One Tall, Dusty Cowboy

Her back teeth clamped together. “Really? The fact that your grandfather has had a stroke and needs physical therapy is good news to you?”

“Aw, now, Lilly,” he began in a slow, flirtatious drawl. “That wasn’t even close to what I meant.”

Not about to give this man an opportunity to work his charms on her, she said, “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Calhoun. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be at the hospital in forty-five minutes.”

He stroked a thoughtful finger along his jaw. “It only takes thirty minutes to get to town from here. Surely you can give me five of those extra ones.”

“What makes you think you deserve five minutes of my time?”

The question appeared to take him aback and while he was searching for words, she stepped around him and started across a wide corridor that would eventually lead her to a side exit of the huge ranch house. Rafe Calhoun’s jingle-bell spurs rang out as he hurried after her.

“Now wait a minute, Lilly. You’re not being very friendly. You don’t want to give me a bad first impression, do you?”

Pausing, she turned to find him standing directly behind her and so close that she could smell the dust and sweat on his clothes, see the gray horse hair and streaks of dirt clinging to his white shirt. Now that the grin had been wiped from his face, she was able to observe his lips in their natural state. They were thin and hard with a tiny white scar adorning the top corner. Apparently, at one time, something or someone had busted his mouth.

The man probably liked fighting as much as he liked kissing, she couldn’t help thinking.

“I’m not interested in giving you any sort of impression. I’m not making visits to the Silver Horn ranch for your amusement, Mr. Calhoun. I’m here to treat your grandfather. Now goodbye!”

“How could anything so cold come out of such a beautiful mouth?” he countered. “Especially when I haven’t given you a reason to dislike me.”

She breathed deeply and assured herself that she wasn’t feeling an ounce of attraction for this man. She was simply fascinated by his rough, tough appearance and the easy way all those pretty words rolled from his tongue.

“I’ve not given you any reason to flirt with me, either,” she said stiffly.

Instead of making him angry, her response merely made him laugh. Again. And Lilly was shocked at how the low, rich sound sent a shiver of pleasure right through her.

“You’re definitely a saucy little thing.”

And he was just the sort of man that Lilly had taken great pains to avoid these past few years. “I’m not a thing, Mr. Calhoun. I’m a woman.”

The corner of his lips, the one with the fetching little scar, curved upward. “Yes, I can see exactly how much of a woman.”

Incensed, she said, “If that’s the case, then go find the nearest mirror and tell the guy looking back at you that he’s not quite the Romeo he thinks he is.”

With that she didn’t wait around for his response. Instead, she walked quickly away from him until she was completely outside of the house. Fifteen minutes later, she’d driven halfway to Carson City and by then she realized her fingers were aching from the choke hold she had on the steering wheel.

What was she doing? Why had she let a playboy’s silly flirtation get her riled? At twenty-eight years of age and working most of her adult life as a nurse, she’d dealt with all types of men. And she understood that the majority of them had one thing on their minds. It was obvious that Rafe Calhoun was no different.

Shoving a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair, she kept her eyes on the highway while she fought to push the man’s image from her mind. She hoped to heaven she wouldn’t run into him again, but she seriously doubted she could be that lucky. She’d only started Bart Calhoun’s therapy three days ago and the task of rehabilitating the use of his leg and arm was going to be long and arduous. And given Rafe Calhoun’s persistence, she had the sinking feeling he would make it a point to bump into her whenever she was at the ranch.

You can’t be worrying about that, Lilly. Men like him are everywhere. And for the past seven years you’ve managed very well to stay out of their reach. You can stay out of Rafe’s path, too.

But that was going to be easier said than done, she thought, as she pulled into a parking space set aside for hospital personnel. Men like Rafe weren’t exactly everywhere. There had been something about him that had struck a nerve and made her so totally aware of the long months she’d gone without so much as having a man hold her hand. And that sad fact was hardly something she wanted to dwell on.

“Good morning, Lilly. How did it go with Mr. Calhoun this morning?”

As Lilly passed the nurses’ station, she glanced over to see Jolene, a young brunette nurse that worked the morning shift in the E.R.

“He’s trying his best.”

