She Doesn’t Need His Protection!

Hard working cowboy Johnny Cash has always been a protector to his little sister’s best friend, sweet but tough cowgirl Shannon Douglas. It’s pretty crazy for girls to ride bulls—yet it’s her life to live. Then he realizes he’s got some purely male instincts toward her, too. But absolutely no way can he fall for his boss’s daughter—if he loses his job, there’ll be hell to pay at home….

Shannon was raised to be strong and independent. She wants a national title so bad she can taste it—and she needs Johnny’s help. His protectiveness drives her crazy…the same way his kisses do. But she’s not about to hang up her bull rope because of him! Her heart says he’s the one—but her own stubborn streak might push away the only man who might actually understand her.

Shannon waited for Johnny to make eye contact.

Sex with him had been amazing. She never would have guessed that they would have hit it off in bed the way they had.

Finally he looked at her. “We need to talk about what happened.”

Boy, howdy, did they.

“I’m sorry, Shannon.” He grimaced. “I accept full blame—” his gaze cut to the bed “—for what happened.”

Sorry? Swell—just what every girl yearned to hear the morning after.

She snatched her clothes from his hand. He might act as though making love hadn’t been a big deal—but they both knew they’d set the sheets on fire.

“Seems like just yesterday I was bandaging your knees and wiping your runny nose.”

“You’re only nine years older than me.” Obviously their age difference bothered him.

“Old enough to know better.” Gaze glued to the tips of his boots, Johnny walked to the door. “Like I said, I’m sorry. Good luck at the rodeo. Drive safe.”

Then he was gone.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Stagecoach, Arizona! The Cowboy Next Door is the first story in my new six-book series for Harlequin American Romance. You may recall meeting Dixie’s brothers in A Cowboy’s Duty (August 2012). The Cash brothers were named after country-and-western legends by their deceased mother, whose lifelong search for her true love left each of her sons with a different father.

I love writing about the dynamics of family relationships and the drama that results in family members interfering in each other’s lives. In my new series, I’ll explore how growing up without a father has impacted the choices in life that each of the Cash brothers has made and the consequences of those choices.

As the firstborn son, Johnny grew up taking care of his siblings and has been accused on more than one occasion of acting more like a parent than a brother. Being overprotective of his siblings comes naturally to Johnny, but when a run-in with his sister’s best friend, Shannon Douglas, triggers lusty thoughts, he’s not sure what to do. Shannon doesn’t have a problem with their age difference—her issue with Johnny is that he thinks he can still tell her what to do, and she rebels when he tries to interfere with her goal of winning a national rodeo title. I hope you enjoy reading how Johnny and Shannon struggle to overcome the baggage from their childhoods and find their way as a couple.

I love to keep in touch with my readers. Email me at marin@marinthomas.com, and follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Visit www.marinthomas.com for more information on my books.

Happy Ever After…The Cowboy Way!

Marin

The Cowboy Next Door

Marin Thomas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marin Thomas grew up in Janesville, Wisconsin. She left the Midwest to attend college in Tucson, Arizona, where she earned a B.A. in radio-TV. Following graduation she married her college sweetheart in a five-minute ceremony at the historic Little Chapel of the West in Las Vegas, Nevada. Over the years she and her family have lived in seven different states, but they’ve now come full circle and returned to Arizona, where the rugged desert and breathtaking sunsets provide plenty of inspiration for Marin’s cowboy books.

To my agent Paige Wheeler of Folio Literary

Management: thank you for your expert guidance the

past ten years and for helping me achieve a longtime

dream of becoming a Harlequin author. Here’s to the

next decade and wherever my writing takes us!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Excerpt

Chapter One

On a hot, mid-August Saturday Johnny Cash stood in the cowboy ready area of the Butterfield Stage Days Parade and Rodeo in Gila Bend, Arizona, and watched the fireworks display between lady bull rider Shannon Douglas and all-around rodeo cowboy C. J. Rodriguez.

The hand-gesturing and boot-stomping drew a lot of notice and Johnny edged closer, ready to intervene if the argument quickly went south.

“You’re supposed to be my man, not Veronica’s,” Shannon said.

No surprise that the notorious buckle bunny Veronica Patriot had sunk her claws into another cowboy. The woman was hell on boot heels and took what she wanted—mostly cowboys in committed relationships. If that was the case, and Rodriguez had cheated on Shannon, then Johnny felt bad for her.

Shannon was his sister’s best friend and Johnny had known her most of his life. Nine years her senior, he’d been a big brother to the little girl who’d spent countless afternoons playing at the Cash pecan farm or trailing after him at her father’s spread where Johnny worked as a seasonal ranch hand.

Rodriguez jabbed his finger in the air. “I can’t help it if I attract women everywhere I go.”

Hands fisted, Shannon stood her ground. “You’re ticked off that I won last week.”

“You didn’t beat me.” Rodriguez glanced at his competitors, who pretended not to listen.

Shannon laughed. “You’re sore because fans are finding out you’re not the superstar you claim to be.”

The feuding couples’ audience showed no signs of intervening. Pretty soon the rodeo officials and cameramen would notice the confrontation playing out behind the chutes and broadcast the lovers’ spat on the JumboTron.

“Shannon.” Johnny stepped from the shadows and touched a finger to the brim of his black cattleman’s Stetson.

She flashed him a grateful smile.

“Well, if it ain’t the Man in Black.” Rodriguez snickered.

Johnny’s hackles rose. What the hell had his mother been thinking when she’d named him and his brothers after country-and-western singers? It had been bad enough that they’d all been fathered by different men. From the day Johnny entered kindergarten, he’d been teased—not that his mother had cared.

When his biological father, Charlie Smith, had split after Johnny’s birth, Aimee Cash had become an absentee mom, gallivanting across the Southwest, searching for the next Mr. Right. She hadn’t been there when Johnny had come home from school with his first black eye—Grandma Ada had hugged him and insisted there was room in the world for two Johnny Cashes. Eventually he might have learned to turn the other cheek, but every year or two, another brother had been born and saddled with a moniker that needed defending until he grew old enough to fight his own battles. And Johnny had made his fair share of trips to the principal’s office during his school career.

“Back off, Rodriguez.” He leveled a sober stare at the cowboy.

“This is bullshit.” Rodriguez threw his gear bag over his shoulder and stomped off. The onlookers dispersed.

“You okay?” he asked Shannon.

“Yeah. C.J.’s just frustrated with his riding, that’s all.” She rolled a clump of dirt beneath her boot.

Johnny noticed she wore Dynasty Boots. He glanced at her gear bag—that, too, sported the Dynasty Boots logo. The last he’d heard, Wrangler Jeans was promoting Shannon and Rodriguez’s cross-country tour, highlighting women’s bull riding. He motioned to the boot stitched on her shirt. “I thought Wrangler sponsored you.”

“They did.” She watched the rodeo helpers load a bull into a nearby chute. “Dynasty Boots offered me and C.J. a better deal and bought out our contract with Wrangler.”

“What kind of better deal?”

“If C.J. and I continue to compete against each other and keep up our sham of a romance—fans love that we’re a couple—” she said, rolling her eyes “—we—”

“You’re not a couple?”

“Not anymore.” She shrugged. “Anyway, whoever has the most wins after the Tucson rodeo in January earns a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus.”

Johnny whistled between his teeth. “Where does the score stand between you two?”

“Dead even.”

“No kidding?”

“Did you think because C.J.’s a man he’d be ahead of me in the competition?”

“No...I...” Johnny shrugged. In truth, he believed bull riding was best left to cowboys, but if there was ever a cowgirl who could go the distance with the men, Shannon Douglas was that girl.

“If I want to win the title of Cowgirl of the Year, I need to beat C.J.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly agitated. The hotshot cowboy had rattled her.

“You sure you’re okay?” His gaze roamed over her body.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Rodriguez must be blind.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. Even though Shannon was a tomboy, the subtle signs of a pretty woman were evident. Her turbulent green eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, glowed with a vibrant, determined spirit. Then there was her mouth, plump lips that begged a man to... Startled by his train of thought, he cleared his throat. What the heck was he doing—cataloging his sister’s friend’s body parts? At least he’d stopped before he’d checked out her—

“I got to the rodeo late. Did you ride this afternoon?” she asked.

