Hitched to the Horseman

Her blood simmering, Mercedes tossed her head, sending her thick hair rippling down her back. “She was thinking that we’re two adults with a job to do. Not to claw and hiss at each other.”

Gabe’s eyelids lowered as his gaze settled on her lips. “Or to make love,” he whispered hoarsely.

Make love.

She didn’t know whether it was those two words or the low growl of his voice that sent a sultry shiver down her spine. Either way, she couldn’t stop her body from gravitating towards his. “That—won’t be on the agenda.”

“Unless you want it to be.”

Stella Bagwell sold her first book in November 1985. Now, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. She and her husband live in Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches maths in nearby Port Lavaca.

To my husband, Harrell,

my very own horse trainer. All my love.

What the hell was he doing here?

Gabriel Trevino tilted the bottle of beer to his lips to hide his frown as his eyes cut across the sweeping lawn filled with people. Normally his social events consisted of sharing a beer with his buddies behind the bucking chutes at a local rodeo. This gathering at the Sandbur Ranch could hardly be compared to that sort of tobacco-spitting, curse-laden entertainment. Even the boring parties Sherleen had dragged him to during their ill-fated union paled in comparison to tonight’s lavish celebration.

The best that money could buy.

The food, the drinks, the five-piece band, the women with hunks of diamonds glittering at their necks and wrists. Only in Texas, he thought wryly, could a woman justify wearing her best to an outdoor barbecue.

Leaning against the massive trunk of a live oak, he turned his attention to the portable dance floor that had been erected several yards away from the house. Presently, it was crowded with couples. Some of them old, some young, all of them having a high old time kicking up their heels to the Cotton Eyed Joe.

“What’s the matter, Gabe? Don’t you like to dance?”

Glancing around, he saw Geraldine Saddler, the matriarch of the Sandbur, approaching him. The tall, elegant woman with silver hair hardly looked like a woman who knew how to burn a brand into a cowhide, but since he’d come to work here at the ranch two months ago, he’d seen her do things that would make even some cowhands squeamish.

“Sometimes,” he replied.

Eyeing him keenly, she smiled. “Just not now?”

Embarrassed that his discomfort was showing, Gabe straightened away from the tree and turned to face her.

“It’s enough for me just to watch, ma’am.”

Kindness and grace emanated from Geraldine and for one brief moment, Gabe wondered what his mother’s life would have been like if she’d been exposed to this sort of wealth, if she’d had a nice home, plenty of food and enough money to pay the bills with plenty left over for luxuries.

“This is the first party we’ve had since you arrived here on the ranch,” Geraldine remarked. “I’d like to think you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a real nice affair, Ms. Saddler. Real nice.”

Looping her arm through his, she chuckled. “Come along, Gabe. I want to introduce you to someone.”

Not about to offend her by protesting, Gabe allowed the woman to guide him through the milling throng of merrymakers until they reached the patio where several people were standing around in a circle.

Lex Saddler, Geraldine’s son and the man who regulated the cattle sales here at the Sandbur, was one of them. Apparently he’d just said something funny, because a tall, blond woman was laughing rowdily. She was wearing a skimpy white sundress with vivid tropical flowers splashed along the hem. The garment struck her long legs somewhere in the middle of her tanned thighs while the top was held up by tiny straps that could easily be snapped beneath the pressure of his fingers. Unlike most of the other young women present tonight, she wasn’t stick-thin. She had enough flesh to fill out the sundress with delicious curves.

As Gabe and the boss lady drew nearer to the group, the blonde turned slowly toward them. Almost instantly, a faint look of unease crossed her features, as though seeing him with Geraldine was like spotting a wolf in a pen full of sheep.

“Mercedes, come here,” Geraldine called to her. “I’d like for you to meet someone.”

Mercedes. This was Geraldine’s daughter, he realized. Lex and Nicci’s sister. She was the reason hordes of guests had swarmed upon the Sandbur Ranch tonight. She was the reason he was standing here wishing like hell he was somewhere else.