“If you think that’s goin’ to stop me, lady, then you obviously haven’t lived on a ranch.” Riggs chuckled to himself and went back to his grinding.
Winona sure had an interesting way of going from zero to sixty in five seconds. It was hard to believe this woman had been married three times. How she’d managed to find three men to put up with her, he’d never know. Sure, she was beautiful in that ridiculously glamorous “Hollywood” way that had no place in Hill Country. The moment he’d laid eyes on her he assumed that she shopped at www.CountryWesternFashion or something. A place where wealthy women shopped for clothes that made them look down to earth and approachable. Ha!
He didn’t know too much about her as he stayed away from gossip, preferring to keep to himself, take care of his family ranch, and anything or anyone else that needed tending to in this town. A pride of ownership fell over him to be a man of Stone Ridge. The town had become home to him and his two brothers after their parents lost custody of them.
All three had been adopted shortly after going into the foster system and had the good fortune to wind up in the home of Calvin and Marge Henderson. They’d been an older couple, already in their sixties when they took in three boys, and had been gone a few years now. All three brothers had inherited the cattle ranch since there were no biological children. Riggs took primary management for its running, with help from his younger brothers.
Though he worked part-time as a carpenter to supplement his income, he would first and foremost consider himself a cowboy. This patio addition job shouldn’t take long, but he’d had a few days last week when he couldn’t start work on the ranch-style home owned by Wanda and Merle Stephens. He’d gotten a late start. The princess had decided the patio, which would be fine in its current condition for any reasonable person, should be made into a “Florida room.”
Basically, an enclosed patio to be protected from all the elements, for one to sit and do nothing. He hoped nobody in Texas had a Florida room. But Merle had indulged her, as he imagined most men did.
Riggs wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The Texas heat beat down on his back and he wanted to pull off his sweat-soaked shirt.
So, Jeremy Pine had shown up for an interview. Riggs had no idea what the interviews were about, nor did he care. But she’d made no effort to hide the fact that she’d checked him out head to toe, and he’d done his best to school his expression into one of disinterest. It was a damn lie, of course, as he appreciated a good-looking woman as much as the next guy.
She was no girl, this one, but seemed fully at home in her own body and skin. Confident enough to give him hell. Ever since she’d arrived in town a few weeks ago, it seemed every single guy had noticed her. They often followed her around town in groups. He didn’t want her to get the stupid idea that he’d also be interested in being one of her groupies.
Still, he dropped the piece of cut wood and headed into the kitchen for that iced tea.
He found her in the air-conditioned kitchen strumming her guitar and singing softly. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t an expert at playing the guitar, though her voice was much better. Surprisingly sweet melodic sounds coming out of someone so damn ornery. She’d gone from sweet to menacing when he’d ignored her request to work quietly. Sue him, but he’d never been trained to hammer and saw softly.
She now slid him a look that would stop a clock. Those tight jeans of hers no doubt had tassels on the rear pockets. She wore a shiny pink halter top with plenty of glitter and tassels. On her feet were boots with intricate designs that would never see the dirt of a real ranch, and her platinum blond hair was styled long and straight. She wore a shit ton of makeup including eyelashes so long they could not possibly be natural.
“What?”
Apparently, he’d been staring too long.
“Nothin’, ma’am, came in for some of that sweet iced tea if you don’t mind.” He made this sound as if he was a twenty-year-old, the age of most of the men who worshipped at her altar.
At forty-two years of age, he never said, “if you don’t mind.”
She might have growled. “Stop calling me ma’am. I hate it.”
“Just tryin’ to be respectful.”
He opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to the pitcher. She didn’t seem the kind of woman to wait on a man and he wasn’t the kind to wait for a woman.
She helpfully pointed to the cabinet with the glasses. “No, you’re not being respectful, sir. You’re tryin’ to make me feel old.”
“A little sensitive?”
The moment she’d figured out he was here for the patio work she’d treated him like a leper. She was a strange one but maybe carpentry didn’t go well with her vision of a true cowboy.
