Wild About the Wrangler

Book 2: A Sexy Texans Novel

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Western Romance

Synopsis

Expert rider Mac Foster's got it bad for Anastasia Bickford, but he's fighting it. Not only is she a friend-she's his boss's sister, making her the last person he should be lusting after. To make matters worse, she's creating a name for herself as an artist, and it's only a matter of time before the world comes knocking at her door.



Though Anastasia has a growing reputation for her vivid drawings of a legendary wild stallion they call the Ghost, she's never seen him. A secret fear of horses has forced her to rely only on photos. Since no one knows the Ghost better than Mac, he can help her overcome her fear by teaching her to ride. But in order to get closer to the stallion, she'll have to get closer to the man.

Contains mature themes.

Release date: November 3, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 336

Sample

PROLOGUE

Anastasia waited until everyone was sound asleep before she crawled out of bed. Mommy said horses were dirty and smelly and no little girl of hers was ever getting on one.

Oh, yes, she was.

Her new stepsister, Georgie, got to ride her very own horse named Prince. Anastasia’s new daddy had a horse, too, and Georgie got to ride with him. It wasn’t fair.

Riding didn’t look hard. You didn’t even need a saddle. Georgie sometimes climbed right up on Prince and rode off like girls in the movies.

And Georgie had a whip. Her daddy—well, Anastasia’s daddy now, too—had taught Georgie to do tricks with it. Mommy said no little girl of hers would be doing tricks with a whip, either. Georgie got to do all the fun stuff.

Quiet as a mouse, Anastasia went downstairs and out the back door. Maybe she should have put on shoes. Lots of rocks out here. Ouchy. But it wasn’t cold.

She had to shove real hard to slide the piece of wood out of the way so she could open the barn door. She left it open because she’d be coming out again. On Prince. Her heart jumped around like a frog in her chest.

A yard light helped her see what she was doing. The stall wasn’t easy to get open, either. But she finally got it.

She reached up, took hold of Prince’s mane and tugged. “Come on, Prince.” He came right out, almost knocking her over. “Stop!”

He stopped, and she dragged a stool close to him. Getting on wasn’t so easy, either. And once she was sitting on his back, she was surprised to see how high off the ground she was. His back was wide and kind of slippery.

Holding his mane, she kicked his sides. “Go!”

He walked out of the barn and into the meadow. Her tummy turned somersaults. She was riding! But not very fast. She kicked him again, harder. “Go, go, go!”

He did, and it was yucky. She bounced and bounced. “Stop!”

But he only went faster! This wasn’t fun at all! Crying and screaming, she tried to hold on, but his neck was too big. She couldn’t reach around it.

She yelled as loud as she could. “Noooooo!”

Just like that, he stopped and she was in the air. When she landed a second later, she hit the ground hard, too hard. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest hurt.

Oh, no. He was coming. The horse blew through his nose and his hooves were huge.

“No!” She tried to scoot back. “No! Noooooo!”

She scrambled backward and screamed until her throat hurt. He finally went away. She sat and shivered, afraid to make a noise, afraid to move as her heart thumped really loud.

After a long time, she heard Georgie calling. She tried to answer, but it was a tiny sound. Her throat hurt so bad. Georgie called again, and she made another squeaky noise.

Then she saw the flashlight bobbing along. But she heard something that made her whole body shake. Hoof

beats. She made herself get up even though she ached all over.

The bobbing light came closer. She saw Georgie riding her daddy’s horse and leading Prince with a whip around his neck.

She backed away. But running was no use. She sucked in all the air she could. “No horses!”

It wasn’t loud. But Georgie stopped. Then she climbed down. Holding the flashlight, she came over. “Oh, Anastasia. What were you thinking?”

“No horses,” she whispered.

Georgie brushed dirt and pieces of grass away from her face. Then she ran her hands over her arms and legs. “You seem to be in one piece, but you’re in big trouble, kid.”

She imagined her mommy’s face, red and mad. “D-don’t tell.”

