Convenient Cowgirl Bride

Chase thought fast because after talking to Kade, he did feel sorry he’d thrown her out, but there was something more—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “If I’d known who she was, Tuck, I would have comped her a room last night. She’s not a stray. She’s Kade’s friend.”

“Whatever, cuz.” Voices hummed in the background before Tuck continued. “When are you coming back?”

“What’s up?”

“Not sure. Security thinks there might be something hinky going on out on the floor.”

“Keep them on it. I’ll be back after lunch.”

“Okay.”

He continued to silently watch Savannah exercise her horse, but when he noticed the animal’s gait was off, he started to say something. She’d already realized there was a problem, reining the animal to a stop and slipping off his back. She checked his rear leg, then walked him to the gate. Chase met her there and took in her slumped shoulders and tight expression with one sweep of his gaze as he opened it for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Indy was kicked three weeks ago. I dropped out of that rodeo and didn’t enter another to give him a chance to heal up. He seemed fine when we got here so I paid my entry. If I don’t run him, I lose the fee.”

“What’s the vet say?”

She mumbled something Chase couldn’t understand, so he touched her shoulder. Her muscles twitched but she didn’t jerk away. “Savannah?”

“I don’t have the money for a vet.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze, keeping her chin tucked in and her eyes downcast. “It’s just a deep muscle bruise. I had someone look at it. Rest, heat, mild exercise.”

“But...”

She pulled away from him and began leading the horse toward the long barn with the rental stalls. “But nothing. If he can’t run, my season is over. I can’t afford to buy another horse as good as Indy. Thing is, I have to win to keep going. I don’t even know if I can get him back to Oklahoma and keep him long enough to heal. Grain isn’t cheap.” Snapping her mouth shut, she tucked her chin against her chest again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you. It’s none of your business. I’ll deal with it.” She moved away from him, putting the big horse between them when she added, “I need to cool Indy down, muck his stall and brush him. Can you stick around to give me a ride back to pick up my truck?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

When they entered the barn, and he figured out which stall was hers, Chase sent her off to cool down the horse. He took off his bespoke suit coat, stripped off his designer tie and rolled up his sleeves. Before he grabbed the shovel and hay fork, he placed a call to Tuck to get the best large-animal vet in Vegas to the fairgrounds to check out Savannah’s horse.

While Chase shoveled manure out of the stall, then raked the dirt and clean straw into place, his internal dialogue was short and sarcastic. He didn’t need to get wrapped up in this girl’s problems. Not his style. At all. But her tough-girl exterior and the flashes of vulnerability he glimpsed stirred something deep inside—something more than his libido.

Chase knew better than to examine that feeling too closely. He wasn’t a white knight and this girl didn’t need him riding to her rescue. Her clothes were old, her boots scuffed and run-down at the heels, her tack fixed so many times the repairs had repairs. She needed more than a quick roll in the hay and that was his standard operating procedure. He was definitely a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. Plus, he preferred his women sleek, designer and aware of the rules of his game. He didn’t want—and definitely didn’t need—a down-home cowgirl next door like Savannah Wolfe.

By the time Savannah returned with Indigo, Chase had bought fresh alfalfa hay and a bag of grain and filled the stall’s manger and feed bucket.

He’d learned long ago it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Far fewer arguments that way. But he didn’t quite manage to get her off the property before the vet showed up. They had that argument while the doctor examined her horse. When he delivered his prognosis—a deep muscle bruise, possibly bone chipping—all the fight went out of her. And Chase’s heart went out to her—a wholly unexpected, and unusual, feeling.

Savannah didn’t argue when he led her to his Jag. She looked defeated as he settled her into the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel and glanced at her before putting the sleek car into gear and driving off. “I’m sorry, Savannah. Indy will recover, though. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” She wouldn’t look at him, and her flat tone didn’t make him feel better.

They rode in silence for several miles. Savannah inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak, but the ringing of his phone interrupted. He hit the answer button on the steering wheel.

“Chase Barron.”

“Where are you, Chase?”

“We’re driving back to the hotel, Tuck. What’s up?” He didn’t like the tight sound of his cousin’s voice.

“You need to pull over and take me off Bluetooth.”

“Okay.” He located a convenience store up ahead and pulled in. With a few deft motions, he disconnected the phone function and held his cell next to his ear. “Talk to me.”

