What a Rancher Wants. Sarah M. Anderson

Chance.

      Three

      It took four days before Chance’s cell phone rang. He’d just gotten back to the barn from checking on the ponds for the cattle. When his phone rang, it played Alex’s ringtone. For a moment Chance thought it was Alex; that he had his memory back, that he wanted to tell Chance about everything—which may or may not include his sister.

      He handed Ranger, his horse, to Marty and grabbed his phone out of its holster. “Hello?”

      “Ah, yes—Mr. McDaniel?”

      Gabriella’s soft voice flowed around him. Chance was simultaneously disappointed that it wasn’t Alex and thrilled that she’d called. “I told you to call me Chance, Gabriella.”

      There was something of an awkward pause. He could almost see her trying to decide if she was going to call him what he wanted her to. Because he sure as hell wanted to hear what her accent would do with his name.

      But it didn’t look as if it was going to happen right now, so he redirected the conversation. “Any change in Alex?”

      “No. He is still...resting.” She sounded not awesome, frankly. Tired and worried, but underneath that, he could hear frustration. She was doing a damn fine job hiding it, but he could still tell.

      “Is your father still mad at me?”

      “Papa is only concerned with Alejandro’s well-being.” Her answer came without hesitation. In fact, it almost sounded as though she’d rehearsed it.

      He grinned. That was a yes, loud and clear. “So, you need to get out of the house for a while? I’ve got a beauty of a quarter horse named Nightingale that’d love to ride you around.”

      She didn’t say anything at first, but he heard her sigh—a sound of relief. Oh, yeah—he had her.

      His mind hurried to put images with the sounds coming across his phone. He could see her full, red lips slightly parted as she exhaled, see her thick lashes fluttering at the thought of going for a ride with him.

      Then, because apparently he enjoyed torturing himself, his mind turned those images in a different direction—her smooth hair all mussed up against a pillow as he coaxed little noises out of her. As she rode him.

      He went hard in his jeans at the thought.

      “You said you had a mule for Joaquin?”

      “Yup.” Chance walked down the aisle of his barn and stopped in front of Beast’s stall. The animal was a giant mule that came from a donkey crossed with a draft horse. Beast’s mother had been a Belgian, which meant he was a solid seventeen hands high and built like a tank.

      Chance had found that having a larger animal around meant more guests could take a trail ride—something that they’d appreciated. Most trail rides capped rider weight around two hundred fifty pounds, maybe a bit more. Beast let some folks who’d never been allowed on a horse to take their first ride—which was good for business. “This fellow can handle up to three fifty. Shouldn’t be a problem—if Joaquin eats a small breakfast, that is.”

      She laughed at this and again Chance was reminded of butterflies fluttering among the spring flowers. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

      “When do you want to come out?” It was Thursday. The weekend was suddenly looking up. By a lot. “The forecast is calling for clear skies for the next few days.”

      “When are you available?”

      Hell, he was available anytime she wanted him to be. But then Marty walked over and said, in a quiet voice, “Don’t forget the wedding Saturday.”

      Damn. It was February, after all. The dude ranch business may have slowed down, but the destination wedding business was still moving along at a decent clip. “We’re hosting a wedding on Saturday night for a party from Houston.” Double damn it. Saturday would have been a great time to get to know Gabriella a little better—or at least to figure out if all the del Toros lied as much as Alex did. “How about...?” His mind spun. Saturday was out. “Sunday afternoon?”

      “That would not be possible.” He couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t said, “Mr. McDaniel.” Of course, she also hadn’t said, “Chance.” Still, it was progress. “It is Sunday, after all.”

      Ah. He hadn’t considered that. Alex had gone to the local Catholic church on occasion, but the way Gabriella said it made it clear that she was more than just an occasional churchgoer. Did that make her more honest than her brother? Or just more guilty when she lied?

      He could feel this opportunity slipping through his fingers. There was no way in hell Rodrigo del Toro would let him back in the house, which meant this was the only way possible to find out what the hell was going on.

      That only left him with one choice. “How about tomorrow morning? We’ll be setting up for a wedding, but I’ve got a good crew. We can head out around...say, ten, then have lunch?”

      Say yes, he thought. Please say yes. God, how he wanted to know if she rode or if she was the kind of “rider” who just thought horses were pretty.

      She was silent, but that didn’t mean everything was quiet on her end. Although it was faint, he was pretty sure he heard Rodrigo shout, “Gabriella!” followed by a string of Spanish that Chance couldn’t make out.

      “Ten tomorrow,” she said simply before the call ended.

      Chance grinned down at his phone. He knew he needed to keep his eyes peeled and his defenses up. Alex had screwed him over pretty damn badly and while McDaniel’s Acres was still operating in the black, he hadn’t had as much local business because of all the rumors.

      He needed to find out what Alex remembered. That had to be his first goal tomorrow. It should be his only goal, too. Tomorrow should have nothing to do with wanting to hear Gabriella’s tongue roll over his name, nothing to do with wanting to roll his own tongue over a few other things. This was about clearing his name, damn it.

      Still. She’d called. They were going to ride.

      Yup. The weekend was looking much better.

      * * *

      Gabriella was up early the next morning. She was usually up by six-thirty, but today she was out of bed at a quarter to six.

      She would have liked to have had a cup of coffee without waking Joaquin, but as he slept in the living room—the better to hear anyone breaking in—she had no choice but to get him up early.

      “Buenos días, Joaquin,” she said the moment she entered the living room. Joaquin did not appreciate people trying to sneak past him. The first time she’d tried that—she’d been fifteen and dying to get out of the house—he’d grabbed her by the calf so hard that she’d had bruises for weeks. He’d apologized profusely, of course—he had been dead asleep and had not realized it was his charge sneaking around instead of a villain.

      Without hesitation, Joaquin sat up from the couch, his eyes already alert as he scanned the room.

      “I awoke early,” she explained as he removed his gun from underneath the pillow he’d been sleeping on and slid it back into its holster. “Nothing is wrong. Coffee?”

      Joaquin nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he stood and began his morning perimeter check, prowling around the house as silent as a breeze, checking the locks and windows. Of course Alejandro had had a security system installed, but security systems could always be bypassed. Gabriella knew he wouldn’t attend to any of his needs until he was confident the del Toro family was safe.

      Gabriella made the coffee extra strong. She was excited about the day in a way that she had not felt since she’d convinced Papa to allow her to accompany him north to America.

      Finally she was going to see something of Texas—something more than the lovely vista visible through Alejandro’s windows. From horseback, no less! Back