Spurred On (The Quick and the Hot)
The Quick and the Hot 3:
SPURRED ON
Em Petrova
www.loose-id.com
The Quick and the Hot 3: Spurred On
Copyright © August 2013 by Em Petrova
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
eISBN 9781623004316
Editor: Kierstin Cherry
Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
Published in the United States of America
Loose Id LLC
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San Francisco CA 94104-0809
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * *
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Dedication
To all those who live for boots, chaps, rough language, and rougher hands. I write these cowboys for you!
Acknowledgment
A big thanks to Loose Id and my amazing editor for brainstorming about this story. Also to my BFF posse: Suzanne Rock, Megan Cameron, Kellie Rustic, Gene Wilks, Kris Mallory, and Derek Austin Johnson. Y’all get me through and keep me laughing!
And to my family, always willing to have Ramen soup. Again.
Chapter One
Zoe Beth jerked as the warning
woof
sounded. She’d heard that sound from her dog more than once.
Intruder.
Heart racing, she scoured the land between her father’s house and outbuildings. The yard was empty, the turf so bright green it hurt her eyes. “Where are you, Tripod?” she whispered though she knew her dog wouldn’t hear her.
Zoe Beth sneaked around the corner of one of the barns. Inside, the quiet shifting of animals would ordinarily comfort her, but she strained to hear footsteps or even a whinny that might suggest an intruder was in her family’s barn again—stealing.
The Coles’ ranch had always been a target. As it was set between two poor towns, it wasn’t surprising that the ranch and the rich outbuildings would lure thieves. But lately they’d been stealing cattle. Two calves had come up missing in a month. Teams of cowboys had ridden all over the countryside, hoping to find them lost and wandering or even stuck in some brush.
But the calves were simply gone.
Damn, I wish I had my shotgun.
As far as she could tell, she was alone at the moment. After their shared five o’clock breakfast, her daddy had ridden out with some of the ranch hands to see to an issue. That left Zoe Beth, an intruder, and her wits.
Oh and Tripod, her trusty three-legged dog. As a pup the black-and-white spotted cattle dog she’d named Banjo had gotten a leg stuck in a hunter’s trap. Her father had been adamant that Banjo needed to be put down, but Zoe Beth had sobbed until he’d given in and taken the dog to the vet. After an amputation, the puppy had learned how to walk on three legs, and he’d been Tripod ever since.
Another short, low
woof
raised the hackles on Zoe Beth’s neck.
Near the other barn.
Gathering her courage and grabbing a shovel—to thwack an intruder over the head in greeting or bury him if she got a chance—she strode across the expanse of yard between barns.
She sank into ground sodden from last night’s strong rains. Her boot heels made a sucking noise with each step. Tripod sat at the door of the barn, ears twitching and body stiff.
Zoe Beth tightened her grip on the shovel handle and approached the set of doors opposite the ones Tripod guarded. Between the shovel and the dog’s vicious jaws, the intruder would regret his decision to trespass on their ranch.
Easing into the dim barn, she blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes. The fecund scents of animal barely registered as she caught movement along one wall. Cowboy boots echoed on the wooden floor as the man stepped toward the door—and toward Tripod.
The dog growled.
“Easy, boy. Won’t hurt ya none. Let’s be friends.”
Zoe Beth stared at the man’s broad back chiseled down to a backside most women would swoon over. But not her—she was going to brain him with a shovel for being in her barn. After he was facedown and unconscious, she might take a gander at his ass.
The thought made her lips twitch.
The man continued to wheedle her dog with a soft, deep voice. “How ya doin’, boy? A good guard dog, but it won’t be necessary with me around.”
“Why is that?” Zoe Beth’s voice rang to the rafters, clear and forceful. Thank goodness, because her emotions were awhirl. She didn’t need the intruder to catch the wobble in her voice.
He spun. Across a span of twenty paces, they sized each other up. His jaw was square, hat tipped low over his eyes so only the bridge of his nose was visible.
“Umm…” He raised both hands when she jerked the shovel menacingly toward him. “I mean no harm.”
“What the hell are you doing on my property? Get over by the wall. Put your hands on it and spread your legs.”
Mouth open, he did a double take. “What? You watch too many crime shows, woman.”
Annoyance rippled down her spine followed by warmth at the way he drawled “woman.” He took a step toward her, and Tripod rushed him with a snarl. White incisors flashed as the dog tore into the guy’s leg right around the top of his boot.
“Owww! Jesus Christ! Call off your dog. I’m the new foreman.” Teeth gritted against the pain of Tripod’s bite, he glared at her.
She swung the shovel, letting the metal slice the air inches from his T-shirt.
“What the hell, woman? You’re crazy! This dog’s latched on to me like I’m a prized steak, and you’re swinging at me. Who raised you to greet newcomers this way?”
She set the point of the shovel on the floor and stared at him. “Valentine Cole,” she said slowly. “My father.”
Shock crossed his face followed by a grimace of pain. “Call off your dog.”
At a snap of her fingers, Tripod released the man’s calf and trotted to her side. The dog sat at her feet, ready to tear into the guy again upon her order.
“Shit.” He dropped to the floor and clutched his calf. His jeans were torn and blood seeped from the wound. “He ruined my boot too, dammit! Hope that dog had a rabies shot.”
Zoe Beth waved a hand. “Nah. We don’t bother with that out here in the country.”
He peered at her. “You’d better be kidding, doll. Because your daddy isn’t gonna be happy to find out his new manager needs shots.”
She stiffened. “What did you call me?”
He fell still. After a tense moment, he gave a huff of laughter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Just the heat of the moment. I
am
in some pain here. Mind dropping the shovel and helping me out?”
I might if you didn’t claim to be the new foreman.
She wanted that position more than anything in the world. For months—a year—she’d begged her father to give her a chance, but he always said the same thing. Hard cowboys wouldn’t take her seriously. Men like that needed the guidance of a harder man than themselves.
Was that man the one before her? She took a few steps toward him and crouched near his injured leg. Before reaching for his leg, she drew a deep breath. The rich scents of musk, earth, and leather struck her.
She recoiled. He smelled like everything a man should.
“The wound is on the back of my leg where I can’t see it. Is it bleeding a lot?” He eyed her as if she’d bite him too.
A small snort of unwelcome laughter escaped her. She clapped a hand to her mouth. Damn her inability to keep a straight face at the worst of times. Maybe Daddy was right in saying rough cowboys wouldn’t appreciate her brand of strength.
The guy shifted to the side to roll to his feet. The action caused a fresh trickle of blood to wet his jeans. Pity overcame her.
“Look, I’m sorry.”
He limped toward the door. Over his shoulder he said, “For what? Trying to kill me with a shovel or laughing at my tore-up leg?”
Zoe Beth rushed forward, and Tripod hurried to her side but not before giving the man a menacing snarl. “The latter. As for trying to kill you with the shovel, I thought you were a thief.”
He stopped walking and pivoted to face her. Pain bracketed his mouth. His all too sensuous, kissable mouth. Again his scents infused her mind, spinning a web there.
She swallowed hard. “We’ve been having problems with people coming up from town and stealing gasoline, horse tack, feed, and even some calves.”
He gave a hard nod. “I’m aware.”
“So you really are the new manager?” It was impossible to keep the disappointment out of her voice. He tipped his hat back, and she was able to see his eyes.
They were dark blue and creased from squinting into the sun. His expression told her he caught on to the fact that she didn’t want him to be the foreman, but he didn’t say anything.
“Name’s Hayden Meadows.”
Shock trickled through her. “
The
Hayden Meadows—professional bull rider?”
Something dark passed over his rugged features. “Retired.”
Oh yes, she recalled the story now. It had been the talk of every sports broadcaster last year. In the middle of a near perfect season of competition, Hayden Meadows had climbed onto an arm-jerker bull and taken a bad fall. Ripped his rotator cuff among other injuries. At first, the docs promised he’d return good as new next year. But here he was standing in her barn.
The tension in Hayden’s shoulders spoke of his discomfort. Because of the conversation or the dog bite?
“Zoe Beth Cole.” She extended a hand. The instant his dry, rough fingers clamped around hers, she wished she hadn’t offered. Heat climbed her wrist to her elbow and continued up to her shoulder.
He gave a harsh sigh that reminded her that his leg was bleeding.
Pulling away from his touch, she said, “Come into the house and I’ll fix up that leg. C’mon, Tripod.” She pushed past Hayden and led the way across the yard. Tripod circled her, trying to herd her as he did everything from chickens to beef cows.
Hayden came at a slower pace, but Zoe Beth didn’t wait for him.
The new foreman.
Annoyance took up real estate in her tightening chest, while guilt that he’d been bitten was a close second.
She didn’t even want to contemplate her body’s reaction to every denim-clad, muscled inch of him. She lengthened her strides.
What the hell did a bull rider know about managing a multimillion-dollar ranch? Her father had worked hard for this land, elevating it from a plot of dirt to fine grazing land for prime beef cattle.
Recently her father had been talking to Zoe Beth about responding to the interest the neighboring landowner showed in her. Joseph Michaels stopped by the Cole Ranch every chance he got. A man in his midforties eyeing Zoe Beth who was twenty-four was creepy enough. But what really turned her off was the way he treated his animals.