All he wanted was Kate

Since the moment he’d met her with a shotgun in her hands, he hadn’t been able to keep his mind off her. Or his hands. A touch here, a brush there, each one leading to wanting more.

It wasn’t love. It was lust, pure and simple, and he found fighting it exhausting. Every night he battled the image his memory held of her, keeping him awake long after decent people slept.

Touching her was the same as sticking his hand in a flame, and still he ached to touch her. No, it wasn’t love. But he couldn’t deny it was the closest he’d ever come to it.

Grabbing her hands, he pulled her to her feet. As he looked into her startled eyes, saw her lips parted in surprise, an electric bolt shot through him. He’d have it over with, he thought—this kiss he’d been dying for….

Dear Reader,

For some people, falling in love is the last thing on their mind, so it’s a complete surprise when Mr. or Miss Right comes along. That’s how it is for Dusty McPherson, the bachelor cowboy hero of—well, what else?—Bachelor Cowboy! But he isn’t the only one not looking for love. Kate Clayborne has her life planned out, and falling in love—or getting married—isn’t part of her future.

There’s nothing quite as satisfying as watching two strong-willed people meet their match…and then tumble into love, no matter how many times they deny it or how much they fight it. Will Dusty and Kate give in and find their happily ever after? Do they really have a choice?

If this is your first visit to Desperation, Oklahoma, and the people who live there, welcome! If you’re visiting again you’ll find some familiar characters, and will have a chance to meet some new ones. I hope you love Dusty and Kate as much as I’ve loved learning and writing about them. And look for more Desperation romances in the future.

Happy reading!

Roxann

Bachelor Cowboy

Roxann Delaney

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roxann Delaney doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t reading or writing, and she always loved that touch of romance in both. A native Kansan, she’s lived on a farm, in a small town and has returned to live in the city where she was born. Her four daughters and grandchildren keep her busy when she isn’t writing, designing Web sites or planning her high school class reunions. The 1999 Maggie Award winner is excited about being a part of Harlequin American Romance and loves to hear from readers. Contact her at roxann@roxanndelaney.com or visit her Web site, www.roxanndelaney.com.

To my grandchildren, Scarlett, Alexandria, Gavin, Jaxon and Becca, who help me see the world through the eyes of children and who are just beginning to understand that Nana is writing books while she sits at the computer all day.

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 One

“Keep your hands where I can see them, and back on down that ladder real slow.” The voice was soft and low. Distinctly feminine. And definitely not joking.

Freezing at the command, one foot above the other on the metal steps of the combine ladder, Dusty McPherson stopped breathing.

An ominous click shattered the silence, and he knew without a doubt that the woman had a shotgun in her hands, cocked and ready. Breathing again, but careful not to startle her, he didn’t question her as he eased back down the ladder. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, even though the late May Oklahoma morning sun hadn’t begun to heat the day. A woman with a gun could be dangerous.

“Okay, that’s good. Now turn around, but don’t make any sudden moves,” she said when he reached the ground. “And keep your hands up.”

Dusty made his turn slow and smooth, his nerves taut and ready in case she had an itchy trigger finger. Knowing he could meet his maker in the blink of an eye, he faced his opponent. His eyes zeroed in on the tip of the steel barrel pointed directly at a spot any man would protect. He could only hope he’d be quick enough if there was any indication he’d be shot. He might want to be a daddy someday.

Slowly raising his gaze to her face, Dusty found himself staring into eyes the color of a clear blue mountain lake. It was all he could do to keep from sucking in air at the sight, but he managed to control himself.

The blue eyes widened for an instant, but just as quickly narrowed, hard as granite. “Just what do you think you’re doing, cowboy?”

The urge to check out the rest of her was strong, but tempered by the fact that it could be the end of him if he did. Not wanting to spook her, he kept his voice low and even. “Put the gun down and I’ll tell you.”

“You must think I’m crazy.” Her gaze never left his. She took a step closer. “What are you doing messing around my machine?”

“I’m here about the job,” he answered with a calmness the clippity-clop of his heartbeat denied. “Agatha Clayborne hired me.”

Her lips formed a perfect pink oval. “Oh…well…”

Dusty noticed her finger ease up on the trigger and allowed himself to relax a little. But he didn’t let down his guard. Only a man with scrambled eggs for brains would do that.

Eyes narrowing again, she tightened her grip on the gun. “How do I know you’re not just saying that?”

“You needed some harvest help, right?”

Her chin dipped a fraction of an inch in a noncommittal nod. “But I expected somebody younger. Like one of the kids from the high school.”

“And I expected to get this wheat cut.” He watched her consider his statement. “Mind if I put my hands down now?”

Hesitating, she finally lowered the shotgun. “Aunt Aggie mentioned she’d put some fliers around town. Maybe you should have come up to the house first and introduced yourself.”

Before he could answer, she turned around, giving him a view of her backside and the long, copper braid that reached past her waist. The end of it swung between a set of slim but well-curved hips encased in a pair of tight blue jeans. Something about her was familiar, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. And he was sure he wouldn’t have forgotten the woman if he had met her before.

“You might as well come on in,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Breakfast should be on the table.”

Two strides brought him up next to her after he’d taken a long, breath-stealing look at the sashaying form in front of him. “Any special reason you came after me with that gun?” he asked, matching his longer gait to her shorter but strong one.

She slid him a look, but didn’t slow her steps. “I don’t like strangers poking around. Would you?”

“Guess not. But you didn’t need the gun. I’m pretty harmless.”

“You never know.” She gave him another quick glance when they stepped up onto the wide porch of the Clayborne farmhouse and proceeded around to a side door.

