Her Rebel Cowboy: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Read online

Heat flooded Noelle’s cheeks, and she rolled her eyes as she pressed the envelope to her chest, her heart pounding with life for the first time in so long. “Dating? No way. I’ve had enough of men.” She pointed the envelope at her friend. “I’m going, but it’s just to find my muse, not to even look at a man. The last thing I need right now is a complication.”

  “On the contrary, my dear,” Kate said as she leaned back in the chair and beamed at her. “I think complications are exactly what you need. Exactly what you need.”

  Chapter 4

  So, yeah, apparently there was a reason why people read novels instead of actually trying to experience the life they were reading about.

  Because fantasies had no place in real life. Ever.

  Especially fantasies that involved romantic, soul-enriching excursions to ranch country out west.

  Noelle had been dreaming about cowboys and the Wild West since she was a kid, and not a single one of those fantasies included driving her rental car off the road and into a flooded ditch during a thunderstorm. Granted, she’d been driving slowly when she’d hit the brakes to avoid a coyote, and the slide down the embankment had been gentle and danger-free, but that didn’t change the fact that her car wasn’t getting back on the road by itself. And the part about not having any cell service? Yeah, that hadn’t made it into even a single fantasy, and for good reason apparently.

  Because it kind of sucked.

  Noelle sighed, resting her wrists on the steering wheel as she watched the rain hammer onto her windshield. The din of pounding rain sounded like a herd of cattle stampeding across her metal roof, which, again, wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned her first cattle experience.

  She’d been sitting in her car for two hours and six minutes, and not a single car had driven by. Not one. She was on some dirt road, not that far from her destination, and apparently, none of the other residents of Eastern Oregon had any business along this particular stretch of road.

  So, yay for finding a place where she wasn’t going to be harassed by having to deal with people, right? Go her.

  She glanced at the dashboard on her car. Almost seven o’clock. It would be getting dark soon, and she so didn’t want to spend the night here. She looked again at her directions. How much farther could the ranch be? She was almost there. She could sit there in the car until someone found her clean-picked skeleton, or she could use her body that she was lucky enough to have, and hike the rest of the distance.

  The idea of hiking made energy hum through her, a surprising burst of energy that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It made her feel powerful, no longer a victim. Taking action felt so much better than waiting to become roadside carnage. Grinning, she quickly leaned into the back seat, dug through her bags for her hiking boots and her raincoat. Within five minutes, she’d changed her shoes, zipped the ranch house key, her phone, the directions, and her wallet into the inside pocket of the coat, and chowed a granola bar.

  Thunder rumbled just as she was reaching for the door handle. She hesitated for a split second, then looked around at the car. Another prison, just like her apartment. Suddenly, she couldn’t take another second of it. She had to be outside. She had to be moving. She had to be breathing in fresh air. Now.

  So she shoved open the door, stepped into six inches of muddy, raging water, and got out. The wind hit hard, and the rain thundered down, and she realized it was really brutal out. She hesitated, one hand on the door frame, suddenly unsure what to do. What if it was longer than she thought to the ranch? What if she got lost? There was literally no one to come to aid. No cell service. No cars going past. But, there were coyotes, or at least one. They didn’t attack people, though, she was pretty sure. Crap. Was she a total fool to get out of the car and start hiking? Or would she be a bigger fool to sit in her car until someone came past?

  Probably hiking was the worse choice.

  But dammit. She didn’t want to sit around anymore. She wanted to move. To live. To feel her body work again.

  Screw it.

  She was hiking.

  With a renewed sense of power, she slammed her door shut and headed up the embankment toward the highway. She made it halfway up the incline, then she felt her boots start to slide. She yelped, and fought for purchase, leaning down to brace her hands on the ground, but as she stood there, her feet slid all the way back down, she lost her grip and landed on her knees, and rode the muddy gravel all the way back down, landing with a sploosh in the muddy river that had trapped her car.

