The Calamity Janes: Lauren

“Kids?”

She hadn’t really thought about having a family, but, yes, that was part of it, too. She wanted to hold her own babies in her arms, buy the girls sweet little dresses and the boys shiny new trucks and decorate a nursery. Until this second, she hadn’t realized just how loudly her biological clock had been ticking.

Rather than admit to all that, she said, “Or maybe I’m just looking for a healthy dose of reality. Good friends. Hard physical work. A beautiful sunset.” She shrugged. “I wish I could put my finger on it.”

“Maybe a man like Wade Owens could help you figure all that out,” Karen suggested.

Lauren considered the square-jawed cowboy with the cold-as-flint eyes and downturned mouth. Okay, so he had broad shoulders, narrow hips and enviable muscles. So what? She gave her friend a scathing look. “First he’d have to get over himself.”

Karen laughed. “Hey, I saw that little scene out there. He’d probably say the same about you.” Her expression sobered. “Did you introduce yourself, by the way? Or did he recognize you?”

Lauren realized with a sense of shock that Wade hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned with who she was. In fact, she was almost a hundred percent certain he’d had no idea she was anything other than an unwanted interloper. That pleased her more than she could say.

“If he did, he didn’t care,” she told Karen. “He was just mad as spit that I was on his turf.”

“Maybe you should keep it that way,” Karen said thoughtfully. “Let him get to know you without all the Hollywood glitter as a distraction. It can’t be easy to find a man who can see past the image. Wouldn’t that be a relief, for a change?”

“That’s certainly true,” Lauren agreed, seeing the benefit of clinging to a little anonymity for as long as she could. “But I’m sticking around town so I can find myself, not so I can find a man.”

“Any reason you can’t do both?”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think your friend Wade would want to be considered as a candidate,” she said, though she couldn’t explain the vague sense of disappointment that crept over her as she said it. Why should she give two figs whether an arrogant, full-of-himself wrangler gave her a second look or not?

She forced herself to be honest. Maybe it was because he was the sexiest male she’d come across in ten long years. Maybe it was because he was so damn gritty and real that he made all the polished, sophisticated men she knew pale by comparison.

Or maybe it was just because for the first time in forever, she’d felt completely alive, with her temper close to boiling and her heart slamming in her chest. In the last half hour she’d discovered that everything she’d experienced in recent years was little more than a two-bit imitation.

She had hoped that living in Winding River would bring her a certain amount of peace. Thanks to Karen and Grady’s wrangler, she’d just discovered that it was promising to be downright fun.

2 (#ulink_237f6844-328a-532c-bf19-b154794f9d5e)

Wade spent the rest of the afternoon seething over his run-in with the Blackhawks’ houseguest. The woman had more audacity and arrogance than any female he’d encountered in years. While that might have been stimulating in the short term, it was nothing to tangle with over the long haul.

Not that Wade was a long-haul kind of guy. He’d learned that from his daddy, God rest his sorry butt.

Blake Travis had been one of the wealthiest men in Montana when he’d met Wade’s mama at the Lucky Horseshoe Saloon in Billings thirty years ago. To a woman like Arlene Owens, he had seemed like the answer to a prayer. She had fallen for him like a ton of bricks. To hear her tell it, the man had been God’s gift to womankind—not just rich and powerful, but also kind and generous. He’d certainly left her with something to remember... Wade.

Unfortunately, it turned out that old Blake had a nasty habit of seeking out vulnerable women, impregnating and then abandoning them. He seemed to think it was his right to take whatever he pleased and damn the consequences. He simply bought off anyone who raised a fuss. Arlene had learned all this long after it was too late to help her protect herself.

Totally naive about his reputation, Arlene had been convinced that the man would provide for her and her baby, if only he knew about their situation. Off she’d gone to the Travis ranch outside of town to share the good news. There she’d been greeted by Blake’s wife and introduced to his two legitimate sons and heirs. The long-suffering Mrs. Travis had given Arlene a modest check and assured her that it was the best she could hope for in terms of support from that sneaky, lying snake of a philanderer Blake Travis. Stunned and humiliated by the mere existence of a wife, Arlene had taken her at her word.

She had considered packing up everything she owned and moving, but a stubborn streak that Wade had inherited kept her right where she was. And once Wade was old enough to ask about his daddy, she had told him the unvarnished truth.

Over the years, Wade had built up a healthy loathing for the rich, who thought they could play havoc with people’s lives and leave others to clean up their messes. His occasional chance encounters with his half-siblings had been tense affairs. He’d bloodied their noses and threatened to do worse. They’d been sent off to boarding school soon afterward, and his mother had gotten a stern warning from the sheriff that Wade was on thin ice.

