The Cowgirl's CEO. Pamela Britton

She’d seen the hint of interest in his green eyes that first night. Was that part of the reason he’d agreed to sponsor her? Had his interest in her started before he’d met her?

      And maybe your headache’s made you crazy!

      “Feeling better?” he asked a few minutes later.

      Caro’s head snapped up. Damn. He’d sneaked up on her.

      “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I think.” She tried to move, tentatively at first, then slowly stood.

      He’d been in the midst of coiling the lead rope, but stopped, one eyebrow lifted.

      “Getting there,” she amended.

      “Good.” His gaze lingering on her lips, and she froze.

      Oh, no. No. No. No. You are not interested in him merely because you’ve learned he’s a cowboy. Cowboys are clowns, remember? Cowboys are to be avoided at all costs.

      Remember David?

      “Um, thanks,” she said. “But I should get to work.”

      “About that,” he said, his mouth tipping into a slight smile.

      Oh my.

      Ty Harrison with a smile turned the three-alarm bells clanging in her head into an air-raid siren.

      “I was thinking while walking old Thumper here,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “What if I make you dinner?”

      She was so busy trying to recover from that smile she found herself saying, “Huh?”

      “I have a rental car. I can go out and get some steaks. You have an oven in there, I noticed. Why don’t I broil some up?”

      “You want to make me dinner.”

      “Yeah,” he said. The smile dissolved like salt in vinegar. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

      “Mr. Harrison, I—”

      “Ty,” he corrected.

      Didn’t he see? He couldn’t be “Ty.” He could never be, not to her.

      “Mr. Harrison,” she said, hoping he’d get the point. “That’s really kind of you, but I’m busy—”

      “You need to eat.”

      “I know. And I’ll grab something. Just not right now.”

      “Actually,” he said, “I’m not giving you a choice, not when I need you hale and hearty for the NFR.” He held out Thumper’s lead rope. “I’ll have dinner ready by seven.”

      Chapter Five

      To be honest, Ty half expected her trailer door to be locked when he got back. It was.

      He smirked. Smart girl.

      But he had her outwitted. Among his groceries was one lightweight, ultramodern, genuine hibachi. Hah. He also had briquettes, lighter fluid and barbecue tongs. As side dishes he’d bought potato salad and mixed greens. There were even late-season cobs of corn that he’d wrap in foil and grill. Everything he needed.

      The sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon, but parking lights illuminated his cooking area at the back of the trailer. One of Caro’s neighbors—a broad-shouldered man—took one look at Ty’s groceries on the ground and said, “You need to borrow a table?”

      “If you’ve got one handy,” Ty replied, the flames from the hibachi licking the air and painting the side of the trailer a Halloween orange.

      “Got one right here.”

      “Thanks.”

      “You cooking for Caro?” he asked when he returned, hauling a small folding table.

      “I think so. I told her I would, but she didn’t seem too enthusiastic.”

      “Let me guess,” the man said, unfolding the table legs. “She told you not to bother.”

      “Actually, she locked her trailer door. If I hadn’t bought the barbecue, I’d be stuck.”

      “That’s Caro for you. Thinks she doesn’t need a man, or that we’re pretty useless.” He set the table upright. “Mike Krueger,” he said, holding out his hand.

      “Ty Harrison.”

      “I know. Watched you film that commercial. Interesting stuff. Caro looked like she did great. ‘Course, you could film Caro upside down, walking on her hands, and she’d look gorgeous.”

      “That’s certainly true,” Ty said, arranging his groceries on the table. “You don’t happen to have a salad bowl, do you?”

      “Got everything you need,” Mike said, motioning toward his own long, white trailer. The lights were on inside and Ty could see a TV flickering behind the windows. Modern day cowboys. “Just help yourself.”

      “Are you leaving?” Ty asked when Mike turned away.

      “Yup. I was about to close things up. I’m in the main performance. But I can leave it open in case you need something else.”

      “That’d be much appreciated.”

      “And before I go, think I’ll find Caro and tell her she has a guest.”

      Ty smiled. “You do that.”

      She showed up fifteen minutes later. By then Ty had the steaks on, and the smell of sizzling meat filled the air.

      “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “Cooking,” he said without looking up. “Like I told you.”

      She didn’t say anything. Ty risked a peek. Furious didn’t begin to describe the expression on her face.

      “Whatever,” she said, walking back toward the barn.

      He let the steaks continue to cook. “Caro, wait.” She sped up. He was faster. “Don’t leave. Not without eating first. If you want to ignore me the whole time, fine. But at least get some food in your stomach.”

      The light from Mike’s trailer perfectly illuminated her face. She seemed exhausted. Near the corners of her eyes, the skin appeared bruised, something you wouldn’t notice unless you were staring at her closely.

      “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked meal, anyway?”

      The steaks suddenly hissed, as if punctuating his remark. She gritted her teeth. She’d changed since the shoot, the pressed cotton shirt she’d worn replaced by another T-shirt, which read I’m Going to Treat You Like My Dog, Cowboy.

      You Wish!

      Well, now he knew her treatment of him was nothing personal.

      “Months?” He hazarded a guess.

      She shrugged. “Can’t remember.”

      “Do you ever slow down, Caroline?”

      “I told you. Only my mom calls me Caroline,” she reminded him. “And, yes, I do slow down. When the season’s over. Until then I can’t afford to take it easy.”

      “Will having one little steak hurt you?”

      She raised her chin, her gray eyes managing to look even bigger in the murky half-light. “I’m behind today.”

      Thanks to filming a commercial. She didn’t say it, but might as well have.

      “Then take the food with you. I’ve got paper plates. Stop and eat.”

      She slowly nodded. Ty wondered if she’d toss the plate away the moment he was out of sight.

      “Have a seat,” he said. “The steaks need to cook for a few more minutes.”

      She