you know that?”
“Because I know you and now you’ve just admitted it. There’s one good thing about being married to a lawyer—you learn all kinds of sneaky ways to get people to admit to things.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You should have told me you were interested in this guy instead of pretending it was all business.”
“But it is.”
“I know your mama told you that lying is a sin.”
“If—and that’s a big if—anything goes on between the two of us, that’s our business.”
“Like what was going on between Spence and me was our business, right?”
“That was different. You were living together.”
“Yep, that makes this so different.”
“You were pregnant and there was Cal, too. A lot more was at stake.”
“Don’t try to wiggle out of this,” Olympia said with the tone of no-nonsense authority that had crept into her voice since becoming a mother.
“Hey, don’t go telling Jessie any of your fantasies about my love life. I don’t need her sisterly advice.”
Olympia laughed. “I won’t need to tell her anything. As soon as you start talking about this guy, she’ll know. What’s his name anyway?”
“Jones.”
“As in ‘Indiana’?”
She smiled. Could the academic really be nicknamed for a movie character? “Could be. Wouldn’t that be a hoot and a half.”
The two women talked about what Lavonda would need for the weeklong hike, then Olympia said, “If you like this guy, go for it. Maybe it’s just what you need.”
“How about I just focus on keeping the two of us safe and sound in the desert. The poor man almost bit the big one when a scorpion crawled up his leg, but Cat saved him.”
“Dang it. I wish I had time to hear that story, but Cal’s bus will be here any minute.”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Olympia was right. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to Jones, despite his strong-silent-type swagger. Mama would call him a volcano under an ice cap. Although there was no reason she and Jones had to act on their mutual attraction. God, that sounded like corporate speak. Sure. An affair or fling might be fun and might even make her feel she was living rather than marking time. Except, in college she’d tried the just-sex thing. That hadn’t ended so well. What if it wasn’t just her lady parts that wanted Jones? Plus, the professor didn’t live in the real world, really. He might not understand how a fling worked. She didn’t want to hurt him, even if he could be a pompous jerk. Then, she could lose her job and the place that had begun to feel like home if she “fraternized” with the guest. Not that anyone had said anything, but Jones sort of, kind of, was her boss.
So the best approach was the one she’d been hanging on to: wait-and-see. Wait and see if she could figure out what to do next. But how much longer could she wait to get back in the game? The downsizing had made for a good break, time to recharge her batteries, plan her next move. Made her realize, being out here, how much she enjoyed ranch life. This was supposed to be a detour on her way back to an office with a view and a lot of zeroes after the first number on her paycheck. She’d guide the Scot, write a press release or two for Gwen and have one final cowgirl adventure before slipping back into her tailored wardrobe and heels.
* * *
“EXCUSE ME.”
Lavonda stood with her back to him, her head cocked to the side, the sunlight coming through the open barn door outlining her petite curves that hid a surprisingly hot strength.
“Yep,” she said without turning to him. She ran her hands over the little donkey, her touch light but sure. Jones refused to let himself imagine those hands on him. He needed to have a conversation with her about their trip and his expectations. Business. Focus. His career and reputation were riding on this expedition.
He hadn’t planned for a guide who might have the intelligence to figure out that what he was searching for wasn’t what he said he was searching for. Plus, Dr. Hernandez had explained Lavonda would write stories about his explorations for the alumni magazine and even the local newspapers.
“I would like to go over our schedule for this first foray,” he said clearly and precisely with a tinge of authority, like he did in a classroom full of students.
“Shoot,” she said, not lifting her head but scooting around the donkey and bending over, her nicely compact and rounded bum facing him.
“I know that you were drafted into guiding me because of your familiarity with the region and as a favor to Dr. Hernandez. However, I have done extensive research and have a satnav to adequately direct us.”
“Good. We won’t be wandering around like Moses, then.” She stood up and stepped away from the little animal, who stared at Jones with a hostile roll of his eye. “Anything else?” she asked, interrupting the staring contest between him and the burro.
“You have a confidentiality agreement with the university?”
Her eyes widened. “Sure.”
“Are you certain? This is important because when I go into the field, I do not—”
“All right, hoss, let me tell you how it will be. I know that you’re the boss of the search. But I’m the guide, which means I make sure you have food and water and you don’t die out there.”
“I doubt that’s—”
“Do you want me to show you the stories? The desert isn’t anything to fool with. I know it seems like we’re close to civilization, that it’s just a ‘little warm’ and whatever else you imagine. We’re going out into rough terrain that may not get any signal, other than satellite—”
“Which I have.”
