Chapter Three
Amaryllis flipped open a newspaper she’d snagged in the airport. The man beside her in first-class shot her a dirty look for making noise, so she rattled the pages again and met his gaze.
She’d been told she had a glare that could make a grown man’s balls shrivel, but she wouldn’t claim that title yet. She was sure to meet a few more in her lifetime who would make her earn it.
Working with hard-ass ranchers and lawmen wasn’t easy, and she always had her mental boxing gloves at the ready. Two older brothers and a protective father had taught her all she needed to know about dealing with assholes. She’d managed to run them around in circles by the time she was out of pigtails. When she wasn’t conjuring snappy comebacks to her big brothers’ insults, she was learning all she could about dealing with men on her daddy’s ranch.
Men who said she couldn’t do this or that, shouldn’t try. She’d shown them all and then some.
She crossed her legs and her paper rustled again. She ignored the fresh glare from her neighbor and stared at a headline for a cattle theft. A small headline, barely noticeable amid stories of the small-town pie-eating contest and a list of bike nights in the Wyoming county.
Bovine Bandits Strike Again.
Honestly, who wrote these things? Amusement tipped the corner of her lips as she read. She skipped the cutesy puns about beef burglars and focused on the particulars. Time, place, what the cattle were worth. Any leads. And of course, the investigator on the scene.
Why, land sakes. They even got a quote from the man. Aiden Roshannon, the man of few words. “Cattle theft is no light matter, and I am committed to tracking down the perpetrators. When someone comes onto your land and steals something that means a lot to you, something that means your livelihood, well, that means war around these parts.”
She lowered the paper a bit and looked toward the small jet window that revealed a glimmer of sun in an otherwise cloudy sky. Her first impression of Roshannon wasn’t great. But his dedication to the job was something she could respect. Maybe after they cut the bullshit between them and she set her ground rules for how he’d treat her, he wouldn’t be such a dweeb to work with, after all.
She couldn’t deny she was excited for some new turf. New ranchers to meet, new challenges to accept. But then there was Roshannon. Working conditions could be hell, despite how attractive he was.
Outright hot if she was honest. Dark hair, a fine, straight nose. Piercing eyes that unnerved her, and it wasn’t just the black bruise he sported that gave her pause. Something about the way he eyed her made her feel hot and sweaty.
She’d done a little research on the guy. He had no social media to speak off and found only a headline for a small-town newspaper announcing hometown pride for him joining the Marines years ago.
There had been a tiny photo of Roshannon, smiling, looking like a kid with stars and stripes in his eyes. Going off to serve his country. Now he was protecting and serving cattle ranchers, but she liked the attitude of his quote.
She closed the paper and folded it to stow in her tote bag. Then she pulled out a computer tablet and started flipping through the screens until she reached the file with all her research on it.
A lot of cattle killings in Wyoming. People who slaughtered cows for the meat weren’t that uncommon. People did stupid things or were just plain desperate. In Texas, poverty ran high in some parts, and people needed food. Of course, once she caught them and they served jail time for their acts or paid hefty fines, they wished they’d taken a deer or wild hog instead of an expensive beef cow.
Prices were on the rise, almost double for a calf now. And that meant people saw dollar signs. She’d learned quick that money was always a motive, and traveling the auctions around the state and as far out as Kansas usually ended up with a person in handcuffs.
Cattle rustlers weren’t just for the Old West. They were alive and well, and the reason Amaryllis had a job.
A job she was passionate about.
She didn’t have any wifi on this flight, but she’d gotten a bunch of emails just before she boarded the plane. One was from her bank—info about a mortgage she’d applied for. And one from her brother JD.
JD was only a year older, but he loved to lord it over her. He’d been travelling the South rodeoin’, and he was earning enough of a living not to come home the entire past year. Their daddy hadn’t been all that happy with JD staying away. The ranch always needed more hands, and Amaryllis was too involved with the Rangers to be much assistance. That left their oldest sibling Ulyss to rule the roost.
And Lord, did he crow about it too. Every time Amaryllis spoke to him, he paused half a dozen times to boss someone around.
JD had emailed some of the information she’d asked him for concerning her dream of running her own place. A small farm had come up for sale about fifty miles from where she’d been raised. One day she’d been driving by it on her way to investigate some stolen cattle when she’d spotted the sign. After backing up, she’d pulled into a dirt drive and found her heart fluttering fast.
The land was beautiful, flat and green, ready for seeds to be sown. But she was a rancher’s daughter. She knew about raising beef and hay, not other crops. Not like what she had in mind.
The plane dipped suddenly, and her stomach with it. She lowered the tablet and looked out at the clouds. The ray of sun she’d seen before had vanished, leaving only a dark gray gloom. They were flying into a storm.
Another big bump, and she gripped the arm of the seat. She’d flown enough in her day to be no stranger to turbulence, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
She stared at the little window. A streak of lightning had her teeth clamped together. But she didn’t look away. Somehow, seeing what was coming was better than guessing.
Another big pocket of rough air and the pilot came on the loudspeaker to tell them he’d be climbing higher to get above the storm.
“This better not make us late getting on the ground,” the passenger beside her said. “I have a connecting flight.”
Amaryllis didn’t respond.
“Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but get comfortable.” The man kicked off his shoes.
“Seriously? Put your shoes back on,” she said.
“Lady, I paid for this seat and all the space I get around it. What I do here is none of your business.”
She glared at him and then looked pointedly at his loafers with the stupid little tassels and then back to him. He just closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.
