Smooth-Talking Cowboy. Maisey Yates

But then, that was the theme with Olivia. She brought out the devil in him, and he had no interest in holding it back.

      Still, touching her like that to get a rise out of Bennett was not the smartest. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, tension crawling over his shoulders and down his back. Damn. He was wound tighter than he could remember being in a long time. It was because last night he’d ended up talking to Olivia instead of hooking up with someone, counter to his plan.

      He let out a long slow breath as he watched the scenery fly by. It was clear out, sunny, though he knew that the air was as cold as—if not colder than—it would’ve been if it had been cloudy. Those crystal clear mornings had a way of cutting straight through you with no mercy. Maybe they were just worse because you could see the sun, and you expected that it might offer some warmth. But no.

      Still, it looked nice. And if he pushed thoughts of Olivia Logan aside, it was almost soothing.

      A shaft of golden light cut through the dense trees as he rounded the bend in the two-lane road, right at the spot where the property was. The property that was currently for sale by owner.

      For sale by Cole Logan.

      The Logans owned a fair amount of land in town. After all, they had been the first family to settle the area and large swathes of the countryside still belonged to them. And this one had famously been for sale for a very long time. Cole Logan had no need to sell it to just anyone, and he was particularly choosy about who he wanted settling, and what he wanted settled there.

      Clearly, the man was much like his daughter. A control freak.

      Without thinking, Luke pulled off to the side of the road, his truck idling. And he stared at the sign. That sign that he looked at every morning on his way to the Dodge ranch.

      He was happy with his life working on the ranch. Although, with the changes, the focus returning to taking in guests and all of that, he questioned his place. And he hadn’t done that since he was sixteen years old.

      At the same time, sometimes that money felt like it was eating its way through his bank account like acid. Just sitting there. Sitting there for nearly twenty years useless and dead.

      He knew why she’d taken out that life insurance policy. Because if anything happened to her, she had wanted to make sure he had a future. He could make something of himself.

      But with the way it had happened...

      It had to be the right thing. It had to be the right moment.

      He stared at the sign, red and white and sticking up out of the ground, with a damn sunbeam shining on it.

      He shook his head, putting the truck back in Drive and pulling back out onto the highway.

      He turned the radio up, blaring a country song about being back roads legit, which turned his thoughts to things he liked. To drinking. Ranching. Women. Everything that made life worthwhile.

      That carried him the rest of the way down the road and all the way to the Dodge ranch.

      He parked his truck in the gravel lot that Wyatt was considering having paved over, and looked around. It was bare now, but he knew that Wyatt had landscape plans. Knew that Wyatt had a whole host of modernization schemes up his sleeve. He supported them. He did. He just wasn’t sure anymore if he wanted to be an active part of it.

      He frowned, killing the engine on the truck and getting out, walking slowly down the path toward the house, where he had a feeling he would find Wyatt sitting at the table in the dining area, his makeshift office, even though he had a real office. He claimed he preferred the one by the coffeemaker.

      He opened up the front door without knocking, as was his habit. He had lived on the property for so many years, the entire place had eventually been opened up to him like a home. Quinn Dodge had been more of a father to him than anyone else ever had been. Surely more than the man who had been responsible for knocking his mom up and leaving her depressed and fragile, never to fully recover.

      “Morning,” he said, knocking his boots against the welcome mat and stepping inside, calling out the greeting to whichever of the Dodge brothers—or sister—might currently be in residence.

      He found Bennett and Wyatt at the small kitchen table that sat in the corner of the modest room. A large thermos of coffee sitting at the middle of the table, both of them with full mugs in front of them.

      “Good morning,” Wyatt said, not looking up from the paperwork in front of him.

      “What do you have there?” he asked.

      “Looking over some different opportunities. Gabe Dalton has been doing some work with retired rodeo horses. And as crazy as it sounds, he swears that they would be perfect for the trail rides here. He has a few animals for us to look at.”

      The Daltons were another big ranching family in the area, and Luke knew that Gabe and Wyatt were pretty tight from their days riding on the rodeo circuit. Gabe had spent a fair amount of time hanging around the ranch too, and as far as Luke could see he was a stand-up guy, honest and definitely trustworthy when it came to his opinion on animals.

      “Sounds good,” Luke said.

      “I’ll definitely want to take a close look at them,” Bennett said.

      “Look under the hood?” Luke asked, moving through the kitchen and grabbing a mug out of one of the cabinets. “Kick the tires.”

      “Hey,” Bennett said, “you wouldn’t buy a used car without a mechanic having a look. Might as well have the resident vet take a look at your used horses.”

      Wyatt chuckled. “Fair enough.”

      “What else are you looking into?” Luke asked.

      “Well, I had a talk with Dane Parker about the potential of doing some joint venture stuff with Grassroots Winery. I’m not sure. It might all be a little bit fussy.”

      Bennett shrugged a shoulder. “People like to drink.”

      “I’m not sure this is a wine place.”

      “People staying here might want to go on wine-tasting tours,” Luke pointed out, even though he agreed that wine was a hell of a lot fussier than anything he wanted to deal in. He preferred beer for casual drinking and hard stuff for serious drinking.

      Wine didn’t fall anywhere on that spectrum.

      “I don’t know,” Wyatt said. “I like Dane. But might be a lot of drama to step in the middle of. You know, seeing as Damien Leighton’s ex-wife now owns the winery. I was pretty good buddies with him when we used to ride bulls.”

      “Sounds like you have a lot of options,” Luke said.

      And frankly, he wasn’t really all that interested in any of them. He had liked the place the way that it was. Simple. Rustic. Appealing to the kind of people who wanted simple and rustic. At the same time, he also understood that you were going to catch a much broader base of people if you expanded the amenities.

      But he wanted to get back to ranch work. Real ranch work. He wanted to dig postholes for fences. Wanted to wrangle cattle and ride horses.

      He wanted a place of his own. His own land to work as he saw fit.

      “How was Olivia?” Bennett’s question jerked Luke out of his thoughts. “You talked to her at the bar.”

      “Yeah. I helped her out with her car, remember?”

      Bennett nodded slowly. “Right. So you said.”

      “If you want to talk to her, go talk to her. She asked me about you, too. But I’m not a carrier pigeon for the lovelorn. So, if you guys have something to work out, go work it out.”

      Bennett’s jaw firmed, a stubborn expression crossing over his face. “She’s frustrating the hell out of me, because she’s manipulating me. I don’t understand why she doesn’t get that I just want to wait until I have some things in order before