“Have your iced tea and leave me alone,” she said now. “I’m tryin’ to write a song.”
“Just one thing. Don’t you think it’s Jeremy making you feel old? He’s about twenty-one, isn’t he?”
She strummed at her guitar and wouldn’t look at him. “He’s almost twenty-five, for your information.”
“Ah. A whole quarter of a century old.” He smiled as he gulped the iced tea.
She looked up, eyes narrowed. “Why are you such a smartass?”
“Comes naturally, I guess.”
“So what if he’s young?” She stopped strumming. “No man my age is interested in me.”
Because you’re a first-class ballbuster?
“Forty-something single men that I meet are always with twenty-something women. That leaves me with few options.” She looked up at him. “Besides, I’m not datin’ these men. They’re just comin’ to see me and to…to say hi.”
“Gotcha.” He drained the glass and set it down. “Well, Jeremy says ‘hi’ to a lot of women. Just thought you should know.”
“What do I care? He’s just a kid.”
It almost sounded as though she meant that, which puzzled him. He figured her for a famous woman who wanted a younger man to both keep up with her and serve as a status symbol. Not that he couldn’t keep up with her, because he was certain that he could. He didn’t care to. Too much makeup and all that. He refused to be attracted to her on principle. The sooner she got out of town the better for the young men of Stone Ridge. As a pseudo big brother to everyone in town, he wanted to caution any man who would get too close to her. She was trouble, and due to his age, at least he saw her coming.
“I’m sure that will break his heart,” Riggs said.
She snorted, then turned those incredibly blue eyes on him. He thought they would be even more beautiful were they not framed with fake lashes. He ignored the punch of attraction that hit hard and swift.
“You look to be around my age, so I’m sure you’re either married, in which case you have nothing to say to me about this, or you’re competing with Jeremy for all the girls.”
“I’m not married anymore, and I prefer women not girls.”
Look at that. He’d left the woman speechless.
Something told him he ought to record the day, the hour, and the minute.
Later, Riggs finished up for the day and decided he wouldn’t bother saying goodbye to the princess. He’d head to the only watering hole in town, the Shady Grind, for a cold beer. Maybe a game of pool to unwind. Just as he’d packed up his truck, the princess came wandering out and nearly tripped on a rock in those ridiculous boots.
“Hey, I’m sorry I fought with you,” she said, coming up to the tailgate.
“That’s alright. I’m tough enough to take it.”
“It’s just… You don’t know how hard it is for me.”
“Maybe your jeans are too tight?”
Despite the fact that he disagreed with them being too tight, seeing as they showcased one of her best assets, he didn’t mind indulging in the jab. He deeply resented the comment she’d made about forty-something single men going for younger women. She wasn’t wrong in that most forty-year-old men were married and settled down, and he would be, too, were it not for the fact that after his first failed attempt, he hadn’t wanted to risk that again.
Instead of glaring at the comment about her jeans, she hopped on the back of his tailgate. “If they were too tight, I couldn’t do this, could I?”
“That was a joke.” He smirked and set his toolbox on the truck bed.
“Funny. Look, I’m new in town and I don’t have many friends. Jackson is the only one and Eve hates me so we can’t really hang out.”
“I doubt Eve hates you.”
He felt compelled to defend his favorite veterinarian, who ran a tab for him and let him pay monthly on the bills he’d accumulated on the ranch. But he understood why Eve probably didn’t want Jackson spending too much time around his ex-wife, even if they’d apparently been married for only a matter of months.
“You’d be wrong about that,” Winona said, swinging her legs off the tailgate. “Ever since I—” She stopped herself and wouldn’t look at him.
“Since…?”
“Well, since I got to town and tried to talk him out of getting back together with her.”
“Hmm.”
Riggs often tried this approach with people. He didn’t comment after a bombshell statement like that one, to give the speaker some time to think it over. Come to their own realizations and conclusions. He really should have gone to college to become a counselor instead of law school to become a lawyer who didn’t practice law. People seemed drawn to tell him their troubles.
