The Texan's One-Night Standoff

“If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s working, honey.”

“Just speaking the truth. And can you quit the endearments?”

He smiled. “You don’t like me calling you honey?”

“I’m not your honey, Brooks. Ruby Lopez never has been anyone’s honey.” Except for Trace’s at one time, but the sweetness of the term had soured along with the relationship.

They rode side by side along a path that wound around the property. She wanted out of this conversation. Brooks didn’t need to know about her lack of a love life. But for some reason, when he was around, she did and said things she normally wouldn’t.

“Ruby?”

“Hmm.”

“I find that hard to believe. There’s been no one in your life?”

“No one I care to talk about.”

“Ah, I thought so. You’ve been burned before. The guy must be a loser.”

“He isn’t.” Why on earth was she defending Trace?

“Must be, if he hurt you.”

“Remember what I told you? When you want the horse to stop, pull back on one rein. Not two. Two can toss you forward, and that’s a fight you can’t win.”

“Yeah, I remember, but why—”

“See you later, Brooks!” Ruby gave Storm Cloud a nudge, and the horse fell into a gallop. The ground rumbled underneath her stallion’s hooves, and she leaned back and enjoyed the ride, grinning.

She thought she’d left Misty and her rider in the dust, but one quick look back showed her she was wrong. Brooks wasn’t far behind, encouraging Misty to catch up. Ruby had five lengths on them, at best. But it wasn’t a race. She couldn’t put Brooks in danger. For all his courage and eagerness to learn, he was still a novice. “Whoa, slow up, Cloud.” A slight tug on the rein was all that was needed. Cloud was a gem at voice commands. Beau had given her Storm Cloud on her eighteenth birthday, and she’d trained him herself. They were simpatico.

Brooks caught up to her by a copse of trees and came to a halt. “Is that your way of changing the subject?” His mouth was in a twist.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cute, Ruby.”

“Hey, I’m impressed you caught up.”

“Because you let me.”

“Okay, I let you. But I couldn’t endanger Beau’s long-lost son.”

“One of his sons. I’ve got a twin brother.”

“Oh, no. There are two of you?” She smiled at him. This morning Beau had briefed her on all the sad events of his early life. He’d lost the woman he loved and his twins when she ran away from her abusive father. It was something Ruby had heard rumored, but it was never really spoken about in the Preston household.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

She tilted her head. “Can the world handle it?”

“The world likes the Newport brothers for the most part. But the question is, can you handle it?”

“I already told you, I’m good with you being here.”

“I might be staying quite a while.”

It was time to set him straight, and she hoped to heaven she could heed her own warning. “You’re a city guy who’s out of place in the country. You run a big company, and I’m at home in a barn. You’re also the son of my best friend and mentor. The man is almost a father to me. You’d better believe I can handle it. There’s no other option, Brooks.”

He gave her a nod, his mouth turning down. “You’re right. But when I look at you and remember...”

“Don’t look at me.”

“You’re hard to miss, honey.”

Honey again? “It’s time to head back.” She didn’t wait for his reply. She turned Storm Cloud around. “Let’s go, Cloud.” With a slight nudge of the stirrup, the horse took off in a canter.

“I didn’t peg you for a runner,” Brooks called out.

But that’s exactly what she was.

This time.

With this man.

She wasn’t lying. She had no other choice.

Four (#u598f6169-c998-524b-ab91-0259ca9619a1)

“You’re cooking?” Brooks asked Ruby as he walked into his father’s kitchen later that day.

Ruby glanced at him from her spot at the stove. She wore a black dress that landed just above her knees, fitting every curve on her body like a glove. A pink polka-dotted apron tied at the neck and waist didn’t detract from the look. Brooks was beginning to think Ruby looked sexy in everything she wore.

“I’m cooking. Beau wanted me to make you a special dinner for your first night here.”

“Do you cook every night?”

“No, that’s Lupe’s job. She’s the best cook in the county, but this recipe comes from my father’s family, and it’s something Beau likes me to cook on occasion.”

Brooks walked over to the stove. “I’m the occasion?”

She smiled. “You’re the occasion.”

He lifted the top off the enamel pot. Steam drifted up, and the scents of Mexico filled the room.

“Be careful. It’s hot,” she said, shoving a pot holder into his hand.

“What is it?”