“—I thought fate must be smiling on me when he walked past the Thirsty Cow tonight.” She could really use the rest of that wine she’d left behind. Her head throbbed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration that Cody didn’t seem willing to give an inch.
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, a blond wood that looked out of place in this very Western-style remodeled space.
“Except it wasn’t Carson.” His smile was a poor facsimile of the one he’d given her earlier.
Because, she realized, that hadn’t been his real smile.
An idea took hold. A dawning comprehension.
“You were pretending to be him, weren’t you?” She realized that initial exchange—when she’d first arrived in Wrangler’s—was the only time she’d seen a genuine smile from him.
Except it hadn’t been genuine at all. He had been imitating his brother. She could tell she had guessed correctly when a fleeting defensive expression crossed his face.
Indignation rose in her as she got to her feet and grabbed the map and her bag. She wouldn’t be a fool for any man again after the way her ex-boyfriend had walked out on her after surgery. She was smarter than that.
“You know, I can take some of the blame for not telling you who I was tonight.” She charged toward the door, ready to put this night—this obstinate man—behind her. “But it seems like you also played a role in this...misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” He stood between her and the door. He didn’t seem to be blocking it on purpose, he just hadn’t stepped aside yet. “Is that what you’re calling it? You came into town looking for a way to circumvent me.”
She gestured at his imposing form with a flourish. “Sort of like I am right now, since you’re still standing in my way. Apparently you take pride in being immovable.”
His jaw worked silently; maybe he was chewing over the idea.
“That’s not true,” he said finally. “But I don’t want you to storm out of here until I know you have a safe way 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.