Arizona Cowboy. Marin Thomas

opened his gift he’d figured out how to use it in less than five minutes.

       Even though P.T. kept the company’s financial statements and records on the computer, old habits die hard. The boss spent hours writing duplicate information into a ledger. As much as he embraced technology, P.T. didn’t trust what he couldn’t see or hold in his hands.

       “I’m sure Lauren will call you to discuss the books.”

       “Don’t pester the girl. We’ll talk when I return in August.”

       For some reason P.T. was determined to undergo his treatment without family support. Stubborn man. “Drive safe and…” What the hell did you say to a man who stared his own mortality in the face? “Stay well.”

       “Will do.”

       Clint didn’t know how long he stood in the yard watching the taillights of P.T.’s truck when the front door burst open and Rachel rushed outside. Wearing sandals, a skimpy pair of shorts, a tank top and her blond hair snarled, she appeared frantic. Then she saw Clint and trotted toward him, her small, braless breasts jiggling beneath the shirt. He couldn’t remember any of his high-school teachers looking as hot as Rachel. The closer she came, the faster his pulse raced. Her fresh-from-bed rumpled appearance sent his libido into overdrive. Steady, man. Finding himself sexually attracted to a pretty woman wasn’t unusual—as long as he didn’t allow that attraction to evolve into something deeper.

       “Where’s P.T.?” she asked, stopping a few feet away.

       “He already left.” Clint pointed to the dust in the air a mile down the road.

       “For Phoenix?”

       “Yep. Nice of you to get out of bed and wish him well.” Rachel gasped but Clint refused to feel remorse for his biting comment. What kind of daughter didn’t care enough to say goodbye to her father? He and Lauren hadn’t always been on the best of terms but he believed she’d stand by his side in the face of adversity.

       “He did that on purpose.” Rachel’s eyelashes fluttered. Was she blinking back tears?

       “Did what?” Clint crossed his arms over his chest, determined to resist the sudden urge to hug Rachel.

       “He left before I got out of bed.”

       “P.T. couldn’t wait forever.”

       “Last night he said he’d leave at eight o’clock. I offered to cook him breakfast.”

       Clint checked his watch. 6:46 a.m.

       “P.T. left early because I insisted on going with him today,” she said.

       Certain she was all talk and no action, Clint pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Feel free to use the truck in the barn.”

       She snatched the key ring from his fingers and dashed off, leaving him gaping. A moment later she put the pedal to the metal and zipped past Clint.

       “I’ll be damned. She does care.”

       What the heck was Rachel going to do if she caught P.T.—escort him to Phoenix in her pj’s? He’d made it to the porch of the cabin when he spotted her heading back to the ranch. She parked near the barn.

       “Well?” Clint said the moment Rachel opened the driver-side door.

       “He doesn’t want company.” Her indifferent shrug was at odds with the pinched expression on her face.

       Feeling compelled to offer a token of sympathy Clint said, “I insisted on going, too, but he’s a prideful man.”

       “Will he be okay driving by himself?”

       The note of concern in her voice bothered Clint. Had he misjudged her relationship with P.T.? There are two sides… A mad dash down the road wasn’t proof she cared about a man she’d ignored all her life. “P.T. will be fine. He promised to call once he checked into the clinic.”

       “You’ll let me know when you hear from him,” Rachel said.

       “Sure. I’ll be in the barn most of the morning if you run into trouble.”

       “Thanks, but I don’t foresee encountering any problems.” Head held high, she walked off.

       Clint stared at her firm fanny, unsure what to make of P.T.’s daughter. When the front door shut, he did an about-face and retreated to the barn, fearing this would be a hotter-than-normal summer if he didn’t rein in his attraction to Rachel.

       Two hours later Rachel entered the barn and announced, “We’ve got a problem.”

       Clint set aside the pitchfork and studied her. She’d changed into khaki shorts and a green T-shirt. And a bra. He preferred her without one. Forcing his gaze from her sexy legs he focused on her face. Blue eyes clouded with worry and her teeth nibbled her lower lip, drawing his attention to her very kissable mouth.

       “What do you mean, we have a problem?” he asked.

       “The rodeo secretary called and—”

       “Barb Hamilton?”

       “She retired as of today.”

       “You’re joking?”

       “No, I’m not.”

       Losing a rodeo secretary two weeks before the first event was a disaster. Barb would never leave P.T. hanging without a good reason. “Is she ill?”

       “Barb’s fine. Her daughter had a baby recently but suffered complications.”

       “Is her daughter okay?”

       “She will be, but Barb needs to help care for the baby while her daughter recovers.”

       What else could go wrong the first day P.T. was gone?

       “I could assume the secretary’s duties and save my father money.”

       Was it false bravado or stupidity that prompted Rachel to volunteer for a position she had no experience with? He closed the space between them, stopping short when he caught a whiff of perfume-scented air. “Do you know what a secretary does?”

       “I’m guessing she keeps track of the expenditures for each rodeo?”

      Not even close. “Barb is in charge of processing entry fees, checking in the contestants when they arrive for the rodeo. She calculates the winners and cuts the checks for the cowboys and she creates the score sheets used that day by the officials. Then she gathers the sheets after each event and posts the standings. She also keeps track of the cowboy and livestock matchups, then informs the cowboys when they call in wanting to know which animal they’re scheduled to ride, as well as what score or time they need in order to place.”

       “I expect this Barb of all wonders also deals with the media?”

       “The press phoned?”

       “The Canyon City Courier wants to run a story on the upcoming rodeo.”

       “You didn’t tell them that P.T.’s in Phoenix undergoing cancer treatments, did you?”

       “Of course not. I wouldn’t want people believing my father’s health might interfere with producing a successful rodeo.”

       Score a point for Rachel—the woman might not know a damned thing about the sport of rodeo but she possessed common sense. “Barb will be tough to replace,” he said. “She’s a four-time National Finals Rodeo secretary. Her mother was inducted into the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame for her career as a rodeo secretary.”

       “Is that your way of saying I can’t handle the job?” Rachel asked.

       “Take my word for it, you can’t. Did you ask Barb to recommend a replacement?”

       “She offered the name of a woman who might be willing to cover for her. When I phoned the lady and introduced myself as P.T.’s daughter, she said P.T. didn’t have a daughter