Her palms went up. “Okay! I guess I wouldn’t like that, either. But you didn’t see Jackson after what she’d done to him. I had to put him back together again. And he was a mess. He loved her and leaving him at the altar was cruel.”
He didn’t disagree so he nodded. “Our town is somewhat known for runaway brides.”
“It is? Why?”
“Different reasons. But I guess here a woman has so many options. Too many of them change their mind at the last minute.”
It hadn’t happened to him. But he’d been married young, straight out of college, when Jenny got pregnant. It hadn’t been the best beginning to a marriage even if he’d loved her. After losing her the way he had, he’d decided never to marry again. Having children would have been nice, yes, but at this point, he figured it wasn’t going to happen. Neither was love. And he wasn’t nearly as despondent about this as some thought he should be.
He enjoyed his freedom and ability to put in as much work into the ranch as required daily without being nagged about spending “quality time” together. Here and there over the years he’d had girlfriends and it was never worth the trouble. When he wanted a woman, he knew where to find one. No commitments and zero complications. He figured he was now too old and set in his ways for love and marriage. And as for kids, he served as pseudo big brother to half the men in town, and substitute dad for the younger ones.
“Hm. A town known for runaway brides.” Winona stopped swinging her legs and drew them up to her chest. The move was so decidedly down to earth and girlish that it unnerved him.
He put his hand out to help her down and she accepted it a moment later. “I’ve gotta go, princess.”
“Alright, well, princess is at least better than ma’am. You’ve probably got places to be.” When she jumped down, he took a step back to give her room. “Is there a woman waitin’ for you, Riggs?”
“No woman. Just a cold beer at the Shady Grind.” He cleared his throat. “You expectin’ anyone over tomorrow? For your interviews?”
“In the afternoon.”
“Okay, well, I’ll be sure to be done here early so you can have your quiet.”
She did a double-take and then smiled. It made her look ten times sweeter. “Thank you so much, Riggs.”
He tipped his hat, thinking this might be the end of their strange beginning, and headed off for that cold beer.
His phone buzzed and, glancing at the caller ID, he decided he had to take this, so he pulled over.
But Phil Henderson was the last person he wanted to deal with. “Yeah.”
“The developer wants your answer.”
“I already gave you my answer.”
“Yeah, but you said you would think about it some more.”
“I never said that, Phil. You have a way of hearing what you want to hear.”
“You’re still relatively young. Why would you want to saddle yourself with that cattle ranch when the developer is offering you several million for that land? Between you, Sean, and Colton, you could live the easy life.”
“Not interested in easy, or haven’t you heard I’m a rancher? This land has been part of the Henderson legacy for a hundred years, and we’re not going to be the firsts to give up.”
“You’re not even a real Henderson. You shouldn’t have that land.”
For Phil, this was what it always came down to. He was Calvin’s cousin, and a “true” Henderson. Despite the fact that he would have loved to dispute the land Riggs and his brothers had inherited, Phil didn’t have a case. Riggs had proved it time and again, citing case law, and his adoptive father’s iron-clad Living Trust. The land went to his sons, whom he considered Hendersons in every sense of the word.
“Tell the truth. Why do you care whether or not I sell? It’s long been decided you don’t have a stake in it. The developer has offered you a finder’s fee if we sell, hasn’t he?”
Riggs had recently suspected this. Right after his parents had died, Phil tried to stake a claim to the land. Many lawsuits later, Riggs thought he’d given up. And he had gone away for a few years, returning only a few months ago, coincidentally at the same time that a major developer had expressed interest in their land. Riggs didn’t believe in such big coincidences.
His parents had owned the land through generations, never selling or splitting up lots, and that’s the way Riggs would keep it. He regularly received inquiries from other ranches wanting to expand, and worse, offers from land developers. One of them had been quite persistent lately and thought they could fit quite a nice hotel on Henderson land. It would never happen under his watch.
“So what if they have? It’s not much, but it’s the only way I’m going to get any of what’s rightfully owed to me. You can’t hang on to that land forever.”