“Well, I’d sure like a job inside that fancy mansion, but I wouldn’t want to deal with Mr. Calhoun. I’ve heard stories about his last visit here at the hospital. He had most of the nurses in tears or wanting to kill him.” Gesturing over her shoulder in the direction of the snack room, she said, “I saved you a couple of pieces of pizza for lunch. It’s in the fridge if you want it.”

“Thanks, Jolene. Maybe later. Right now I’m running short on time.”

Thanks to one sexy cowboy with a glib tongue. She wondered what Jolene or any of the other nurses could tell her about Rafe Calhoun. Probably the same thing that was said about the elder Calhoun, she thought; he left women in tears or wanting to kill him.

* * *

Back on the Silver Horn, Rafe stepped into his father’s office and walked straight to the coffeepot.

“What’s up? I thought branding was going on today?” Orin asked.

Rafe glanced over at the big man sitting behind a wide mahogany desk. In his early sixties, Orin Calhoun was still as strong and vital as he’d been twenty years ago. The only difference now was that his hair was more gray than dark and age lines creased the corners of his eyes and mouth. Orin had raised five strapping sons and along the way lost the only woman he’d ever loved. Rafe seriously doubted he could ever be as great a man as his father, so most of the time he didn’t try.

“Branding is going on,” Rafe answered. “I burnt the hell out of my finger and had to come get another pair of gloves.”

Orin frowned. “We keep stacks of gloves in every barn.”

“Well, I had to put some ointment on my finger and I wanted my own gloves. Come to think of it, I should’ve let that pretty little nurse of Gramps’s treat me. Bet she would’ve known exactly what to do to take out the sting.”

As Rafe sipped the black coffee, he watched his father let out a weary sigh. It was no secret that Orin didn’t like Rafe’s philandering ways. He’d often hounded Rafe to either settle down with a woman or, at the very least, quit chasing them like a bull in a spring pasture full of heifers. But Rafe was thirty years old and though he was open to advice, he lived life his own way and at his own pace.

“Son, I hope I don’t have to tell you to behave like a gentleman around Ms. Lockett. She’s a specialist in therapy, but also works in the E.R. at Tahoe General. She’s only taken this job as a favor to Chet Anderson, the director of nursing there, who also happens to be a friend of mine. And it would be damned hard to replace her,” he added with a pointed glance at Rafe.

Walking over to the wide window overlooking the ranch yard, Rafe gazed over the rim of his coffee cup at the busy comings and goings of the hired hands. Except for a two-year stint in college, he’d spent his entire life on this Nevada ranch. Five years ago, his grandfather, Bart, had appointed him the position of ranch foreman and during those five years Rafe wasn’t sure if Bart had cursed or blessed him. Overseeing twenty-five men, thousands of head of cattle and several sections of rugged ranch land had never been a simple task. In the very beginning Rafe had stumbled more than once, and there had been times he’d even doubted his ability to handle a job that normally would go to a much older, more experienced man. But he’d been determined to prove his worth and now being the foreman of the Silver Horn was a job he lived, slept and breathed.

“What’s the matter with you, Dad?”

Orin let out another sigh and the sound irked Rafe no end. He loved and respected his father greatly, but it annoyed the hell out of Rafe to have the other man treat him as though he were still a bumbling teenager.

“All right, son. Just so you understand how important she is right now. She could be the difference in your grandfather getting strong enough to walk again.”

Rafe turned away from the window. “You make it sound like she’s a miracle worker.”

“From what Chet told me, she has worked miracles with a few hopeless cases. That’s why he recommended her for Dad’s therapy. I just hope she can endure his bullheadedness.”

From his brief exchange with the blonde beauty, he certainly didn’t think she’d have any trouble holding her own with Bart. She was the first woman in a long time that had rejected his advances, and she’d hardly been uncertain about it.

Go find the nearest mirror and tell the guy looking back at you that he’s not quite the Romeo he thinks he is.

Lilly Lockett’s parting remark still had enough power to sting him. But on the other hand, he admired her spunk. And Rafe always did like a challenge.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I don’t think Lilly is the sort of woman who runs from anything. She’ll handle Gramps.” And me, he thought wryly.

“I’m glad you think so. Now tell me about the branding. Did the men find more stray calves to add to the spring tally?”

“Fifty-two additional head. They were over on the Antelope Range, on the flats near the river. All of them were packing good weight.”