Georgie wiped away her tears with the tail of her shirt. “Shh. Don’t cry. I won’t tell, but we have to head back before somebody else wakes up. You can ride with me. Come on.”

“No!” She stumbled backward.

“Come on. You have to get back somehow. I need to put these horses away and clean you up.”

“I’ll walk.”

“Just let me boost you up on—”

“No!”

Georgie sighed. “All right. Here’s the flashlight. Me and the horses will lead you home. I’ll go slow.”

She nodded and took the flashlight.

“But someday you’ll have to get back on a horse, Anastasia. It’s what people do when they fall off.”

She looked at the two giant horses standing in the meadow and shivered. “No,” she whispered. “Never.”

CHAPTER 1

Present day

“Mac, you must be craving that cold beer.” Travis hurried to keep up as they walked down Bickford’s main street after another successful trail ride. “You haven’t moved this fast since the time Vince snuck a tarantula into your shower.”

“And let the record show I haven’t forgiven him for that.” But Mac modified his pace. Yeah, he was looking forward to sipping a cold one at Sadie’s Saloon, but he was more focused on showing Anastasia the new pictures on his phone.

He’d snapped some beauties of the wild stallion and his herd on the overnight trail ride this weekend and Anastasia would go nuts over them. But he didn’t want Travis to know that was why he’d unconsciously lengthened his stride. Knowing Travis, he’d read too much into it.

Anastasia Bickford was just a friend, and that’s the way it would always stay. In the short time he’d lived here, they’d established the kind of relationship where they could talk about anything. Anastasia was a talented artist, and with a creative mind like hers, the topics were never dull.

“I like to savor my walk down Main Street after a trail ride,” Travis said. “Makes me feel like a hero.” He tipped his hat to a resident who walked by and called out a greeting. “People are grateful to us, Mac. I mean, just look at the difference we’ve made in this town.” He gestured toward the colorful storefronts and the bustling tourist trade.

“Just remember, Vince got the ball rolling, not us.”

“Yeah, but we keep it rolling.”

“True.” Mac did take satisfaction in that as he gazed at the revitalized town. They were having a mild fall season, not much rain and not a hint of snow. Mac’s denim jacket kept him plenty warm in the evenings, and during the day he was in his shirtsleeves. Perfect weather for trail rides.

Most shop windows displayed a poster version of Anastasia’s painting advertising Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. It was a great image, but then Anastasia was a great artist. The poster featured a majestic gray stallion against a blue Texas Panhandle sky.

Mac couldn’t believe how much things had changed in Bickford in the last six months. He, Travis, and Vince had come to town then for a reunion, thinking they’d relive the fun times they’d had while working at a nearby guest ranch. They’d arrived to find stores boarded up and the town on the verge of collapse. After the guest ranch closed, the local economy had tanked, but Vince had saved the day with his brainstorm to offer trail rides into the canyon to see wild horses and their legendary leader, the Ghost.

“The way I look at it,” Travis said, “we guide the trail rides, right?”

“Right.”

“And according to those online surveys Anastasia sends out, customer satisfaction is high.”

“So she says.” He got a kick out of Anastasia’s excitement over those surveys. He also suspected she deleted the negative ones.

“Which means we’re doing a helluva job and I’m gonna claim some credit. Hello, ladies.” He touched the brim of his hat as they passed a couple of tourists laden down with shopping bags. “You oughta come on the trail ride,” he called after them. “I lead it!”

“Then we just might, cowboy!” one of them called back.

Mac shook his head. The actual trail boss was the one bringing up the rear, which would be Mac, but Travis did love to flirt.

“See? I just drummed up more business by being my usual outgoing self. You and I are vital to the success of this venture.”

“You certainly are. You should get a sandwich board and a bullhorn.”

“Nope. Doesn’t fit my cool-dude image. But speaking of sandwiches, I’m hungry.” Travis paused at the entrance to Bickford’s refurbished ice-cream shop with its red-and-white-striped decor. “I have a hankering for a hot fudge sundae with extra fudge and nuts. Let’s do it.”

