A Cowboy in Manhattan Read online

  Thoughts of Mandy took him to thoughts of Katrina. He switched the water to cold, finishing off with a brisk rinse before stepping out of the deep tub.

  He changed into clean jeans and pulled a worn gray T-shirt over his head, running his fingers through his damp hair. He left his feet bare, padding down to the kitchen. The barbecue was out back on the deck, overlooking a bend in the Lyndon River. But it was a warm May day, and shoes were definitely not necessary.

  He smelled steaks grilling and knew his brother had a head start on dinner. He’d learned that steaks were the only thing Caleb knew how to cook. Thinking about his brother’s ineptitude in the kitchen made something warm settle deep into Reed’s chest.

  It had only been a few weeks since he’d reconciled with his fraternal twin brother. They’d been estranged and angry with each other since their mother had passed away ten years ago. They’d both blamed their cruel, domineering father for her death from untreated pneumonia. But their reactions had been poles apart. Caleb had left home in anger. Reed had stayed behind to protect his mother’s ranch heritage.

  Reed heard a female voice through the screen door.

  Mandy, obviously.

  When Caleb had come home to settle problems with the will, the two had reconnected and fallen deeply in love. Reed smiled. He’d always thought of Mandy as a sister. It would be nice to have her officially become part of the family.

  He grabbed himself a cold bottle of beer from the fridge, flipped the cap into the trash can and headed outside. There, he stopped short, seeing Katrina sitting at the table. Hearing his footsteps, she turned toward him.

  A glass of red wine dangled between delicate fingers tipped with sculpted nails. And she was laughing at something Mandy had said. Her jewel-blue eyes were alight in the evening sunshine. The slanting rays glinted off her shimmering blouse where it clung to softly rounded breasts. As a professional dancer, her body had a perfect shape and symmetry that kick-started his libido.

  As she took in his expression, her smile faltered, and the glow left her blue eyes. “Hello, Reed.” She paused. “Something wrong?”

  He realized he was scowling. She was Mandy’s sister. He shouldn’t be secretly fantasizing about her. She might not spend much time in Lyndon Valley, but he was going to have to make this work.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, striding forward. “I’m hungry.” He forced himself to focus on Caleb who was wielding a spatula over the grill.

  “About ten minutes,” Caleb offered.

  Since dishes, salads and bread were already set out on the rectangular table, Reed chose one of the low-slung wooden Adirondack chairs, parked his body and took a swig of his beer.

  Mandy moved to the barbecue beside Caleb, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder, their backs to Reed and Katrina.

  “Did you have a nice flight in?” Reed asked Katrina, keeping his tone polite and even.

  “It was good.” She nodded, her tone even in return. “Very comfortable.” She swiveled to perch herself backward on the bench seat at the table, fully facing him.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw Mandy playfully kiss his brother’s cheek and whisper something in his ear.

  “First class?” he asked Katrina.

  “Why?”

  He caught the narrowing of her eyes. “No reason.”

  “You think I’m a princess?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Truth was, he was thinking that nobody had a “very comfortable” flight in coach. He was also thinking that first-class seating was a waste on somebody as petite as her.

  Their gazes clashed for several seconds.

  “Staying long?” he tried, wondering if she’d turn that into an insult, as well.

  But her expression faltered, and she didn’t answer for a moment. “A week. Maybe two.”

  “Still dancing?” He didn’t know anything about her life in New York City, except that she was some kind of important ballerina, and Mandy was anxious to go see her perform.

  “Still dancing,” she confirmed, with a quirk of a smile. “You’re still ranching?”

  “Still ranching.” He nodded. “You must be here on vacation?”

  “Yes,” she replied, the barest hint of sarcasm in her tone.

  “What?” he probed.

  “What?” she responded, concentrating on taking a sip of her wine.

  “It’s not a vacation?” he guessed.

  She glanced sideways at her sister for a split second. Then she shrugged. “No pool deck or palm trees. But I guess you could call it a vacation.”

  “Princess,” he muttered through a smile.

  “A girl’s got to keep up her tan.”

  He gave a pointed glance to his deeply browned forearms. “Not a problem around these parts.”

  “I bet you’ve got those farmer-tan lines at the short-sleeve mark.”

  He couldn’t seem to stop his smirk. “I bet you’ve got those princess tan lines at the bikini mark.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Much more attractive.”

  To that, he gave her a mock toast. “No argument from me.”

