In The Arms of a Cowboy(Natalie Moon) "Well, Look what the cat dragged home," Tyler Ross muttered from the saddle of his horse when he noticed the vehicle speeding along the gravel road leading to the Oak Ridge Ranch.

He spurred the horse, making it move forward, cantering steadily across an open field. Smudge just loved to run. "Here’s your chance, boy." Tyler loosened his hold on the reins, a signal to which the stallion always responded. Hooves pounding the sun–baked rocky Texas terrain, the distance between them and the car increasing. Veering right, the stallion jumped the white rail fence, bursting onto the road just yards in front of the vehicle.

Smudge reared, pawing the air with both hooves flailing. All Tyler could do was sit tight to remain in the saddle, and wait for the stallion to stop rearing. The driver hit the brakes sharply, sending the shiny red Ford Mustang sideways and into a spin before skidding to a halt just ten feet from the horse.

Tyler patted the stallion, “Good boy," he said, praising his horse that’d stood his ground assertively. If there was one thing in his life that he could depend on, it was Smudge. The stallion never let him down — unlike the woman venting her fury from behind the car’s steering wheel.

The car door flew open. An ankle, encased in a sleek black high–heeled stiletto, appeared beneath the door. A blond head popped into view. Sunglasses concealed her eyes but not her pursed red lips. He didn’t need to see the bright green eyes behind the shades to know that Tiffany Reed was pissed. "Nice stop, bitch," he complimented her. There wasn’t a shred of country girl left in this thirty–year–old woman, whom he had known since she was a young girl with pigtails. Her expertly applied makeup hiding her freckled cheeks, her long blond glossy hair blowing gently in the warm breeze, reminding him of the long flowing mane on his Palomino mare.

With shoulders stiff and back straight, she marched forward, her stride shortened by a tight, short skirt and her inability to walk in such high stilettos. The strong breeze plastering her mauve–colored silk blouse to her breasts — breasts he could remember all too well….

She halted, stumbling in front of his horse, waving her red–tipped finger wildly. "How’s my beautiful Smudge?" she squealed, giggling with delight, before gently pushing aside the forelock to reveal a white star on the animal’s forehead.

Her Smudge? It was his damn horse! The way the stallion was snorting at her, you’d believe Tiffany had been the one to spend hour upon hour training the animal. She lifted her head and slid her glasses up onto her forehead, where they held back her flowing locks, revealing dark green eyes, glinting like emeralds in the bright sunlight

"Well, I don’t see that you’ve changed much," she hissed.
"And what’s that supposed to mean?"
"Still like a good race, I see."

His mind wandering back some fifteen years to the day, when they’d raced horses along this very road. He never expected her to be so fearless. In her determination to win, she’d pushed her horse too hard, almost causing it to fall. His heart had stalled and he rode his horse harder to catch the reins, slipping from her grasp. That was the day he’d realized he was falling in love for the boss’s daughter.

Refusing to give this woman a reason to assume he’d pined away for her all these years; he forced his face to remain impassive. He hadn’t pined, nor had given Tiffany more than a second thought for the past twelve years. Angry that she’d riled him, he snapped, "You took your time coming home."
Her gaze shifted east to the gently sloping terrain surrounding them. "I was in Europe — you know that."

Yeah, he did. He’d been the one tracking her halfway around the globe, to leave a message with the desk clerk at the Savoy in London informing Tiffany that her father had died of a heart attack, just two days later. When she finally managed to return Tyler’s call, her beloved father Ben Reed was already dead and buried.

"If I had known you were heading this way, I’d have set up an appointment with your dad’s lawyer. I’ll call him in the morning so you can sign the papers." As far as Tyler was concerned, the sooner she left the better. Tiffany always had a way of making a man think and do things, which he had no business thinking and doing — like right now, sitting there astride his stallion wondering if her skin felt as soft as he remembered.
She swung her gaze back towards his face and grabbed the rein of his horse. "What papers?" she scowled.
Ben Reed had left half the ranch to Tyler and half to Tiffany — if she wanted it. Tyler figured she was here to sell out. "The papers, which allow me to buy your half of the ranch."
"Oh, so you’re assuming I want nothing to do with the ranch."

The chilling statement sent a cold chill racing down his spine. Surely she couldn’t mean… For as long as he’d known Tiffany, she always preferred to spend her time with her nose buried in romantic novels or her face glued to a computer screen, not outside in the fresh air, herding the cattle. With emotions still running high from the shock of coming face–to–face with her after more than a decade, he breathed in deeply wishing his twitchy nerves to settle. "Not an unreasonable conclusion, considering you’ve avoided the ranch—" and me "—all these years."

Her eyes burning a path across his face, down his neck and over his chest before making eye contact. "Perhaps I’ve had a change of heart."

For a moment, he silently believed she was referring to him and not the ranch. Crazy fool. He’d rather take his chances with the stampeding cattle than allow this woman the opportunity to break his heart for a second time.

"I promised my father that if anything ever happened to him, I’d permit the homestead more than a passing thought before I walked away from it for good." She told him in a frosty manner.
He wondered if she’d given him more than a passing thought after all these years. "As soon as you figure out what you want, let me know. Just stay out of my way until you do." With that he tugged the reins and dug his spurs into the horse’s ribs. Smudge took off, galloping at full speed across the rolling hills that were dotted with cypress trees and scrub brush. Tyler breathed a sigh of relief.

He’d barely survived the encounter with Tiffany, and although he had been with other women through the years — a couple he’d thought might be The One, the relationships had never amounted to anything. Until a moment ago, he’d never considered why. Now he began to wonder if the reason he’d never been able to fully commit to a woman was that he’d never been able to fully forget Tiffany. If he knew what was good for him, he’d stomp those thoughts into the dirt there and then. Tiffany Reed had returned to Briggs, Texas, because of a promise she’d made to her father. Not because of him—Tyler Ross—the man she’d walked away from after he’d asked for her hand in marriage.