“You go right ahead. I’d rather have a cold beer.”

“We’ll have both. We’ll drink beer after we finish the sundaes.”

Mac grimaced.

“You’re such a finicky eater, Mac Foster. Go ahead to Sadie’s. I’ll catch up with you after I have my primo sundae.”

“Suits me.”

“But don’t start the darts tournament until I get there.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” In the late afternoons, they’d formed the habit of playing darts with Anastasia and anyone else who was interested. “I’ll just drink until you get there.”

“Perfect. I’ll be sharp and you’ll be sloshed.”

“As if that would keep me from beating you, amigo.” Mac grinned and continued on to Sadie’s. He was just as glad Travis had decided to stop for ice cream. Talking to Anastasia about the pictures would be easier without Travis hanging over his shoulder making comments and doing his usual flirting. Travis wouldn’t ask her out, though, for the same reason he wouldn’t.

Anastasia was Georgie Bickford’s little sis, and Georgie was officially in charge of Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Vince had dreamed up the idea but he hadn’t wanted to run the thing. He hadn’t even planned on sticking around to see how the business worked out, but that was before he’d fallen for Georgie.

So Georgie ran the operation, but Vince had become the official spokesperson for the venture, the one who handled the media. Surprisingly, there was media. A wild stallion and his band had turned out to be a story that had captured national attention.

In fact, Vince was in Houston this weekend talking to an animal-advocacy group, and a film crew from Dallas would arrive in three weeks to shoot a documentary. Bickford residents were busting their buttons with civic pride. Nothing this big had ever happened here. Dwarfed by Amarillo to the north and Lubbock to the south, the town had always been small potatoes, even when the guest ranch had been operating.

Mac was happy for everyone, especially Anastasia. She deserved recognition for her work, and the documentary would help give her that. Sure, she had some art in a local gallery in Amarillo, thanks to Georgie’s prodding, but that wasn’t nearly enough exposure. With her talent, she should be famous.

Opening the street door to the saloon, Mac looked straight over to the corner where she’d set up shop. Georgie had urged her to rent a storefront and create an actual studio, but so far Anastasia hadn’t made that happen. She seemed to prefer the familiar atmosphere of Sadie’s.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Lots of people came in here and her work hung all over the walls with For Sale tags on it. Ever since the trail rides had taken off, she’d sold plenty of her watercolors depicting the town and, of course, the Ghost. Plus she did charcoal portraits, and she’d picked up a lot of business sitting in a corner of the saloon with her sketch pad at the ready.

She was sketching someone right now, in fact. Mac smiled when he saw Ida Harrington sitting at Anastasia’s table having her portrait done.

Some people might laugh at a ninetysomething woman who colored her hair bright red and wore jeans and vests decorated with bling. Mac thought Ida was terrific. She’d moved to Bickford after her wealthy husband died and left her a pile of money. She could have given it to the town when the residents were in so much trouble, but she said it would just be throwing it to the wind if they didn’t have a plan. Once Vince had suggested the trail rides, she’d underwritten the bulk of the expenses to get the business started.

Because Mac didn’t want to interrupt Ida’s portrait sitting, he walked over to the bar and ordered a beer.

Ike Plunkett had been the bartender when Mac had been a wrangler at the guest ranch, and Ike had hung on through the economic downturn. He was probably only in his forties, but had started losing his hair early. That, plus his wire-framed glasses, made him look brainy.

But it was his welcoming smile that brought customers into Sadie’s, and he flashed it now. “The conquering heroes return. Where’s Travis?”

Mac slid onto a stool. “Eating ice cream. And don’t tell Travis he’s a conquering hero. He’s already out of control on that subject. I keep trying to convince him that we’re just regular working guys.”

“Not to a lot of people around here.” Ike set a foaming glass in front of him. “You’re like knights in shining armor.”

“More like tarnished armor.” Mac reached for his wallet.

“Put that away. This one’s on the house, like always.”