  Then, to his surprise, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Truth is, I twisted my ankle.”

  He leaned forward to meet her, lowering his own voice to match. “Is that a secret?”

  She shook her head. Then she shrugged her slim shoulders. “Not exactly, I just…” Her red lips pursed together, and he couldn’t help thinking about kissing her.

  Her cheeks flushed a light rose.

  Was she thinking about kissing him back?

  As quickly as it formed, he banished the thought. It was a ridiculous assumption.

  “Are you embarrassed about hurting yourself?” He settled on a much more likely explanation.

  “It was a silly accident,” she confessed. “I’m usually really careful about my shoes, but—”

  “Rare, medium or well?” Mandy called to them.

  Reed didn’t take his gaze off Katrina. “Rare.”

  “Medium,” she put in. “And nothing too big, please.”

  Reed felt a smile grow. “You’re not up for a cowboy twelve-ouncer?”

  Her hand moved to rest on her flat stomach. “My dance partner has to be able to lift me.”

  “Maybe you need a stronger partner.”

  “What I need is to lose two pounds.”

  “You look perfect to me.” The soft words were out before he could censor them.

  A slow blink camouflaged her reaction. Then she brought her teeth down on her bottom lip and determinedly turned her attention to Caleb, who was carrying the platter of steaks to the table.

  Reed had said something wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was, but she’d abruptly shut him out.

  Katrina didn’t know why she’d told Reed about her ankle last night. It was a foolish slip of her tongue. It compromised her ongoing efforts to keep her two worlds apart, and this morning she vowed to do better.

  In the years since her father’s sister, her generous Aunt Coco, had taken her under her wing and convinced her parents to let her move to New York City with her, she’d been living two separate lives. In New York, enrolled in the ballet program at the Academy, she felt vibrant and alive. She was a part of the cultural mosaic Auntie Coco, a renowned contemporary painter, had been so careful to expose her to while she was growing up. She fitted in. She was normal, accepted, even respected. In Colorado, she was out of step. An anomaly who could never show weakness.

  She often wondered why her aunt had decided to rescue her from the ranching world, what it was she’d recognized as a kindred spirit in a ten-year-old child. She’d always meant to ask. But Coco had died of a sudden aneurism two years ago before Katrina had had the chance.

  Now, she came to the bottom of the stairs of the Jacobs’ house and took a bracing breath. Her two brothers and two sisters were already dressed for the day’s work, sitting at the breakfast table eating pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs. It never ceased to amaze her
that Mandy and Abigail could consume so many calories and keep such trim figures.

  As she pivoted around the end of the staircase, she was careful not to limp. Then again, Reed would probably tell Caleb, and Caleb would tell Mandy, and once again she’d be the pathetic, weak branch on the robust Jacobs family tree.

  She approached the breakfast table to a chorus of good mornings, taking the empty place next to Mandy, searching the table for fruit, or maybe a whole-grain muffin. But a platter of fluffy pancakes was handed her way, followed by maple syrup and a mounded serving tray of eggs.

  “Thanks.” She nodded to Abigail, setting the heavy platter down in an empty spot in front of her plate. “Is there maybe an apple or something in the fridge?”

  Everything seemed to still for a moment as four sets of eyes turned her way.

  “I’m not a huge breakfast eater,” she explained, ignoring the tantalizing scents of melting butter and warming syrup.

  Abigail started to stand.

  “No, no.” Katrina quickly waved her off, coming to her feet. Pain tripped in her ankle from the sudden movement, but she schooled her features. “I’ll get it.” She quickly headed for the kitchen.

  “Abigail and I can stay on the ranch for a few more days,” Seth said, his conversational voice coming through the big, open pass-through between the kitchen and dining room. “But then they’ll need us in Lyndon to help with my campaign.”

  Katrina spotted the family cook, Henrietta, in the pantry off the kitchen, restocking the shelves from a cardboard box. She smiled a greeting to the familiar woman as she pulled open one side of the big stainless-steel refrigerator.

  In the pocket of her slacks, her cell phone vibrated. She retrieved it to see an unfamiliar New York City number.

  “Hello?” she inquired, moving to a far corner of the kitchen, where a solid wall blocked the noise from her siblings’ conversation.

  “Hello, Katrina.”

  Her teeth clenched at the sound of Quentin Foster’s voice. A member of the Liberty Ballet Board of Directors, the last time they’d spoken, he’d been hitting on her.

