How to Seduce a Texan Read online

  Brian reached into the cooler that was just inside the barn and pulled out a beer, tossed it to Cal. Cal caught it, twisted off the cap as Brian grabbed one for himself, then joined him at the back of the pickup.

  “Tomorrow.” At least, he was pretty sure it was tomorrow. Yeah, he was certain she’d said tomorrow. She’d sounded nice. Cal thought he’d detected a bit of desperation in her voice, as though she really needed the job.

  What the hell was he supposed to do? Brian needed to fill the position fast and the woman said she had experience. He grimaced, knowing exactly what he’d done. He might have implied that she was already hired.

  He’d let Brian sort it out. His little brother was good at fixing stuff. Besides, Brian needed a new therapist. She needed a job. Two problems solved.

  “Andy said you put a woman up at the homestead. A young, pretty woman.” Brian tilted the bottle against his lips and took a long drink.

  “Nikki Scott.” The therapist was quickly forgotten as he lost himself in a mental vision of Nikki.

  Brian half sat on the open tailgate. “Do you think that was a smart move? No one has stayed there in months.”

  “It was the only thing available.”

  “Still, I’d hate for her to tell anyone what it’s like out there. That’s not what this ranch is about unless someone really wants to see how things used to be. This Nikki Scott doesn’t sound as though she fits the bill. What does she do for a living?”

  “She’s a reporter.”

  Brian choked on his beer.

  Cal pounded his brother on the back. “You going to live?”

  He took a deep breath. “Not if she writes about her stay at the homestead. I know you hate reporters, but don’t take it out on this woman, especially not on my ranch. Why the hell didn’t you just tell her we were full?”

  He grinned as he remembered the way Nikki had sounded on the phone. “She had a voice that made me think of long nights of hot sex.”

  Brian grimaced. “I would think Cynthia had cured you of those kinds of thoughts—at least for a while.”

  Cal frowned. “You really know how to kill a moment, little brother.”

  “If she writes a bad review I’ll do more than kill the moment. I’ve worked hard to make a go of this place. I’d hate to think it was all a waste.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you’ve put too much into it. There’s something to the old saying that all work and no play makes a person hard to be around.”

  Or something like that. It was the truth, though. Brian had forgotten how to play. When little brother frowned, he continued.

  “Don’t worry, she’s not here to write a review about the ranch. Jeff called to warn me about her.”

  “Jeff? From college?”

  “Yeah. Nikki’s here to dig up what dirt she can get about me and Cynthia.”

  “All the more reason to get rid of her,” Brian said. “You don’t need more reporters hounding you. That’s why you came here in the first place.”

  Cal laughed. “Yeah, I thought Nikki would turn her car around and leave when she saw the place. Man, it looks rougher every time I set eyes on it. Nikki must’ve thought so, too, but she tried to hide her expression. Not that it did any good. Shock was written all over her face.”

  “But she didn’t leave.”

  He shook his head. “Not even when she opened the cabinet and came face-to-face with Bandit.”

  Brian chuckled. “I’d like to have seen that. I can’t believe that old coon is still alive. He must be at least twelve years old by now.”

  Cal realized that was the first time he’d heard his brother laugh in a long time. It was nice. “No, the best was when I told her about the outhouse. That was sweet.”

  “I doubt it was to her.” He shook his head. “Damn, I should’ve bulldozed it a long time ago, but I didn’t want to get that close.” He took a swig of beer and swallowed. “But she’s still there?”

  “She’s tenacious, I’ll give her that. Jeff said they call her The Barracuda. I think I’m finding out how she got the name.”

  “If she sees the ghost, she’ll be out of there quick enough.”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you still believe the place is haunted.”

  “I know it is. Saw the spirit myself.”

  “You saw it?”

  Brian shrugged. “Well, yeah—sort of. It was more like shadows and light. Once, I thought I heard a voice call my name. I’m telling you, the place is haunted.”

  Cal snorted. “Whatever.”

