Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (19 page)

Her throat ached from crying so much. She’d need a good cup of hot tea with lemon and honey to soothe it before she got in front of the audience tomorrow.

Another call. She closed her eyes, knowing it wasn’t Stowe. He hadn’t even said goodbye to her. That had sliced her deepest.

Her answering machine picked up and she pressed a button to hear again. “Tabbart, love, we need the menu for tomorrow’s show ASAP. We have a fully stocked kitchen, but we know how you love to throw strange ingredients at us. Give us time to find something if you need it. Okay? Byeeee.”

Her heart had lurched at the words “Tabbart, love”—words Stowe had used—but fell into its same slow, throbbing rhythm as soon as she’d heard her publicist’s voice.

“Looks like whatever the paparazzi were speculating about when you were on vacation seems to have blown over. Can’t wait to see what you have planned for tomorrow.”

Flopping onto her back again, she smeared her hands over her teary cheeks. She had to get a grip. She couldn’t lie in bed forever.

Well, she could with Stowe.

But she no longer had him. She had a life and a commitment to her producers and studio as well as her audience.

She climbed out of bed and forced herself into the kitchen. As she ate a boring piece of toast with only butter, she longed for a cozy table for two in front of a window overlooking the ranch. She wished for Cook’s homemade butter from Texas dairy cows.

While she showered, she hungered for Stowe’s solid body against hers. And his gaze on her while she dressed.

Braving the traffic downtown, she fought off a panic attack. She felt so hemmed in. Had she before?

No, never.

As she parked at the studio in her special spot, she stared at her hands on the steering wheel. Her fingers were the last part of her Stowe’s lips had touched. She wanted to bawl all over again.

She’d done right. It was his good view of her or America’s, and Stowe didn’t pay her bills. As she got out of the car, she admitted to herself it was so much more than money that fueled her. She was still passionate about her cooking and sharing it with a TV audience. She’d written that check to protect the thing she loved most.

Unfortunately that had brought Stowe’s disrespect. She would never forget the way he’d looked at her after she had signed that check.

The next two hours flew by with her giving a bright, fake smile to those she worked with. She wrote out menus and gave shopping orders. She oohed and ahhed over the shoes Mindy had procured.

None of it mattered, though.

“Hey, Tabbart.” Amelia’s Aussie accent struck Tabbart square in the chest. The last person to talk to her in that accent had been the man she was in love with.

So stupid to love a gigolo she’d paid to be with.

Pretending she didn’t hear Amelia, she turned away and hurried out of the studio under the sun that didn’t feel as good on her face as the one that hung over the Boot Knockers Ranch.

Chapter Twelve

Stowe had bashed his head against a wall enough. There was nothing he could do about Tabbart now. The last of the week’s ladies had left the ranch. The woman who’d spotted her either ran to the bank and cashed the check and stayed quiet, or she yelled her news to the world.

Tabbart was beyond Stowe’s protection.

He rested against the fence and watched his cows feed. The early morning sun was still a yellow kernel on the horizon. That was what happened when a man couldn’t sleep—he got up with the cows and communed with the land.

He dropped his head and closed his eyes. For days after Tabbart left, he’d been restless. Unable to settle on one task. He reshod several horses, mucked out the mostly clean barn. He stacked hay bales and galloped for miles. He couldn’t get her out of his blood. She was there like a piece of straw in his undershorts—itching, digging at him.

And damn Riggs and Hugh. His bosses kept calling him into the office to discuss the matter. Stowe was done with talk. Tomorrow morning a new woman would step into his life, and he’d lift the whip for her.

The mere thought of laying hands—or leather—on a woman besides Tabbart made his stomach knot. As someone who prided himself on awareness at all times, he was too fucking knowledgeable of the state of his heart.

Only time would help him. Meanwhile, he had a job to do.

As he watched his animals chomp on the best meal he could provide, the sun rose. Warmth bathed his forearms, then shoulders. Finally the top of his hat grew heated.

When he turned his gaze to the sunrise, his breath caught. Yellow and orange streaked the pink and blue sky. This land was his true passion—not the women part of the ranch. He needed to get his exit strategy in place fast.

In a week or so, they’d check the three cows that had been inseminated and see if they were showing signs of calving. It might be time to start searching for a plot of land of his own.

Staying on the Boot Knockers Ranch for a while worked, but everywhere he looked he saw Tabbart. Sitting on this fence. Kissing him where they’d spread their picnic blanket.

Her round ass under his hand.

He clamped off the thought that was like an artery. If he wasn’t careful, he’d bleed out.

And if he didn’t know himself better, he’d believe he was a masochist. His mind started to replay his last moments with Tabbart, and God help him, he embraced it. From the memory of pain in her eyes to the final whiff of her personal fragrance as he closed the car door, he wanted to linger over each second. Because they were with her.

Hell, he had to snap out of it. Get back in the saddle, and that meant going down to the ranch and hanging out with the guys. Sunday was their day to let loose, and right now Stowe could use a little of that.

Maybe he’d actually win at poker this time.

When he reached the bunkhouse where the weekly game would take place, he was greeted by Quay. He held out Stowe’s phone.