Mac gazed at him in frustration. “I know the saloon’s doing better, but you still have to make a living.”

“I make a good one, thanks to Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Steve and Myra are doing handsprings over the number of hotel reservations that came in this week.”

Mac grinned at the image of Steve and Myra Jenson, both middle-aged and stocky, doing handsprings. They’d bought the Bickford Hotel and the attached saloon years ago when business was booming. They’d weathered the bad years, and now business was good again. They deserved to reap the rewards.

“I’m glad everyone’s happy,” he said, “but I still think I should pay for my beer.”

“Don’t tell me.” Ike swiped a bar rag over the polished mahogany surface that had been the resting place for drinks for more than a century. “Steve gave me my orders. You’ll have to take it up with him.”

“Maybe I will.” Mac sipped his beer and licked the foam from his lip. He liked it here in Bickford. He liked it so well he’d bought a fixer-upper east of town and was gradually getting it the way he wanted. First house ever. That was probably a sign he was growing up.

“Hey, handsome.” Ida appeared at his elbow. “Where’s Travis?”

“Eating ice cream.”

“How wholesome of him.”

“He plans to follow the hot fudge sundae with his usual quota of beer.”

Ida wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. Did you tell him that’s disgusting?”

“More or less. But he’s a big boy.”

“You don’t have to tell me. All three of you are pure eye candy.”

Mac’s face heated. “Cut it out, Ida.”

“Not on your life. Age has its privileges. Anyway, I’m done if you want to go over and chat with Anastasia.”

“Can I see your picture, first?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Ida opened the folder Anastasia mounted the portraits in to protect them.

Six months ago she’d sketched Mac and had simply handed him the sheet of paper. These days the presentation was far more elegant. He’d had her sketch of him framed, but he still didn’t know what to do with it. Hanging it up in his house seemed conceited.

He looked at Anastasia’s vision of Ida, and it was perfect. Anastasia had caught the woman’s irreverence and sparkle, plus an underlying wisdom that some people missed because Ida was so outrageous. She didn’t appear young in the portrait, but not ancient, either. More like ageless, and certainly someone you’d want to know.

Mac glanced at Ida. “It’s you.”

“I know. That girl has some kind of magic. I’ve had her do my portrait six times, and this is the best. She just keeps getting better. When I croak, I want this in the paper with my obituary, not some studio shot when I was a kid of fifty.”

“I hope you’re not planning on croaking anytime soon.”

“God, no. Too much going on. They want me to be in the documentary, and eventually Vince will marry Georgie, and I can’t miss that.”

Vince laughed. “You certainly can’t. None of us can. I’d crawl through quicksand to see Vince Durant finally get hitched. He was so sure it wouldn’t ever happen.”

“He was at that, foolish boy.” Ida smiled. “But I knew.” Her thick glasses magnified the curiosity in her gaze. “When are you going to admit you have a thing for Anastasia?”

He gulped. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fool an old lady, Mac Foster. FYI, she likes you, too.”

“I know she does.” He tried to steady his racing pulse. Not a good conversation to have right before he walked over to her table. “We’re good friends.”

“I don’t mean she likes you. I mean she likes you.” Ida waggled her plucked eyebrows.

Mac was determined to make light of it, despite the way his libido reacted to that comment. “You’re a romantic, Ida. You want everybody paired up. But I can’t date Anastasia. It’s way too complicated.”

“Bullshit.”

He cracked up. Couldn’t help it. Hearing a woman her age using the word bullshit was plain hysterical. She was the type, though. Ida didn’t pull her punches.

“Go ahead and laugh all you want, but that’s another reason for me to stick around. I want to see how you and Anastasia turn out.”

Still chuckling, Mac gazed at her. “I’m happy to provide the motivation for you to stick around, no matter how misguided that motivation might be. But I have to tell you, I’m not dating her. End of story.”

Ida looked into his eyes for a moment longer. “You are completely clueless, just like your friend Vince was.” Then she stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek, and left the saloon.

