Caitlyn's Prize

“I want it done right and not half-ass.”

Any other time she would have spat holy hell at his high-handedness. But it would take money to repair the fence properly, money she didn’t have. For the sake of High Five she pushed her pride aside. And the weight was heavy. It took her a full minute to nod her head.

He stood in the stirrups and picked up his reins. Suddenly he eased his butt back against the leather, his black eyes holding hers with a gleam she remembered from her younger days—a gleam of playful teasing. Talk about a blast from the past. It was so unexpected it almost knocked her out of the saddle.

“Your blouse is open.”

She glanced down and saw that two snaps were undone, revealing the white lace of her bra. They must have come open when she was bulldogging Boss. Oh, sh…

Raising her eyes to his, she replied, “I know. I like it that way. It’s cooler.”

“It might give Yates the wrong idea.”

“Maybe. But that’s none of your business.”

He inclined his head, and she wondered if he remembered all the times he had undone her blouse, and what had followed afterward. With all the women who’d followed her in his life, she doubted it. But she remembered the tantalizing brush of his fingers and the excitement that had leaped through her—much as it was doing now. Some memories were gold plated and stored in secret places. Why she’d chosen this moment to review them was unclear.

“Enjoy the fresh air.” He kneed the stallion, and the horse responded beautifully, turning on a dime and kicking up dirt. She watched rider and horse until they disappeared into the distance.

Then she slowly snapped her shirt closed.

JUDD GAVE BARON HIS HEAD and they flew through fields of coastal and herds of cattle. They sliced through the wind effortlessly, but no matter how fast the stallion ran, Judd couldn’t outrun the fire in his gut from when he’d looked at Caitlyn.

He shouldn’t feel this way after all these years. How could he hate her and react like this? All he could think about was reaching out and undoing the rest of those snaps, lifting her from the saddle and then sliding with her to the grass. Nothing existed but the two of them, and together they rode to places only lovers knew about….

His hat flew off and he slowed. He turned Baron and headed back for it. Reaching down, he swiped it from the ground. After dusting it off, he galloped toward home. And put every memory of Caitlyn out of his mind. That came easy. He’d been doing it for years.

Over the ridge, Harland and the cowboys were waiting. Judd stopped.

“Get supplies and fix that fence today,” he said to the foreman. “I don’t want that bull back in my herd.”

“You want us to fix the fence?” Harland asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Being second-guessed rubbed Judd the wrong way. Harland questioned too many of his orders, and he wanted it stopped.

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, his eyes locking with the other man’s.

“No, sir, but—”

“On the Southern Cross, I’m the boss and what I say goes. If that doesn’t suit you, you’re welcome to leave. Now.”

“C’mon, Judd, I’ve worked here a long time. I just thought Miss Belle should be the one to fix the fence. Her bull broke it.”

“Miss Belle would only patch it. I want it fixed right. In a few months her place will become a part of Southern Cross and I don’t want to have to redo it.”

Harland grinned. “I knew you had a damn good reason. I’ll get the boys right on it.”

“Another thing, and I hope I’m clear about this—do not shoot that bull or any neighbor’s animal that strays onto our property. I don’t do business that way. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. I was only trying to scare her.”

“Miss Belle doesn’t scare that easily.”

Judd kneed Baron and rode on toward the barn. Nothing scared Caitlyn, except losing High Five. That was her deepest fear and he knew it. Knowing your enemy’s weakness was half the battle. Victory was just a matter of time.

It was his goal, what he’d dreamed about for fourteen years. But as he dismounted, all he could see and think about was her open blouse and the curve of her breast.

CHAPTER SIX

CAITLYN RODE BACK TO THE house about two to check on Gran. She hadn’t been up when Cait had left that morning.

Chance’s truck was parked outside, and when she went in, Gran, Etta and he were at the table, just finishing lunch. Gran was dressed in her normal slacks and blouse, and her hair was pinned at her nape. She looked like she used to, and Cait prayed her grandmother was back to her old self.

“Caitlyn, baby, we have a visitor,” Gran said. “Chance is having lunch with us.”

He winked. “Etta wouldn’t let me leave without eating one of her home-cooked meals.”

“We see you so little.” Etta carried dishes to the sink.

Caitlyn placed her hat on the rack. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yep.” Chance stood. “We’re through at the McGruders and we’re packing up and heading for east Texas.” He kissed his aunt’s cheek. “I’ll call. Thanks for the lunch, Miss Dorie.”

Caitlyn followed him outside. “Would you do me a favor, please?”

Chance settled his hat on his head. “Anything, beautiful lady.”

“If you hear of anyone needing sand or gravel, would you send them my way?”

“Sure. Etta told me about High Five’s problem. I’m sorry, Cait.”

“Thank you. Find me a buyer and I’ll love you forever.”

“Yeah.” He smiled broadly. “They all say that.”

She waved as he drove away, and then she went back inside.

Gran was on the phone. Replacing the receiver, she smiled at Caitlyn. “That was Madison. She’s coming for a visit.” Dorie looked past Cait. “Is your father with you? He’s going to be so excited.”

Cait felt as if someone had just lassoed her around the neck and yanked the rope tight. She struggled to breathe. Gran was not back to normal. The doctors had said to tell her the truth, so that’s what Cait did, even though it made her throat feel rusty and dry.

“Gran, Dad is dead.”

“Yes.” A look of sadness clouded her brown eyes. “I forget sometimes.”

Caitlyn hugged her. “It’s okay to forget—sometimes.”

But Cait never forgot, not for a second. Her father’s death filled her every waking moment and all the dreams that tortured her nights. She wasn’t the son he’d wanted. At her age she should be beyond that childhood feeling of inadequacy. Why wasn’t she?