***

Time had matured Tyler Ross into the quintessential cowboy—with a cocky attitude, broad shoulders, chiseled jaw and measured stare. If she wasn’t careful around him, she’d lose herself in his bottomless brown eyes.
Squinting into the hot summer sun, Tiffany watched Tyler and his horse race across the landscape until the horizon swallowed them whole. Darn his soulful brown eyes—they dared her to venture near and discover the secrets hidden behind the dark gaze. Secrets that had once made her pause but now intrigued her.

Years ago Tyler had shared nothing of his past with her, not even when they’d taken their friendship to the next level and he’d taken her virginity. And when he’d asked her to marry him, she hadn’t been sure who’d been more surprised—she or Tyler. She’d hurt his feelings and had turned him down. At eighteen she’d had her entire life before her and had intended to explore the world—never mind that Tyler had argued the world wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Even though he’d been only twenty at the time, he’d seemed much older, and she’d been intimidated by the seriousness with which he’d viewed life.

Now a more mature and worldly Tiffany had returned home—having achieved her goals, only to find herself at loose ends. For all intents and purposes, she’d walked away from any claim to the homestead or Tyler after graduating from high school and enrolling at the University of Texas in Austin. But a girl could have a change of heart, couldn’t she—especially about a man? She’d missed Tyler over the years. They’d been friends before lovers, and she hated that she’d sacrificed their friendship in the pursuit of her dreams.

Her confrontation with him moments ago proved he wasn’t the same eighteen–year–old who’d shown up at the ranch looking for work with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a laundry sack of possessions. Her father had offered him a bed in the bunkhouse and a job mucking out stalls. From that day forward, he’d worked harder than any cowboy on her father’s payroll. He’d lived and breathed cattle, fresh air and wide–open spaces.

Tiffany lived and breathed computers. Her job with Delcor, designing information systems for Fortune Five Hundred companies, sent her all over the world. For a girl who’d grown up on a secluded ranch and had attended a small country school, the opportunity to travel had been a dream come true. The past several years she believed she held life by the tail—and now the news of her father’s death knocked her off the merry–go–round.
Death had a way of forcing a person to take inventory of their life. At thirty years of age, her only valued possessions were her job, her automobile and the ostrich leather Louis Vuitton Vienna Minimalisa boots on her feet. She had no husband. No significant other. No family—her mother had walked out on her and her father when Tiffany had been a toddler. And no close friendships —traveling didn’t allow for any extracurricular activities. While she acknowledged she enjoyed her job, her life the past few years had become less than fulfilling.

She hadn’t lied to Tyler when she’d said that she’d promised her father she’d consider the ranch carefully. It was the least she could do since he’d allowed her to pursue her dream of a corporate career and hadn’t insisted she follow in his footsteps as a cattle rancher. She and her father had never been close —no heart–to–heart talks or spontaneous hugs save for the traditional birthday or holiday squeeze. Various housekeepers had assumed the role of mother and had taught her things young girls needed to know about their bodies, boys and sex. Had her father lectured her about the birds and the bees, she might have been able to resist Tyler’s charm her senior summer of high school. On the other hand, she doubted anyone or anything could have kept her from falling into the arms of the young cowboy with the soulful brown eyes.

If his prickly welcome was any indication, Tyler no longer harbored tender memories of their past relationship. The thought made her sad, because she’d never forgotten him. Whenever she’d hit a rough patch over the years, all she’d had to do was recall the fun times she’d shared with Tyler and her spirits had lifted. With a heartfelt sigh, she headed back to the car. Even though she and Tyler were different people who lived different lives, that didn’t mean they couldn’t get along.

First things first. She’d visit the family burial plot and pay her respects to her father, and then she’d drive to the main house. Tomorrow would be soon enough to bug Tyler into showing her around the property. Today she planned to spend alone, reminiscing and wading through her father’s things. There wasn’t much she wanted, except for the photo albums and the belt buckle he’d won in a rodeo umpteen years ago— unless he’d already passed on the buckle to Tyler. The two men had become close over the years—like father and son.

Tiffany didn’t begrudge her father and Tyler’s relationship. She was glad Tyler had stuck around all these years to look after her father, since she hadn’t been able to.
Tyler. A warm sensation spread through her chest as his image flashed before her eyes. He’d never married. He might have someone special in his life.
If he didn’t…?
Then her stay would prove interesting….
Very interesting, indeed.


Chapter Two

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon Friday morning when Tiffany left the house and marched toward the corral where Tyler exercised a horse using a lunge line connected to the animal’s halter. The filly trotted in circles, adjusting her gait to the clicking sound Tyler made with his tongue.

Tiffany halted several feet away, wanting to soak up the beauty of the moment—a handsome cowboy framed against the backdrop of a Texas sunrise.
Tyler had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her during her stay. She refused to be ignored. Sidling up to the corral, she propped a boot on the bottom slat. "How about a tour of the ranch?" No sense wasting words.
His dark gaze latched onto hers. The intensity of his stare shoved the air from her lungs in an audible whoosh, leaving her light–headed. The last time he’d looked at her that way he’d…kissed her.

Returning his attention to the horse, he groused, "I’m busy."

For a moment, she watched man and beast rotate in circles. A quiet sigh of appreciation escaped her mouth. Tyler was all lean muscle, and years of working in the sun and wind had stamped crow’s–feet around his eyes and left his skin the color of the longhorns grazing in the pasture. The cowboy was as rugged as the land around him.
"What’s her name?" Tiffany called.
"She doesn’t have one yet."
"How old is she?"
"A year next month."

White splotches marred the black hide, and all four legs were white from the knee joint down. "If she were mine, I’d call her Princess." The horse carried her nose high, as if she descended from royalty.