“Sandpiper tossed me on my keister.”

“Did any of your brothers compete?”

“The rest of the gang stayed behind to work on the bunkhouse.”

“I heard Dixie threw all of you out of the farmhouse after she and Gavin married.”

“You heard right.” He nodded at C.J. “Was that your normal warm-up routine?”

“Hardly.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to kick off the men’s bull riding event, but first, we have a special treat for you.” Applause and whistles filled the arena. When the noise died down, the announcer continued. “Shannon Douglas is about to show us that cowgirls are as tough as cowboys when it comes to bull riding!”

The crowd noise was deafening. Johnny had no idea Shannon had become so popular on the circuit. “You sure you’re okay?” She shot him a dark look, so he said, “Good luck,” and moved aside. He didn’t stray far—in case Rodriguez got it in his head to pick another fight with her. After she put on her Kevlar vest, protective face mask and riding glove, she climbed the chute rails while the announcer finished his spiel.

“Shannon Douglas hails from the Triple D Ranch near Stagecoach. She’s been competing in roughstock events since high school and you won’t find a tougher cowgirl in the whole state of Arizona!” The JumboTron displayed a close-up of her as she waved to the fans. “This cowgirl’s about to tangle with Boomerang, a veteran bull known for his tight spins.”

Shannon stretched a leg over the bull and settled onto his back. She wrapped then rewrapped the rope around her gloved hand and Johnny worried that she was thinking about her quarrel with Rodriguez.

He spotted her partner inching toward the chute and stepped into the man’s path. He wasn’t letting the rodeo playboy taunt Shannon. Only after the gate opened and Boomerang sprang free, did Johnny turn to the action inside the arena.

Shannon hung on through three spins. As the seconds ticked off the clock, the bullfighters moved into position, ready to help if needed.

Six...seven...

The buzzer sounded and Shannon waited for an opening to dismount. Boomerang chose for her. The bull kicked out at the same time he twisted his back end and she catapulted through the air. She hit the ground and skidded several feet across the dirt. His heart stalled when Boomerang turned on Shannon as she struggled to stand.

Head down, the bull charged and a collective gasp rippled through the stands. The bullfighters made a valiant attempt to intervene, but the beast was fixated on his rider.

Move, Shannon, move!

She must have felt the ground shake, because she rolled sideways in the nick of time and the bull’s horns missed her by inches. Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled toward the rails as the rodeo helpers guided Boomerang to the bull pen.

When Shannon’s boot hit the bottom rung, Johnny held out his hand and her green eyes flashed with relief. Adrenaline pumped through his blood and he yanked her too hard over the rails, her momentum carrying him backward. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, Shannon sprawled on top of him. Damned if he couldn’t feel the soft mounds of her breasts through her Kevlar vest. His arms tightened around her and the first thought that popped into his head was how good she felt pressed against him.

“There you have it, folks!” the announcer bellowed. “Shannon Douglas has bested Boomerang!”

The announcer’s voice startled them and Shannon rolled off of Johnny. Another cowboy offered his hand and helped her to her feet. Her competitors congratulated her with fist pumps, high fives and hearty pats on the back. By the time Johnny stood, she was no longer smiling. A few yards away, dressed in a red-and-white-checked cowgirl blouse, Veronica Patriot hung on Rodriguez like a cloth over a picnic table. Obviously the cowboy wasn’t trying very hard to play up the romance between him and Shannon.

“Hey, Johnny.” Andy Kramer, a bareback rider, stopped by his side and nodded to Shannon as she removed her protective gear. “Bet you’re glad Dixie quit riding bulls.”

For sure. Last summer Shannon had convinced Johnny’s sister to compete in a few rodeos, but Dixie had turned up pregnant after the second one and scratched her final ride.

“You wanna grab a beer when we leave here?” Andy asked.

“Sorry, I’ve got a date.” He planned to stop at his girlfriend’s apartment and surprise her with a night on the town. He hadn’t seen Charlene in forever and the last time they’d talked on the phone, the conversation had been strained. He hated that they were growing apart, but he’d been forced to put their relationship on the back burner the past year in order to deal with family problems and the pecan farm’s financial crisis.

“See ya at the next go-round.” Andy walked off.

Johnny grabbed his gear and strolled over to Shannon, intending to say goodbye, but Rodriguez beat him to her.

“Can we talk somewhere?” Rodriguez nodded to the stands.

Shannon caught Johnny’s eye and he asked, “Want me to stay?”

“Thanks, I’m good.”

After she left with Rodriguez, Johnny headed for the exit. What the hell had gotten into him? It was one thing to look out for Shannon at the rodeo—another to hold her close when they’d crashed to the ground.

Cool off, buddy. No harm done.

Then why had X-rated thoughts drifted through his mind when Shannon had been sprawled on top of him?

He cut through the rows of pickups to his truck parked at the rear of the lot. Once he stowed his gear, he drove south toward Stagecoach. In an effort to put Shannon out of his mind, he listened to talk radio. Ten miles passed and he hadn’t heard a word the radio host said. Johnny pulled off at the next roadside gas station and bought a coffee in the convenience store, then sat in the truck and stared out the windshield.

When had he stopped loving Charlene?

He couldn’t recall the last time Charlene and the word love had occurred in the same thought. Johnny’s memory floated back in time...first one month...then two...then six and finally a year. He couldn’t blame the demise of his and Charlene’s relationship all on his siblings and the farm. His feelings for his longtime girlfriend had been gradually fading, but because he’d been comfortable with the status quo, he’d paid no attention to the signs.

He and Charlene had been together a little over seven years and he hadn’t asked her to marry him. The last time she’d brought up marriage, he’d recently found out Dixie was pregnant and then he’d gotten word the agricultural company leasing the pecan groves had gone bankrupt. Marrying Charlene would have added another person to his list of responsibilities.

Unbeknownst to his brothers, Johnny had made the mortgage payment on the farm for the past eight months, depleting his savings—funds that had been earmarked for a house once he and Charlene tied the knot.

Shannon. When she’d landed on top of him this afternoon, he’d felt a sharp stab of arousal shoot through his body. He hadn’t experienced a physical zap like that with Charlene in forever. He sipped his coffee and winced as the scalding liquid burned his tongue. If anything good had come out of running into Shannon at the rodeo, it was recognizing that tonight he had to end his relationship with Charlene. She deserved better than to be strung along.

He started the truck and merged onto the highway. An hour later, he took the exit for Yuma. He arrived at Charlene’s complex and parked in a visitor spot, then removed her apartment key from his key ring.

When he rounded the corner of the building, he bumped into a man. “Sorry.” Together they ascended the stairs to the second story where the guy stopped in front of Charlene’s apartment and rang the bell.

Stunned, Johnny gaped at the man’s dress slacks and polished wing tips.

The door opened and Charlene smiled. When she caught sight of Johnny, her eyes widened.

“Hello, darlin’,” Johnny said. The color drained from her face and he thought she might cry. “Mind if I have a word with you in private?”

She motioned for Mr. Businessman to enter the apartment, then stepped onto the landing and shut the door. “I can explain.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“This is our second date.” She sighed. “I was going to tell you the next time I saw you, but we haven’t spoken in three weeks.”

Had it been that long? “Don’t apologize.” His pride hurt that she’d moved on before they’d officially broken up, but in the grand scheme of things, he was relieved she was making this easy for him.

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I should have told you I wasn’t happy.”

She’d given off plenty of clues that her feelings for him had changed, but he’d been too distracted to notice.

After he handed her the apartment key, she said, “Wait here.” She returned a few minutes later—hair mussed. Obviously the new guy wanted him to know he’d staked his claim on Charlene.

She held out a cardboard box filled with his toiletries and personal items. “If you’d like, I can fetch the two necklaces and pair of earrings you bought me.”

They’d been together seven years and that’s all he’d given her? “Those were gifts. I don’t want them back.” He shifted the box in his arms. “Good luck with—” He nodded to the door.

“Sean. We met at work.” Charlene kissed his cheek. “You’ll always be special to me, Johnny.”

“Take care,” he said.