“I studied the area you want to explore, and it isn’t well mapped, even though it’s relatively near to the ranch, because the things that draw any kind of settlement haven’t changed that much over the years. Those things would be shelter and water. There is a very deep well here, and my guess is that a couple of the settlements nearby had small wells that probably ran out over the years and the groups moved on.”
“Still, this is not something for which you’ve trained. Weekend and daylong treks notwithstanding.”
“Excuse me?”
She blew air out of her nose and Reese shook his head while stamping a small hoof—a cartoonishly small hoof. Petite and pixieish, just like Lavonda. “Gwen wouldn’t have suggested I take you out into the desert if I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Were you a Girl Guide? Sorry. Um, a Girl Scout? Right? That’s what they’re called here.”
She drew herself up to her fully unimpressive height, and he watched closely as her cheeks reddened with obvious anger. “First, I am a woman. Second, I have much more experience in desert survival than you. Third, I am saving your bacon, because while Gwen may not have said it, you would not have been permitted to go out exploring on your own.”
“Saving my bacon?”
“You know, keeping this whole bean search from going south.”
He knew what she was getting at. He knew exactly what happened when a project went “south,” except this one at least wasn’t being filmed. Never again. “Since I have done an exhaustive review of the literature as well as corresponding with local experts, I am certain that we will quickly and rather easily discover what I am looking for.”
She looked down at Reese, whose ears drooped. The burro reminding him of a stuffed lop-eared rabbit he’d abandoned when his brother had teased him mercilessly.
She squared her shoulders and said, “I’ve led similar expeditions over the summers and breaks while I was in college. I have a fair amount of expertise...it just wasn’t something that fit into my long-term plans in the end.”
Whether he liked it or not, she was his guide if he wanted to get his search started sooner rather than later. Her familiarity with the area could help him locate the landmarks described in the journal, which had belonged to an ancestor who’d settled in the West at the turn of the last century. “I am sure that you are competent...more than competent.”
“Whatever. It’s temporary until the university finds you another guide.”
“Again, I thank you for taking on this extra responsibility.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll make up a checklist for you.” She led the burro back to his stall and strode from the barn. Shite. Why was he acting like a schoolboy by making her angry, when his very adult self wanted to watch her hips swing like that all day...and night?
* * *
LAVONDA STROLLED OFF with a nonchalance she worked on maintaining. Jones’s comments had gotten way under her skin, which was silly. What did she care what a Scottish academic thought of her trail skills? It wasn’t like she’d make a living out on the range. She’d decided long ago that ranching, horses and all that went with it weren’t her future, after seeing the toll this lifestyle had taken on her sister—every time Jessie was thrown from a horse yet again or had fallen asleep during class after a weekend of rodeo competition. She and her family had worked so hard and had so little back then. Classmates had computers and Tony Lama boots. She loved the horses and didn’t mind sweating, but she wanted the “riches” that should have followed all of that work. It didn’t take much brainpower to figure out a job in an office with a big company might mean a lot of hours but also money for the computers and the boots.
So why did she feel like she had to prove herself to a wannabe cowboy, when she should be worrying about finding her next high-powered job?
Despite her annoyance with Jones, a tiny part of her brain mulled over whether she could pull off accidentally forgetting to pack two tents so they’d have to share the one. What was wrong with her? She had never been the kind of woman—even as a teen—who made sex or men a priority. So had all of that stored-up sexual frustration exploded when Jones showed up in his kilt?
“Yee-owl,” Cat protested on the back patio. She sat with her tail primly curled around her feet, but the narrowed eyes told another story.
“Cat, you’ve already had your food for the day. The vet has me under strict orders. He says that you’ve got at least six pounds to lose.”
“Yee-owl.”
“Sorry.” Lavonda opened the door and Cat raced into Lavonda’s quarters, entertaining the possibility she’d left a piece of kibble somewhere. As Lavonda created the list of items for Jones, she heard Cat’s bowl being knocked around the small kitchenette. As she wrote, she peeked at Cat sitting by her empty bowl. The cat’s tail did the slow twitch of annoyance. Lavonda leaned down and picked up the bowl quickly enough to miss the swat.
“Yee-owl.”
“What is wrong with that animal?” Jones asked, appearing from nowhere outside her door—a good distance outside of her door. She jumped.