“Are you crazy? Did you miss the part where he’s been trying to buy Hope Springs Ranch for the last three years?”
“Maybe it’s because it gives him an excuse to stop by and see you? Remember how he came by the day after the tornado and stayed to help?” Two and a half years earlier an F4 tornado had swept through Royal. The biggest to hit in almost eighty years, it had taken out a chunk of the west side of town including the town hall and a wing of Royal Memorial Hospital before raging on to cause various degrees of damage to several surrounding ranches.
“He wasn’t being altruistic. He was sniffing around, checking to see if because of the hit the ranch took whether I was in a position where I had to sell.”
“That’s not why he spent the next few days cleaning up the storm damage.”
Brandee shook her head. Chelsea didn’t understand how well Shane hid his true motives for being nice to her. He lived by the motto “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” The smooth-talking son of a bitch wanted Hope Springs Ranch. If Brandee agreed to sell, she’d never hear from Shane again.
“Where Shane Delgado is concerned, let’s agree to disagree,” Brandee suggested, not wanting to spoil her lunch with further talk of Shane.
“Okay.” Chelsea clasped her hands together on the table and leaned forward. “So, tell me your good news. What’s going on?”
“I found out this morning that Hope Springs’ first summer session is completely booked.”
“Brandee, that’s fantastic.”
Since purchasing the land that had become Hope Springs Ranch, Brandee had been working to create programs for at-risk teens that helped address destructive behaviors and promote self-esteem. Inspired by her own difficult teen years after losing her dad, Brandee wanted to provide a structured, supportive environment for young adults to learn goal-setting, communication and productive life skills.
“I can’t believe how well everything is coming together. And how much work I have to do before the bunkhouses and camp facilities are going to be ready.”
“You’ll get it all done. You’re one of the most driven, organized people I know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
It had taken years of hard work and relentless optimism, but she’d done her dad proud with the success she’d made of Hope Springs Ranch. And now she stood on the threshold of realizing her dream of the camp. Her life was perfect and Brandee couldn’t imagine anything better than how she felt at this moment.
* * *
Shane strode away from his latest encounter with Brandee feeling like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. Over the years, he’d engaged in many sizzling exchanges with the spitfire rancher. After each one, he’d conned himself into believing he’d emerged unscathed, while in reality he rarely escaped without several holes poked in his ego.
She was never happy to see him. It didn’t seem fair when everything about her brightened his day. Usually he stopped by her ranch and caught her laboring beside her ranch hands, moving cattle, tending to the horses or helping to build the structures for her camp. Clad in worn jeans, faded plaid work shirts and dusty boots, her gray-blue eyes blazing in a face streaked with sweat and dirt, she smelled like horses, hay and hard work. All tomboy. All woman. And he lusted after every lean inch of her.
She, however, was completely immune to him. Given her impenetrable defenses, he should have moved on. There were too many receptive women who appreciated that he was easy and fun, while in Brandee’s cool gaze, he glimpsed an ocean of distrust.
But it was the challenge of bringing her around. Of knowing that once he drew her beneath his spell, he would satisfy himself with her complete surrender and emerge triumphant. This didn’t mean he was a bad guy. He just wasn’t built to be tied down. And from what he’d noticed of Brandee’s social life, she wasn’t much into long-term relationships, either.
And so he kept going back for more despite knowing each time they tangled she would introduce him to some fresh hell. Today it had been the scent of her perfume. A light floral scent that made him long to gather handfuls of her hair and bury his face in the lustrous gold waves.
“Shane.”
His mental meanderings came to a screeching halt. He nodded in acknowledgment toward a trio of women, unsure which one had hailed him. These three were trouble. Cecelia, Simone and Naomi. A blonde, brunette and a redhead. All three women were gorgeous, entitled and dangerous if crossed.
They’d recently been admitted to the Texas Cattleman’s Club and were making waves with their demands that the clubhouse needed a feminine face-lift. They wanted to get rid of the old boys’ club style and weren’t being subtle about manipulating votes in their favor.
Brandee had been one of their most obstinate adversaries, working tirelessly to gather the votes needed to defeat them. She’d infiltrated the ranks of the oldest and most established members in order to preach against every suggestion these three women made. The whole thing was amusing to watch.
Shane responded to Naomi’s wave by strolling to their table. “Ladies.”
“Join us,” Cecelia insisted. She was a striking platinum blonde with an ice queen’s sharp eyes. As president of To The Moon, a company specializing in high-end children’s furniture, Cecelia was obviously accustomed to being obeyed.
Putting on his best easy grin, Shane shook his head. “Now, you know I’d love nothing more, but I’m sorry to say I’m already running late.” He glanced to where his best friend, Gabriel Walsh, sat talking on his cell phone, a half-empty tumbler of scotch on the table before him. “Is there something I can do for you ladies?”
“We noticed you were talking with Brandee Lawless,” Simone said, leaning forward in a way that offered a sensational glimpse of her ample cleavage. With lush curves, arresting blue eyes and long black hair, she, too, was a striking blend of beauty and brains. “And we wanted to give you some friendly advice about her.”
Had the women picked up on his attraction to Brandee? If so, Shane was losing his touch. He set his hands on the back of the empty fourth chair and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink.
“I’m always happy to listen to advice from beautiful women.”
Cecelia nodded as if approving his wisdom. “She’s only acting interested in you because she wants you to vote against the clubhouse redesign.”
Shane blinked. Brandee was acting interested in him? What had these three women seen that he’d missed?
“Once the vote is done,” Simone continued, “she will dismiss you like that.” She snapped her fingers and settled her full lips into a determined pout.
“Brandee has been acting as if she’s interested in me?” Shane put on a show of surprise and hoped this would entice the women to expound on their theories. “I thought she was just being nice.”
The women exchanged glances and silently selected Naomi to speak next. “She’s not nice. She’s manipulating you. Haven’t you noticed the way she flirts with you? She knows how well liked you are and plans to use your popularity to manipulate the vote.”
Shane considered this. Was Brandee flirting with him? For a second he let himself bask in the pleasure of that idea. Did she fight the same intoxicating attraction that gripped him every time they met? Then he rejected the notion. No. The way she communicated with him was more like a series of verbal jousts all determined to knock him off his white charger and land him ass-first in the dirt.
“Thank you for the warning, ladies.” Unnecessary as it had been. “I’ll make sure I keep my wits about me where Brandee is concerned.”
“Anytime,” Naomi murmured. Her brown eyes, framed by long, lush lashes, had a sharp look of satisfaction.