The apartment door closed and the scraping sound of the dead bolt ended their seven-year relationship.

Johnny left the complex feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d had good times with Charlene and she’d been the first woman he’d fallen in love with, but happy-ever-after hadn’t been in the cards for them.

Once he reached his truck, he decided he didn’t feel like being alone. He’d stop at a bar and properly mourn the end of his relationship with Charlene. She’d stuck it out with him for longer than most women would have, and the least he could do was drink a few beers and pretend she’d broken his heart.

* * *

SHANNON ENTERED THE WHISKEY River Saloon—not because she wanted a beer, but because she hoped to find C.J. in the midst of all the rowdy cowboys and buckle bunnies. She needed to talk sense into her partner before his actions jeopardized everything she’d worked so hard for.

She hated the strain between her and C.J., but if he didn’t rein in his wild ways and pretend they were a couple in public, she’d lose her shot at a national title. Both her brothers and her father had won rodeo titles and she was determined to win one, too.

If only she hadn’t fallen victim to C.J.’s charm when they’d first hit the road together, but she’d been no match for the womanizing cowboy and had stupidly believed he’d remain faithful to her after they made love. She’d learned her lesson the hard way when the very next day C.J. flirted with a rodeo groupie right in front of her. Whatever romantic feelings she once carried for him had died a quick death, which made acting like a lovesick couple all the more difficult.

She really didn’t care if he slept with other women, as long as he kept his liaisons private. If fans believed their romance was a big lie, ticket sales might plummet, then Dynasty Boots would pull their sponsorship—and there went her shot at the title.

“You here alone?”

Shannon felt the whisper of a breath near her ear. She spun and came face-to-face with Johnny Cash. “I’ll buy you a beer,” he said.

“I could use one, thanks.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Shannon watched Johnny saunter over to the bar, admiring the snug fit of his jeans. When he came back with their drinks, he motioned to a table on the other side of the dance floor. Once they were seated, she had trouble keeping her eyes off his face. Why had she never noticed how sexy his chiseled jaw was before now? “How’s Dixie?”

“She and Gavin are trying for another baby.”

Poor Dixie. She’d suffered a miscarriage last fall and although the pregnancy hadn’t been planned, she’d been devastated. “I hope everything goes well this time.”

A stilted silence grew between them and Shannon squirmed in her chair. Since when had she ever had trouble talking to Johnny? “I’m sorry you had to witness the spat between C.J. and me.” She picked at the label on the beer bottle and made a pile of confetti on the table. When she chanced a glance at Johnny, he was grinning. “What?”

“Like I said before, Rodriguez is a fool.” He saluted her with his beer, then took a swig.

Shannon fought a smile. Johnny had always made her feel better when she’d been down in the dumps. “Speaking of relationships, are you still with Sherry...Cheryl—”

“Charlene. We broke up.”

“I’m sorry. Dixie never said anything.”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

“So your breakup with Charlene is fairly recent?”

“You could say that, but we’ve been growing apart for a while.” He nodded to the crowded floor. “Care to dance?”

“Sure.” Shannon wasn’t in any hurry to go to the motel room and sleep, only to be jarred awake in the middle of the night from the headboard banging against the wall in the room next to hers as C.J. and his latest buckle bunny went at it.

Johnny held out his hand and she threaded her fingers through his, finding his callused grip comforting. He pulled her close and they swayed to the music, his six-foot-one frame towering over her five feet six inches. For as long as she’d known Johnny he’d made her feel safe.

“Where does Mack’s band play?” she asked.

“What?” Johnny bent his head, moving his ear close to her mouth.

She caught a whiff of cologne and breathed deeply. “I asked where Mack and his band performed.” Someone nudged Shannon from behind and her mouth bumped Johnny’s cheek. A tingling sensation spread through her lips.

He swung her away from the exuberant dance couple. “The Cowboy Rebels play the bars in Stagecoach.”

Before Shannon replied, a voice from behind her spoke. “Thanks for leaving me stranded at the rodeo.”

Her feet stopped moving and Johnny’s fingers tightened against her back as he swung her to face C.J.

“I assumed one of your bunnies would give you a ride into Yuma,” she said.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve complaining about me being with other women when you’re chasing after your own cowboys.” C.J. glared at Johnny.

She pulled her hand free from Johnny’s and said, “Can you give us a minute?”

After Johnny left the dance floor, C.J. twirled her between the other couples. “I want you to stop flirting with women at the rodeos,” she said.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly.” She snorted. “You’re not going to ruin my chances at a national title because you can’t stick to the script and pretend we’re a couple.”

“You really think you can beat me in Tucson?”

“Damn straight.” Her answer made him laugh.

“If you don’t keep your love interests out of the public eye, the fans will catch on that our romance is made-up and neither of us will win anything because Dynasty Boots will break our contract.”

C.J.’s expression sobered. “Okay, I’ll tell the ladies they have to sit in the bleachers with all the other fans.”

“And make sure you don’t leave the arena with any of your bunnies. Meet up with them somewhere else.”

“Same goes for you and the ‘Boy Named Sue.’” He nodded to Johnny.

C.J. could be a real ass sometimes, but she let his sarcasm slide. If not for the night he’d gotten drunk when they’d first hit the road together and spilled his guts about his traumatic childhood, she might never have fallen for him. Like her, he’d been raised by a single father until he was nine and his father was sent to prison for killing C.J.’s mother. C.J. spent the next several years shuffling between foster homes until he ran away at the age of fifteen. Rodeo was C.J.’s family and like most families there were some siblings you got along with and others you didn’t. For whatever reason, the Cash clan rubbed C.J. the wrong way.

“Johnny’s like a big brother to me. Nothing’s going to happen between us.”

“He didn’t act like a big brother earlier today.”

“Do we have a deal then?” She didn’t want to discuss Johnny.

“I’ll try my best.” He offered a cocky bow, then sauntered out of the bar.

“Ready for another beer?” Johnny asked a moment later.

Why not? It had been a long time since she’d let her hair down and enjoyed a few dances with a handsome cowboy—even if the cowboy happened to be her best friend’s brother.

Chapter Two

“One more dance,” Shannon whispered in Johnny’s ear.

Once Rodriguez had left the bar, Shannon had insisted on dancing up a storm—so much for mourning his breakup with Charlene. The band had left an hour ago and now oldies but goodies played on the jukebox. “How many beers have you had tonight?” he asked.

“Three.” She wiggled closer, her hips rubbing the front of his jeans with just enough friction to start a riot behind the zipper.

He’d done an admirable job pretending she didn’t arouse him, but each song they danced to, he found it more difficult to remember that Shannon was his sister’s best friend and the boss’s daughter. Time to end the torment. He took her hand and guided her toward the exit.

“Well, damn.” The curse floated from Shannon’s mouth as soon as they stepped outside the Whiskey River Saloon.

Johnny surveyed the dark parking lot. “What’s the matter?”

“He took off with the truck.”

“Who?”

“C.J. took the truck Dynasty Boots loaned us while we’re traveling the circuit.” She teetered toward Johnny.

“Whoa.” He steadied her and escorted her to his pickup. “I’ll give you a lift home.” He was glad Rodriguez had left Shannon stranded at the bar. She was in no shape to drive and she’d have put up a stink if he’d taken the keys from her.

“Not back to the ranch,” she said when he opened the passenger-side door. “C.J. and I have rooms at the Hacienda Motel in Yuma. We’re leaving early in the morning for California.” She fumbled with the seat belt and he helped her snap the buckle into place before hopping in on the driver’s side.

The drive to the motel took fifteen minutes, and Johnny parked in the back then walked her to the room. After two failed attempts to swipe the key card in the lock, he opened the door for her and flipped on the lights. “What about your things?” he asked.

“They’re in the truck with C.J.” She sank onto the end of the bed and tugged off her boots.

Johnny checked the bathroom for boogeymen and made sure the window was locked. When he faced Shannon, she wore only a black lace bra and matching panties.

Wow. There was nothing little girl about her underwear and her body was sexy as hell—her athleticism evident in her toned arms, sinewy thighs and six-pack abs.