She reached for the door handle, but he stuck his hand out to grab it at the same time. When his fingers brushed against hers she looked up quickly, a warning blaze in her eyes. He couldn’t be sure if the sudden flash he felt was from the contact or the red light her eyes exhibited. He chose the latter and swallowed a chuckle. How was she to know she’d just issued him a challenge? Like waving a red flag at a bull. Or blue, like those eyes. With bulls, it didn’t matter what color the flag was, as long as it moved. And she sure could move.

When they entered a sunny kitchen, the aromas of a country breakfast nearly knocked him over. His mouth watered at the tantalizing smell of sausage sizzling in a pan and hotcakes fresh from a griddle. He had traveled the rodeo circuit for more than ten years, living mostly on concession-stand food and tavern burgers, with an occasional restaurant and truck-stop meal thrown in. Home-cooked meals would be a taste of heaven.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep, reverent breath. It had been too long. Too damned long.

“Duane McPherson? I hardly recognize you. I haven’t seen you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Dusty opened his eyes at the sound of the strong female voice to find Agatha Clayborne studying him from head to toe, and he smiled at the quaint phrase from his childhood. It had been years since he had seen her. Well past her youth, her ginger-colored hair was peppered with gray. His gaze quickly settled on the heaping platter of scrambled eggs she held.

“Folks call me Dusty, Miss Clayborne.”

“’Course they do. And I’m Aggie.”

“I found him out looking over the combine,” the redhead supplied from behind him.

Dusty felt Aggie’s sharp blue gaze and heard her grunt of approval. “Well, you look fit enough to me.”

“We expect an honest day’s work,” the redhead said.

His head snapped around at the words, and he looked back at her over his shoulder. Her eyes held skepticism, and he took offense to the statement and the inference. Never once in his life had he not given something his all. “You’ll get it,” he answered.

He slipped off his Resistol, noticing that when he did, Aggie’s expression softened. She gave a decided nod and set the platter on the table. “Pull up a chair,” she told him.

“You know how to drive a combine, don’t you?” came the next question from the redhead.

Dusty gave the young woman a quick glance to let her know he’d heard her. She might be more than easy on the eyes, but she struck him as being one bossy woman. Just like his mother. He would rather deal with Aggie, who might have a bit of bossiness herself, but she had earned it. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he answered, focusing on the older woman. “I’ve handled machinery since I was a kid.”

Again, Aggie nodded and looked past him toward the redhead. “He spent summers with his grandparents and then—” She turned her gaze on him. “You lived with them for a few years, too?”

“Four years,” he answered. “All through high school in Desperation.”

“They were good people. So was your mama. I was sorry to see her move to Tulsa after she married your daddy. Sorry they split up, too. How’s she doing?”

“Good,” Dusty said, although he didn’t really know. He wasn’t on good terms with his mother. Never had been. And his daddy had left when he was four.

“Families are a blessing, even when they’re no longer with us.”

He guessed she was referring to her brother. Tom Clayborne and his wife had been victims of an Oklahoma twister a year before the big tornado that hit Oklahoma City. It was obvious the redhead was Aggie’s niece, and one of the two daughters they’d left behind.

And then he remembered where he had seen her. Only she hadn’t looked like she did now. Not in high school. She was younger than him by three years and had been a new freshman his senior year. Yeah, he remembered her, although he didn’t recall ever speaking to her. Back then, she was a lanky girl, all arms and legs, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and a haircut that would scare the britches off any guy. At the time, he’d had a girl, and he’d married her as soon as they both graduated. The marriage lasted all of six months. Like his father, rodeo and bull riding had called to him. And like his mother, that hadn’t settled well with his new wife.

Movement across the room caused him to glance in that direction. In another doorway stood a blonde with a hesitant smile on her sweet face. The other Clayborne sister.

“I found the butter.” Her anxious gaze bounced from the redhead to Aggie.

“Just put it on the table,” Aggie said. She took a seat at the table and frowned at the others. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get to this breakfast.”

Dusty stood, waiting, while the blonde took the chair directly opposite him and next to her aunt. He also noticed the diamond ring on her left hand, a clear sign she was taken, and he wasn’t one to move in on another man’s woman. Which left him the redhead. He couldn’t decide if that was good or not, but he had plenty of time to find out. The summer he had thought might prove dull and wasted, while he waited out the time until he was released by his doctor to return to rodeo, might not be so boring after all.

KATE CLAYBORNE TOSSED her long braid over her shoulder and took her usual place at the table. Unfortunately, it was next to where their new hired hand was taking his.

He was no stranger to her. As soon as he had turned around on the combine ladder and she could see him clearly, she knew exactly who he was. But it was just as clear that he’d had no clue who she was. Not that she was surprised. Half the girls in the school had had a crush on him. Too bad she had been one of them.

The initial view of his backside hadn’t been bad when she’d caught him on that ladder, either. She would have paid more attention, but she’d been too afraid he was a transient ready to steal the machine or strip the interior. One good look at him had been all she needed to recognize him, but she hadn’t allowed her somersaulting stomach to overrule common sense and caution. Just because she knew him didn’t mean she could trust him. And he obviously hadn’t recognized her, even when his bourbon-colored gaze had met hers.

“Girls, this is Dusty McPherson.” While she spoke, Aggie’s attention was on the biscuit she was slathering with butter. Nodding in the direction of each of the girls, she introduced them. “These are my nieces. That one’s Kate and this one’s Trish.”

Dusty looked up to smile at Trish. “This is great,” he said, pointing at his plate with his fork.

“Oh, I didn’t—”

“Kate did the cooking,” Aggie said from across the table.

Kate felt Dusty’s gaze on her, but pretended she didn’t.

“You cooked this breakfast?” he asked.

Across from her, Kate saw Aggie’s go-ahead nod, encouraging her. She knew what her aunt was thinking. It wasn’t the first time she had tried her hand at matchmaking. But Kate wasn’t interested.