  Noelle looked up at the ten-foot embankment of mud and gravel, and suddenly, she started to laugh. Oh, God. This was too insane. Her first day of replenishing her soul, and she was trapped by a hill of shale and mud? Energy rushed through her, a fire that made her entire body feel stronger than it had in years.

  She backed up several steps, set her gaze on her goal, and then charged the hill. She made it halfway up again, and then her boots started to slide. She lunged forward, digging her hands into the mud as she fought to scramble up the side. She made it another few feet, sliding backwards almost as often as she made it forward.

  Her breath was heaving in her chest, and she fought harder, her feet sliding down almost as fast as she was able to take a step forward. Rain poured over her, running down her neck and under her coat, and mud coated her hands to her wrists. Her jeans were soaked, there was cold mud oozing over the top of her boots, and her hair was glued to her cheeks by the mud and the rain. She was filthy, soaked, exhausted, and hadn’t felt so alive in years. Grinning even as her fingernails were scraped by the gravel, she fought against gravity. Inch by inch, she scrambled higher, until she was almost at the top…and then her feet started to go again.

  “Crap!” She lunged for the top of the embankment, and just missed it…and started to slide back down again–

  A strong hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, jerking her to a stop mid-slide.

  She looked up quickly to find a drenched, muddy cowboy in a long jacket, a dripping cowboy hat, and icy-blue eyes staring down at her, his fingers locked around her arm.

  Noelle froze, shocked by the sight of him, by the way her belly leapt, by the sudden heat rushing through her body. Dear God, he was straight out of her teenage fantasies. A hot cowboy coming to her rescue?

  No, not hot. Calling him hot was kind of like calling a wild, fully grown male mountain lion a cute little kitten. It was a supreme injustice to both the lion and the kitten. The man before her was pure, rugged male…the kind of male that made her want to drop everything, sprint over to him, and surrender every aspect of herself to his raw masculinity.

  There was something about the way he was standing there with his duster flapping in the heavy wind, his legs braced against the weight of her body, while the rain dripped off his hat that was just so primal. Delicious. Surreal. Hot. Like he was made of testosterone, Old West charm, and danger…with just a hint of cocky arrogance curving his mouth so seductively that a shiver went down her spine that had nothing to do with the fact she was soaking wet and closing in on hypothermia (yes, it was fifty degrees, but hypothermia wasn’t choosy, was it?)

  She couldn’t quite believe how good it felt to stare at a man and notice how wide his shoulders were beneath his black jacket, or the way his quads bulged beneath his jean-clad thighs as he braced himself, as if his body was made for a life of outdoor roughness. She took a deep breath, wishing that he was close enough for her to catch a scent of him, a heady masculine scent that would make her stomach curl and her belly flutter like it had back when she used to feel alive. But all she could smell was the damp earth, the fresh rain, and the murkiness of the swampy river she’d just waded through…which was just as well. One more assault to her senses would likely send her romantically barren soul into testosterone-induced shock.

  He lifted one eyebrow slowly, amusement flickering in his eyes, and suddenly, she realized she was gawking at him. Like, literally gawking. Heat flooded her cheeks, but she had nowhere to hide, nowhere else to look, no
t when it was his grip on her arm that was keeping her from tumbling back down the embankment to the muddy, bubbly water.

  “Ready?” His voice rolled through her. Deep. Masculine. Rich. Her stomach literally vibrated in response.

  “Ready? For what?” She had no idea what he was talking about. All she could think of was how kind and warm he sounded, a hint of gentleness in his voice that contrasted so sharply with the strapping strength of his frame, and the ease with which he was keeping her from sliding down the hill.

  The amusement in his eyes deepened. “For me to haul you up here so you don’t slide down again. Or I can let you go, if you prefer.”

  “Oh, right.” She’d totally forgotten she was still standing at a forty-five-degree angle, several feet below him, on an embankment that was becoming increasingly unstable in the heavy rain. “Hauling me up would be fantastic, thanks.”