At Tyler’s command, the animal slowed to a stop. He led her over to Tiffany. "Let her catch your scent first," he cautioned.
Delighted, Tiffany stood still as the horse sniffed. When the animal blew in her hair, she giggled. "Yep, she acts like a princess."
"Then Princess is yours."
The quiet pronouncement caught Tiffany off guard, as did the solemn expression on Tyler’s face.
"But—"
"If you don’t want her…" He made a move to walk off.
"Stop." Why was he offering her the animal? He knew she lived in Austin—that she traveled with her job. When would she ever find time to return to the Oak Ridge and ride Princess? Maybe he’s hoping you’ll make the time. Maybe she would. "Has she been ridden yet?"
"No. You’ll have to work with her until she’ll accept a saddle." After a deliberate pause, he muttered, "Might as well start now." He tossed her the rope. "Put her up in the barn. And change her water and feed."
"Then what?"
"Then I’ll show you around," Tyler declared, his brown eyes promising more than a tour of the ranch.
Much more.

…

He was screwed.
Tyler’s plan to avoid Tiffany had taken a nosedive when he’d temporarily lost his sanity and given her Princess— a piece of prime horse flesh worth ten thousand dollars. Princess. Talk about a stupid name for a cow horse. He stood inside the corral, watching her lead the filly to the barn. Halfway there, Tiffany dropped the reins. Princess continued on as if she didn’t need anyone to show her where to go.
Females!

The horse and her new mistress had more in common than he realized— Tiffany hadn’t needed him, either. She’d known the road home all these years. Her father’s death— not Tyler —had brought her back.
If he was honest with himself—which he avoided at all costs—he’d admit he’d presented her the horse on a whim. The expression on Tiffany’s face as she’d gazed at Princess had stirred a desire inside him to please her. He’d remembered how good it had been between them once, and without thinking, he’d gifted her with the animal, hoping to tie her not to him but to the ranch.
He should realize that after thirty–two years no one, save Ben Reed, had ever made a long–term commitment to him. Because no matter what he did, he’d never measured up in anyone’s eyes.
Ben believed in me. The rancher had given Tyler a chance when others had refused. Tiffany’s father hadn’t turned his back on the eighteen–year–old who’d understood zilch about ranching when he’d wandered in from the highway hungry, tired and looking for work. Tyler owed Ben big–time and he was determined that the rancher would rest in eternal peace knowing his land and cattle were in good hands—Tyler’s hands—at least for the time being. Time would tell what plans Tiffany had up her sleeve.


Tiffany was more than a rancher’s daughter—a college–educated career woman who traveled the world. Smart, savvy, beautiful. He supposed he could dream, but no way in hell would a woman like her hang her hat on his bedpost—not these days, anyway. He had nothing to offer her—that he hadn’t already offered years ago. If he had his way, she’d never learn that the twenty–year–old who’d made love to her had possessed the soul of a much older man. By the time he’d met Tiffany, he’d seen and done things he wasn’t proud of. Maybe that was why he’d fallen so hard for her. She’d made him feel his age— young and carefree. And she’d allowed him to believe that despite his past he remained worthy.

What if she can make you feel that way again?
No. The days of running wild together—racing trucks, swimming nude at the water hole, kissing in the hayloft—were gone. Long gone. Besides, he didn’t want carefree and young anymore. He wanted steadfast and devoted. A woman who would stand by his side. Share his life. Love him despite his faults.

Good luck with that one, buddy.

…


Tiffany cast a sideways glance across the front seat of the truck as the vehicle bounced along the main ranch road that led to the south pasture and the horse barns. Riding with Tyler brought back memories of days gone by. When Tyler had shown up at the ranch, looking for work, Tiffany had been surprised to learn he was eighteen. His reserved demeanor had made him seem much older. Her father had warned her away from Tyler, but Tiffany had been unable to ignore the loneliness she’d detected in his fathomless brown eyes. So she’d trailed around after him, teasing and cajoling until he caved in and began talking to her—a word or two. Sometimes a grunt. Then one day he’d smiled. The next he’d laughed, flashing a bright white smile and a dimple in his left cheek. He’d made her heart stumble.

The truck swerved, sending her shoulder into the door. "Ouch."
"Sorry," Tyler muttered, pointing through the windshield.
A calf had gotten caught in the fence line. "Oh, dear."
"Stay here," he instructed, then shifted into Park and hopped out.
Yeah, right. She followed him to the bawling calf, whose mother grazed a few yards away, apparently unconcerned about her baby. Tiffany kept her distance, not wanting to excite the calf, which was bleeding in several places. Poor baby.

Tyler wiggled his fingers into a pair of leather work gloves and began clipping the barbs off the wire.
"What can I do?"
"Stay away from the fence in case a wire breaks free."
"I am away from the fence," she protested.
"Then cajole the cow."
"Hey, sweet baby. Got you into quite a fix, huh?" She didn’t expect the animal to respond, but was surprised when its head swung in her direction and its big brown eyes studied her. "Hold still. He’ll save you."

She shifted her gaze from calf to cowboy and found a different pair of brown eyes on her. Heat shot up her spine, but before she could make sense of her body’s reaction, he instructed Tiffany. "When I clip this wire, it’s going to snap. Grab the calf’s ears and tug toward you, away from the fence."
"Gotcha." She grasped the animal’s downy lobes. "I’m ready."
A few seconds later…"Now!"
Tiffany pulled. The calf bawled again but moved forward. One step. Then two.
"That’s good," Tyler said.
"Everything’s going to be okay, baby," she cooed as Tyler worked the broken wire back into the post. When he shifted his stance, she noticed the rip in his shirt sleeve. "You’re hurt."
"Just a scratch." He inspected the calf’s injuries. "There’s a first–aid kit under the bench seat in the truck. Mind getting it for me?"
"Sure."

She retrieved the medical supplies, and then waited patiently for him to clean the animal’s wounds. Finished, he swatted the fat rump and the calf trotted over to its mama.