“You’ll find dinner filling, too,” Aggie said, frowning at her. “We’ll be cutting wheat in the field here at home to start, so we’ll eat here at the house. When we get farther away, Trish brings it out to the field.”

“And you’re on your own for supper,” Kate added to set the record straight.

“But I’ll bring sandwiches in the evening,” Trish chimed in. “We wouldn’t want anyone wasting away.” Her smile produced the twin set of dimples she was famous for, second only to her sweet disposition.

Dusty looked to Aggie. “Who’s your truck driver?”

“I am,” Kate answered sharply. What did he think she did, anyway, besides pointing shotguns at strangers?

His penetrating gaze fell on her again. “Any other talents? Other than cooking and firearms experience, I mean.”

Ready with a hot retort, Kate looked up to see a spark of mischief in his eyes and knew better than to take the bait. Feeling his gaze slide over her, she lifted her chin to deny the warmth that went through her. “If worse comes to worst, I can drive a combine, change the oil, grease it and do minor repairs.”

He rewarded her with a slow grin. “Multitalented.”

“She really is,” Trish agreed. “I wish I had her talents.”

Dusty turned to her. “Each of us has our own.”

“His or her own,” Trish corrected and blushed fiercely.

“Trish is a teacher,” Aggie explained. “Second grade. We all get corrected at one time or another. She’s a writer, too. Just sold her first children’s book.”

Kate only half listened to the conversation around her, relieved that the subject had turned away from food. She loved cooking and baking, but it was a part of herself she didn’t understand. She didn’t know where her cooking flair came from. Her mother had been a good cook, but nothing spectacular, and Aunt Aggie was much the same. Somehow Kate had taken to it and added her own touch. She had even been providing pies and cakes to the local café and barbecued beef to the local tavern for the past few years. But it wasn’t something she liked people making a big deal about. Farming was and always would be her first love.

Aggie pushed away from the table and stood. “When you’re finished, Dusty, go on outside and I’ll show you around.”

If he had been anyone else, Kate would have offered to show him the farm and machinery, but because it was Dusty McPherson, she was glad she wouldn’t have to. She had never reacted to any man the way she was reacting to him. Until she could get some control over that, being around him wasn’t a good idea, but there wasn’t much she could do about it until harvest was over.

Dusty laid his fork on the plate and rose from the table. “I can go out right now,” he said, but his gaze lingered on the stack of biscuits.

“No need,” Aggie said with a wave of her hand. “But Kate can add those biscuits to a basket. No reason why you can’t enjoy them while driving the combine.” She stepped into the hallway and turned around. “Kate, I need to speak with you.”

Following her, Kate suspected her aunt had a few words to say about her rudeness. It wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes. Kate knew the routine well. She would apologize for being too outspoken and Aunt Aggie would forgive her.

Aggie waited until they were alone in the hall to speak. “I didn’t want to say anything to Trish yet, as it doesn’t affect her as much as it does you.”

“What doesn’t?”

Rubbing a fist across her forehead, Aggie hesitated for a moment before she met Kate’s gaze. “I’ve decided to lease the farm after this harvest.”

Kate couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “You what?”

“I’m leasing the farm.”

“No, you can’t!”

“I have to, Kate. Fuel costs are up, and fertilizer, too. Repair on the machinery is costing a bundle, and getting a loan for new is out of the question. Even without those expenses, there aren’t enough of us to do the work. With Trish getting married—”

“She doesn’t have that much to do with the farming,” Kate pointed out quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. The farm meant everything to her.

“Someday, you’ll be doing the same.”

Kate had no intention of getting married. “Then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did,” she said through lips stiffened by the panic she felt.

As if she hadn’t heard her, Aggie continued. “I’m not getting any younger. I know we’d planned on you taking over the farm, once I retire, but you can’t handle it on your own, Kate. Farming needs to be self-sufficient, otherwise it’s nothing more than a hobby. And an expensive one, at that.”

“We can find a way,” Kate answered, determined not to let go of the farm. It had become her life.

Aggie laid a hand on her arm. “If the time comes when farming pays off again, you can end the lease.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ve made up my mind, as hard as it was to do. I don’t mean to break your heart, but I don’t want to lose the land, and that’s what it could come to. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Kate knew things had been getting worse over the past few years. After all, she did the bookkeeping. But she’d never dreamed her aunt would stop farming and lease the land to someone else. “If I can come up with a new financial plan for the farm, will you reconsider?”

Putting her arm around Kate, Aggie hugged her. “If you can do that, I will. It’d make that college diploma of yours worth its weight in gold. But I’ll need to know at the end of next month.”

Kate nodded, understanding that time was of the essence. Anybody leasing would want to start after the crop was harvested. But all it really meant was that she had little time to put together a plan.

Trish was the only one in the kitchen when Kate returned, and she didn’t look happy. “This is going to be a mess. I don’t know how you’re going to pull off the cooking and driving the truck. Aggie has always done the driving—”

“It won’t be that hard.” Kate gathered dishes from the table and scooted past her sister to the sink, her mind still numbed by her aunt’s news. Not only had Aunt Aggie turned over the cooking to her long ago, but this year she’d had to give up driving the truck, too. If only Kate had paid attention, she might have seen the signs that her aunt might be thinking of retiring.

Starting the water, Kate added the dish soap before facing her sister and turning her mind away from her worries about the farm. “First off, this’ll go much faster if you give me a hand with these dishes. I’ll wash, you dry and put them away. And please put them where they belong, not just anywhere. I waste more time looking for stuff.”

“But you can’t cook dinner and drive the truck at the same time,” Trish pointed out.