  He flashed her a grin so devastatingly charming that she forgot to breathe, and then he stepped back, using his body to counterbalance her as she scrambled up the last few feet and over the edge. She landed in front of him, her boots thudding on the even ground…and she realized that he was even more solid and tall when she was on his level than he’d looked when he was above her.

  For a long moment, she didn’t move, and neither did he. His hand was still locked around her arm, and she didn’t pull away. They just stood there, the rain hammering down on them, sliding over her face, and down her neck.

  She was close enough now to see the heavy whiskers on his face, a beard that he didn’t quite allow to grow in. His jaw was hard and strong. His face angular. And his eyes…she forgot about everything else but his eyes. They were a deep, turbulent crystal blue that were so intense they literally took her breath away with the potency burning within them. She knew then that he wasn’t simply a sinfully hot cowboy. He was more, something infinitely more complex, burdened by a weight so raw that he made her heart speed up. This man was alive, fermenting with power and passion that made her heart clench.

  God, how long had it been since she’d felt alive like that?

  His gaze traveled over her, across her face, over her muddy, soaking body, moving with a languid interest that made heat burn in her belly. His gaze flicked to her car, angled down in the ditch, and then back to her. “City girl?”

  The way he said it didn’t sound like an insult. It sounded like a seduction that made him promise to show her exactly how wild the cowboy life could be. She nodded. “Boston.”

  “Boston.” He repeated the word, rolling it ever so slightly with a cowboy twang that made her belly tighten. “So, you must be Noelle Wilder.” His gaze settled on her face. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  Chapter 5

  Yeah, Wyatt had been expecting a woman named Noelle Wilder from Boston, but he hadn’t been expecting her. Not in any way.

  When Bunny had told him she was doing a house swap for the next month so she could do some house hunting for her Cape Cod dream home, Wyatt had been annoyed. He didn’t have time to babysit a city slicker, not when he had to figure out who the hell had doped his ride, and get his bull riding back on track, but he owed Bunny a lot, so he’d agreed.

  He’d figured Noelle Wilder would be a pain in his ass. Afraid to get dirty. Needing shit from him he didn’t have to give. Uptight. Maybe on the hunt for an affair with a cowboy that she could tell her friends about, showing up in high heels, makeup, and a need to seduce. He knew about those women. Hell, that was the only kind of woman who ever crossed his path.

  Until now.

  He hadn’t expected the woman standing in front of him. Noelle was wearing jeans and hiking boots. She was soaking wet. Muddy from head to toe. Makeup-free. Rain was glistening on her cheeks, highlighting brown eyes so compelling he’d forgotten to breathe the moment he’d looked into them. She wasn’t dressed to impress. She was dressed…for herself…and it had hit him straight in the gut the moment he’d walked to the top of the embankment and seen her struggling to climb it, refusing to succumb to gravity.

  And she’d been laughing while she was doing it. Laughing.

  She made him want to laugh, and he hadn’t laughed in a long, damned time.

  And now, she gazed up at him, her face glistening with rain. “You were expecting me?” she asked, repeating his words back to him. “Who are you?”

  At the sound of her voice, something shifted inside Wyatt. There was such kindness in her voice, a warmth, a lack of pretense…a quiet, deep appreciation for the moment. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze off her face. “My name’s Wyatt Parker. I’m the foreman on the Sleeping Bull Ranch. Bunny told me to keep an eye out for you.”

  “The foreman?” Noelle’s eyes widened, and her gaze slipped off his face, checking him out with rapid, nervous interest.

  His cock actually tightened at the feel of her gaze sweeping over him. His reaction shocked him. He was used to being checked out by women. The minute he had started having success as a bull rider, the women had flocked to him, wanting only a piece of his ass and his winnings. He’d learned fast and ugly not to trust anyone who looked at him that way, a lesson that Octavia had solidified when he’d thought she was an exception. He didn’t even notice anymore when women checked him out…until now. Until Noelle’s gaze brushed over him, a tentative, innocent exploration that ignited a fire in him that had been dormant for a long time.