"Your turn." Tiffany grasped his arm.
"Double ouch." The scratch wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but it needed to be cleaned to prevent infection.
"Hold steady." She dribbled the antiseptic over the oozing mess, and then blotted the blood with a clean tissue. After applying antibiotic cream, she rolled a gauze strip around his arm. "You’ll live," she pronounced, then ceased drawing air into her lungs when their eyes met. That look…. The same look he’d always gotten right before he…

Don’t do it. Tyler leaned forward until Tiffany’s scent wafted under his nose. Her smell, a heap more pleasant than the calf he’d freed from the fence. Perfume—something elegant. Sultry. Full of promise. The country girl’s tastes had matured from fresh outdoors to urban sophistication. He wondered if she’d dabbed the fragrance behind her ears…at the base of her throat…
She wore no makeup to hide the dusting of freckles across her nose. He remembered counting, then kissing, every single one that afternoon at the swimming hole. Today her hair had been left un–styled, and his fingers itched to test its softness and texture.

He expected her to run the other way. He wanted her to run. Needed her to run.
She stood her ground. Blue eyes boldly daring him to back down first. He would…in a minute. First he wanted a sample—just a touch. A brief kiss to prove once and for all that he was over her. That any feelings her presence brought back were purely nostalgic. And if she backed down first or pushed him away, then he’d know she was over him.
He inched closer, and to his amazement, she met him halfway. Their lips brushed. Barely a touch—then she opened her mouth and slid her tongue along his lower lip. Startled, he broke away.
Blue eyes widened. "That’s it?"
He shrugged, not trusting his voice.
"Well, that sucked." She marched back to the truck.

Tyler stared at her retreating back, stunned that Tiffany wasn’t opposed to his kiss. Dared he hope she wasn’t opposed to him, either?



Chapter Three

Sunday afternoon, Tiffany curled up in a leather chair in her father’s study and perused photo albums— two to be exact. Her father hadn’t bothered with a camera over the years, but various housekeepers had managed to snap photos of Tiffany on birthdays and holidays. There was even a wedding picture of her mother and father outside a chapel in Las Vegas.

"She looks like you."
Startled, Tiffany jumped, sending the album sliding off her lap and onto the floor. She glanced up and saw Tyler standing behind her chair looking over her shoulder. Two days had passed since he’d sort of kissed her. An almost kiss that had stirred up memories of the past—and for Tiffany a yearning to return to those carefree days as a teenager when all she cared to do was spend time with Tyler.

They never did make it to the horse barns Friday morning after helping the injured calf. Tyler had sputtered an excuse about needing to speak to a ranch hand and had dropped her off at the house. He’d been avoiding her, and she suspected the reason was that he regretted their kiss—if you considered bumping lips a kiss.

"Who looks like me?" She retrieved the album from the floor, ignoring her body’s sudden increase in temperature at his proximity.
"The woman in the wedding dress." Hat in hand, he moved around her chair and sat in the matching one near the desk.
Intrigued that Tyler had gone from avoiding her to paying her a social call, she asked, "Care for some iced tea?"
He shook his head, eyes glued to the photo album as if he was genuinely interested in learning more about her mother. "Her name was Margaret," Tiffany said. "Dad called her Maggie."
"What happened to her? Ben never brought your mother up in conversation."

Come to think of it, Tiffany realized Tyler had never asked her about Maggie, either. Back then she’d believed he hadn’t wanted to pry, but now she wondered if he’d been afraid of the intimacy that resulted in learning everything about another person. The one time she’d posed a question about his family he’d clammed up and stalked off. That was twelve years ago. Maybe it was time she and Tyler finally got to know each other.

"Maggie was passing through Briggs when she met my father. She’d taken a job at the Gas Depot to earn enough money to get her to the next town. My father fell head–over–heels in love and convinced her to stick around awhile. She got pregnant with me, so they tied the knot in Vegas. I had just turned two when my father found me napping alone in the house. Maggie had left. The note said she couldn’t stand staying in one place very long."
"Your mother abandoned you, too."
That it was a statement, not a question, gave Tiffany pause. Before she responded, he asked, "Did Maggie keep in touch with you over the years?"
"I don’t even remember her."
"It doesn’t bother you that she took off and never came back?" His relaxed posture didn’t fool Tiffany. More than curiosity drove the question from him and she had a hunch her answer mattered—a lot.
"It’s difficult to have feelings for someone you don’t recall." She honestly didn’t harbor any resentment toward her mother. She’d decided long ago that life was too short to waste her emotions on a woman she couldn’t recollect. "I was fortunate that I grew up around female housekeepers and that my grandmother was a part of my life until she died after my tenth birthday." Tiffany waved a hand in the air. "I lived in a nice home and had a nice father. More than a lot of kids."
"You’re right." He stared at the window across the room as though in a trance. "Some kids have it worse." Then he blinked and the glazed look in his eyes vanished. "Is your mother’s abandonment the reason you don’t want anything to do with the ranch?"
"I never said I didn’t like the ranch." Although Tiffany suspected she’d inherited her mother’s urge to travel and explore new places.

After a lengthy stare–down, he cleared his throat. "Was I the reason you never came home?"

Her mind flashed back to the day Tyler had proposed to her. They’d ridden to the swimming hole. He’d dropped to one knee and had asked her to marry him, then had slid a silver band with a tiny diamond chip over her ring finger. Part of her had yearned to accept his proposal. There had been no doubt in her mind that she loved him. But her desire to travel and find her place in the world had been stronger than her need to remain by his side. Her attempts to make Tyler understand had only angered and hurt him.

"At first I stayed away because I believed I’d hurt your feelings when I declined your proposal." She’d hoped a little distance would do them both good. "As time passed, I realized I didn’t really know you." At his frown, she rushed on. "I knew your name. That your favorite cake was chocolate. Your favorite chore was tending to the horses. And that you hated watermelon. But I knew nothing about where you came from or who your family was. Your past was a mystery." She smiled to cover the hurt caused by the knowledge that Tyler hadn’t cared to share those intimate details with her.