Kate gave her a withering look. “Of course I can. But if I have to waste time hunting for utensils, I won’t get it done. And you know how Aunt Aggie prides herself on a smooth-running operation. Unless, of course, you’d rather listen to her rant and rave when dinner isn’t ready on time.”

Trish’s usually sunny smile was turned down in a frown. She sighed, grabbing the silverware from the table. “I’ll try to do it right.”

“Good.” Kate nodded and returned to the dishes. “I’ll just have to come in after I’ve taken a full load of wheat to the elevator. It won’t be a problem.”

“I hope it works.” Trish sounded unconvinced.

“It will.” But Kate mentally crossed her fingers. She didn’t mind doing double duty, but they’d all have to work together even more to make that happen. Time was of the essence during harvest. If it rained—and it usually did at some point—wheat cutting would come to a halt until the ground was dry again. A thunderstorm with hail could completely wipe out all of a small crop. She hated thunderstorms more than anything.

Trish reached into an upper cabinet to put away the plate she’d finished drying. “I wish I could drive.”

“You have a license.”

“I know, but it makes me nervous. And the thought of trying to drive that big old truck just scares me to death.”

“It did me, too, the first few times,” Kate admitted. “It’s slow going, and takes a watchful eye to make sure someone isn’t going to try to run you off the road because you’re driving too slow. Can’t drive too fast, either, or you could lose part of the load.”

“Or turn the truck over in the ditch,” Trish added. “I remember Aunt Aggie warning us when you first started driving it. She scared me to death.”

Kate laughed at the memory. “Me, too, but that happening is pretty unlikely in these parts. I worry more about getting it stuck when rain moves in.”

“Like that time when we went out to help at the south quarter and it started to rain. We nearly didn’t make it home, and the truck was almost full. Aunt Aggie nearly slid off in that deep ditch.”

“That was a nightmare,” Kate said, “but we managed, just like we always do.”

Hearing Aggie’s and Dusty’s voices outside, she hurried to the door, dripping water from her hands, and peeked out to see the pair moving across the yard to the combine. Walking back to the sink, worry started to nag at her. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to do this. Scrubbing at a pot, she remembered that “maybe” was all she might have when it came to the farm. When her sister didn’t say anything, Kate looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing.

Trish stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the farmyard beyond. “I wonder what he’s doing back here in Desperation.”

Kate turned back to the dishes and scrubbed furiously at the pot. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Why don’t you?”

Kate shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe because it doesn’t matter?”

“Sometimes I wonder about you, Kate.”

Kate chose not to answer. Although only eleven months apart in age, she and her sister were like night and day. Trish had always dreamed of the day she would marry and have a family, while Kate had run away at the very thought of it. If she had her way, and she was determined to, she’d be like Aunt Aggie, working the land and enjoying life on her own terms. Not on someone else’s. There’d be no compromising, no going places she didn’t want to go, no making herself look pretty for someone who would never notice.

No, she didn’t want a man complicating her life. But the real truth was that she had already lost two of the most important people in her life when she was fourteen. She knew, all too well, that someday she could lose her sister and aunt, too. Kate knew what she wanted, and it didn’t include a husband—one more person she would love and possibly lose. She’d leave having a husband to Trish.

It didn’t take long to get the dishes done and some leftovers gathered to take to Dusty. Grabbing the basket of food she’d prepared, Kate shoved her worry about Aunt Aggie’s plans for the farm aside and hurried outside to the edge of the field where her aunt stood watching the new help get the combine ready for a long day’s work. Dressed in blue jeans topped by a black T-shirt minus the sleeves, Dusty looked right at home on the farm, no different than any other hand from Texas to Canada. But on him, the jeans were snug enough to cause her heart to skip a beat. The faded denim fabric molded to his body displaying slim hips and long, strong legs. Broad shoulders topped a chest where any woman would love to rest her cheek—any woman but her. And his slim waist was encircled by a wide leather belt with a huge silver rodeo buckle that glinted in the sun. Sandy brown hair, a little too long and in need of a haircut, curled at the curve of his neck under the black Resistol that topped off his six-foot-something frame.

Oh, yes, he was something to behold. He always had been. And he was definitely aware of it and of his charm. She wasn’t immune to him, but she had enough good sense to know it. Still, it was all she could do not to stare.

With a sigh of surrender, Kate hurried to reach them and set the basket on the hood of the big dump truck they would fill with wheat to take to the elevator. “Is everything okay?”

Dusty looked up from the combine engine, a grease gun in his hand and a grin on his face. He tipped his cowboy hat back with one slightly greasy finger. “This is a well-kept machine.”

Kate felt a surge of pride. “My dad taught me to take care of things, and Aunt Aggie taught me how.”

“You were a good student. You know what you’re doing.”

Kate’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, his sexy grin rendering her speechless. Get a grip, she told herself, dragging her gaze from his warm brown one.

Aggie walked up to place a hand on her shoulder. “Kate does everything well,” she said with pride. “If it wasn’t for her, this farm would have folded a long time ago. I was lucky when she and Trish came to live with me.”

“We were the lucky ones.” Kate turned to her aunt and smiled. “We couldn’t have asked for a better home.”

Aggie patted Kate’s shoulder, her smile loving, but concerned. “We’d better get started. The day is getting away from us. We can get in a couple of extra hours of work with the wheat this dry.”

Dusty finished the lubricating and wiped his hands on a rag. “Then let’s get to it. There’s a chance of rain in the forecast later in the week. This wheat is too good to let it sit.”

Kate grabbed the basket of snacks from the top of the truck and handed it to him before he started up the combine ladder to the cab. “Here’s something to hold you until lunch.”