“You better catch some sleep,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. When he made a move for the door, she stepped in his path. Their gazes locked. Her green eyes glinted with desire as she licked her lips. The air in the room evaporated, leaving him light-headed. He’d seen Shannon lick plenty of things through the years—Popsicles, suckers and Oreo cookie cream, but never had he watched her roll her tongue across her lower lip and stare at him as if he were a big juicy steak.

She reached for his shirt and ripped the snaps open. The rush of cool air hitting his chest hardened his nipples. Then her hands fumbled with his belt as she pressed her mouth against his and kissed him.

The brush of her lips coincided with the soft bump of her lace-covered breasts against his chest, triggering a rush of testosterone through his bloodstream. He let her deepen the kiss, confident in his ability to stop her in a second...maybe a minute...maybe never.

His shirt ended up on the floor, and then her hand slipped inside his jeans. He meant to move away, but instead, he trapped her fingers against him and thrust his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned but broke off the kiss and walked to the bathroom, where she stopped in the doorway and crooked her finger.

For a split second he considered making a break for the door, but then the next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of the bathroom and Shannon was tugging his boots off and pushing his jeans down his legs. Her bra and panties joined his clothes on the floor before they stepped under the spray of warm water, made all the hotter by the heat radiating off his skin. She soaped his body, each caress driving him closer to the edge. Then it was his turn, and he made sure every inch of her was sparkling clean.

After rinsing off, they toweled each other dry and kissed their way back to the bed, where she collapsed onto the mattress and he sprawled across her.

“My wallet’s on the floor in the bathroom.” He nibbled her breast before leaving her to retrieve a condom.

When he returned, Shannon lay on the bed like a bewitching siren, her damp hair spread across the pillow, her green eyes beckoning. His last sane thought as he sheathed himself was how surreal the moment felt and that he hoped he’d never wake up from this fantasy.

* * *

JOHNNY WOKE TO the feel of Shannon snuggled against his side. He took shallow breaths and lay motionless—afraid to wake her. Afraid to confront what had just happened.

The morning sun peeked through the one-inch gap between the drapes and the air conditioner—illuminating the room enough that he could see Shannon’s face. He swallowed hard. With her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open, she looked younger than her twenty-four years.

What in the hell had he done?

He closed his eyes and silently cursed.

She’s practically your sister.

Last night Shannon hadn’t behaved like a little sister and he hadn’t behaved like a big brother. What was the matter with him? He should have been looking out for her, not taking advantage of her.

She’s too young for you.

Nine years separated them. She might be younger, but she seemed older—maybe because she’d grown up in an all-male household and had learned to be tough and independent practically from birth. If their age difference wasn’t enough to convince him to leave her alone then the fact that her father had hired him as the new foreman of the Triple D should be reason enough to keep his hands to himself.

He couldn’t afford to screw up his job with Shannon’s father. He needed the steady income to pay the mortgage on the farm until he found an agricultural company to lease the orchards. The pecan grove had been in the family four generations and losing the land would cause Johnny’s grandfather to roll over in his grave. As his mother’s firstborn, he’d experienced a special bond with his grandfather—the old man had offered a guiding hand when Johnny’s own father had wanted nothing to do with raising him. Johnny would do everything in his power to ensure the farm remained in the family.

Shannon stretched lazily against his side, her fingers caressing his groin. A shock, strong enough to jump-start his heart, raced through his body. He should grab his clothes and split, but someone had to be the grown-up this morning.

Before he talked himself into making love to her for a third time, he rolled off the mattress and escaped to the bathroom, where he took a cold shower and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. When he stepped into the bedroom, Shannon was sitting up against the headboard, the sheet tucked beneath her arms—thank God. Telling her that what they’d shared had been a mistake would be impossible if he had to stare at her naked breasts.

Shannon waited for Johnny to make eye contact. Sex with him had been amazing. She never would have guessed that she and Dixie’s brother would have hit it off in bed the way they had.

Finally he looked at her. “We need to talk about what happened,” he said.

Boy, howdy, did they. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, then silently cursed and leaped from the bed, dragging the sheet with her. “C.J. and I have to leave in fifteen minutes,” she said, shutting the bathroom door in Johnny’s face.

She made quick use of the facilities then, realizing her clothes were in the other room, she wrapped the sheet around her and opened the door. Johnny stood by the window holding her bra and panties.

“I’m sorry, Shannon.” He grimaced. “I accept full blame—” his gaze cut to the bed “—for what happened.”

Sorry? Swell, just what every girl yearns to hear the morning after.

She snatched her lingerie from his hand. He might act like making love hadn’t been a big deal—but they both knew they’d set the sheets on fire. Even though she’d been with only three guys—Johnny being one of them—their lovemaking was unlike anything she’d experienced before, and she knew he’d enjoyed it, because he’d been pretty darn vocal.

He spun when she dropped the sheet to put on her panties. “Seems like just yesterday I was bandaging your knees and wiping your runny nose.”

“You’re nine years my senior. So what?” Obviously their age difference bothered him.

“Old enough to know better.”

“I’m decent now.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry.” Gaze glued to the tips of his boots, Johnny walked to the door. “Good luck at the rodeo. Drive safe.”

Then he was gone.

Tears burned her eyes, but she held them at bay and blamed her wishy-washy emotions on too little sleep. After she tugged on her boots, she carried the truck keys and her cell phone outside to see if C.J. had come back to the motel or spent the night somewhere else.

Johnny’s truck was gone from its parking spot—he’d wasted no time making a getaway. She shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the rows of vehicles. There in the back sat the familiar black Dodge with the big red-and-yellow boot painted on the door. While she waited for C.J. she might as well phone her father—maybe it would take her mind off of Johnny.

Shannon cut through the lot toward the truck and punched the number 7 on her speed dial. “Hey, Dad, did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, I’m on my way to the barn.”

Good. Short phone calls were best between them.

“I won yesterday in Gila Bend.”

“Congratulations,” he said.

As much as Shannon loved her father, just once she’d like to hear excitement in his voice when they talked about her rodeo career. She knew he didn’t believe women should ride bulls—neither did her brothers, but she’d been competing in roughstock events since high school and that’s what she knew how to do best.

“I’m getting closer to winning that title, Dad. I can almost taste it.” Her father had been a National Champion in bareback riding and both her brothers had won rodeo titles—Luke in bull riding and Matt in team roping. National titles were in the Douglas DNA and Shannon intended to earn one herself.

“You comin’ home soon?” he asked.

“C.J. and I are traveling to California, but we’ll be back at the end of the month to compete in Yuma. Maybe you can come watch me.” Silence greeted her suggestion.

What happened to the man who’d praised her when she’d been a little girl beating out the boys in all the mutton bustin’ competitions? Back then, her father hadn’t cared that she acted like a boy. Then one day she woke up with breasts and suddenly he insisted she quit rodeo.

Time to change the subject. “How are things at the ranch?”

“Might have a buyer for Cinnamon.”

After her mother had walked out on the family when Shannon was three, her father had focused his energy on growing his cutting horse operation. Now that her brothers were busy with their law practice in Yuma and she traveled the circuit all year, most of the horse training fell on his shoulders.

“Is Roger excited about retiring?” The foreman had worked at the ranch for over three decades. This past year, he’d fallen and broken his hip, requiring a hip-replacement operation. Her father had finally convinced the seventy-five-year-old man that it was time to put away the branding iron.

“You know Roger. He doesn’t have a whole lot to say,” her father said.

Maybe not, but Shannon bet the ranch hand looked forward to spending time with his sister in Florida. “Have you hired anyone to take his place?” Aside from raising cutting horses her father ran a small herd of cattle on the property—more than enough work to keep two men busy.

“Johnny Cash.”

Shannon sucked in a quiet breath. Why hadn’t Johnny told her he was the new foreman? No wonder he’d beat a hasty retreat this morning. He was probably worried how her father would react if he found out about their tryst.

“Johnny’s not starting until Roger clears his things out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s great.”

The motel door opened and C.J. stepped outside in a pair of black boxers and white tube socks. When he spotted her, he waved.

“Gotta go, Dad.”

“Good luck in California.”

The words weren’t heartfelt, but Shannon gave her father credit for saying them. “I love you” dangled on the tip of her tongue, but instead she said, “Call you soon.” She shoved the phone into her jeans pocket.