  “So she has a nice voice, but what does she look like?” Brian suddenly changed the subject.

  Cal glanced at his brother, really looking at him. He wasn’t all that little anymore—six two, at least—and he was tanned from days spent in the sun. His dark good looks had caused more than one girl to go into a fit of giggles when they were in school. Nikki wouldn’t be any more immune than most women. Brian would crook his finger and she’d tremble with anticipation. For some odd reason, that bothered Cal.

  “What does she look like?” he repeated Brian’s question, then cleared his throat. “Butt ugly. Remember that old nag Grandpa used to have?”

  “The gray one with buckteeth?”

  “That’s the one. If you had a picture of both of them, you wouldn’t be able to tell which one was the horse and which one was the woman.” He didn’t look at his brother but tilted the bottle of beer to his lips.

  “But Andy said she was pretty.”

  Cal snorted. “Yeah, well, look at some of the women Andy has dated.”

  Brian nodded. “Yeah, he really needs to get his eyes checked.” He straightened, drained his bottle of beer, and tossed it toward a large trash can that was near the barn. It clanked as it hit inside. “You can be the one who makes sure she doesn’t kill herself while she’s at the cabin, then. She’s your problem.”

  That’s what he’d hoped Brian would say. He didn’t need his brother getting gaga over a pretty skirt and tell things he shouldn’t be telling. That wasn’t the only reason he’d lied, but it was the only one he wanted to admit to right now.

  “Besides,” Brian continued. “The old homestead is haunted. Don’t you remember the stories Grandma used to tell us? I’m not going near the place. It wouldn’t matter if Nikki Scott was the hottest woman on earth.”

  “You’re full of it.” Cal laughed. His brother would never convince him the homestead had a ghost. “I think you made the whole thing up when we were in high school and you were sneaking up there with Wanda Jo. You didn’t want anyone following the two of you to find out what y’all were doing.”

  Brian’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Well, that, too, but there really was a ghost. Why do you think I quit sneaking up there?”

  “You’re saying I should confirm your story with Wanda Jo?” Cal raised his eyebrows.

  Brian shook his head. “No way. She married Wayne Harris and I don’t want to cross paths with him.”

  “Ape Man Harris?” He tried to visualize Wanda Jo with Ape Man. Nope, it just wasn’t coming to him.

  “Yeah, a couple of years ago. I thought I told you about it.”

  Cal tossed his empty beer bottle into the trash can and they started walking toward the ranch.

  “No, you didn’t mention it. I don’t blame you for wanting to keep your distance. Is Ape Man still as ugly as he used to be?”

  “Uglier.”

  “Why the hell did Wanda Jo marry him?”

  Brian paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “He has big hands?”

  Cal’s forehead wrinkled; then he started to laugh. He didn’t stop until they were near the back door of the ranch.

  “Yeah, Wanda Jo liked…big hands, didn’t she? Is that why she dumped you?”

  Brian grinned. “Compared to Ape Man? No one’s hands even come close.”

  There were some good things about being back on the ranch, too. For just a few minutes, it had seemed as though the years between them were gone. W
hen Cal looked up, he could almost see Grandma at the door holding a plate of cookies and smiling like she always did.

  “You boys wash your hands and you can have some of the cookies I just took out of the oven.” She wiped her hands on her apron.

  And then she faded away.

  Some things you couldn’t bring back—all you had were the precious memories—but maybe some things could grow stronger. Like his relationship with Brian. It had felt good to cut up with him. They’d each gone their own ways after college.

  Before he stepped inside the house, he glanced toward the cabin that was hidden from view by tall pecan and oak trees. Yeah, it wasn’t so bad to come back home.

  Chapter 5

  Nikki didn’t like washing down a PB&J with water, but that’s all she had. What she wouldn’t give to have an ice-cold glass of milk.

  At least her stomach wasn’t growling anymore. Not exactly five-star cuisine. This was definitely roughing it.