Taking the basket, his hand brushed hers, and their gazes met again. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

She froze, unable to speak or even nod. With every shred of determination she had, she dragged her gaze from his and turned for the house. “Don’t let him get to you,” she whispered to herself as she mounted the steps to the porch. “You have more important things to think about.” Much more important than a rodeo cowboy with a melt-her-on-the-spot smile.

AFTER CHECKING the combine’s controls and starting the engine to let it warm, Dusty took a peek in the basket Kate had given him. Finding it full of buttered biscuits, a jar of homemade jam and one of honey, his mouth watered again. He couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he found something to keep him busy until he could get back to bull riding, but he would be well-fed, too.

Glancing in the direction of the house, he couldn’t ignore the seductively swinging hips of the sassy redhead. It was hard to believe she was the same shy girl he remembered from high school. He got the impression she didn’t particularly like him, unlike other women, which presented him with a challenge. And a challenge always intrigued him. He wasn’t planning on getting serious, just having a good time, since he couldn’t do what he enjoyed the most. For the next few weeks, at least, which gave them plenty of time to get the wheat cut, he intended to get to know her a little better.

Setting the rotating reel on the front of the combine to the correct height needed, he put the machine in gear and watched the whirling cylinder sweep the shafts of wheat to where the grain-filled heads would be cut from the straw. He glanced back to see the bin behind the cab begin to fill with grain and felt a swell of contentment. He’d made the right decision when he’d called Aggie Clayborne about the job. Money wasn’t a concern for him. He’d saved and invested most of his winnings, and his grandparents had left him their farm and house. But he had needed something to do. He wasn’t accustomed to doing nothing.

Combining took only a part of his concentration. The rest of it he used trying to remember as much as he could about Kate Clayborne and planning the rodeos he would be entering, once his doctor gave the okay that he could. Work and thinking passed the time.

He stopped only to dump his full bins of wheat into the truck, watching as the golden, ripe kernels spilled out of the cylindrical auger and into the truck bed. Kate had been absent for most of the morning, except when she had appeared twice to drive the full truckload of wheat to the elevator and back again. But on this dump, he noticed Aggie behind the wheel of the truck. Climbing down from the combine cab, he took a half-hearted look at the belts and pulleys of the machine’s innards, before he walked around to stand at the truck’s door.

“Did my driver quit?” he asked, wondering what had become of the headstrong redhead.

Aggie stared straight ahead, her voice filled with vinegar. “Kate had some errands to take care of. I can drive this old truck.”

Dusty tipped his hat back to get a good look at her and grinned. “’Course you can. Any reason why you don’t do it full-time?”

She turned her head and looked him over, her eyebrows raised over snapping blue eyes. “Maybe because I don’t like doing it?”

“If you say so.” He didn’t believe her excuse for a minute. Aggie had the same love of land and farming he sensed in her redheaded niece.

Aggie’s stubborn expression turned to one of disgust. “Bad knee,” she said in a low, embarrassed voice.

Dusty only nodded.

“I can drive some,” she hurried on. “But I can’t take a full day of it. Working the brake and the clutch is more than I can take after a while. If I do it for too long, I can’t walk the next day, my knee gets to aching me so bad.”

He could relate. His body had taken plenty of abuse riding bulls. “Understandable. I have my own aches and pains.”

“Dinner should be ready by the time I get back from the elevator. Keep an eye out for Trish so you’ll know when to quit.”

He noticed the combine bin had nearly finished emptying, so he moved away. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Thought you might be.” Aggie chuckled, but her mouth settled in a tight line when she started the truck.

He watched her drive away, bumping along the rough road, and then he climbed back into the combine cab to set the machine in motion again. Folks around Desperation admired the woman. She might be the brunt of jokes about her unmarried state, but Agatha Clayborne was a woman people respected. He was hard-pressed not to agree. And she’d raised a niece who had caught him off guard and had him wondering what the next few weeks might bring.

Chapter Two

The aroma of freshly fried chicken hit Dusty like a sledgehammer when he stepped onto the porch. He’d seen Trish waving to him from the edge of the field and had forced himself not to rush his last round.

Inside, Trish was crossing the room with a heaping bowl of buttery mashed potatoes in her hands. Having been raised a gentleman, Dusty hurried over to lend a hand.

“Let me help.” He took the hot bowl from her and quickly dumped it on the table, wishing he’d thought to take the oven mitts, too.

Laughter rippled from behind him. “She keeps it warming in the oven until we’re ready,” he heard Kate say.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kate took the same chair she’d had that morning. “Go ahead and clean up at the sink, and we’ll get started. We don’t wait on ceremony during harvest.”

After washing and drying his hands, Dusty planted himself in the chair he’d sat in at breakfast, next to her. “Aggie should be back any minute unless there’s a long line at the elevator.”

“We can warm things up if there is,” Trish said.

The platter of chicken Kate passed him drove any thought of work from his mind. He hadn’t seen chicken so perfectly done since he was a kid.

Choosing a golden-brown thigh from the platter, he took a bite, and the chicken seemed to melt the instant he wrapped his mouth around it.

Before he could swallow and remark on it, the back door banged open, and Aggie entered, heading for the sink. “Those brakes feel kind of mushy to me,” she announced, quickly washing her hands.

“I’ll take a look at the brake fluid,” Kate answered. “I need to remember to do the same with the old tractor. I noticed last fall that the brakes were kind of soft.”

Dusty slid a glance at her, and his pulse picked up. But now wasn’t the time, and he concentrated on the meal while the others discussed Trish’s wedding plans and other womanly things that held no interest for him.

When he’d finished eating, the urge to kick back and enjoy the contentment of a more than satisfying meal was cut short by the need to get the work done. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had better fried chicken,” he said.

Beside him, Kate’s chair scraped on the tile floor. “I’ll get those brakes checked,” she announced and jumped to her feet.