Instead of filling in the blanks now, he remained persistently silent, and Tiffany’s eyes stung with her hurt.
"After college I landed a job with Delcor and concentrated on climbing the proverbial corporate ladder," she went on to explain. "Each promotion meant more hours. More travel." Another excuse to avoid the Oak Ridge. By then, her feelings for Tyler had grown nostalgic. She’d believed visiting the ranch would be awkward for both of them, so she’d settled into a routine of phoning her father on the first Sunday of every month. Over the years he’d driven to Austin and spent Christmas Day at her condo. "The years flew by and I assumed we’d both moved on with our lives."

"Was it that easy for you—to move on?" His voice was steady, but his cheeks turned dusky. "Never mind. I didn’t ask that." He stood.
Tiffany popped out of the chair and blocked the exit. He searched for an alternative escape route. "No, Tyler, it wasn’t easy." When he made no move to pass by her, she explained, "I wanted to find myself." Right then, gazing into his brown eyes, she saw what she hadn’t seen all those years ago. "You couldn’t understand that, could you?" At only eighteen, Tiffany suspected the day Tyler had shown up at the ranch that he’d already gone through the process of finding himself.

"The moment your father offered me a bed and a job punching cows, I believed I’d finally found the place I belonged," he admitted.
A lump formed in her throat at his admission. "After all this time, I still don’t know who you are, Tyler, or where you arrived from the day you wandered in off the road."
"From places you couldn’t even imagine," he answered. "I promised you a tour of the barns." He bolted for the door. "Meet me at the truck in ten minutes."
And then he was gone, leaving Tiffany with a slew of questions, no answers and a yearning she hadn’t felt in years.

…

"So you’re the one who broke his heart."
Tiffany whirled at the sound of the feminine voice. A woman, dressed like a man, marched through the barn. When she stopped a few feet away, Tiffany sucked in a quiet breath. Tall, slim, with a jet–black braid ending in the middle of her back and high cheekbones that hinted at a Native–American heritage, the woman was stunning.
"Name’s Hannah. I’m in charge of the barns."
Tiffany finally found her tongue. "I’m—"
"Ben’s daughter." Hannah removed her cowboy hat, and the sun streaking through the barn door landed on her hair, creating a bluish–black glow around her head. "I’m sorry about your father. I was hired on six months ago and I’m afraid I didn’t have the chance to get to know him very well."
Tiffany motioned to the stalls along both sides of the barn. "I wasn’t aware that my father had started up a horse operation."
"The horses belong to Tyler." Hannah pushed her hat back. "He asked me to show you around while he takes a phone call in the office." She walked off and Tiffany had to hustle to catch up.

Outside the barn, Hannah veered toward the nearest paddock, where she pointed to the miniature cowboy riding a horse inside the ring. "That’s Dale. He’s mine." The boy appeared to be twelve or thirteen and had deep auburn hair.
"It’s just the two of us. Dale’s daddy isn’t in the picture anymore."
Did that mean Hannah was on the hunt for a new daddy for Dale? Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Are you and Tyler a…couple?"
Hannah’s mouth tilted in a wry smile. "Unfortunately, no. He’s not interested in me." She studied Tiffany. "I suspect you’re the reason. I saw the way he watched you earlier."

"Bubba’s looking good, Dale." Tyler hollered as he closed in on the paddock. Under the bright midday sun Tyler’s face appeared leaner, more angular.
"Hey, Mr. Ross!" Dale waved an arm.

When Tyler stopped at Tiffany’s side, she said, "Dad never told me you raised cutting horses." Not that she’d pestered her father for details about Tyler over the years. No sense clinging to the past when they’d both matured and had moved on—or so she’d thought.
"I’d best get back to work," Hannah announced, and then nodded to Tiffany. "Don’t be a stranger."
Once Hannah disappeared inside the barn, Tiffany asked, "Who named the horse Bubba?"
Tyler flashed a white grin that sent Tiffany’s heart into a backward flip. "The horse wouldn’t respond to any of the names we tried. Then one afternoon Dale wandered up to the training ring and called, ’Hey, Bubba!’ The horse trotted right over to the kid. Found out the boy had been sneaking into the barn at night to spend time with the gelding."
"Will Dale be upset when you sell Bubba?"
"I won’t sell the horse. If Hannah sticks around long enough, the kid will need a good mount for roundup."

The affection in Tyler’s voice convinced Tiffany he’d make a great father someday. Never mind that Hannah insisted Tyler wasn’t interested in her, Tiffany felt a jealous zap at the idea that with time Tyler might change his mind about the woman and her son.
"Before my father died, did you ever consider leaving the Oak Ridge and starting up your own ranch?"
"Nope." His gaze roamed her from head to toe before settling on her face. "Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here."



Chapter Four

The Oak Ridge Ranch was home to Tyler and always would be. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Nor did he want to. He hefted another bale from the corner of the hayloft and dropped it over the edge, where it landed with a smack against the concrete floor below.
What was he going to do if Tiffany decided to hang up her corporate career and run the ranch with him? You wish. Tiffany would never exchange her high–end salary and jet–setting ways for a herd of cows.

Twelve years ago, she’d been eighteen and eager to explore the world. Fourteen years ago, he’d been eighteen and had already explored the world more than he’d cared to. He’d landed at the ranch, looking for a place to hole up. Somewhere to hide from all the ugliness he’d seen. He’d never expected to stay. To want to stay. But he had and he did and the rest was history.

Maybe she’s experienced enough of the world and is ready to come home. The Tiffany who’d arrived last week was different from the one who’d left after high school. She’d lost the restlessness she’d possessed when he’d first met her. She was more settled, more sure of what she wanted out of life— years ago she’d been young and eager to try new things. Tiffany had definitely changed. The problem was he hadn’t. He was still the same old Tyler. A man she knew little about.