He wasn’t sure if he’d just been blessed or cursed. But Ida knew things. You couldn’t live on this planet for almost a century and not get pretty damn good at reading people and situations.

For the first time he questioned the wisdom of being so chummy with Anastasia. Maybe he shouldn’t show her the pictures he’d taken, after all. She had a whole bunch on her computer already. These were nice, but if Ida was right and Anastasia liked him, then deliberately spending time with her wouldn’t do either of them any favors.

Georgie was super protective when it came to her sister, or rather her stepsister. Georgie’s mom had died when she was a toddler and later on her dad had remarried a woman with two girls—Anastasia, the younger one, and Charmaine, the older one. Charmaine lived in Dallas while she hunted for a wealthy husband, something her greedy mother hoped for.

It would have been a classic Cinderella story except that Charmaine and Anastasia weren’t ugly stepsisters by any stretch. Charmaine was a sweetheart who mostly just wanted to please her momma, although she also liked the finer things in life and wasn’t opposed to marrying a rich guy.

Anastasia had told him point blank that she’d rather die than marry for wealth or prestige. She’d told her mother that, too, but Evelyn kept hoping Anastasia would fall in love with some well-heeled tourist passing through Bickford. The chances of that had improved exponentially in the past few months.

Mac took another swallow of his beer. He wished Ida hadn’t told him that Anastasia had a crush on him. Ida could be wrong, of course, or she could be up to her usual shenanigans. She might think if she planted that idea in his head, he’d be driven to act on it.

Well, he wasn’t going to. He’d already taken a trip down the aisle only to discover he wasn’t good at marriage. Nobody in Bickford knew about that episode except Vince and Travis. He’d been divorced for a couple of years, now, and figured that would be his permanent designation.

He chose to date women who didn’t want anything more than a fun time. That wasn’t Anastasia. She deserved a forever guy who was good at this relationship business and would make her happy.

But he didn’t want to be unfriendly, either. Now that Ida had left, Anastasia sat alone at her corner table, her hand moving rapidly over the sketch pad propped against her bent knee. From this angle he could see the intense concentration on her pretty face but not what she was drawing.

But since she wasn’t looking at him, he could sneak a look at her, always a pleasure. He supposed some people would call her a brunette, but he didn’t think that was nearly enough of a description. Her hair, which she mostly wore in a ponytail, like today, was about six different colors of brown, ranging from dark to light. The variations in her hair fascinated him.

But after a second or two, he turned back to his glass of beer so nobody would get the wrong idea. He probably didn’t have to worry, though. None of the customers sitting at the tables or at the bar were local and they all seemed to be involved in their own conversations.

He glanced over at her again and she happened to look up right at that moment. Her instant smile of delight made his chest hurt. Did she have a crush? He hoped not. That would cause problems for both of them.

But now that they’d made eye contact, he had to go over and say hi. If he didn’t, she’d think something was wrong. So he smiled back, picked up his half-full beer glass and walked over to her table.

He’d ask about her work. That was always a safe topic and he really was interested. He loved seeing what kinds of pictures she came up with. “I noticed you over here furiously drawing something. What is it?”

She laughed and turned the sketch pad around.

There he was, sitting on a barstool looking thoughtful as he sipped his beer. Yikes. Maybe Ida had a point. “Hey, I recognize that guy. He sure could use a haircut.”

“Nah, it looks better long. And it’s way more fun to draw than really short hair.” She turned the pad around and studied the sketch. “You seemed to be thinking so hard. I hope you didn’t have any issues on the trail this weekend.”

“Nope.” He remained standing because if he sat down, he’d get into a longer conversation with her. It never failed. They always could find something to talk about, but now that he was worried she had a crush, he ought to minimize the amount of time he spent with her. “In fact, the ride went well.”

“Good.” She added a few strokes of charcoal to his portrait before glancing up again. “Got any good pictures of the Ghost for me?”