“Who you talkin’ to?” C.J. asked.

“Nobody.” As she stared at his muscular chest and bulging biceps, an image of Johnny’s leaner athletic build flashed before her eyes. If viewing a man’s naked chest was all it took to trigger the memory of her and Johnny’s lovemaking, then she was in big trouble, because cowboys were always changing their shirts behind the chutes.

She checked the time on her cell phone. Eight o’clock. “We’ve got to be at the fairgrounds in Glendale by one-thirty.” Glendale, California, was four and a half hours away. “I’m leaving in ten minutes with or without you.” She got into the truck and started it, then adjusted the air conditioner to cool down the cab.

With less than a minute to spare, C.J. stowed his gear in the backseat. She didn’t wait for him to put on his seat belt before peeling away like a bat out of hell.

“You pissed off about Veronica?”

The buckle bunny would be history soon enough, seeing how C.J. blew through women faster than a dust devil bounced across the desert.

When she remained quiet, he said, “I’m gonna try harder to keep my love life private.” He tugged on his boots. “Maybe we should ham it up more for the fans.”

The last thing she wanted to do in public was act like an idiot over the womanizing cowboy. “Our normal routine has worked fine so far. Why mess with it?” The most she and C.J. had done in front of the cameras was hug and exchange high fives.

“I bet the fans want to see us kiss.”

Fat chance. “They’ll have to settle for fantasizing about us kissing.”

“You’re a hard woman, Shannon.”

She’d learned from the best—her father. She jacked up the volume on the radio. C.J. leaned his head against the seat, tipped his hat over his face and fell asleep.

At one in the afternoon they pulled into the rodeo grounds west of Glendale. C.J. stretched. “You ready to go down, Douglas?”

The cowboy was about to find out hell hath no fury like a pissed off cowgirl. She pocketed the truck keys then walked off with her gear. Once she signed in for her event, she went to the livestock pens to check out her draw—Dead End.

The bull appeared docile, its tail twitching at the flies buzzing near its rump. The short, muscular bull lifted his head and a shiver raced down her spine. The animal was a machine whose only purpose was to hurt cowboys.

She left the stock pens and reported to the Dynasty Boots tent, which had been set up next to the bleachers. As usual, C.J. was nowhere in sight, leaving her with the responsibility of signing autographs and shaking hands.

“Will you sign this?”

“What’s your name?” Shannon asked the little girl who wore a pink cowboy hat.

“Lizzy.”

Shannon scribbled her name across the program. “Are you a real cowgirl?”

“Yes.”

“Hurry up, Lizzy.” An older man waited a few feet away.

“You gonna ride broncs or bulls when you grow up?” She handed the program to the girl.

“Daddy says ladies don’t rodeo, but I wanna ride bulls like you.”

“Do I look like a lady, Lizzy?”

The girl nodded.

“Do I ride bulls?”

Lizzy nodded again.

“Then I guess your daddy’s wrong. Ladies do ride bulls.” Shannon winked. As the little girl walked off, Shannon called after her, “Don’t ever let anyone tell you what you can or can’t be just because you’re a girl.”

An hour later, she left the booth to prepare for her meeting with Dead End.

“Where’ve you been?” C.J. asked when she arrived in the cowboy ready area.

“Signing autographs. Where’ve you been?”

His gaze drifted to the bleachers where a blond-haired buckle bunny watched them. C.J. tipped his hat and the woman blew him a kiss.

At least he’d kept his promise and made the bimbo wait in the stands.

“Get ready to lose,” Shannon said. “I drew a better bull.”

“It’s not about the bull, baby.” His smile taunted her. “It’s all about the cow...boy.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, hold tight to your hats as we kick off our bull riding event!”

Shannon donned her Kevlar vest then put on her face mask and riding glove. She rubbed resin on the leather as rodeo helpers loaded Dead End into the chute.

“Up first this afternoon is talented cowgirl Shannon Douglas.” The fans hooted and hollered and a few waved pink posters with Shannon’s name on them.

A group of cowboys nearby stared. Most of her competitors welcomed her in the male-dominated sport, but there were a few who felt threatened by her presence.

“Shannon Douglas from Stagecoach, Arizona, is about to battle Dead End, a bull from the Kindle Ranch in Las Cruces, New Mexico. This cowgirl’s gonna have her hands full!”

Before approaching the chute, Shannon closed her eyes and pictured herself riding the bull to the buzzer, and then she imagined her dismount—a solid landing before making a break for the rails. Her sponsor didn’t care if she won, but Shannon did. She never entered the chute without believing she’d make the buzzer.

Showtime. When she straddled Dead End, the bull balked and attempted to rear so she lifted off his back.

“Looks like Dead End wants nothing to do with Shannon,” the announcer said.

The JumboTron showed a close-up of her and the bull. When Dead End became feisty again, forcing her off a second time, a collective gasp rippled through the stands. C.J. grasped her shoulder and whispered, “Thought I’d act like a concerned boyfriend.”

“Back away, C.J. You’re not helping.” She’d ridden her share of uncooperative bulls before, but something felt off about Dead End, and she worried the ride wouldn’t go the way she wanted.

Third time’s a charm. She eased onto the bull and secured her grip, then nodded to the gate man. Dead End bolted into the arena.

The first kick was powerful and thrust Shannon forward, but she hung on. Then the bull spun, and the arena became one big blur of color before her eyes. The seconds ticked off inside her head...four...five...

Dead End switched directions so quickly that Shannon didn’t have time to adjust and she fell into the well—the inside of the spin. She hit the ground hard, but sprang to her feet and raced for the rails, trusting the bullfighters to intercept Dead End if he gave chase. Helping hands grasped her arms and lifted her to safety.

“There you have it folks, Dead End won that round against Shannon Douglas. Maybe next time, cowgirl.”

Back in the cowboy ready area, C.J. said, “I’m taking the lead today.” He swatted her backside with his hat and the fans cheered as their interaction was displayed on the JumboTron.

“Folks, all-around cowboy C. J. Rodriguez is up next. As you know, he’s traveling the circuit with Shannon.” The announcer whistled. “They’re a pair of regular bull-ridin’ lovebirds.”

The audience cheered and it was all Shannon could do to keep smiling when C.J. put his arm over her shoulder and preened for the camera.

Chapter Three

“Your sister’s worried about you. You’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.”

The last thing Johnny wanted to do was confess his whereabouts the previous night to his brother-in-law. The memories of his rendezvous with Shannon churned his stomach after spending most of today at the Triple D with her father. Talk about uncomfortable—he hadn’t even been able to look his boss in the eye when asked if he’d watched Shannon ride at the Gila Bend rodeo.

“’Bout time Dixie worried a little.” Johnny climbed the farmhouse steps and strolled to the opposite end of the porch where Gavin Tucker sat on the swing. Leaning a hip against the rail he said, “Now she knows what I went through all those years keeping track of her.”

“Must be tough being the eldest,” Gavin said.

“At least you took one of my siblings off my hands.” From an early age Johnny had felt a sense of responsibility for his siblings. He recalled a middle school psychologist once telling him that he should start acting like a brother instead of father. He’d thought the woman was nuts, but he’d never forgotten that conversation and at times wondered if his need to protect and guide others was rooted in a suppressed desire for his own father to show interest in him.

“You look tired.” Johnny guessed nightmares were robbing the former soldier of sleep. Dixie had told him that her husband had been diagnosed with PTSD after he’d served in Afghanistan, and a few mornings when Johnny had left the bunkhouse before dawn he’d found Gavin asleep on the porch swing.

“Did Dixie tell you Shannon Douglas’s father offered me the foreman’s job at the Triple D?”

“She did. Congratulations. When do you start?”

“Not until the end of the month. I was over there today helping Clive train a cutting horse.”

“Are you quitting the rodeo circuit?”

“I’m cutting back on events until I get a handle on running the Triple D.”

The squeak of the screen door interrupted the men and Dixie stepped onto the porch. She smiled at Johnny. “I thought I heard your voice.” She joined her husband on the swing, curling up against his side. “Did you see Shannon yesterday?”