  After brushing the crumbs off her hands, she went to her car and retrieved her suitcases from the trunk. She wanted to have most of her things inside before it got too dark.

  A shiver of dread ran down her spine. Staying in the middle of nowhere by herself at night didn’t hold a bit of appeal. At least in the city, she knew what to expect. This country quiet was more than a little unnerving.

  She carried her cases inside and set them down in front of the bedroom door. Hadn’t she left it open? Apparently not, or it would still be open. Her short laugh was supposed to reassure her, but it came off sounding a little cracked. There were no such things as ghosts. Cal had probably shut the door when he left and she hadn’t noticed.

  But after she opened it, she stood there for a moment looking around before she picked up her cases and went inside. Of course the room was empty. Really, what had she expected? A ghost to jump out and scream, “Boo!”?

  But it still didn’t stop the cold inside the room from washing over her—a damp, muggy feeling.

  “I’m really losing it,” she muttered.

  She carried the cases over to the bed and set them down, then sniffed.

  What was that smell? She sniffed again. It smelled like apple pie. She closed her eyes and inhaled a little deeper. Nice. Just as quickly she opened them, realizing just how ridiculous she was being.

  This was what happened when she didn’t take off time from work. The next time she spoke to Marge, Nikki was going to tell her she wanted a real vacation and she didn’t care what her parents thought. She was a big girl.

  The bedroom didn’t look too bad. She’d removed the two sheets that had protected the mattress from dust. There was bedding in one of the boxes. It took her only a few minutes to make the antique iron bed. It looked comfortable, almost cozy.

  Whatever she had to tell herself.

  She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. The evening stretched before her. Boredom had never been a problem. She always had an invitation to go to a party or something. Friends, good wine, good food—her nights would stretch into the wee hours of the morning.

  She glanced at her watch again. Three and a half minutes had passed.

  So now what did she do? Unpack?

  There was an armoire, and when she cautiously looked inside, she found hangers. No critters. But when she opened her suitcases, she realized she’d brought all the wrong clothes. She had two pair of slacks that would work, but she was afraid the dresses and her loungewear wouldn’t do at all. She certainly didn’t want to ruin the expensive clothes she’d worked hard to buy. Maybe the last town she’d driven through would have something more suitable.

  She sat on the side of the bed, the energy suddenly draining from her. What was she doing out here? Really. Was she chasing after a story or a man—or something more? Sometimes she felt as though her life wasn’t complete. Which was crazy. She’d traveled all over the world; she had an exciting job; she dated, went to lots of parties.

  It was because she was almost thirty. That had to be it. She was getting old.

  Enough! She wasn’t getting old; her biological clock could tick all it wanted because she wasn’t keen on having kids or getting married anytime soon, if ever. She stood and quickly went back to unpacking.

  Why the hell was she even thinking like this? Hormones? No, that was over last week. Allergies? Maybe she was allergic to all this country air. That had to be it. Once she was back in the city, she wouldn’t have time to be morose.

  She closed the suitcases after unpacking what she thought she could use, then stuck them under the bed before wandering to the front porch. The rocker looked safe enough. She dusted it off, then gingerly sat in it and gave a gentle push with her foot. At least it didn’t collapse beneath her.

  Silence.

  No, there was another sound. The rumble of a pickup. She stayed where she was as the sound grew closer. Then the pickup came around the corner, headlights glaring at her.

  Excitement made her heart beat faster, but she kept her seat. Outwardly, she knew she looked calm. She watched as the pickup came to a stop.

  Cal.

  He killed the engine and got out, then reached in the back. Her gaze moved south. She liked the way his jeans stretched taut over his backside.

  Nice. Very nice.

  He turned, grasping an ice chest by the end handles. “Your block of ice. I brought some perishables, too. They’re in the back.”

  She had a feeling that meant she was supposed to carry them inside. His gallantry took her breath away.