Dusty heard the door swing open and slam shut behind him. He looked from Aggie’s pinched face to Trish’s astounded one. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Aggie replied. “She just doesn’t like people making a big to-do over her cooking or seeing the rest of us enjoying our meals too much when there’s work to be done.” She turned to Trish. “Let’s get the table cleared before the heat settles in for the day.”

Sensing he’d better get moving, Dusty grabbed his hat and strode to the door, eager to get back to work, too.

“Dusty,” Aggie called when he pushed open the door. “See to it that Kate checks that brake fluid.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A backward glance at the plate Aggie was picking up told him Kate hadn’t bothered to finish her dinner. While he was at it, he planned to find out what burr had gotten under her saddle and sent her scurrying.

He found her headfirst under the hood of the big truck, her feet off the ground, and the bottom half of her the only thing in view. And what a view! When he walked up behind her, his fingers itched to place themselves on her enticingly displayed backside, but he fought it.

He stopped less than a foot from her, still admiring her shapely bottom. “Need some help?”

Kate jerked upward and narrowly missed hitting her head on the hood. Sliding to the ground, she turned to face him, a belligerent tilt to her chin. “Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?”

“No more than you did with that gun this morning,” he reminded her. Her bright blue eyes sparked with green lights of fire under delicately arched brows. They stood staring at each other until his gaze dropped to a pair of lips so set in a frown, his only thought was to kiss them into a soft smile.

Slapping her hands on the same set of hips he’d been admiring from behind moments before, she snapped him out of his dream and growled. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothin’.” He knew he had a grin on his face, but there was no way he could stop it. Not with the irresistible picture she made.

“Then let’s get this wheat cut.”

She turned to walk away, but he sidestepped and blocked her path. He pretended to look at the engine, crowding her, and caught the scent of spring rain, tempting him to take a deeper breath. Inhaling, he found he preferred it to even the aroma of the fried chicken they’d just finished and wondered what perfume she wore that could smell so good.

“Did you get that brake fluid in?” he managed to ask.

After hesitating, she moved away from him. “Of course I did. I know what I’m doing.”

He turned slowly, gazing down into the deep blue pools of her eyes. When he spoke, his words were a husky whisper. “Do you?”

Kate opened her mouth, but immediately clamped it shut and spun on her heel. He watched her climb up on the bumper of the truck and struggle to reach for the hood. His gaze never leaving her lithe body, he moved next to her and pulled the hood down to within her reach. Without looking at him, she slammed it shut. He stood his ground while she walked around him and opened the door, nearly hitting him with it. Climbing into the truck, she gunned the engine.

“Let’s get to it, McPherson,” she said. She popped the clutch on the old truck and spun the tires, sending dirt spewing.

Watching her drive away, he shook his head. The more she tried to put distance between them, the more he wanted to close it. “Damn, this isn’t going to be easy.”

KATE STUCK HER HEAD in the living room and looked around. “Trish?” she called. “These sandwiches are ready.”

When her sister didn’t answer, she heaved an exasperated sigh and returned to the kitchen. “She’s disappeared again,” she told her aunt, setting the platter on the table.

Aunt Aggie sat at the table, one booted foot propped on another chair. “I’ll bet she took off to do some writing. She was hunting for her notebook earlier while you were in here getting food ready. Or she left with Morgan, but I didn’t see him drive up.” Reaching over to the platter, she snatched a sandwich. “Any chips to go with this?”

Kate sighed again and reached behind her to pull a bag of potato chips from the cupboard. “Just a handful. Leave some for Dusty.”

Aggie opened the bag and popped a chip in her mouth, a satisfied smile on her lips. “He’s working out real good,” she commented, reaching for another.

Kate grabbed the bag and pulled out a handful of chips, set them on the table in front of her aunt and folded the top of the bag over. “He’ll do.”

“You get along with him all right, don’t you?”

Kate nodded. She couldn’t tell her aunt how being around Dusty made her feel. She couldn’t even explain it to herself. But she knew she didn’t like feeling it, and she didn’t like him telling her what to do. “Maybe you can take these sandwiches out to him,” she suggested. She didn’t want to spend any more time with him than she had to.

“Can’t,” Aggie told her, pointing at her elevated leg. “My knee’s really been bothering me today.”

Kate frowned. “I hope that doesn’t mean rain.” She hated thunderstorms, and rain would put a stop to harvest for a day or two, at the least.

“Could mean a lot of things,” Aggie replied.

Kate looked at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aggie shrugged, picking up her sandwich. “Maybe it was just driving that truck today. Or maybe it’s another sign that it’s time I retired from active farming.”

There it was again, and Kate wasn’t sure how to answer. Was her aunt hoping for a different response from her than she’d had earlier, now that she’d had a little time to think it over? “You’re not that old, Aunt Aggie. We both know that.”

“Getting older every day,” Aggie answered. “Now you get those sandwiches out to Dusty. I’m sure he’s hungry again by now, and I can see the combine headed in this direction.”

Kate looked out the door to the field. “He’s hardly been out of it since dinner,” she commented, more to herself than the other woman.

“He’s a hard worker,” Aggie agreed. “A good man, I’d say.”

“A hard worker, for sure, but a good man? That remains to be seen.” Kate turned back and noticed her aunt looking at her, a slight smile on her face. “Don’t you be getting any ideas.”

Aggie’s eyes widened. “Who said I was?”

“Right,” Kate said, unable to hide her sarcasm. Picking up the plate of sandwiches again, she stuck the bag of chips under her arm. “I guess I’d better get out there before he takes off on another round.” Heading for the door, she grabbed a jug of iced tea.

“We’ve got a good week and a half of this if it doesn’t rain,” she heard Aggie say as she stepped out the door. “Think you can hang on that long?”