He wished he could blame his serious lapse of judgment last night on Dixie’s insistence he check up on Shannon at the rodeo. But he was a big boy, and no one had forced him to follow the lady bull rider into her motel room.

“Shannon didn’t make it to eight on her bull but she’s fine.” Uncomfortable with the conversation he pushed away from the railing. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”

“Wait. The other day you never said whether or not Charlene was moving into the foreman’s cabin with you.”

He might as well get this over with. “Charlene and I broke up.”

Dixie gasped. “What happened? You two have been together forever.”

Gavin kissed the top of Dixie’s head. “Think I’ll grab a bite to eat.” He disappeared inside the house.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what happened.” Dixie patted the empty spot next to her.

When had his baby sister become so bossy? He sat down. “This feels weird—you listening to my problems.” In the past, he played the role of Dear Abby.

“I’m sorry about Charlene.” Dixie hugged him.

Through the years Johnny had been the hugger, consoling his siblings when their grandparents had been busy with the farm or their mother had been out of town chasing the next love of her life. Johnny had grown to resent his mother for putting her own wants and needs before her children’s and when Aimee Cash had passed away the day before his eighteenth birthday, he hadn’t shed a tear. How could he cry for someone he’d barely spent any time with?

“Why did you two break up?” Dixie asked.

He repeated his standard line—because it sounded good. “Charlene and I have been growing apart for a while.”

“It’s my fault.”

“How’s that?”

“You were worried about me when I got pregnant last summer, then I miscarried and I was such a mess that you wouldn’t leave me alone for a minute.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Dix. I ignored the writing on the wall.” And Shannon had been his wake-up call.

“What do you mean?”

“You put years into a relationship, then one day you look at the other person and wonder what you have in common.” And when there’s no zip, zap or zing left in the kisses, it’s time to say goodbye.

“How’s Charlene taking it?”

Pretty damn well. “She’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

Shannon’s face popped into Johnny’s mind. What would Dixie say if he told her that he had the hots for her best friend? “I’ll be too busy at the Triple D to mope.”

“Are you sure you want to move into the foreman’s cabin? It’s not that far of a drive between the farm and the ranch.”

“I’ll be back to visit, especially if Gavin’s cooking chili for supper.”

“Who’s going to run herd over the rest of our brothers?”

“It’s your turn to keep everyone in line, Dix.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If any of them give you trouble let me know and I’ll bang a few heads together.”

Right then the bunkhouse door flew open and Porter, the youngest brother, stepped outside and ducked as a cereal box flew past his head. “I didn’t know you were going to ask her out!” he shouted.

“Looks like you’ll be knocking heads sooner rather than later,” Dixie said.

“Better see what Porter did this time.” Johnny skipped down the steps and cut across the yard to referee the latest fight between his caterwauling brothers.

* * *

“THE DOG FOOD is in a plastic bin beneath the kitchen sink.” Roger McGee dropped the key to the foreman’s cabin into Johnny’s hand. The end of August had arrived and with it a changing of the guards at the Triple D.

“I’ll make sure Hank gets fed twice a day.” Johnny felt bad for the old man as he watched the cowboy struggle to say goodbye to thirty years of his life. If dogs could talk, Hank would say he didn’t like his master’s departure any more than Roger did. The hound lay in the dirt next to the Ford pickup as if he intended to ride along to Florida.

“Sure you can’t take Hank to your sister’s?” Johnny asked.

“Animals ain’t allowed in the condo units.”

“If you ever move into your own place, I’d be happy to drive Hank to Florida.”

“That’s right nice of you.” Roger’s eyes glistened as he descended the porch steps. He stopped at Hank’s side and patted the dog’s head.

Johnny went into the cabin to retrieve the leash, giving the foreman and his dog some privacy. After a minute, he stepped outside and clipped the tether to Hank’s collar. The dog refused to budge.

“Best tie him up for a week or two after I’m gone. He might run off.”

“Will do.” Johnny would have to keep close tabs on Hank. A jaunt through the desert in the August heat might kill the twelve-year-old hound before he reached the highway.

Roger hopped into the truck and gunned the engine. The ranch hand and the boss had said their farewells earlier in the morning, so there would be no big send-off this afternoon.

“Be sure to check in with Clive during your trip.” Johnny leaned through the open passenger window and shook Roger’s hand a second time. “Take care of yourself.” He’d miss the geezer. Roger had taught him everything he knew about cattle and horses when he’d first hired on as a part-time wrangler for the ranch fifteen years ago.

The Ford pulled away and Johnny tightened his grip on the leash when Hank whined. After a quarter mile, a dust cloud obscured the truck from view. “Well, boy, it’s you and me now.”

Inside the cabin the dog went straight to his bed pillow in the kitchen corner, where he watched his new master through sad, droopy eyes. The pathetic stare prompted Johnny to fetch a Milk-Bone from the cookie jar Roger left behind, but the dog wanted nothing to do with the treat. “I’ll leave it right here, boy.” He set the bone on the floor. “In case you change your mind.”

Johnny stood in the middle of the cabin, facing the front door. The kitchen sat to his right, the family room to his left. Behind him was a short hallway with a door to the bathroom and one to the bedroom. The cabin had come furnished and included a washer and dryer, dishwasher, and a full set of cookware, dishes, utensils and linens. There was also a satellite dish and internet access. All he’d had to bring was his clothing, toiletries, laptop computer and his iPod.

After years of sharing a house with five brothers and a sister, the quietness of the cabin bothered Johnny, but he was certain he’d enjoy the solitude once he became accustomed to living alone. He might as well unpack his clothes. He made it as far as the hallway when the sound of horns honking penetrated the cabin walls.

The Cash welcome wagon had arrived.

After making sure Hank remained on his pillow, Johnny stepped onto the porch and shielded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun. A wall of dust moved along the horizon as the caravan of pickups drew closer.

His brothers parked helter-skelter in front of the cabin, then got out of their trucks. When Johnny saw them standing in a group, he was reminded again of his mother. All five Cash brothers sported various shades of her blond hair and brown eyes. Johnny and Dixie were the only siblings who shared the same father and they’d inherited Charlie Smith’s dark brown hair and blue eyes.

“Hey, Johnny,” Willie Nelson, who preferred to be called Will, spoke. “We brought food.”

“Did you bring a grill? ’Cause I don’t have one,” Johnny said.

“Got it covered.” Buck Owens walked to the back of his truck and lifted a Weber cooker from the bed. He set it by the porch. “Your housewarming gift.”

“Mighty thoughtful of you all.” Johnny recognized the dual purpose of the gift—to cook food and to use it as an excuse to drop by unexpectedly for a free meal. Now that Dixie was running her gift shop in Yuma, she rarely put supper on the table for the family. Johnny had done his best to grill a few dinners each week for the group, but now that he’d moved away from the farm, he suspected his brothers were worried they’d starve to death.

“Hey, Mack, what’s your housewarming gift for me?” Johnny teased.

Merle Haggard, or Mack, pulled out his guitar. “I’m going to christen this place with a lucky love song.” He winked. “Before you know it, you’ll have women busting down your door.”

Ever since Johnny’s brothers had learned about his breakup with Charlene, they’d been concerned he’d sink into a deep depression. Little did they know another woman had already replaced Charlene in his thoughts. He’d had no contact with Shannon since the morning after the rodeo in Gila Bend, but not an hour of the day passed by when she didn’t cross his mind.

“I bought you a case of your favorite beer.” Conway Twitty set the carton on the porch floor.

“I suppose Isi talked her boss into giving you a deal on that beer,” Johnny said.

“Who’s Isi?” Porter Wagoner glanced between the brothers.

Conway shot Johnny a dark look, then spoke to their youngest brother. “She’s just a friend.” Conway used to seek Johnny’s advice when he had a dilemma with girls but a while back he confessed that he’d found a new confidant—a waitress at the Border Town Bar & Grill.

“I haven’t had a chance to grocery shop. My fridge is empty,” Johnny said.

“We got all the fixin’s.” Will hauled two grocery sacks from the front seat of his truck. “Where should I put this stuff?”

“Inside. Don’t let Hank out.”

“Roger didn’t take Hank with him?” Mack sat on the steps with his guitar.

“No.”

