Her Rodeo Man

“You have been here before.”

Feeling her stare following him, he grinned and strode down the aisle toward the tack room. The next instant, he remembered his hard-learned lesson and sobered.

Voluntarily resigned. In order to join his family’s business.

That was what his letter to Madison-Monroe Concepts had cited, though there was nothing voluntary about Ryder’s termination. He’d quit his job as senior marketing executive rather than be involved in a messy lawsuit with him named as the defendant. At his lawyer’s suggestion, he’d left Phoenix the second the ink was dry on the settlement agreement and before his former boss changed his mind.

Which, technically, made him four days early, not late to his meeting with his father.

No one in his family knew the details of his termination. As far as they were concerned, Ryder had undergone a change of heart, prompted by his father’s insistence the Easy Money needed a top-notch marketing expert to guide their rapidly growing bucking stock business and a wish to better know his much younger sister, Liberty.

There it was again, massaging the truth to obtain a positive slant. In this case, Ryder had his reasons.

By the time he returned to the stall, the woman had tied the pony to a metal pole by the door. Ryder removed his suit jacket and draped it over the stall wall. He’d been warm anyway. September in Arizona was a lot like summer in other states. Next, he unbuttoned the cuffs on his dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

The woman—should he introduce himself in order to learn her name?—worriedly combed her fingers through the pony’s long mane. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call the vet first? My kids will be devastated if anything happened to Cupcake.”

So, he’d been right. She did have children. Which meant there was a father somewhere in the picture. Ryder was almost relieved and promptly dialed down the charm.

“She’ll be fine. I promise.”

Lifting the pony’s sore hoof, he balanced it on his bent knee. Next, he removed the rasp from his back pocket where he’d placed it and began filing down the ends of the nails used to fasten the shoe to the hoof. Once that was done, the shoe could be removed without causing further damage to the hoof. A few good pries with the clippers, and the shoe fell to the stall floor with a dull clink.

Ryder gently released Cupcake’s hoof and straightened. He swore the pony let out an audible sigh.

“She’ll feel brand-new by morning.”

“You won’t take offense if I have Mercer look at her?” the woman said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Not at all.” Ryder chuckled. “I wouldn’t trust me, either, if I were you.” He brushed at his soiled slacks. “Given the clothes.”

She flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Kids. Likely a husband. He had to remember that. She’d be an easy one to fall for, and Ryder had a bad habit of choosing unwisely. Just look at his current situation. Unemployed and returning home all because he’d gotten involved with the wrong person.

“By the way, I’m—”

“Hey, there you are!” Ryder’s father walked briskly toward them, his whiskered face alight with joy. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Sorry. Got waylaid.” All the tension that had seeped out earlier returned. New knots formed. Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell his father the truth about the real reason he’d quit his job, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “How are you, Dad?” Outside the stall, the two men engaged in a back-thumping hug.

“Good, now that you’re here.” He held Ryder at arm’s length. “Glad to see you, son.”

“I was helping...” Ryder turned to the woman, a little taken aback by her startled expression.

“You’re Ryder Beckett?” The question hinged on an accusation.

“On my good days.”

Only his father laughed. “You should hear what they call him on his bad days.”

The woman stared at him. “You weren’t supposed to be here till Saturday.”

“I got away early.” Ryder felt his defenses rising, though he wasn’t sure why. And how was it she knew his schedule? That elusive familiarity from earlier returned. “Have we met before?”

“This is Tatum Mayweather,” his father said. “You remember her. She’s your sister Cassidy’s best friend.”

Tatum. Of course. The name brought his vague memories into sharp focus. “It’s been a lot of years,” he said by way of an excuse.

“It has.” She removed the halter from Cupcake and shut the stall door behind her. “If you’ll excuse me, my lunch hour is over, and I need to get back to work. Your mother’s been answering the phone for me in the house.”

“Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Sure.”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning.” His father beamed. “Tatum’s our office manager. After I give you a tour of the bucking stock operation, she can go over our contracts with you.”

Office manager. That explained her cool reaction to him.

If Ryder accepted his family offer to be the arena’s new head of marketing and client relations, he’d be in charge of advertising and promotion, duties currently performed by Tatum.

“Look, it’s not...”

What could he say? That he wasn’t after her job? Okay, maybe he was, but only parts of it and only temporarily. She, however, didn’t know that.

“See you in the morning.” She left, her movements no longer graceful but stilted.

Well, at least Ryder didn’t have to worry about becoming involved with a coworker. Any chance of that happening was walking away with Ms. Mayweather.

Only after she’d disappeared through a door across from the tack room did Ryder realize she hadn’t asked Mercer to check on Cupcake.

* * *

RYDER’S FATHER KEPT up a near constant stream of conversation as they covered the short distance from the barn to the house. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me. Your mother, too.”

It was no secret Ryder’s father still loved his ex-wife and intended to win her back. Ryder had agreed to help and support him with the expansion of the rodeo arena. He didn’t, however, understand his father’s enduring feelings regarding his mother.

“Hope you’re hungry,” his father said. “Your mother’s fixed enough food for a dozen people.”

“I don’t want her going to any trouble.”

“Your early arrival put her in quite a tizzy. She made an emergency run to the grocery store last night just to have the food you like on hand.”

“I’m not picky, Dad.”

“Well, this is a big day for her. She’s nervous.”

She wasn’t the only one. Ryder had been fighting anxiety for days now.