When Wade turned eighteen, he’d gone to tell his daddy just exactly what he thought of him, but Blake had had the misfortune to die before Wade could share his opinion. That had left him with a lot of outrage and no satisfactory way to rid himself of it.

It had also left him grimly determined never to find himself in the same fix. He was responsible when it came to women. He never lied. He never cheated. And he used fail-proof protection—or at least he assured himself that it was as close to fail-proof as a man could get. There would be no trail of heartbroken women or abandoned children in his life.

If and when he ever settled down, it would be for life, and with some sweet, down-to-earth woman who’d stick close to home, raise his children and never give him a moment’s grief. Karen Blackhawk’s friend had grief written all over her.

He muttered yet another curse at the memory of the way she’d come after him with every bit as much temper as he’d used in trying to scare the daylights out of her. With her fancy boots, designer jeans and those soft, neatly manicured hands, everything about her spoke of money. Maybe she knew horses, but he suspected whatever she’d learned had been during a childhood of privilege. If she’d ever done a hard day’s work in her life, he’d eat his hat.

“Problem?” Grady asked, appearing in the stable office just as Wade uttered another colorful profanity.

“Tell that woman to stay the hell away from my horses,” Wade said without a moment’s thought to censoring himself with the man who’d only been his boss for a few weeks now.

Grady’s lips twitched with amusement. “Had a run-in with Lauren, did you?”

“Is that her name?” He scowled at Grady, who was still fighting a grin. “It’s not funny. She’s going to get herself killed. She doesn’t have the sense God gave a gnat. You should have seen her. She walked right into the corral with Midnight, like he was some docile pet pony.”

“So?”

“You know what that horse is capable of doing. I shudder to think about what could have happened.”

“But nothing did happen, did it?” Grady said. “Wade, Lauren’s no tenderfoot. She grew up around here. Karen says she learned to ride practically before she could walk. I’ve watched her in action.”

“Oh, I can imagine that,” Wade said with biting sarcasm. “She is something to look at, no question about that.”

Grady frowned at him. “I’m talking about her skills. She’s every bit as good with horses as you are,” he insisted. “Give her a chance.”

The praise made Wade’s stomach turn over. Filled with trepidation, he studied Grady’s solemn expression, then heaved a sigh. “Dammit Grady, is that an order? Please tell me you didn’t go and hire her.”

“Without talking to you? Of course not,” Grady said, though he looked vaguely guilty when he said it.

“Then what the hell was she doing out there?”

“Like I said, she’s good with horses. She’s also one of Karen’s best friends. She needs something to keep her occupied while she’s here. We asked her to help out with the training, work with Midnight and a couple of the others that aren’t doing well with the usual techniques. She’ll answer to you. I’ll make that clear to her. Your job is safe.”

“I’m not worried about my job,” Wade snapped. “I’m worried about her pretty little neck. The woman’s got more guts than sense. Midnight could have squashed her like a bug. You know how he is.”

“I went over his history with Lauren before she went out there. She’s worked with abused animals before. She knew what she was doing,” Grady insisted in yet another futile attempt to soothe Wade.

“Couldn’t prove it by me,” Wade retorted, still seething over the scene he’d walked up on.

“She got out of there in one piece, didn’t she?” Grady reminded him, his tone mild. “Midnight didn’t come to any harm, right?”

“This time,” Wade conceded. “Next time, she might not be so lucky. A horse won’t give a hang that she’s beautiful or has a gentle touch. If he’s of a mind to, he’ll still kick her from here to next week, or break his own leg going wild in his stall.”

Grady still didn’t seem to be taking Wade’s concerns all that seriously. If anything, his amusement seemed to be growing. “I’m pretty sure I heard a compliment in there somewhere. Lauren got to you, didn’t she? What’s really bugging you? Is it that she has a way with horses or that she looks great in a pair of jeans?”

Wade wanted to protest that it was neither, but clearly, Grady had already drawn his own conclusions. Anything Wade had to say would only add fuel to the fire. Too much protesting would have a contradictory effect.

Besides, there was some truth to what Grady said. Once he’d calmed down, Wade had been forced to admit that he admired Lauren’s refusal to back down from either Midnight or from him. And her tush did do amazing things for a pair of faded jeans. There was no denying that, so why bother trying?

“Are you telling me to let her do whatever strikes her fancy where the horses are concerned?” he asked Grady, unable to keep a note of resignation from his voice. He wanted to be very clear on his boss’s expectations and where to place the responsibility for any disasters that took place.

“As long as it’s not going to get her killed, yes,” Grady said.