“I just got a request to free up two of the suites on the penthouse floor. For Uncle Cyrus and the Carrolls—father and daughter.”

Chase glanced at Savannah, who was pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping, not that she had a choice in the close confines of the sports car. “When?”

“They’re arriving Friday.” Tucker cleared his throat on a choked chortle. “I’m not supposed to tell you. Your old man is planning to ambush you.”

“Ha. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“What are you going to do?”

He cut his eyes to the passenger seat, an idea starting to form in his brain. A really bad idea. Or one that was utterly brilliant. Chase couldn’t decide. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

Disconnecting the call, he put the Jag in gear and pulled back out into traffic. For the entire ride, until he turned into the valet lane at the Crown, he didn’t give Savannah a chance to question him. With his hand gripping her arm just above the elbow, he guided her inside and to the VIP clerk at check-in to get a card key. In the private elevator, he punched in the number for her floor.

“We’ve comped you a room, and your things are already there. Grab a shower and clean clothes, then buzz me at extension seven star star one. I’ll come down to get you, and we’ll go back up to the apartment. We’ll decide on lunch and order.”

“Mr. Barron—”

“Chase. Please, Savannah? Just do this for me. We’ll figure out something about your situation, okay?”

“Okay.” The doors slithered open silently and she stepped out. He leaned against the panel, keeping the elevator open. “It’ll be okay, Savannah.”

She tilted her head and watched him through unblinking eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a sardonic smile before he could stop himself. “I have no idea. I just know that I want to.” He freed the door and it closed on her bemused expression.

Upstairs, he paced through the apartment, fitting pieces of a plan together. He had a crap ton of stuff to do and very little time to do it in.

Forty-five minutes later, he had a handle on almost everything. All he needed now was Savannah’s cooperation. Considering the deal he’d put together, he figured it wouldn’t be too hard to win her over, despite misgivings expressed by his brother Chance, and by Kade.

* * *

Savannah stood under the hot water pouring from the rainfall showerhead. Her room was like a little minisuite. There was a sitting area with a huge LED TV, and a small table for two next to the window that looked out over the Strip. The mattress on the king-size bed bounced her a little when she flopped on it, and then sucked her into its memory-foam goodness. The bathroom was...huge, sporting a whirlpool garden tub big enough for two and a separate granite-walled shower big enough for even more.

She pressed her hands against the stone wall and bowed her head. If some tears mixed in with the water, who would know? Besides her. She didn’t cry. Didn’t have the time or the inclination for it. But here she was, bawling twice in less than twenty-four hours. Letting go of a dream was hard, but she had no choice.

Indigo was hurt too badly to race. In fact, the vet had wanted to take him to the clinic for X-rays. Her horse was done. Out for at least three months, if not forever. The whole thing was so stupid. She’d been mounted, waiting her turn to run at a rodeo last month in Denver. Another competitor had ridden up beside her and within seconds, the other horse had freaked, whirled and nailed poor Indigo in the gaskin, the area between the thigh and hock. She’d checked Indy, but there was no broken skin. Thinking the flighty horse had missed, she’d run the barrels that night and Indy pulled up lame at the end of the run.

Guilt swamped her. One of the guys with the rodeo stock company had looked at Indy for her. He knew almost as much as a vet and had diagnosed a deep bruise. He’d recommended rest. Hot packs. Then alternate hot and cold packs. She didn’t have money for a vet and she darn sure wasn’t going to call home for a bailout. Her mother and Tom, Mom’s latest loser boyfriend, would be all up in her face with the I-told-you-so’s. Well, they’d told her so, and now she had no choice but to tuck her tail between her legs and sneak home. Her shoulders shook as she cried harder.

Maybe Kade would loan her enough money to get back to Oklahoma, though she didn’t know what she’d do once she got there. Surely some of the restaurants or clubs in Oklahoma City were hiring. She’d need good tips to pay Kade back. She’d have to sell Indy. She couldn’t afford to board him—or get him properly doctored by a vet—and with Tom living with her mom, she couldn’t stay at the farm.

The thought of losing her horse hurt her heart. The first time she’d put him through his paces she knew she had a winner, and it had revived her dream of becoming the Champion All-Around Cowgirl at the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo.