Cowboy 12 Pack Read online

  “Just do it and keep an open mind. We screen our clients and do background checks. At least, you know you won’t be getting an ex-con or child molester. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

  Emma chewed on her lip. Leslie’s proposal might do the trick. She just didn’t want her friend’s matchmaking business to suffer the consequences. “The date is doomed to failure. Are you sure you want to take the hit?”

  “Be honest with the data. The system will do the rest and I’m willing to take the risk.”

  For a long moment, Emma stared into her friend’s hopeful face. “Anyone ever tell you saying no to you is hard?” She laughed. “If you keep that up, you should get lots of business.”

  Leslie nodded, a smug smile on her lips. “I plan on it. I only want others to have a chance at the love you and I have both known. I wouldn’t have missed the experience for the world.”

  Emma sighed. “Me either.” She let Leslie lead her into a spare office where she could use the computer to enter her data. Emma made a point of putting it all out there—the good, the bad and the not so attractive. If the system found someone to date her, the result would be a miracle. And once out at the ranch with her brothers running him through his paces, any prospect would soon learn no one would equal their expectations.

  She’d be off the hook and free to pursue her own goals and dreams. Which included purchasing Old Man Rausch’s one-hundred-and-fifty-acre spread on Willow Creek. The place would be all hers, paid for with the money she’d been saving from her work as a horse trainer for the T-Bar-M Ranch. Once she lived on her own, her brothers couldn’t interfere with her life.

  A good plan, and one she intended to see through.

  As she stepped into her truck to make the long drive back to the Rockin’ J Ranch, a cool breeze swept across the parking lot, lifting the hair off the back of her neck, surrounding her like a caress. She glanced at the sky. No clouds. Weird. The temperature read-out on the bank sign on the corner listed ninety-nine degrees. Heat waves rippled upward from the black pavement, and Emma had yet to switch on the truck AC. So where had the cool breeze come from? She could swear she smelled a faint hint of musky aftershave, the kind Marcus liked to wear when they’d gone out on dates.

  Emma’s chest tightened and she sat still, trying to recapture the scent. Finally, she gave up. She had to be imagining the smell. All this talk with Leslie about having loved the man of their dreams had played havoc with her memories. Nothing a good round of stall mucking wouldn’t cure.

  She’d never told anyone she thought Marcus’s spirit lingered around her, keeping her company when she was lonely or afraid. Her brothers would have her in a shrink’s office quicker than she could say lickety-split. At night, when she lay in bed, missing him so badly it hurt, a light breeze would stir the curtains and waft around her. She’d stare at the picture of them laughing on the beach at South Padre Island and sigh. Marcus was everything she’d ever wanted in life. With him gone, she didn’t have anything to aim for, except the ranch and her independence.

  If her plan to bring a “date” home to her brothers worked, she’d be one step closer to that independence she so craved and to quelling her brothers’ determination to marry her off. The ball was in Leslie’s court to find the right man to pull off the plan.

  “Please be everything I asked for,” Emma whispered as she cranked the truck engine. Another gentle breeze blew in through the open window and trailed across her skin, lifting more goose bumps. She shrugged and shifted into drive. Emma chastised herself for her morbid thoughts. If she didn’t stop thinking every peculiar thing that happened in her life was a sign, she’d be forced to commit herself to the nearest psychiatric ward for evaluation.

  Chapter Two

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  “LET US KNOW how it goes,” Tag insisted. “Since you’re the first bull out of the chute, we’re counting on you to make us proud.” Cooper’s friend chuckled into the phone. “I can practically hear the wedding bells already.”

  Cooper juggled the phone and switched on his blinker, pulling off the highway where the directions indicated. “Tag, get real. I’m not going to marry the woman after one date. I’m giving this friend of yours one shot at this online dating thing and that’s all. I don’t want to hear any more after today. Got that?”

  “Sure, sure. I get it.” Tag paused. “Still, let us know.”

  Cooper didn’t bother responding, instead he clicked the end button and stared up at the sign arching over the gate.

  Rockin’ J Ranch.

  His stomach roiled. Why couldn’t this woman meet him in Dallas for dinner, like normal people? Having him out to the ranch on the first date was…well…different. Not that he minded, preferring the outdoors to the city streets any day of the week. And this arrangement would preclude any chance of the press getting wind of this billionaire and his date.

  The woman Leslie had set him up with had gone so far as to leave specific instructions, telling him to wear jeans and boots. He didn’t like the sound of the arrangement and wondered if she just wanted a hired hand for the day and couldn’t afford the wages. But then how would she have afforded the exorbitant fee Leslie Lamb charged for her company’s matchmaking services?

  Nothing about this “date” smelled right. The devil on his shoulder asked him why the hell he’d come, then?

  Maybe his agreement had something to do with the picture Leslie had shown him. The woman had smiled at him with clear green eyes, sun-kissed skin and freckles. He’d always been a sucker for a girl with freckles. No model, socialite or city girl this. With her long, straight, sandy-blond hair, she looked like the girl-next-door.

  Exactly what he’d pictured himself with for the long haul. Oh, he’d dated the occasional society women, finding very little to talk about besides who was doing who and the latest divorce scandal. With Emma Jacobs, that was her name, he imagined conversations would be so far away from Dallas’s social scene as to be refreshing.

  And her answers didn’t sound cooked up. She didn’t mince words on her responses to her favorite sports, hobbies and foods. She liked horses, rode four-wheelers, hunted, hiked and loved watching football games. Nothing in there hinted to a fetish for buying shoes or designer handbags.

  Despite his better judgment on the whole matchmaking thing, he’d agreed to go on the first date. If nothing else, doing so would get Tag and the rest of the BAs off his back. Then he could go back to his regular life of billionaire recluse, content to hole up on his ranch southwest of Dallas.

  He punched the button for the speaker at the gate.

  “Yup,” a man’s deep voice answered.

  “Cooper Johnson to see Ms. Emma Jacobs.” He shook his head. The formality of the speaker system seemed out of place with the whole Texas ranch thing, but if the machine made them feel safer, so be it.

  “Hold on…Hey, Ace,” the voice yelled. “It’s him. Emma’s date!”

  Coop groaned inwardly.

  “Well, let him in,” another voice called out faintly.

  “Oh, yeah. Got it.” A pause and clicking noises. “Must have left the speaker on. Damned system. I’ll never get used to it. Come on in, Cooper. Emma’s getting her clothes on.”

  Cooper shifted into drive, a chuckle rising up his throat. If this was any indication of what his day would be like, he was in for hell. The man on the speaker sounded like a redneck with the IQ of a mule.

  The driveway wound through a stand of gnarled red oaks, shading the pavement all the way, without giving Cooper a glimpse of the house until the trees parted at the base of a rise. On top was a large old colonial mansion that would give the plantation houses of the south a run for their money. Surrounded by double decking and creamy-white limestone, the building looked like something straight out of a Texas history book.

  And on the porch, three men leaned against the support beams and railing—all large, broad-shouldered and wearing cowboy hats. The welcoming committee, no doubt.

  Cooper fought the urge
to turn his truck around and drive straight back down the driveway. No woman was worth running a gauntlet of cowboys, even if she looked like the girl-next-door.

  Before he could change his mind, he pulled up in the drive and shifted into park.

  A truck rounded the corner of the house, dragging a gooseneck trailer, and a fourth cowboy parked and got out. This one looked much like the others.

  So the woman had family, or were these her bodyguards?

  As Cooper climbed down from the driver’s seat, the men on the porch closed in and surrounded his truck, inspecting it like a prize horse.

  “The man drives a truck. A four-wheel drive, at that. Can’t be all bad.” The first man to him stuck out his hand. “Ace Jacobs. Emma’s oldest brother.”

  The man’s grip was strong, stronger than necessary. Cooper reckoned the cowboy was testing him. “Cooper Johnson. Nice to meet you.” No stranger to a good workout, Cooper squeezed back until his knuckles hurt, keeping a poker face the entire time. Even when he wanted to jerk his hand free and coax the blood back into it.

