Carrying the Rancher's Heir / Secret Son, Convenient Wife: Carrying the Rancher's Heir / Secret Son, Convenient Wife

“Trick?” Tagg nodded, glancing at the youngest of the three mares, a dappled gray. “She’s from good healthy stock. The other females have taken to her just fine.”

“You named her Trick?”

“Long story, but she wasn’t easy to acquire. In fact, it was damn tricky. I had to do some fast talking.”

They watched the horses settle down on the far side of the corral, the two older mares sandwiching Trick between them, mothering her.

“It’s been a while since you’ve come down to the main house.” Clay tipped his hat back to look at him directly. “When I drove up you looked deep in thought. Everything okay?”

Tagg wasn’t the kiss-and-tell kind of guy. He felt guilty about skipping out on Callie that morning, leaving a note on the hotel bed in his wake. He’d never done that to a woman before. But he wasn’t going to discuss that or the loss of the cattle deal to Sullivan with Clay this morning.

It was his problem and he’d deal with it.

Tagg liked his privacy and thanks to modern-day inventions like computers, the internet and iPhones, he didn’t have to venture too far to conduct ranch business these days. Clay dealt with the ranch employees and Jackson took care of the other Worth holdings in Phoenix. All three of them didn’t mind getting their hands dirty and working the land.

“Everything’s fine. Just been buried under a pile of paperwork. How about you?”

“Busy with Penny’s Song. The construction is almost complete. Our first young visitors are due to arrive in a few weeks.”

“That’s good. I’m planning on lending a hand. Anytime you need it.”

Penny’s Song was Clay and his estranged wife’s brainchild, named after a local child who’d died from a debilitating disease at ten years old. With the Worth money and name behind it, the facility built one mile into the property would honor her memory and provide a safe haven for children recovering from life-threatening illness. From the get-go, it was designed to help mainstream those recovering kids into society in a dude ranch-type setting.

“We’re counting on your help.”

“I’ll stop by later today and check out the progress.”

Clay nodded and took a step toward his truck, but then turned and stared at Tagg for a moment.

He lifted his brows, curious at Clay’s expression. “What?”

“It’s been four years, Tagg.”

Tagg took a quick pull of oxygen. Noting the concern on his brother’s face, he tempered his impulse to lash out with careful words. “I know how long it’s been. No one has to remind me.”

“Maybe it’s time you gave yourself a break.” He watched Clay turn around and get into the cab of his truck. The engine roared and red dust kicked up a fuss as he drove off, leaving Tagg alone with his thoughts. The way he wanted. The way it had to be. He’d lost his wife, Heather, four years ago and nothing would make it right. Giving himself a break wasn’t on his agenda.

Ever.

Callie Sullivan stood in the shadows of the Red Ridge Mountains, just steps from Tagg’s front door. A tremble pulsed through her body. She recognized it as anticipation and not fear. She couldn’t wait to lay eyes on him again even knowing he wouldn’t be glad to see her. Even knowing that he’d never called, never tried to get in touch with her again after the night they’d spent together.

She strode up the porch steps and pulled the note he’d written to her on hotel-room stationary out of her jeans. She’d taken it out and read it so many times the paper had worn ragged and thin. She remembered how she’d felt when she’d woken up to find it and not Tagg in the bed beside her that morning. She knew the words by heart now; she didn’t have to see them.

Callie,

It was great. Heading home early. Didn’t want to wake you.

Tagg

As far as notes went, it wasn’t much. Tagg wasn’t a verbal man, but he’d sure made up for his lack of social skills in the bedroom. Callie had no regrets about that night. She’d been restless, frustrated and unhappy during that trip to Reno until she had spotted Tagg sitting on a bar stool all alone. Something short of crazy clicked in her head and told her to go for what she wanted. She’d always wanted Tagg.

Callie, this is your chance.

She’d taken that chance and that night her “Tagg fantasy” had come to life.

She stood on his doorstep and knocked, the note tucked safely into the back pocket of her jeans.

Silence.

Callie knocked again.

Still nothing.

She stepped off his porch and with a hand above her brows she scoured the property, squinting against the afternoon sun, looking for some sign of Tagg.

His sprawling one-story home sat atop a hill and afforded a panoramic view of the Red Ridge Mountains. The picturesque scene reminded Callie why she loved this part of Arizona so much. More than an hour away from the bustling city of Phoenix with its legendary historic districts, sports centers and trendy shopping, Tagg’s ranch home seemed far removed from that life.

It’s the way he wanted it, she thought. Everyone knew his past history. The bronco champion married to the rodeo queen. It had all been so perfect. A real fairy-tale ending.

And they lived happily ever after.

But they hadn’t. Because Heather Benton Worth had died in a small-plane crash on an airstrip on Worth land and Tagg’s life had been engulfed with grief. The details of how it had all come about were sketchy and if anyone knew, not a soul in the county spoke about it. It had been a tragic end to a beautiful life. And it had been as if Tagg had died that day, too. He’d quit the rodeo, leaving his friends and his career behind to build a modest home in the hills. Callie’s father had said that Clayton Worth made Tagg the CFO of the company to pull him out of his grief, and his solitary life on the ranch had begun.

Off in the distance, Callie spotted a lone rider coming in from the range. She took a few steps forward to be sure. Her heart sped. Emotions washed over her. She hadn’t seen Tagg in five weeks. Five weeks too long. She held a secret close to her heart. One she wouldn’t yet share with him.

Long and tall in the saddle, Tagg was just as much a cowboy as he was CFO of Worth Ranch. He wore tan leather chaps over Wranglers and a blue work shirt. Dark Ray-Bans blocked the penetrating sun. As he rode his mare up the dirt path to the barn her breath constricted in her chest. Every nerve ending pulsed.

If Tagg seemed surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. He kept his expression blank as he swung his leg up and dismounted the gorgeous bay mare; her coat was glistening with sweat. Callie put a hand on the horse. “You’re such a pretty girl,” she said, taking hold of the bridle and stroking the mare’s forelock. She had a soft spot for all animals, but she loved horses and considered herself an expert horsewoman.

Tagg stood several inches taller and she had to look up to see his face. He folded his arms across his body and leaned back. “I could say the same to you.”

She couldn’t see his eyes, but was fairly sure he’d just complimented her. “Hi, Tagg.”

“Callie.” He looked her up and down through his sunglasses, making her wish she’d worn something frilly and feminine instead of blue jeans. “You looking for me?”

“I am.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and let go a deep sigh. “Listen, I’m glad you showed up here—”

“You are?” Callie couldn’t help herself. She’d been afraid Tagg wouldn’t want to see her again. So this was good news and she couldn’t hide it in her voice.

He removed his sunglasses and dark silver-blue eyes narrowed in on her. Excitement raced in her veins. Those eyes had seen every ounce of her, had traveled over her body with admiration and desire. Callie would never forget the hot gleam and what it had done to her.

Growing up, Callie had been forbidden to have anything to do with the Worth boys. Her father’s rules. The Worths hadn’t been worthy of the Sullivans. In her father’s mind, no one was good enough for Callie. But she’d known Tagg at school, had seen him around town and later had watched him bust broncos in the rodeo.

Simply put, Taggart Worth had owned her teenage dreams. She’d thought the sun rose and set on his broad shoulders—the chisel-jawed, dark-haired, handsome neighbor boy she wasn’t allowed to get to know. Six months ago, when she’d returned home from Boston to care for her father after a slight heart attack, nothing had changed except that Callie was her own woman now. And her father’s staunch restrictions no longer applied.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about you.”