"Shut up," he muttered to the voice in his head, attempting to block out the thoughts. An hour ago he’d left Tiffany at the corral with Princess and he had escaped to the hayloft with the excuse that he needed to move bales. In reality he’d needed breathing room—enough space to take a deep breath without traces of Tiffany’s perfume and feminine scent filtering up his nostrils, short–circuiting his brain and spawning nonstop memories of their past together.

With renewed energy—mostly derived from an endless supply of frustration that had been intensifying the past few days, he muscled his way through another twenty–five hay bales, when the creak of the ladder caught his attention.

"You look thirsty." Carrying a water bottle, Tiffany stepped up into the loft. Her eyes went straight to the corner—the same corner where they’d exchanged their first kiss.

She remembers…

Instead of acknowledging the momentous moment from their past, she stated, "I’d forgotten how hot it gets up here."

Hot…
No kidding. He was ready to explode.
She handed him the drink, then moved in front of the open loft doors, where a gentle breeze ruffled her hair.

Tyler waited for her to break the awkward silence. When she didn’t, he asked, "How’d the saddle work on Princess?" Horses were a safe topic.
Tiffany’s smile zapped him in the chest. "Hartley gave me a few pointers."
About the only thing Hartley could do around the ranch these days was offer his two cents. The prehistoric hand suffered from crippling arthritis. He’d worked on the Oak Ridge almost forty years, and at eighty the geezer barely managed to fill the feed buckets and change the water in the horse troughs each day. But like Tyler, Hartley was a loner and had nowhere to go. As far as Tyler was concerned, the old man was welcome to live out the rest of his days in the room at the back of the barn.

Tiffany edged away from the window, step by step closing the gap between them. He wanted to demand she backpedal far enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her, but the words clogged in this throat. She stopped a few feet away. "I was wondering if you wanted anything in town. I have an errand to run."
Town? It consisted of a U.S. government mailbox sitting outside the Briggs Gas Depot; Maria’s Mexican Cantina, run out of the back of Maria’s home; the Antique Shed, stuffed with junk from the Spencer’s barn and Billy’s Auto Repair, which doubled as a Cowboy Church on Sunday mornings. He glanced at his watch— two o’clock. "Have you eaten lunch?"
She shook her head. "Why?"
Because he intended to tag along and see for himself the errand Tiffany had to do. He fussed with another bale. "I’ll drive you in and we can stop at Maria’s for lunch."
"The place is still open for business? I love her chicken enchiladas."
He recalled taking Tiffany there the night before she’d left for college. A sudden awkwardness had sprung up between them when he’d asked how soon before she’d return home for a visit. She’d assured him "not long." Had he known she’d meant twelve years, he’d have tried harder to convince her not to go.
"Meet me at the truck in twenty minutes." Twenty minutes—enough time to wash up and change his shirt, but not nearly enough time to prepare for the memories of that long ago evening.

…

An hour later, Tyler and Tiffany entered Maria’s Cantina through a side door. The savory scents of Mexican cooking transported Tiffany back to a time in her life when all she’d dreamed about was leaving this one–horse town. Back then she’d been sure there was more to life than what she’d seen thus far. Double sure that her happily–ever–after lay far away from the Oak Ridge and Briggs, Texas.
"Oh, my gracious, look at you, Señorita Reed!" Maria rushed from the kitchen, arms open wide.
Tiffany exchanged hugs with the woman, noting that Maria’s hair was completely gray now and she had put on several pounds. But her face hadn’t changed—kind brown eyes and a warm smile.
"I’ve missed you, Maria." The truth of Tiffany’s statement hit her like a sucker punch. Her mind raced to recall the name of one acquaintance or friend in Austin she’d feel this way about if she relocated from the city for good. None came to mind. She’d fled home to find herself—and she had—but she’d done it alone.
The long–time widow fluffed Tiffany’s short locks. "I’m sorry about your papa. He was a good man, God rest his soul." Maria made the sign of the cross.
"I’ll miss him," Tiffany admitted. And she would. Since his death there were a million questions she wished she’d asked her father over the years. Things she hadn’t cared to know until now— what he loved most about being a rancher. Why he never took off after her mother. Why he never remarried. Questions that would go unanswered forever.

Maria patted Tyler’s face. "Sit by the window. A handsome man like you is good for business."
Grinning at the red staining Tyler cheeks, Tiffany followed Maria to the table. "Don’t bother with a menu," she insisted. "I’ll have your famous chicken enchiladas."
"Make that two orders," Tyler agreed.
"I get the sangria." Maria scurried into the kitchen. At this hour of the day Tiffany and Tyler were the only patrons dining.
"What errand did you need to run?" he asked, fiddling with the silverware resting on his napkin.
"It’s not really an errand," she confessed. "More of a fact–finding mission." At his frown of perplexity, she hedged, "It’s difficult to explain."
"Try." Brown eyes narrowed and she resisted the urge to squirm.