  Not that it made that much difference. Her parents had always taught her to carry her own weight. Even though they had plenty of money, she had her own chores when she was growing up. It didn’t bother her a bit to carry in the other box. She was not a frail female—well, unless there were wild critters around.

  She grabbed the open box, glancing at the contents as she carried it inside the cabin. Butcher paper. Meat? Probably. Catsup, mustard, and mayo. No butter. No eggs. She frowned. Eggs would’ve been nice. Butter, too. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to cook an egg.

  Cal was just putting the block of ice in the box when she walked inside the kitchen.

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you in the morning.” He started back through the cabin.

  “You’re leaving?” She set her box on the table. “Right now?”

  He stopped on the porch and studied her. She could feel her nipples tightening as his gaze slowly caressed her.

  “Was there something else you wanted?” he drawled.

  Maybe it was the way he’d said the words, all soft and lazy. It made her think he would stay if he had the right incentive. But what else did she want?

  Cal in her bed, that was what else she wanted, but she didn’t tell him that. He looked a little too smug. She wasn’t sure what his game was, but she wasn’t playing, at least not this time.

  “Is it always this quiet?” she asked instead.

  “Quiet?”

  She thought for a moment he’d leave, but instead, he half sat on the wooden rail that ran the length of the porch. “It’s not quiet at all. Listen.”

  She did but still didn’t hear anything. She shook her head. “What am I listening for?”

  “A sparrow is angry. Another bird is probably trying to steal her nest. Can you hear her?”

  She cocked her head to the side. The bird was raising a big fuss. “Yes, I can.” Strange that she hadn’t heard any birds earlier. “She does sound put out, doesn’t she?”

  “And look over there in that pile of leaves and sticks. There’s a squirrel foraging for nuts.”

  She followed where he pointed and stared for a few minutes. It was getting dark enough that she could barely see. But sure enough, a squirrel popped its head up.

  “The chickens have already bedded down for the night,” he told her. “But you’ll see and hear them in the morning when you gather the eggs.”

  “Gather the eggs?”

  “They have nesting boxes. It’s not that hard. You jus
t reach beneath them and take the eggs.”

  Eggs didn’t sound nearly as good as she had thought they would. “Don’t they bite…or something?”

  He grinned as though she’d said something funny. How the hell was she supposed to know what chickens did?

  “They might peck, but most of them don’t mind if you get their eggs.”

  She was stealing their eggs, then eating them. Murdering their offspring. Of course, they probably wouldn’t mind. Uh-huh, sure.

  “See you in the morning.” He straightened and went to his pickup.

  She couldn’t think of another excuse for him to stay and keep her company. Unless she wanted to rip off her clothes and throw herself at him. She wasn’t quite that desperate—yet.

  Nikki could only watch him drive away. At least it wasn’t quiet anymore. No, now she heard all kinds of animals making noise, rustling in leaves. Critters. She missed the quiet.

  She went inside and walked to the back door, then stared at the shadowed outhouse. She’d have to use the flashlight so she could see the path.

  How much water would she need to take in to ward off dehydration but keep her from having to go to the outhouse as often?

  Procrastination didn’t sit well with her.

  With determination, she grabbed the flashlight and went out onto the back porch. She gritted her teeth and stepped off, then marched down the path. She could do this. It wasn’t as though she was made of glass. Anything Cal said she had to do, she would do. She was made of sterner stuff than he could even imagine.

  She swung the door open and stepped inside.

  Oh, Lord, it was worse than she’d remembered. Her eyes crossed as a shiver of revulsion made her tremble from head to foot. She clamped her lips together.

  All she had to do was hold her breath. She swam at the gym pool all the time and she could hold her breath a long time. She jerked her skirt up and her panties down, then gingerly sat over the hole, careful not to get a splinter. That’s all she needed—an infected ass. Try explaining that one.

  Oh, God, she needed to breathe.

  Why the hell had she drunk so much water?

  She hurried to finish, then yanked her panties up and her skirt down, opened the door, and was halfway down the path before she inhaled. Fresh air.