  One by one, each of the four men subjected him to a vise-like handshake. By the time he’d made the rounds, he had a sore hand and four names to remember. Ace, Brand, Colton and Dillon. All Emma’s brothers and all interested in sizing him up.

  “Emma should be out in a minute,” Ace said. “She just got out of the shower.”

  “And a good thing,” said the one who’d identified himself as Colton. “She smelled like a horse.”

  Nice image. Cooper was wishing he’d turned tail and escaped while he had a chance. Too late. Now, he had to suffer the brother inquisition.

  “What do you do for a living, Mr. Johnson?”

  “I’m heavy into the stock market,” Cooper hedged, reluctant to say too much. He didn’t like telling people he made a pile of money at what he did. The fact changed how they treated him. Mostly, in a bad way.

  The one he remembered as Colton crossed both arms over his chest. “So, you don’t make an honest living. Instead, you gamble other people’s money?”

  Cooper shook his head. “I only work with my own money. Keeps it simple.”

  “Desk jockey, huh?” Ace smirked. “Do much ranchin’ with that truck?”

  Cooper shrugged. “Some.” His truck had hauled its share of trailers loaded with hay and loads of firewood and fence posts. He made sure it got a good cleaning after each, taking pride in the vehicle he’d always dreamed of owning when he was too poor to pay the rent on a ratty apartment.

  Dillon leaned against Cooper’s truck, arms crossed. “We’re hauling hay today. Could use an extra pair of hands if you’re willing and able.”

  “You guys leave the poor man alone,” a sultry, husky voice called out. “He’s not here to be your hired hand. We have a date.”

  Cooper turned toward the house. A tall, slender woman stood on the porch with her hands fisted on her hips, a smile tugging at her pale pink lips. She wore a blue chambray shirt five sizes too big, hanging open, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a white tank top beneath and jeans so worn they were almost as white as the top. Well-worn, cowboy boots graced her feet. She carried a straw cowboy hat and her hair was braided into one long, thick plait hanging down her back. Her smile broadened as she descended the steps. “I’m Emma. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  For a long moment, his gaze followed her every move, his voice lost in the natural sway of her hips and the confidence with which she strode toward him. No woman in a sequined ball gown ever captured his attention and imagination like this cowgirl, all spit and vinegar and no-nonsense attitude, packaged in a long, cool, sexy drink of water.

  When she reached out to shake his hand, he gripped hers, feeling the strength and grace all wrapped up in her long fingers. A spark of something rippled through his body.

  Her eyes widened. For a moment, she stared, then her lids lowered briefly, hiding the pale green irises. “You can let go of my hand now,” she said, her voice low and gravelly.

  Cooper could imagine her using that voice beside him in bed. As soon as the thought entered his mind, his cheeks burned and he jerked his hand and his head back into the situation. One man surrounded by a family of five, four of which—hell, maybe five—could kick his ass in a bar fight. “Pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

  A cool, wet nose nudged his palm and Cooper glanced down.

  A light blond golden retriever sat at Cooper’s feet, tongue lolling, brown eyes staring upward. “Hey, boy.” Cooper squatted to his haunches and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “What’s your name?”

  “Damnedest thing I ever saw.” The man called Brand shook his head. “That dog usually barks at every stranger that sets his boots on the ground at the Rockin’ J.” His gaze shifted from the dog to Cooper.

  Ace crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze on the dog. “Marcus gave Emma that dog. He’s kinda protective of her. Nelson usually doesn’t like other men.”

  “Guess he approves of day trader here,” Dillon noted.

  Emma frowned. “Nelson, heel.”

  The golden retriever hesitated, his snout pointed first at Cooper then Emma, then back to Cooper as if apologizing before he trotted over to Emma and sat at her heels.

  Cooper grinned and straightened, glad he’d passed the “family pet” hurdle so easily and sure the rest of them wouldn’t be as easily won over. He glanced around, ready to break up the awkward welcoming committee. “What’s the plan?”

  “Our housekeeper prepared a picnic for us,” she said.