Porter and Buck filled the belly of the cooker with charcoal, while Mack strummed his guitar and Conway sang off-key. Johnny went inside to help the second eldest Cash brother with the meal preparations. As much as he’d been hoping to spend the first evening alone in his new digs, he grudgingly admitted that it was nice to know he was missed.

“That dog looks like he’s ready to meet his maker in hound heaven.” Will placed the deli containers on the kitchen table.

“Be nice to Hank. He’s older than Roger.”

“Is Roger taking retirement hard?”

“Yes.” Johnny changed the subject. “What’s new in your life?”

“Not much since we spoke twelve hours ago.” Will chuckled. “What are you gonna do now that you can’t boss us around?”

“Just because I’m living at the Triple D doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping tabs on all of you.”

Will’s expression sobered. “I can’t believe you’re the official foreman now.”

Neither could Johnny, but he was determined to impress Shannon’s father because he needed the job to work out. He hadn’t gone to college after graduating high school, and pecan farming wasn’t his real passion. He only competed in rodeos to bring in extra money. Working with horses and punching cows was his calling in life.

“Douglas treats his foreman dang good.” Will pointed to the fifty-two-inch TV. “Is he charging you rent to live here?”

“No, the furnished cabin comes with the job.”

The door opened and Hank rose from his bed ready to bolt. Johnny grabbed his collar. “Whoa, boy.” Worried the dog might escape he pushed the bed pillow across the floor and positioned it next to the couch, then tied the end of the leash to a sofa leg.

For the next half hour, the brothers drank beer and talked rodeo on the porch while the brats cooked. “Are you riding in Yuma tomorrow?” Conway asked.

The special event featured only bull riding and chuck wagon races. “I don’t think so.” But Johnny intended to watch Shannon compete. His big-brother instinct insisted he make sure she was okay after they’d... And there was a part of him, which had nothing to do with brotherly concern, that wanted to find out if the attraction was still there between them, or if what they’d shared two weeks ago had been a fluke.

“What about you?” Johnny asked Conway. His brother rode bulls on occasion but his preference was the saddle back competition.

“I’m heading to Tucson to visit a buddy.”

Buck removed the brats from the grill and set the plate on the porch rail while he toasted the buns. “If you get lonely living by yourself, you can always come back to the bunkhouse.”

Thanks, but no thanks. As far as bunkhouses went, the one on the farm wasn’t bad. They’d installed a bathroom and two window air-conditioning units kept the place cool. Mack had sweet-talked an old girlfriend into selling them a secondhand refrigerator for fifty bucks so there was always cold beer on hand. The place had all the creature comforts except privacy. “I’ve got it pretty good here,” Johnny said.

The matter of his residence resolved, the brothers dug into their food and swapped rodeo stories. Halfway through the meal, Porter brought Hank outside and they all took turns tossing scraps to the hound.

After the meal, Will pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. “I’m calling the first game,” he said. “Acey deucey.”

Porter grabbed Hank’s leash and the brothers carried the leftover food inside. After the tenth hand of poker, it occurred to Johnny that even though he was ready to move on with his life, his brothers weren’t quite ready to cut the apron strings.

* * *

“HEY, CLIVE.” JOHNNY jogged across the dirt drive and walked into the barn with his boss early Saturday morning. “You plan to go to the rodeo in Yuma this afternoon?”

“Nope.”

Clive’s curt response startled Johnny. He’d expected his boss to want to see his daughter compete.

“I’d be happy to watch things here if you want to take the afternoon off.”

“Got too much work to do.” Clive pushed the wheelbarrow through the center of the barn and parked it next to Windjammer’s stall.

Fourteen days had passed since he and Shannon had made love and the knot in Johnny’s gut hadn’t unraveled. “Would you mind if I went to the rodeo?”

Clive grasped a pitchfork and flung clumps of soiled hay into the barrow. “You competing?”

After landing my dream job? “The last thing I need is an injury to prevent me from doing ranch chores.”

“Makes no difference to me what you do. You’re not officially on the clock till Monday morning.”

“Is there anything you want me to tell Shannon?”

The boss wiped his brow. “I don’t know what in tarnation I did to make that girl believe riding bulls is acceptable behavior for a lady.”

Johnny didn’t like the idea of Shannon riding bulls, either, but he felt compelled to defend her. “She’s darn good at the sport. It takes courage to do what she does. I’m sure she got that from you.”

“Only a matter of time before she gets hurt.” Clive spat tobacco juice into the soiled hay.

“I didn’t realize you disapproved of Shannon rodeoing.”

“I didn’t mind her keeping up with her brothers when she was a little tyke, but I never thought she’d take bull riding this far. I figured when she grew into a young woman she’d find other interests.”

Johnny wished he understood what drove Shannon to compete in the dangerous sport. Maybe the answer was as simple as she enjoyed the challenge. A lot of rodeo cowboys were adrenaline junkies who loved pitting themselves against a bull.

“What did you say to Dixie to convince her to quit riding bulls last summer?” Clive asked.

Evidently Shannon hadn’t told her father that Dixie had scratched the final Five Star Rodeo because she’d discovered she was pregnant. Not many people knew that Dixie had miscarried weeks later and Johnny was sure his sister did not want the news to become public knowledge. “Dixie sprained her ankle and couldn’t compete.” That was the lie his sister had used.

“Why didn’t she ride after her ankle healed?”

“She became too busy with her gift shop in Yuma.”

“Wish my daughter would find a new hobby.”

Hobby? Dixie’s Desert Delights was a reputable business that helped support Dixie and her husband.

“Maybe you can talk sense into my daughter.”

After their night at the Hacienda Motel, Johnny wasn’t sure Shannon cared to speak to him. He’d find out shortly. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll catch that rodeo in Yuma.”

“Makes no difference to me.”

“Roger was worried Hank would run off after he left, so I’ve kept him tied to the porch.” He’d given the hound plenty of leash and set extra water and food outside.

“I’ll check on him after I’m through here.”

“See you later.”

Before he reached the barn doors, Clive called his name. “Johnny.”

“What?”

“Tell Shannon—” his boss struggled to speak “—to be careful.”

“Will do.” Johnny jogged to his truck, his chest tightening with anticipation and dread.

* * *

THE OUTDOOR ARENA for the Yuma Rodeo Days Ride-off was packed to the gills. Despite the hundred-plus temperature, Shannon smiled for the cameras and signed autographs for young girls who dreamed of becoming lady bull riders. For the past three hours she’d manned the Dynasty Boots booth, waiting for C.J. to take her place. She guessed he’d snuck off—most likely to a horse stall in the livestock barn—with another ditzy buckle bunny. At least he wasn’t flirting with women out in the open.

Her sweat-soaked clothes chafed her but the only thing she cared about was winning and evening up the score with C.J., who remained one win ahead. After today’s ride, they had a break from competition for two weeks before they traveled to Winslow to compete.

Shannon planned to use the time off to help her father with ranch chores, but that had been before she’d had sex with Johnny. Seeing the cowboy every day and not being able to do anything about her attraction to him would be tougher than riding a rank bull.

“My name’s Jenny. Can I have your autograph?” A freckle-faced girl held out a rodeo program.

“You wanna be a cowgirl when you grow up?” Shannon scribbled her name across the cover.

“No, I wanna be like her.”

Shannon glanced in the direction the girl pointed and saw C.J. talking to the Yuma Rodeo Days Ride-off queen. The rodeo queen wore fancy boots and a red Western shirt with more rhinestones than stars in the galaxy.

A tug on the program in her hand startled her. “Sorry. Have fun today, Jenny.” No sooner had the girl moseyed along than Shannon caught sight of Johnny Cash. She sucked in a quiet breath. Dressed from head to toe in black, he represented his namesake and drew the stares of several women as he walked toward her, his hips rolling from side to side in a confident swagger.

“Hello, Johnny.” She resisted pressing her hand against her thudding heart.

His black Stetson dipped. “How’ve you been?”

That was a loaded question. “Great. I hear you’re working for my father.”

His gaze locked on the table of programs next to her. “Guess I forgot to mention that.”

“Are you settled in at the ranch?”

“Yep.” He looked her in the eye. “Your father said to be careful.”

“Let me guess. He was too busy with the ranch to come today.”