Right then Maria appeared with their drinks and chips and salsa. Tiffany waited until the older woman retreated to the kitchen, and then said, "I wanted to walk around town to determine if it felt the same as it did all those years ago."
"How did Briggs feel back then?"
"Suffocating. Like a wet blanket thrown over me."
He shook his head, clearly confused. "You were surrounded by hundreds of miles of ranch land and open space."
"Exactly." She slapped her palm on the tabletop. "It’s all I’d ever known. I wanted to travel the world and meet people other than ranchers."
"You’ve done all that. Now what?"
Tyler had always possessed an uncanny ability to see into the very core of her being. "And now," she insisted, "I’m beginning to feel I’ve explored enough." She sipped her drink. "In some ways my job has become smothering."
"Tell me about your work. What’s a typical day like for you?"
Tiffany failed to recall the last time she’d talked about her job with anyone but her father. That Tyler appeared genuinely interested flattered her.
"Up at 5:00 a.m. Check e–mails. Shower. Check e–mails again before I call on clients. The remainder of the work day is spent setting up information systems for businesses. Then it’s back to the hotel or the airport. E–mail again. Dinner. E–mail. Bed." Her day was a lot more involved than that, but most people weren’t interested in detailed information on computer engineering, systems analysis or database administration.
"Doesn’t leave much room for relaxing or enjoying yourself."
"I did the tourist routine when I began working for Delcor. But I’ve traveled to the same countries so many times that the urge to sightsee isn’t there anymore." She dipped the end of a chip into Maria’s salsa. "What about you? Do you like to travel?"
"I’d done all the traveling I cared to by the time I was hired on at the ranch."
Tiffany was about to ask where he’d been, but he immediately directed the conversation back to her. "What do you do for fun when you’re in Austin?"
She laughed, the sound lacking humor. "I do the same thing in Austin that I do on the road —work. I attend management meetings. Schedule client visits. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch up on sleep." She blushed. "Seems boring, doesn’t it?"
"Appears as if you accomplished what you set out to do. I admire you for that. Not many people can testify to setting a goal and achieving it."
When he clammed up, she pestered. "But…?"
"But I’m wondering if maybe your goals have something to do with the ranch."
Darn, he was good. "The ranch has been on my mind more and more the past couple of years. Dad’s death opened my eyes to the truth."
"And what truth is that?"
"That I want more from life than just a good job."
"Ben said you’d gotten engaged once." Tyler didn’t make eye contact with her, but she sensed he was curious about her past relationship.
"Steven operated the London office for Delcor. I assumed the relationship would work. We both understood the demands of our jobs."
"What happened?"
"He strayed." Right under her nose. He’d been carrying on an affair for almost a year when Tiffany had discovered the French–cut lace panties in the laundry basket in his apartment.
"Did you love him?"
She hadn’t expected Tyler to voice that question. Her surprise must have shown on her face, because he blurted, "I’m sorry. It’s none of my business."
"I thought I did," she answered honestly. "But I think what I was really in love with was the idea that I’d found a man who fit into my life." She finished off her sangria. "I admit, his affair took me by surprise and made me question whether it was possible to really know someone." Tyler dropped his gaze to the tabletop and Tiffany wondered if he’d believed her comment had been directed at him. In a way it had—Tyler’s past remained a mystery.
"Is there anything about your life you’re not tired of?" he asked.
"My paychecks." She wrinkled her nose. "I pull down a salary most men would envy." And all she’d had time to do with her money was put it in an investment portfolio.
"And you’re ready to trade in that kind of salary?"
The kitchen door swung open. Before Maria delivered their meals, Tiffany whispered, "It all depends on what I get in trade for it."
And they both understood she wasn’t referring to her share of the ranch.



Chapter Five

He couldn’t avoid her forever.
Tyler stood on the foreman’s porch, eyeing the setting sun as it cast a shadow over the main ranch house. Since yesterday’s lunch in town with Tiffany, he’d made himself scarce. She’d blown him away when she’d all but admitted she’d trade in her career and her high–end salary for a second chance with him. He wasn’t worthy of her love, and feared that if she knew the truth about him, she’d change her mind. But if they were going to have a real second chance, then there could be no secrets between them.
He’d contemplated the risks—mainly to his heart—if Tiffany moved back home. Not only had she matured over the years, but he had, too. This time he wasn’t a rough–around–the-edges youth who believed he had all the answers to life— mostly the bad parts.
Dared he believe Tiffany was ready to settle for a man like him—a man with a past?
He wasn’t college–educated. In fact, he’d barely gotten a GED. But he’d busted his backside to forge himself a place on the ranch. He might not have been born a cowboy, but under Ben Reed’s watchful eye and tutelage he’d grown into one. A damn fine one, if he said so himself. Tyler was proud of the man he’d become. The question remained whether Tiffany would feel the same way once he spilled his guts. The only thing he was certain of right now was that he loved her. He hoped to hell that would be enough for her.

With determined strides he marched down the road to the main house. As he drew close, he spotted Tiffany in the rocking chair on the porch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When he hesitated at the bottom of the steps, she motioned to the empty rocker next to her. "Take a load off."
Like a man headed to the gallows, he climbed the steps, the wood planks creaking ominously beneath his weight. He bypassed the chair, and instead leaned against the porch rail. Hair mussed and no makeup on, she appeared vulnerable huddled beneath the blanket. He had to remind himself that she was a strong, capable woman. "There’s something you should know about me…something that might make a difference."
"A difference?"
He kept his gaze on her face, surprised at the amount of effort it required. "On whether you stay or go." He gripped the handrail until his fingers ached, and struggled to organize his thoughts—to conceal how much he yearned for her understanding.
"It’s okay, Tyler. You can tell me anything." Her quiet voice soothed his unsettled nerves and gave him the courage to forge ahead.
"I grew up on the south side of Fort Worth, in seedy neighborhoods overtaken by gangs. My mother floated from job to job. We spent just as much time on public assistance as we did off."
"Where was your father?"
"He was never in the picture." Tyler swallowed hard. No matter how many years went by, discussing the past never got easier. "School was difficult for me. I had trouble in almost every subject and spent more time in detention than in the classroom." Being angry at the world made it easier to survive the kind of life he’d lived—emotionally, that is. "The teachers passed me from one grade to the next. Nobody wanted to deal with a troublemaker."
Tiffany left her chair and stood before him. She cupped his cheek, her blue eyes wide. "Something bad happened, didn’t it?"
He nodded, soaking up her warm concern, wishing her touch were enough to erase the past. "When I was fourteen, I robbed an all–night liquor store."
Her stunned expression told him that his confession had caught her off–guard.
"I don’t know why I tried to rob the place—a stupid teenager with too much time on his hands." And too little supervision. His mom never kept track of him. He could have been gone for days on end and she wouldn’t have noticed.
"What happened?" Tiffany dropped her hand from his cheek.
He threaded his fingers through hers and dragged in a deep breath. "I didn’t even make it out the door. An off–duty cop walked in, sized up the situation and took me down before I even knew what hit me. Then the cop and the manager laughed when they discovered I’d used my finger as a gun."