She breathed shallowly. She hadn’t caught a whiff of the weird man’s feet, but she wasn’t about to breathe deeply and find out if she would. She twisted away toward the window, preferring the storm over an inconsiderate ass.
After they climbed in altitude, it was apparent they were not flying out of this storm. The plane tilted sharply and a few squeals of surprise sounded from the passengers in coach. She tried to focus on her brother’s email attachments about success rates for certain crops and what they went to market for. But after another long patch of turbulence, she gave up.
Her eyes were beginning to throb with a small headache, but she watched the sky the way she’d watch a road. She hated flying mainly because she wanted to be in control.
The man next to her hitched his ankle over his knee, bringing his socked foot inches from her leg.
“You cross this line, buddy, and we’re gonna throw down,” she bit off.
He opened his eyes and gave her a smile that made her realize he was trying to goad her. Like so many men in her past, brothers included. Well, she knew exactly how to deal with him.
She leaned over and fished around in her tote until she found her flight-sized bottle of hand lotion. She squeezed a small amount into her hand and a generous glop into his shoe.
She sat back with a smile, rubbing her hands together to work in the lotion.
He wrinkled his nose. “Can’t you wait to do that? Flowery smells give me migraines.”
She smiled her sweetest smile reserved for really big jerks. “I paid for this seat and all the space around it. What I do in it is none of your business.”
He grunted and closed his eyes again. She leaned over while he snored and filled up his other shoe with lotion. Then she watched the storm roll in from the North.
* * * * *
Amaryllis needed a drink—now. After the bumpiest descent of her life, ending in what felt like the jet falling out of the sky onto the runway, only alcohol could settle her nerves. Her fingers were cramped from gripping the armrest. But it had been amusing when her neighbor put his shoes back on.
Saying he was irate was like saying roosters don’t crow. Thankfully, she was one of the first passengers off the plane, leaving his bitching about her being immature and a terrible human being behind.
She practically swayed on her feet. Yep, liquid fortification. Now.
“Where’s the nearest bar?” she asked a woman at a desk.
She pointed, and Amaryllis felt a huge surge of relief that it wasn’t too many steps away. She clutched the handle of her wheeled carryon and dragged it as fast as she could through the people milling around the airport.
She was in Wyoming, and so far she didn’t think much of the damn state. People claimed Texas storms were so big and nasty that God Himself cast them. But Wyoming seemed to be trying to outdo her home state.
Torrents of water struck the building, making it sound hollow despite all the noise of activity. At one point when they were coming in for a landing, she swore there was hail bouncing off the jet.
She straightened her shoulders and dragged her luggage through the entrance of the lounge. The long, polished bar gleamed from rubbing, and glass bottles lined the space behind. She claimed a seat toward the end and ordered tequila at the same time.
The bartender gave her a slight smile as he set the glass before her. “I’ll need another,” she said before tossing it back her throat neatly.
“Rough flight?”
“You could say that.” She wasn’t afraid of much, and definitely not storms. But she still felt off-kilter after that trip.
He gave her another shot of tequila, and she sipped this one more slowly. Savoring the burn and the notes of alcohol playing on her tongue. In the background, a rerun TV show played, somehow contributing to her feeling of normal.
A man dropped onto a stool next to her. She gave him the side-eye. Of all the places to sit along the long, empty bar, he chose the seat beside her. She knew this song and dance.
She took another sip of tequila as he ordered a double of Jack.
While the bartender poured his drink, the man looked at her. “Were you on that flight from Texas? That was somethin’.” Him being from Texas didn’t make them buddies.
She nodded out of politeness.
“Could have used this in the air,” he said, wrapping his fingers around his shot glass. He wore two big knuckle rings that were brighter than any sun she’d probably ever see in Wyoming.
He shifted on his stool, never looking away from her. “You from Texas?”
“Right now I’m from this barstool.”
He laughed, but she hadn’t meant it to be funny. “Well, that amuses me, sweet stuff. I guess I’ll make this one my home and we can be neighbors.”
Fabulous.
She just wanted to sip her tequila in peace.
“Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?”
“These lines won’t work.”
“It’s not a line, sweet stuff. You’re downright beautiful. Saw you first thing when I walked in the bar.”
That was because she was sitting nearest the entrance. He’d have to be blind not to see her.
“All that strawberry blonde hair…”
If he asked if the rug matched the drapes, she was going to bash him over the head with her suitcase.
Luckily, he sipped his whiskey and only eyed her. “What brings you to Wyoming? Maybe we can cross paths while we’re here.”
She wouldn’t be surprised if he actually owned another ring—a wedding band—and he just wasn’t wearing it. He was certainly giving her a scum-of-the-earth vibe.
“I’m here on business and I definitely don’t want to cross paths with you.” She met the bartender’s eyes and knocked back the rest of her drink. “I’ll pay for the shots now.”
She got off the stool and dragged her luggage with her, ignoring the way the man sitting at the bar followed her with his gaze. She was glad she hadn’t taken a third shot, because she wanted to get in her rental car and away from here as quickly as possible. She wasn’t a prissy girl by any means, but the day’s events had exhausted her already and it wasn’t even midafternoon.
Getting her rental took ages, because they had to track down her car, which wasn’t in the correct parking spot. Which meant she sat in a hard chair staring at the people passing by for an hour. When she was finally given the keys, she hightailed it to the car so fast that the tiny wheels of her suitcase practically burned rubber.
Outside, the rain hadn’t let up and it struck her like pins raining down. She ducked her head and made a run for it. By the time she got behind the wheel, dripping, she wondered why the hell she’d agreed to come to Wyoming.