“Um, yeah, now that you mention it.” Her eyes also fascinated him. It probably said hazel on her driver’s license, but he couldn’t decide what color they were. Depending on the light or what she wore, they could look green, brown, gold, or a blend of those colors.

Although he’d decided not to show her the pictures, he couldn’t look into those eyes and lie. For some reason she trusted him and he never wanted that to change, which was another reason not to get involved. If she trusted him with her heart, he might mess up, and that would be terrible.

He opened his picture app, scrolled to the bottom, and handed her the phone.

She sucked in a breath. “Mac, these are stupendous! I’m surprised you didn’t show them to me when you first walked in.”

“You were with Ida.”

“She wouldn’t have cared. And it’s not like I go into a trance when I draw. You’ve watched me. I chat and make jokes the whole time. Oh, this one.” She turned the screen toward him. “Text them all to me, but this is the one I’ll do first. Head up, mane blowing in the wind, looking every inch the leader. I love it.”

Happiness flooded through him. He’d known she’d react this way. When he’d checked out the shots early this morning, he’d been excited to get back here and show them to her. He almost hadn’t done it after what Ida had said, and that would have been a damn shame.

Maybe Ida was mistaking Anastasia’s natural enthusiasm for a crush. He’d heard her gush over the half barrels of flowers that lined the sidewalks as if she’d never seen flowers before. Now she was wild about the horse pictures on his phone.

That was just her way. She might have spoken to Ida about him with an edge of anticipation in her voice. It didn’t have to mean anything except that she was glad they were friends and he brought her pictures of the Ghost nearly every weekend.

“As long as I have your phone, do you care if I just text them to myself?”

“No, go ahead. I took them—” He caught himself before he said for you. That might be a little too pointed, so he finished with “for people who hadn’t been out there yet.” Damn. He never used to watch what he said before. That had been half the fun of being around her.

Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen. “That’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Do you have a minute to sit down?”

“Sure.” He hadn’t meant to, but what could it hurt? She’d said a minute, not an hour. He pulled out a chair and set his beer on the table.

After she finished sending the pictures to herself, she handed his phone back. “I have a big favor to ask.”

“What’s that?”

She closed her sketch pad and tucked it inside the messenger bag she always carried. Then she looked straight at him. “I need to learn how to ride a horse.”

That startled the heck out of him. “You don’t already know?”

“I don’t.” She lowered her voice. “They scare me.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I just assumed . . . I don’t know what I assumed.” But now that she’d brought it up, he realized that she’d never suggested going out to see the Ghost herself, and the only way to do that was on horseback.

She kept her voice down and leaned toward him. “I’ve been afraid of them since I was little, but it didn’t really matter until now. I’m starting to feel like a fraud because I’m getting known for drawing a horse I’ve never seen.”

“No one would ever guess. The pictures are perfect.” He could tell she didn’t want any of this to become common knowledge. Considering how easily she’d always told him things, it wasn’t surprising that she’d tell him this and know he’d keep quiet about it.

“Maybe I’m fooling people, but when the film crew arrives, they’ll be asking questions, and I don’t want to admit I’ve never seen this horse. So if you’d be willing to teach me to ride, then I could—”

“Why not ask Georgie?” Instinctively he knew that teaching her to ride was not a good idea. He wasn’t sure whether there was a crush involved or not, but now that Ida had mentioned the possibility, it was permanently planted in his brain.

Until now, they’d seen a fair amount of each other, but usually here at Sadie’s with other people around. Riding lessons would mean scheduled private time on a regular basis, and if they had any chemistry . . . well, he didn’t want to test it.

“Georgie would baby me. She wouldn’t mean to, but I’m her little sister and she can’t help being overprotective. You and I are the kind of friends who tell it like it is. You’d push me out of my comfort zone so I can get past this irrational fear. I know it’s a big favor, but . . . you’re the only person I really trust to help me.”

“Hey, Mac and Anastasia!” Travis picked that moment to bounce in on a sugar high and hail them from halfway across the saloon. “Who’s up for a game of darts