“Guess you’ll just have to stand by and watch me do it.”
“You know what your problem is?”
But Riggs had heard it all before. Trailer park scum.
Loser.
And the worst of them all: thief.
“You think you’re smarter than everyone else in the room. But your fancy schmancy law degree won’t get you out of this mess. You’re hanging on to that land by a thread and someday you’re going to lose it. But you think you can save the ranch, so you hang on. Don’t be the smartest idiot in the room. I don’t know how much longer this offer will be around.”
“Hell, I’m hoping they give up soon.”
“It would be your bad luck if they did, seeing as it might be your only way out of the mess you’re in.”
“I’ll manage, thanks.” And with that, Riggs disconnected the call and got back on the road.
The Shady Grind was crowded for a weeknight, but it had been nearly every night since Jackson Carver had bought it from Priscilla, the former owner. All the regulars were in attendance. His brother Sean would be here, too, if he hadn’t sent him to a cattle auction in Dallas yesterday. Riggs hated to admit it, even to himself, but he didn’t want to go straight home to a quiet and empty house tonight. Delores, his housekeeper, was like a second mother to him and she’d nag him about this or that. And when his brothers were around, those two never stopped talking or arguing.
Jolette Marie was one of a few women here tonight and a regular. There was Lenny in the corner, retired now, though he filled in as one-third of the volunteer Fire Department and did other odd jobs. Jackson Carver currently stood behind the bar, but if every other night Riggs had stopped in so far was any indication, he’d soon be pulled onstage for a song or two. Levi, a horse wrangler, was his back-up bartender.
“Hey, Riggs!” Jackson said from behind the bar. “Wanna beer?”
Riggs took over an empty stool. “I’ll have one.”
A couple of months ago, Jackson had come back from Nashville for his brother’s wedding and wound up reuniting with Eve, his runaway bride. He’d taken over the bar and grill, appropriate, since he’d had his start singing here. Riggs hadn’t minded the place when Priscilla ran it, but he had to admit that just having Jackson around had infused it with a new life and kind of younger vibe. He was working on replacing the old tired jukebox in the back with a first-rate sound system.
“Here, try this.” Jackson set a bottle down. “It’s an IPA. Something new.”
Riggs wound up sitting next to Jeremy, and his friend Todd, so after a few minutes of small talk he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Hey, what were you interviewin’ for today?”
Jeremy gaped at him. “She told you?”
“No, we didn’t talk much.”
“She’s…um, she’s lookin’ for a personal assistant,” Jeremy said, and his friend Todd elbowed him, grinning.
Riggs didn’t see why she would need a personal assistant when all she’d done today was stay in the house trying to play her guitar and complain about how loud he was. Maybe she’d be sending someone to complain on her behalf. Though, he imagined there were probably lots of behind the scenes stuff that celebrities had to do. He had no idea. All he really knew was that Winona was renting the house for the summer and that she was Jackson’s wife for about two minutes.
Riggs stuck around long enough for a game of pool and one song from Jackson before he called it a night. As he left, he noticed for the first time the flyer in the corner of the bar:
Winona James
Live
Proceeds of ticket sales will go to the new medical clinic
They’d used an older photo of her, a glamour shot if ever there was one. Her hair looked windblown, and she appeared to be walking down a hill in the middle of a wide field as she looked steadily into the lens, those blue eyes intent and dramatic. She looked beautiful enough to be a model. A spike of longing thrummed through him that he was determined to ignore. He was a confirmed bachelor and had been for years. There was no room in his life for a woman, and certainly not one like this. She had high-maintenance written all over her. Not that she was staying, which in some ways might be kind of perfect. Maybe a fling would be in order, not that she’d be interested in taking scraps from any man.
He wasn’t willing to give any woman a commitment, because his life was perfect. Quiet. Content. No need to switch things up now. Marriage and children were for other people. Not him.
But for the first time since he could remember, Riggs wondered what a certain woman was doing tonight.