  Her gaze shot back to his face, and to his surprise, she pulled free of his grip, took several steps back and set her hands on her hips. She lifted her chin, and he literally felt the wall that she raised between them.

  He narrowed his eyes, surprised by the way she tried to put distance between them. Women never did that, not with him. He didn’t take it personally, because he knew that any bull rider with a halfway decent career got the same appreciation from women. Which made the fact that Noelle had stepped back a hell of a lot more interesting than if she had stepped forward.

  He cocked his head, studying her. “Running the ranch for Bunny is just a part-time gig. I’m a bull rider.” He never told anyone he was a bull rider, because he hated being judged by it. But he wanted to see what Noelle would do when she knew. Somehow, he needed to find out what she thought of that fact. “Last year’s runner up at the finals.” Today’s tainted sideliner.

  To his satisfaction, Noelle didn’t inch forward. She didn’t get a flash of interest in her eyes. There was no hint of greed in her face. In fact, her forehead wrinkled. “Can’t you die from that?”

  Her question made him tense, because, you know, he’d almost died two months ago. “Yes.”

  It was only because he was watching her so closely that he saw her flinch. It wasn’t a superficial, dramatic response designed to stroke his ego about how manly he was. There was a genuine flash of fear and anguish in her eyes, and she physically recoiled, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t understand that,” she said. “I don’t understand how you could do something that could kill you. Don’t you realize what a gift it is to be alive?”

  Her voice was almost desperate, edged with a grief that struck him right in his gut. He swore under his breath, and knew then that someone she loved had died on her. Someone who mattered to her. Someone whose death had changed her view of life forever. Suddenly, he saw her differently. He saw the shadows in her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks, the way she hugged herself, as if she had to hold herself up. He understood why she was taking a month off from her life to hang out on some Oregon ranch. “Who died?” he asked softly.

  Shock flashed across her face, and for a second, he thought she wouldn’t answer. But she did. “My husband. A year ago. He was sick for three years.”

  Her voice was tight, guarded, and exhausted. He knew it had been a long three years, and a long year since. “I’m sorry.” Protectiveness surged through him, a deep, instinctive need to surround her with his strength, to protect her from the grief trying to hold onto her, to make it safe for her to breathe again.

  She nodded. �
�Thanks.” She managed a smile. “But we have to keep living, right? Otherwise it’s an insult to those who die young.”

  He thought of his dad and nodded. “Agreed.” Suddenly, he didn’t resent Bunny’s request to make sure Noelle was safe. He accepted it. He embraced it. In fact, to his surprise, a small part of him actually regretted that he would be leaving the ranch in a few days to compete.

  The moment he had that thought, he swore under his breath. He’d already given up everything for a woman once, and he had learned his lesson. God, how he had learned his lesson. He’d known Noelle about sixty seconds, and he was already regretting leaving her? What the hell? He was going to ride this weekend, and nothing was going to keep him home. Not even this woman from Boston, who looked like the weight of life was going to crush her.

  He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to close the distance between them and draw her into a hug, to somehow support her. He would make sure she was safe, yeah, but that was it. He wasn’t going to step over that line that he’d sworn never to be dragged across again. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll ride back to the ranch, get a tractor, and come back and pull your car out.” He liked that plan. It helped and protected her, but put some distance between them, and that powerful-as-hell tug between them.

  She glanced past his shoulder, and he saw her eyes widen when she saw his horse. “You rode out here?”

  “Yeah. I was checking fences.” He saw her shiver, and he swore, suddenly aware of the pounding rain hammering them both. Her face was streaked with rain, her jeans sodden against her legs, her raincoat no longer beading with rain because it had maxed out its capacity to keep her dry. He frowned. “You should get back in your car and get dry. I’ll be back in about an hour.” If he rode hard, he could make it home in forty-five minutes. It was pushing it, but he wasn’t leaving her out here any longer than he had to.

  She blinked, drawing his attention to the raindrops clumping at the ends of her eyelashes. “You want to leave me here?” The question was careful, as if she wasn’t sure how that made her feel.