“It was ringing nonstop, man.”

“Thanks. I must have left it.” On purpose. He had no one he wanted to speak to. He pocketed the phone without looking at the screen.

“You aren’t even gonna call her back?” Quay asked.

Stowe’s heart rocketed into his throat. “Her?”

“Yeah, a woman’s name came up. Amelia. That’s your sister, right?”

His heart dropped back into place and thumped heavily. “Yeah. My sister. I’ll call her later, thanks.” He turned and left the bunkhouse, rounds of poker with his buddies forgotten. What he needed was the land.

“Aaaaand it’s a wrap!”

Tabbart felt her smile slip the instant the end of production was announced. Luckily she’d signed autographs and handed out butter cookies to her audience between takes. Now she was free to run and hide.

She hurried off the set, walking quickly on brand-new fall collection shoes to her dressing room. She couldn’t wait to get out of wardrobe and go home. In the past two months since she’d left Stowe’s arms, she’d been avoiding social situations at all costs.

Before she ducked into the dressing room, a hand caught her elbow. She swung around. Amelia released her with a blush. “I’m sorry to be so forward. It’s just that you haven’t spoken to me since you came back from…”

Panic filled Tabbart. She hurried into the bathroom and gestured for Amelia to follow. When she whirled on the woman, Amelia stepped back against the closed door.

“We can’t discuss that place within hearing of anyone.”

“Okay,” Amelia stammered, brown eyes so much like Stowe’s that a bittersweet longing rose inside Tabbart.

Tabbart counted ten heartbeats before she was able to speak normally. “I’m not avoiding you, Amelia.”

“I think you are. Something happened with my brother, didn’t it?”

Hell yes. He’d stolen her soul. How stupid of her.

Dropping her gaze to her hands, Tabbart shook her head to deny it. “Everything is fine.”

Amelia touched her sleeve. Her hand was small and delicate compared to her brother’s, but the shapes of the fingers and nails were the same.

Tears prickled the backs of Tabbart’s eyes.

“Oh, Tabbart. You aren’t okay. I knew it.” Amelia’s arms came around her, more comfort than she’d felt in so many long, painful weeks that she broke down.

Tears flowed freely, and a small hiccup of a sob sounded. Amelia’s arms swallowed her in a hug so completely like her brother’s that she cried harder.

“Did he hurt you? You’re suffering from something he did, aren’t you? That jackass. Wait till I get my hands on him. We’ll see who wields a whip better,” Amelia muttered.

Tabbart shook her head, wetting the shoulder of Amelia’s sweater. “It’s not that.” Did she want to discuss Stowe with her? Even thinking his name jabbed Tabbart with invisible pins.

Amelia rocked slightly, and Tabbart calmed a bit at the comfort her friend offered. Tabbart reluctantly pulled away and sank into the plush chair—the same one where she’d first seen Stowe on the Boot Knockers website.

She smeared her teary cheeks and Amelia sprang into action. She held out a box of tissues and Tabbart took five. She’d need them. Amelia crouched before her, watching Tabbart dry her tears and blow her nose. When Tabbart saw makeup all over the tissues, she looked up at Amelia with despair. “I must look a mess.”

“You do, but it’s only us in here, Tabbart. Just let it go.”

So like her brother. Was Amelia into the same things as Stowe? She didn’t look like the type—then again, neither did Tabbart.

“I was recognized on the ranch,” she heard herself say.

Amelia sucked in a sharp breath. Her gaze was steady, though, and Tabbart drew strength from it. “I saw that in the tabloids, but they didn’t have proof, and I didn’t think it went anywhere.”

“No, this is a different incident. Somebody recognized me. I-I paid off the woman, but I’ve been holding my breath for weeks, waiting for some scandal to come out.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to you. I shouldn’t have given you Stowe’s information.” Amelia’s eyes were soft with regret.

“No, no. I’m glad you did.” Even through her pain, Tabbart was glad to have had the experience.

“So Stowe didn’t do something to hurt you? If he did—” Amelia’s brow crinkled in menace again, and this time Tabbart saw the same determination Stowe had worn that final day. He’d only had Tabbart’s best interests at heart. Maybe she should have let him take care of the woman. After all, he’d been infuriated with the way Tabbart had handled the situation.

Now that she’d had plenty of time to think things over, she realized she could have used her wits. Told a story about visiting the ranch for culinary reasons—filming a show or something.

Too late. What’s done is done.

“Stowe…” she started and stopped. Crushing the tissue wad against her runny nose, she tried to find words for what was in her heart.

There were only three.

“I love him.” The quiet admission felt as freeing as being under his whip.

Amelia pressed her fingers to her mouth, eyes huge above her fingertips. “That’s…”

“Shocking? Stupid? Yes, both. But I can’t help it.”

“No wonder he’s been acting so strange with me. I thought he was going through some midlife crisis or something.”

“What do you mean?” Tabbart held her breath. News of Stowe could hurt her worse.

“He bought some land outside the ranch and put some cattle on it. He’d always talked of breeding bulls for riding, but this seemed sudden.”

Tabbart stared at her. “When did this happen?”

“Just after you came back.”