“Sure,” Kate answered. As long as she didn’t have to spend all of it with Dusty.

The combine slowed and came to a stop as Kate reached the edge of the field where she’d left the diesel tank earlier before going in to fix the sandwiches. She waited as Dusty set the machine to idle and climbed down.

“I need to fuel up,” he told her, eyeing the pile of sandwiches in her hand.

She handed him the plate and bag of chips and set the jug on the ground. “You go ahead and eat, and I’ll fill the combine.”

She had turned toward the tank when he grabbed her arm. “I can fill it,” he told her, his eyes hard.

Pulling away, she tried to steady her suddenly thumping heart. “It’s my job.”

“Not by a long shot.” He handed the food to her. “Do you think I don’t know what my duties are as combine driver?” he asked, softening his voice with a smile. “And I won’t waste away. Not after that dinner today.”

Kate didn’t move while Dusty put the diesel hose into the fuel opening of the combine, switched on the tank motor, and turned to her. “When you’re the combine driver, you get to fuel it, okay?”

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his decision, that as the owner’s niece, she could decide who did what. But that meant engaging him in a conversation about things that really weren’t his business.

When he’d finished refueling, Dusty accepted the sandwich she gave him and took a bite, looking as if he was lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, motioning to the plate balanced on the truck hood.

Kate shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t finish your dinner either,” he pointed out. His gaze slid down her body and back up again. “And you sure don’t need to be on a diet.”

Kate’s body did a slow burn, and she did her best to explain it away to herself as a flash of anger. But she knew that wasn’t completely true. No matter how much she didn’t want to be attracted to him, she was. But only a little.

“Clayborne women tend to be small,” she said, wishing she could disappear.

“I’ve noticed.”

Unable to vanish and needing to change the subject to anything else, she decided to try a topic that might hold his attention and keep him talking about himself. Better him than me, she thought. “I hear you were a champion bull rider.”

His eyes narrowed. “I am a champion bull rider.”

Kate shrugged, trying to shake off his intense gaze. “Sorry I got it wrong. Any reason why you’re helping us, instead of riding bulls right now?”

“I’m recuperating from some injuries and waiting for a release from my doctor.”

“What kind of injuries?” It wasn’t that it mattered or that she cared. And it wasn’t because she didn’t want to return to the house. There was plenty of work waiting for her there, but she was curious and it would wait.

He gave her a sideways glance, and then stared off at something in the distance. “The usual. Ribs, shoulder, head. Nothing I haven’t had before.”

“And in the meantime you decided to cut wheat for the Clayborne ladies?”

“Whatever comes up,” he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Then you weren’t necessarily looking to help with harvest, just needed something to do. Don’t you make plans?”

He turned to look at her. “Sure I have plans. I ride bulls.”

“That’s it?” She couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t have some kind of plan with a goal for the future. As with most professional athletes and especially one with the kinds of injuries bull riders dealt with, rodeo couldn’t be all there was. “What do you do when you’re not riding bulls? Off season?”

He studied her, his expression puzzled. “Why all the questions?”

Fearing he might think she had some special interest in him, she thought it best to back off a little. “I just wondered, that’s all. Most people plan for the future.”

“Some might.”

“But you don’t?”

His gaze was hard and determined. And stubborn. “My future is my present. Riding bulls.”

“No plans for family? Retirement?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

Taking another sandwich, he looked back at her with a smile. “Retirement when it happens, but I don’t expect it to be soon. Family never.”

She had to bite down on her lip to keep from asking why family wasn’t in his plans. She was pretty sure she knew the answer. When she was still in high school, she’d heard about his marriage and the subsequent end of it. She shouldn’t have asked. It was really none of her business.

And he might just start asking her the same kind of questions. If she wasn’t willing to discuss her own life, why should she expect him to share his?

She looked up to find him staring at her, and her breath caught deep in her chest. Hands trembling, she snatched a plastic bag out of her pocket and began stuffing it with sandwiches. Closing it, she handed it to him.

“I need to get this load taken,” she said in a rush.

“What’s your hurry?” he asked as she scrambled into the truck and started the engine.

She didn’t miss the humor in his eyes and realized she was coming too darned close to making a fool of herself. As she drove the load of wheat to the grain elevator in Desperation, she scolded herself for her interest and for letting him see that he made any impression at all on her. She also reminded herself that he would only be around for a few weeks. After that, he would be gone, and life would be back to normal. Or as normal as it could be, while she searched for a plan to keep Aunt Aggie from leasing the land.

THE SOUND OF RAIN hitting the windows before the sun rose on Thursday morning put Dusty in a black mood. He had expected rain at some point, but the timing was bad. Just when he was enjoying his work, harvest would now come to a grinding halt for several days. He had always hated idle time and was usually either competing in a rodeo or on his way to the next one. During the few times there were neither, he accepted offers from friends to stay with them, and he always helped with chores or whatever was needed.

Not only would he miss the work at the Claybornes’, but he would miss Kate. She had steered clear of him for the past two days, and he guessed it was because of her questions and his answers to them. He didn’t often talk about his personal life, but she had been so straightforward, he hadn’t been able to keep from answering. There was something so different about her that he was intrigued enough to find out just what it was that had him interested.

Standing by the old enamel kitchen sink in his grandparents’ farmhouse, Dusty drank his coffee out of a chipped earthenware cup and debated what to do with his day. A glance around the room reminded him again that he needed to do some repairs and freshen up the place. He’d never used it and had given some thought over the past couple of years to renting it to someone. The farmland was leased to neighbors, and there had been nothing waiting for him here. No family, no children, no wife, only this house his grandparents had left him when they’d died six years ago. In that time, the place had aged, but a little bit of work would get it back into shape.