"You had a rough life, Tyler." She rested her cheek against his chest.
He nuzzled his nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo and soaking up her strength. "The judge intended to give me probation because it was my first offense and I hadn’t dropped out of school yet. But my mom put on a big crying show and begged the judge to send me away to teach me a lesson. She spouted a bunch of crap about tough love and claimed she couldn’t handle me anymore." Tyler ignored Tiffany’s gasp.
"I found out later that my mom had hooked up with a guy who’d wanted me out of the picture." A tear escaped Tiffany’s eye and Tyler had to force himself to finish the story. "I ended up in the Texas Youth Facility at Gainesville. I was released when I turned eighteen."
"They kept you in there for four years? That’s insane!" Her outrage calmed his tortured soul.
He’d been a model prisoner the first year, until he’d been told that they couldn’t locate his mother to release him to. Until he’d understood his mother had literally abandoned him. Then… "I acted up. Didn’t follow the rules."
"Oh, Tyler." She sniffled against his shirt. "Where did you go when you got out?"
That Tiffany hadn’t run inside and locked the door amazed Tyler. "I returned to the only place I knew—the old neighborhood."
When he paused, she touched his face again. "Then what happened?"
Damn. She wanted to gut him—find out every last detail. "It’s difficult to explain, but the gangs, the poverty, all the run–down apartments and homes felt overpowering. I couldn’t breathe. I just knew I had to leave. So I hitchhiked south, working odd jobs for food and shelter along the way."
"How did you end up at our ranch?"
"A trucker dropped me off. I remember thinking I had a lot in common with the Oak Ridge." He shifted his gaze to the far end of the porch. "Oak Ridge," he uttered, embarrassed when his voice cracked.
"You weren’t broken. Just bruised," she protested, her arms tightening around him.
"After two years of wandering, I was tired, hungry and desperate enough to do anything for a place to rest for more than a night or two."
"My father never told me any of this," Tiffany confessed.
"He never asked where I’d come from or about my past, and I didn’t say anything for fear he’d make me leave." Ben had been the first person to lend a down–on–his–luck kid a chance and Tyler had been determined not to disappoint the rancher.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I never planned on staying more than a few weeks. But I learned to like the ranch, the wide–open space, the horses and cattle." He paused, hoping she’d believe he wasn’t exaggerating. "And I fell in love with you." He searched her eyes for a signal that she returned his feelings, but with her face in the shadows her expression was impossible to discern. After several seconds passed and she hadn’t responded to his declaration, he slipped from her hold and crossed the porch to the stairs, where he paused, and his back now to her. "I wanted you to know the kind of man you’d be dealing with if you decided to stay." Damn it, Tiffany, say something. "I figure a woman like you can do a hell of a lot better than me." He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "But if you should decide to take on this cowboy, I guarantee you won’t find another man on earth who’ll love you the way I will."

The way I already do.

…

"Wait!" Tiffany called to Tyler’s retreating back. "You can’t just walk away after dropping a bomb like that."
He froze at the bottom of the porch steps. In turmoil, Tiffany struggled to comprehend everything he’d confessed. Flashes from their past whizzed in and out of her brain, leaving her light–headed and off–balance. But things were becoming clearer by the minute…. Tyler’s interest in how she’d handled her mother’s abandonment. How his attempt to rob a store had been a cry for attention by a young boy who’d desperately needed his mother to care about him.
"I’m more hurt than angry or shocked that you never told me these things until now," she confessed.
"I didn’t want you to be afraid of me."
His quiet confession tweaked her heart. "I could never be afraid of you, Tyler." She descended the steps, tears welling in her eyes. "When you love someone, you share everything with them."
"I’m worried you’ll believe the reason I said I loved you is that I’m afraid of losing the ranch."
Until Tyler had posed the question, Tiffany hadn’t realized that in the back of her mind that uncertainty floated around. He didn’t permit her an opportunity to dwell on it.
"The Oak Ridge is the only place that’s ever felt like home to me. The only place I’ve ever felt that I belonged." He met her at the bottom of the steps. "But I understand now that the reason I stayed on all these years is that I kept hoping you’d come back. To me."
Oh, Tyler.
"Damn it, Tiffany," he cursed, his voice hoarse. "I’d give up my horses and my share of the ranch in a heartbeat just to have you."
"Since we’re being honest with each other, I have a confession of my own to make." With a soft smile, she said, "I love you, Tyler. And I want us to be together. After all these years we deserve our own happily–ever–after. But I’m afraid, too."
He clasped her hand. "Of what?"
"That I won’t be content living on the ranch." She raised her hand when he opened his mouth to protest. "You love this land. It’s where you belong. But I’m worried that after a while I’ll grow restless again. I enjoy spending time with Princess and I don’t mind mucking out a stall every now and then, but I need the intellectual stimulation my job offers."
Tyler’s expression softened as he threaded his fingers through her hair. "I’ve always admired your intelligence, Tiffany." The callused pad of his thumb stroked the sensitive skin across her cheekbone. "I know what it’s like to feel penned in and I’d never wish that for you."
"So you’d be okay if I began a consulting business of my own?" she asked.
"Honey, the only thing I would not be okay with is you not loving me anymore." He leaned in and she met him halfway. The kiss was like none they’d ever shared. It held forgiveness, the healing of old wounds. Love. A new beginning.
When they broke apart, she whispered tearfully, "How can I take away the pain of your past?"
"Leave the past where it belongs. All that matters is the future." His brown eyes smiled. "I think Ben would be happy for us."
Tiffany smiled. "I know Dad would happy that I found true love in the arms of a cowboy."

THE END

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