Johnny nodded. “He’s worried you’ll injure yourself.”

She didn’t want to discuss her father. “Are you competing?”

“Heck, no.” This time his smile was genuine. “I don’t want to screw up my gig at the Triple D.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” she said. “My father can be a demanding man. That’s why my brothers traded in their saddles for a library full of law books.”

“You ready for today?” he asked.

“Of course.” She was always ready—riding bulls was a part of who she was. She checked the time on her cell phone. “I better get going.” It was crazy, but instead of making her feel ill at ease, Johnny’s presence quieted her jumpy nerves. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

They strolled through the crowd in silence, Johnny’s shoulder bumping hers once—the contact triggering an electric charge, which traveled down her arm and through her fingertips. When they reached the cowboy ready area, he pulled her aside. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“You kept looking over your shoulder the whole way here.”

“I’m fine.” Shannon saw C.J. and stiffened.

“Did you two...get back together?” Johnny’s blue gaze intensified. Did her answer matter to him?

“No, we’re through.”

“Does Dynasty Boots know about the breakup?” he asked.

“No, and we’re not planning to tell them.” She wished she knew if it bothered him that she and C.J. were pretending to be a couple.

“What bull did you draw?” he asked.

“Heat Miser.”

“Heat Miser’s a twenty-three-point bull.” Left unsaid was the animal’s reputation for turning on fallen riders.

Shannon was the first to admit the bull made her nervous, but a draw was a draw and her sponsor paid her to play the game with the big boys. C.J. had drawn Mr. Gigolo, a twenty-one-point bull known for running toward the exit after throwing his rider.

Shannon unzipped her bag and put on her gear.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re ready to kick off our bull riding event.” The announcer’s voice boomed over the sound system.

“Don’t look now but Rodriguez is heading this way,” Johnny said.

When C.J. noticed Johnny, he glared. “What are you doing here, Cash?”

“Making sure you mind your manners.”

A cowboy standing nearby snickered and C.J. snapped at Shannon, “You’re going down, Douglas.”

“Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend?” Johnny asked.

C.J. flashed a smug grin.

“Don’t let Rodriguez get to you.” Johnny grasped Shannon’s shoulders. “You’ve got to keep your head on straight with this bull.”

“You’re right.”

“Ready?”

Whether she was or not didn’t matter. It was showtime.

Chapter Four

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the third annual Yuma Rodeo Days Ride-Off!”

The spectators’ applause competed with the industrial-sized fans, which moved stagnant air through the building and kept the temperature at a steady eighty-five degrees—not bad considering the thermometer outside hovered at one-hundred-five.

“Yuma is the only town in Arizona to put on a rodeo the last Saturday in the month of August.” The crowd noise grew deafening. “This event is for bull riders only, but be sure to stay afterward for the legendary chuck wagon races. Let’s have a round of applause for our sponsors, the Yuma Main Street Merchants Association.”

Shannon caught C.J. watching her. He wanted her to lose and his steady stare squeezed her like a vise, crushing her chest until she couldn’t draw any air into her lungs.

“Take a deep breath and relax.” Johnny’s quiet voice broke the tension in her body and her lungs opened enough to suck in a gulp of oxygen. “Don’t worry about Rodriguez.” He grasped her hand. “Concentrate on your ride.”

“Folks, we got ourselves fifteen of the toughest rodeo athletes in the Southwest ready to ride fifteen of the meanest, orneriest bulls on the circuit.”

Johnny released her hand, and she resisted the urge to cling to his fingers—leaning on him was a sign of weakness. The only person she could rely on when the chute opened was herself. Gathering her courage, she studied the bulls.

Shannon zeroed in on Heat Miser’s rear hooves. Every few seconds the bull kicked the rails, causing Shannon’s adrenaline to spike. Her heart rate sped up and her mouth watered—she could taste how much she wanted to even the score with C.J.

Music blasted over the sound system as the JumboTron played clips of bull rides from previous rodeos. “Before our competition begins, let me introduce southern Arizona’s famous rodeo couple!” Shannon and C.J. waved to the crowd.

“Shannon Douglas hails from Stagecoach, Arizona, and next to her is our hometown legend C. J. Rodriguez!”

The giant video screen zoomed in on Shannon and C.J., and she forced a smile. C.J. blew kisses at the camera and the women in the stands screamed wildly.

“Sponsored by Dynasty Boots, Shannon and C.J. are traveling the country, promoting women’s roughstock events. For those who don’t know, Shannon is in the running this year for the prestigious title of Cowgirl of the Year.”

When the applause died down, the announcer said, “Place your bets, folks! It’s cowgirl against cowboy. Who’s gonna come out on top in today’s ride-off?”

The crowd went crazy.

Shannon heard several shouts for her name but a whole lot more for C.J.’s. There would always be fans who believed women didn’t belong in roughstock events. Most of Shannon’s supporters were her competitors who respected talent—female or male made no difference.

“Did you do your research on Heat Miser?” Johnny asked when Shannon dropped back to the ground.

“He kicks twice, spins then kicks again before he comes out of the spin.” She’d watched the bull perform at a rodeo in Alamosa, Colorado, which was both helpful and not so helpful. Knowing what she was up against before the gate opened wasn’t the least bit reassuring.

“Folks, Rodriguez will ride Gigolo.” The announcer chuckled. “Seein’ how they’re both ladies’ men, C.J. and Gigolo ought to get along swell.”

Shannon ignored the raucous laughter, tired of the lewd jokes that went hand in hand with her and C.J.’s fake romance. Johnny walked a few feet away to gain a better view of C.J.’s ride.

“It’s a fact that Shannon’s bull, Heat Miser, is rated higher than C.J.’s, but you can never tell with a bull. Let’s see if this cowboy makes it to eight.”

C.J. sat on Gigolo’s back and made a big production out of fussing with the bull rope, and then the fun began.

The bull’s rhythmic bucking pattern—two kicks, a spin then two more kicks—made C.J. look like a superstar. When the buzzer rang he waved his hat at the crowd before dismounting.

Show-off.

C.J. landed on both feet, then faced Shannon’s chute and bowed.

“Another stellar ride by one of the best cowboys on the circuit!”

When Johnny appeared at Shannon’s side, she said, “Thanks for being here.”

“You’re ready.” He straightened her Kevlar vest and she wished those strong arms would pull her close for a hug. Instead, she gathered strength from the confidence in his voice.

“Don’t lean too far forward. Heat Miser is famous for butting heads with his riders.”

Mean bulls didn’t care for anyone on their backs and it didn’t make a bit of difference if the rider was female or male. Shannon adjusted her leather glove, then put one boot on the rail. C.J.’s voice stopped her cold.

“Better hold tight, Douglas, or that bull will stomp your head!”

Shannon placed her boot back on the ground. “Is that any way to treat your better half?” she said, loud enough to turn heads.

Johnny stiffened next to her, but she kept her eyes on C.J. This was part of the show—their love-hate relationship. Dynasty Boots wanted fans to believe they were a warring couple—fiercely competitive during the rodeo then wildly passionate for each other afterward.

C.J. smiled for the cameras. “You’ll never make it to eight, Douglas.”

Johnny stepped between them. “Give her some breathing room, Rodriguez.”

“Jealous, Cash?” C.J. nodded to Johnny’s clothes. “I see you’re dressing like your namesake.”

“You got a problem with my name, Rodriguez?”

“Yeah, it’s stupid.”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say...” Johnny smirked. “You know...shut your mouth.”

C.J.’s gaze cut to Shannon. “Is Cash doing all your talking for you now?”

She cringed when she saw their images on the JumboTron. “Back off, C.J.”

“You think I’m afraid of a country-western wannabe?” C.J. puffed out his chest.

Johnny bumped the brim of his Stetson against C.J.’s. “You heard the lady. Back off.”

“Make me.”

Before Shannon realized Johnny’s intent, he swung his fist, catching C.J. across the jaw and knocking him backward. The group of onlookers steadied C.J. before thrusting him toward Johnny.

C.J. threw the next punch, catching Johnny across the cheek, but Johnny kept his balance and took another swing at C.J. The shorter man ducked, then pushed Johnny to the ground, where they rolled in the dirt.

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