Texas Rebels: Phoenix. Linda Warren

      Maybe it was his bad mood, but Phoenix decided he wasn’t parking somewhere else. He was going to teach this person a lesson in manners. He pulled in as close as he could to the other rig.

      “What are you doing? We’re too close.”

      “My thought exactly. Maybe he can crawl out the window, because he’s not opening the driver’s side door.”

      It didn’t take them long to find out the driver was not a he but a she. She climbed out the passenger door and stormed over to them. Phoenix got out and met her and was completely taken aback by the beauty of a woman he’d seen many times, but never this close up.

      She was slim, in tight-fitting denim, boots and a white tank top tucked into her jeans...basically the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. A leather belt with a gold belt buckle she had won barrel racing circled her tiny waist. A Stetson crowned her head, and long, coppery hair hung down her back. Her eyes were the coldest blue he’d ever seen, similar to the sky when the ground was frozen on a winter’s day. A chill slid up his spine.

      “What do you think you’re doing? Move your truck. It’s too close to mine.”

      “You’re taking up two spaces. That’s not the cowboy way.”

      She placed her hands on her waist, stretching the tank top across full breasts. Any other time Phoenix would have enjoyed the view, but he was still in anger mode. “Excuse me?”

      “We look out for each other, and taking up more space than you need is not good or respectful.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “I’m not. If you want to get into your truck, you’ll have to move it over.”

      “You...you...you despicable, conniving, egotistical...”

      A smile touched his face for the first time today. This was so out of character for him. He was usually easygoing and fun to be around. He held up a hand. “I get the picture. You still have to move your truck and horse trailer. It promotes good relationships within the cowboy community.”

      “You may have won this round, Mr....”

      He held out his hand. “Phoenix Rebel.”

      She glanced at his hand and then at his face, her blue eyes now so cold he was tempted to take a step backward. “I know who you are, and I would never touch you. You Rebels are all alike, greedy, selfish and without respect for others.” After saying that, she stormed back to her truck and climbed through the passenger door. In seconds she had it backed up and reparked.

      Phoenix crawled back into his truck, and Paxton stared at him with a lifted eyebrow.

      “Have you lost your mind? Everybody parks wherever they want. All of a sudden we have rules? No one told me.”

      “Shut up.”

      “You do know who she is?”

      Phoenix rubbed his hand across the steering wheel. “Yes. Rosemary McCray.”

      “Rosemary McCray Wilcott,” Paxton corrected him. “She’s divorced, I heard.”

      “What else do you know about her?”

      Paxton turned to face him. “Let me refresh your memory. Ezra McCray tried to kill you and Jude for jumping his fences. Jude has a bullet scar on his forehead to prove it. Our father, John Rebel, shot and killed Ezra, which escalated the Rebel/McCray feud to high alert. Rosemary is a McCray, and the off-limits sign is flashing right above her head. Don’t you see it?”

      “What else?” Phoenix asked again, as if Pax hadn’t spoken.

      Paxton sighed. “Phoenix.”

      “What else?”

      “Her horse’s name is Golden Lady, and the cowboys call Ms. Wilcott Frosty Lady because she’s shot down everyone who’s tried to date her.”

      “I know that. What else?”

      “Not much. Her friends call her Rosie, but she isn’t very friendly and she stays to herself, which you should do, too. Do you hear me?”

      Phoenix couldn’t get that look in her eyes out of his mind. “She must be younger than me, because I don’t remember her in school.”

      “Yeah. About four years, I think.” Paxton nailed him with a dark stare. “Why are you curious?”

      “I don’t know. There’s just something about her. She seems so sad.”

      “Is that why you laid into her like a crazy fool?”

      “I didn’t know it was her. I thought it was a guy.”

      “Oh, that makes sense. Someone who could punch your lights out. Right before a rodeo, I might add.”

      Phoenix tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “What else do you know about her?”

      Paxton groaned. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

      “I’m curious. That’s all.”

      “I heard down at Rowdy’s beer joint that Ira McCray married her off to a man twice her age. The man was supposed to pour money into the McCray ranch to get it back on its feet. Rosemary filed for divorce a year later and Ira disowned her. I’d say not being able to see your family is a lot to be sad about.”

      “Yeah.” Phoenix felt a stab of guilt for being so rude to her. It was just a reflex reaction to everything that was going on in his life. He didn’t want to be taken advantage of anymore.

      Paxton opened his door. “Do you want to set up the trailer or check us in?”

      Phoenix got out of the truck. “I’ll check us in.” As he passed Rosemary’s vehicle, he thought of going over and apologizing to her. But he knew the last thing she wanted from him was an apology. She wanted revenge, and in the days that followed she would probably find a way to get back at him.

Chapter Two

      Rosie sat on the small sofa in her live-in horse trailer, willing the anger to subside. The trucks and trailers were parked in a field close to the rodeo arena. There were no marked spots. How dare he chastise her for taking up space? How dare he!

      In a hurry because Dixie, her precious Jack Russell–mixed terrier, had to pee, she’d pulled in quickly, not noticing she was far away from the other vehicle. She’d opened the door and Dixie had hopped out to do her business. Then Phoenix Rebel had the nerve to pull in so close she couldn’t get out of her truck. Who did he think he was?

      She’d seen him and his brother Paxton many times at the rodeos. She ignored them and they ignored her. It worked well considering their family histories. Until today. She should have refused to move her truck, but escalating a feud that should’ve died years ago was not one of her goals. She preferred a quiet, peaceful life, but bending to his will grated on her nerves.

      The times she’d seen him around the rodeo, he was always laughing and joking with the cowboys, and some girl was always hanging off his arm. Today was a complete about-face from the guy she’d glimpsed on occasion. He’d lost his cool and she had no idea why. The parking couldn’t have been it. Was he just trying to get in a dig at her because she was a McCray? She didn’t care anymore. She was going to forget about the whole thing because she intended to ride very well at this rodeo. Her scores were good, and going to Vegas was her main goal. Her livelihood depended on how well she rode and how much money she’d make. And Phoenix Rebel was not going to break her stride.

      Dixie whined and Rosie picked her up, stroking her. Dixie and Golden Lady, her palomino horse, were her family now. And that was just too sad even to think about. Her father had said she could never come home because she had betrayed the family. But living a lonely life was better than living the life her father had planned for her. She shook the memories