He finished his coffee, rinsed his cup and left it in the sink, then sprinted through the rain to his pickup truck to start the drive into Desperation for breakfast. With the weather good the first three days he had worked for Miss Aggie, they had accomplished a lot. Since returning to the area, he hadn’t done a lot of socializing, and he was feeling the need for a little company. Somehow he knew at least one Clayborne wouldn’t look kindly on him arriving at the farm when there wasn’t any work to do. But the day wouldn’t be a waste, he decided, ready to become a part of the community again, if only for a few weeks.

The drive was more like twenty minutes than the ten it normally took, thanks to the rain turning the dirt roads to mud, but it was worth the trouble. Once there, and with his fingers curled around a sweating glass of orange juice, Dusty felt the slight breeze from the ceiling fan stir the humid air in the small café. Eyes closed, he began to think about what it would take to fix up his house.

The metal clang of the ancient bell over the door broke through the noisy buzz of the room and claimed his attention, but he didn’t move a muscle. The breakfast crowd had wandered in and out as he had ordered and eaten, leaving him to his musings, except for an occasional hello and a few rodeo questions from someone who recognized him.

“I need a man.”

Dusty’s eyes drifted open. Looking up, he saw a familiar figure posed just inside the door of the café, one fist propped on her denim-covered hip. The gray in her hair contradicted the strength and determination he recognized in her eyes.

The fan above him whirred as a hush fell over the room. His attention grabbed, he watched and waited, half curious, half amused to see Miss Aggie in action.

A burly man in overalls seated at the scarred counter swiveled around on a squeaky metal stool. “You’ve needed a man for years, Aggie. Don’t you think that’s a strange way to go about getting yourself one?”

Smothered laughter echoed in the background, but Aggie’s narrowed gaze never wandered from the man. “Hmmph. A lot you know, Gerald Barnes.”

Dusty swore the look she gave him would have shriveled most people, but Gerald chuckled and turned back to the plate of pancakes in front of him.

She sent a daring glare around the room before she continued. “I need a man to help bring in a load of pies.”

Dusty shoved away from his table in the corner and got to his feet. “I’ll help, Miss Aggie.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Morning, Dusty. I didn’t expect to see you today. Thought you’d be taking it easy.”

“I am,” he answered with a smile, “but I’m more than happy to help you.”

With a nod, she started for the door. “Pies are in the truck. Cherry, apple, peach and pecan,” she announced and marched out the door.

Dusty’s mouth watered at the thought of the pies waiting outside, even though he had just finished a decent breakfast. He could almost taste the sweet tartness of the pies, when a hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“I hear you’re helping with harvest,” Gerald said, stopping on his way to the door. “Don’t let Miss Agatha get to you. She’s a good one, no matter how much we tease her. And the meals alone at the Claybornes’ are enough pay for a hard day’s work. Just make sure you don’t get on the wrong side of that redhead, or you could find yourself in Doc Priller’s office with a case of ptomaine.”

Dusty stared at the man, not sure what to say, until Gerald whacked him on the back. “Just kidding, son. You can’t go wrong with Kate Clayborne’s cooking. Enjoy it.”

“I sure intend to,” Dusty answered with a smile and followed him out the door.

After Gerald shouted a goodbye to Aggie, who waited at the back of the pickup parked diagonally at the curb, Dusty caught up with her. “Four boxes of them,” she said, pulling off a plastic tarp in the bed of the truck. “Just be careful not to drop them.”

“They’re beauties,” he said, peering into the boxes. “Three of each?” He reached in to lift a box, making sure he had a good grasp on the cardboard and didn’t tilt it.

She took it from him. “There’s more at home. Come on by later and have a slice. Or two.”

Pulling out the second box, he grasped it in one arm. “Give me that one,” he told her, nodding at the one she held. She settled the first in his other arm. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome at the farm, seeing there won’t be any work done today.”

“Won’t be for a few more days, by the look of it,” she answered, glancing at the cloudy sky overhead. “At least it’s stopped raining for a while. We can’t do with too much.” She walked to the door of the café with a slight limp and pulled it open for him. “But there’s no reason for you to be a stranger. We’re always glad to have a little company, and I’m sure the girls are happy to spend some time with someone closer to their ages.”

Dusty stood in the open doorway and turned his head to look at her, taking care to keep his voice low. “That knee bothering you, Miss Aggie?”

She started to shake her head, but shrugged her shoulders. “A little, what with this weather. But it’ll get better. It always does, once the sun starts shining again. I expect we’ll be back at work in a couple of days, if the weatherman was being honest and had a clue about the forecast. In the meantime, there’s no reason why we can’t enjoy the time off.”

“That’s what I’m hoping to do,” he said, passing by her into the café.

After the second trip with the third and fourth boxes, Aggie thanked him for his help. Climbing into her truck, she settled in and rolled down her window. “I was serious about the pies at home.”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I may take a rain check on it, depending on what I find to do.”

Aggie squinted and looked up at the sky. “You might want to make that a sunshine check, but like I said, stop by anytime.”

He watched as she backed onto the street and waved as she drove away. Yep, he was planning to enjoy the day, in spite of the weather. Kate had conspicuously avoided him after he had put a stop to her curiosity and questions, and Trish had been busy with other things. Aggie had been his only source of decent conversation, and that had been limited because they had been so busy.

Maybe, he thought with a smile, as he wandered back into the café, Kate would be done with her mad-on.

He’d hang around the café a little longer, before heading out to the Claybornes’ for some pie. It wouldn’t hurt to catch up on the latest town gossip—or even some more ancient—and he might pick up a few things about the family that employed him. He might even get a handle on Kate and what people thought of her. And if that didn’t happen, he could simply enjoy the company. But he had to admit that it was Kate who was on his mind.

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