  Colton pushed his cowboy hat back on his head and gave Emma a narrowed glance. “We thought you’d be drivin’ the truck while we load the hay.”

  “Your brothers mentioned that it’s hay-hauling day.” Cooper’s gaze slipped past the four men and rested with Emma. “Am I interfering with work that needs to be done?”

  “Like we said…we can always use another set of hands. Unless you think the work would be too hard for a man who trades stock for a livin’.” Brand stuck a straw between his lips, his brows raised in challenge. “What’s it to be?”

  “Cut it out, guys.” Emma hooked Cooper’s arm and led him up the steps to the house, Nelson trailing. “Ignore them, they’re only looking out for me. Besides, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way out here to go to work in the hay field.”

  “I don’t mind.” Cooper’s inner stud couldn’t back away from Brand’s challenge. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. He’d hauled hay all summer for six years straight going through high school and college. The work helped him earn money for rent and food. Though he had ranch hands to help him now, he still pitched in and did his share. “Do you usually help?”

  “Normally, I do all the driving, and occasionally help with the loading.” She shrugged.

  Even that movement she made was so natural and sexy.

  Cooper’s breath caught and his groin tightened. “Who will drive if you don’t?”

  “I will.” Dillon raised his hand.

  “The hell you will. We’ll take turns.” Colton nodded toward Cooper. “Gonna join us?”

  “No way. You guys will kill him.” Emma’s mouth twitched, a smile tugging on the corners.

  Just the hint of her smile had Cooper agreeing to something he hadn’t intended. “I’ll help, if Emma’s needed to drive.”

  “Are you sure?” Emma’s gaze ran the length of him, obviously lacking confidence that he could do the work.

  His pride smarting, Cooper squared his shoulders. “Absolutely. Being outdoors will feel good since I spend so much time behind a desk.” He didn’t, really. Trading stock was so much easier with the mobile applications available, and he did more than trade. Cooper spent more time out on his ranch, when he was home. The rest of the time he traveled—researching companies and investing in those that had good people and a product he could stand behind.

  He hadn’t hauled hay in a while, but he worked out daily and rode horses as often as possible. How hard would it be to get back into
the swing of tossing bales onto a trailer? And working would delay him from being alone with Emma and having to come up with something to say to fill those awkward silences that came with strangers.

  FOR THE FIRST hour, Emma wanted to laugh at how her brothers put Cooper through his paces. They left him the heaviest bales and cracked crude jokes, perfectly playing the part of obnoxious country rednecks. She hadn’t expected Cooper, a man who traded stock for a living, to last four minutes, much less four hours under the wilting heat and back-breaking work. But he’d hung in with the others, working just as hard and long. When he’d pulled off his shirt and Emma almost ran over a hay bale, she realized she might be in trouble. He wasn’t at all what she’d wanted Leslie to send.

  For a man who made his living behind a desk, he didn’t have an ounce of flab and his chest was solid, tanned and positively drool-worthy.

  Damn. If he didn’t watch it, he’d earn a nod from her brothers and that wasn’t the point of this whole exercise. Emma wanted this guy to run scared and for her brothers to rule him out as husband material. By the time they headed back to the barn, the men were all on first-name basis. Cooper laughed and joked right along with her brothers. She had to admit, she admired the man—for sticking it out, and for a lot of other things she’d been working hard for the past three hours to forget—pecs, arms, abs…

  Out on the range, Emma wished she’d had reception on her cell phone. She’d have called Leslie and chewed her out for sabotaging her efforts to get her brothers off her back. Instead, she’d sat, stewing in her juices behind the steering wheel as she pulled into the barnyard.

  When she climbed out of the truck and faced Cooper, who still had his shirt off, she forced herself to look away. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Yeah, thanks. We got that done a lot faster with your help.” Ace pounded Cooper’s back.

  “Didn’t think a stock trader had it in him, but you proved me wrong.” Dillon slapped his cowboy hat against his dusty leg. “You’re all right in my books.”

  Colton nodded. “Yup, you got a keeper there, Emma.”