“Then…he’s not working as a Boot Knocker anymore?”

Amelia shook her head, dark curls bobbing around her ears. “I don’t know that information. Only that he is as cranky as a mad koala.”

The expression was so funny, spoken in her accent, that Tabbart issued a snort of watery laughter.

Amelia took heart from her response. “It’s true. That man is beyond stubborn and grumpy.”

“And now he’s crankier?”

“I’ve only spoken to him once and gotten a few short texts, but I can tell something’s wrong.”

A thought struck Tabbart. Her eyes flew wide and she stared hard at Amelia. “You don’t think he got in trouble for what happened to me on the ranch? He was supposed to keep me from being identified. That day it wasn’t his fault—I was getting reckless. A part of me wanted to get caught, I think. In hopes that maybe… Well, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been so stupid, but it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have hidden me in the shadows of the barn without tying me up.” At the mention of bondage, her cheeks scorched.

Amelia’s soft smile of understanding was tinged with amusement. “It’s okay. I get it. Now what to do about this situation?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing to be done. I have this…” she gestured around the upscale bathroom, “…and we don’t belong in each other’s worlds. Besides, he doesn’t feel the same way I do.”

Amelia arched a dark brow. “You’re sure about that?”

She nodded immediately. “I was just another client. More of a pain than most, probably. But nothing special.”

Amelia took Tabbart’s hands and squeezed them so gently, new tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “You’re very special, Tabbart. And I’m not only saying that because what you do pays my wages or because you’re a celebrity and I’m kissing your arse.”

The way she said
arse
reminded Tabbart of Stowe talking about his cow’s plump one. Good feelings flooded her chest.

“I say you’re special because you’re truly a nice person. Anyone can see that—it’s why America loves you so much. And your staff would do anything for you. Including talking to a cranky older brother.”

“Wait—no. You can’t say anything to Stowe.”

“Does he know you love him?”

“No! And he can’t. You mustn’t tell him.” How shaming to have the information come out that way—carried secondhand by a sister.

Amelia didn’t look convinced. “You don’t think he deserves to hear it? You’re likely the only person who’s ever said it to him.”

“I didn’t say it to him, and he’ll never hear it, if I have my way. And why would I be the only person to say such a thing?”

“You’ve met my brother. He can be intimidating. All that leather and the black stare.”

Yes, and that same stare could reach deep into her heart and pull out feelings she’d never known. Even the smell of the leather he wore comforted her. She wanted to rest her cheek against his leather-clad thigh right now. To just kneel at his feet and feel close to him.

She swallowed hard. “You can’t tell him, Amelia. Promise me.”

After a second, Amelia nodded. “It’s not my secret to tell, but I do urge you to speak your mind. Do you have his phone number?”

“No. And I don’t want it.” She pushed to her feet, and Amelia did too. They faced each other. Tabbart put her arms around the woman and gave her a genuine squeeze. “Thank you so much for listening to me. I really needed to get that off my chest, and it means a lot to me.”

“I’d do anything to help you.” Amelia hugged her tightly back.

Tabbart drew away from the embrace, seeing a friend in the sister of the man she loved. Right now a friend would be welcome. “Maybe you’ll come over for coffee sometime?”

“To your house?”

“Only if you’d want, and as a friend, not an employee.”

“Oh, I’d love to.” Amelia pasted a hand to her chest and beamed.

Tabbart nodded. “I’d better get this makeup off.”

“They’ll know you’ve been crying. Do you want me to—”

With a true smile, Tabbart shook her head. “I don’t care who knows I’ve been crying. It’s a real emotion, and I’m a real person.”

As Stowe dug the pitchfork into the hay and tossed it onto the wagon, he heard Riggs grunt. More and more the man had been turning up while Stowe worked. They’d never been close friends, but there were no enemies on the Boot Knockers Ranch. And Stowe liked Riggs’s quiet manner.

He looked up to see Riggs pulling open the hood of the old tractor. Steam was trickling out.

“Damn.” Stowe dropped the pitchfork. “Overheated?”

“Could be. We’ve been having trouble with this tractor.”

“Time for a new one, I’d say.” Stowe peered into the engine. By his guess, the equipment was circa 1950s. How they’d kept it running at all was the real question.

“No money for it. We dumped a lot into the new bungalows this year.”

They’d added five Boot Knockers to the salary and five new bungalows. Riggs’s words only brought guilt to Stowe. He’d basically walked into the office and quit over a month ago. After Tabbart, he’d struggled through two weeks of work and was unable to go on.

Hugh had been grim-faced and speechless, but Riggs had shaken Stowe’s hand and said he always had a place on the ranch, even if it was scrubbing barn floors.

“What about the big tractor?” Stowe asked.

Riggs fiddled with some hoses. “Too big for a job like this.” They were carting hay to the top field, where Riggs and Hugh had cattle grazing.

“Four-wheeler?” Stowe asked.

“Not a bad idea. Let me see if I can get this running first.”

Stowe nodded and went back to pitching hay. Sweat rolled off his bare torso and wet his hatband. Hard work felt good, but he did miss certain things about his old job. Holding a whip, for one. He still went into the auditorium and practiced, but not on a live subject.