  “I wanted to see how you were feeling,” he continued, tone solicitous.

  “Fine,” she told him evenly, wondering how she could diplomatically end the call. He was an important man in the organization, but his flirtatious manner had gotten entirely out of hand.

  “We’re all very worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Back?” His tone slipped. “Have you left the city?”

  “I’m visiting family. I really need to go. Thanks for calling.”

  “Katrina, wait.”

  She braced herself. “Yes?”

  “Have you had another chance to think about what I said?”

  About becoming his lover? “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  In her peripheral vision, she caught her brother Seth’s curious gaze on her. “I do have to go. Thank you for your concern.” She quickly hit the off button then shut down her phone, turning her attention back to her family.

  “Mandy’s riding up to take a look at the Blue Lake herd today,” said Travis. “And I’ll check to see how many have moved through the canyon.”

  Katrina knew there was a science to herd distribution across their vast rangelands, taking in the seasons, weather reports and rainfall, but she had no idea how it worked. More than once, she’d privately mused that if she’d lived in the 1800s, she’d probably have died young of stupidity or been killed off by her outraged community because of her ineptitude.

  “What time is the vet due in?” asked Abigail, refilling her coffee cup.

  “He said around eleven,” Mandy offered. “But you know how those things go.”

  “I have to touch base with the campaign office before I do anything else,” said Abigail, reminding Katrina of her oldest brother’s upcoming campaign for the mayor’s seat in Lyndon.

  Katrina selected a smooth, deep-green Granny Smith apple from the crisper drawer, rinsing it under the tap before returning to the table.

  “What about you?” Travis asked her as she sat back down.

  “Me?” she responded, confused by his question. Were they still talking about the mayoralty campaign?

  “You want to ride up to the lake with me today?” asked Mandy.

  Katrina hesitated, glancing at the expressions around the table. She couldn’t believe they’d forgotten. She’d never mastered riding a horse. The animals still frightened her. The thought of sitting on top of one for six hours made her cringe.

  “I have a pretty rigorous rehearsal and training routine,” she told everyone.

  Seth waved a dismissive hand. “Take a day off.”

  “I—”

  “The fresh air will be good for you,” Travis declared.

  Only Mandy was looking at her curiously.

  “I wish I could,” Katrina lied with a shake of her head. “But I need to stay in shape.”

  “Horseback-riding is good exercise,” said Travis.

  “Is there a bicycle anywhere around here?” She tried to change the subject. Jogging would be the simplest exercise, since she didn’t have access to a gym. But the jarring would be too hard on her healing ankle, especially over uneven ground.

  Her siblings glanced at each other.

  “A bicycle?” Seth repeated the question.

  “I like to bike,” said Katrina. “It’s good for my quads.”

  Travis snorted. “A little productive work would be good for your quads too.”

  “Travis,” Abigail warned.

  “There might be an old bike in the blue shed,” said Mandy. “We can look after breakfast.” She glanced at the apple in Katrina’s hand. “You sure you don’t want something hot?”

  Katrina shook her head. “I’m good.” She took a big bite of the apple, mumbling her appreciation of the tart flavor.

  After a drawn-out moment, everyone’s attention went back to their own meals.

  After a few minutes, Mandy rose to take her dishes into the kitchen then returned to the dining room and slid back into her chair. “We’ll go whenever you’re ready,” she said to Katrina.

  “I’m ready now.” Katrina rose. She’d rather eat her apple on the run than sit here on edge, waiting for more uncomfortable questions and opinions.

  She’d worn blue jeans and a simple white blouse this morning, and she popped her feet into a pair of sneakers.

  Mandy stuck a battered Stetson onto her head. Her boot heels clunked on the wooden porch, while Katrina followed silently on rubber soles. She wished she’d thought to bring along a hat. She had a white baseball cap from the Met that she could easily have tucked into her suitcase.

  It took about five minutes to walk the path to the blue shed, called that because of its blue door. There was also the green shed, the yellow shed and the view shed, which had a red door. Katrina had never figured out why her family wasn’t consistent with the names. But she’d stopped asking questions like that a long time ago.

  Mandy pushed open the door and made her way into the crowded storage building. “You haven’t told me what you thought of Caleb.”

  “He seems like a nice guy,” Katrina answered honestly as she followed inside. Caleb had been friendly, polite and funny last night.

  Mandy turned to stare, her tone turning incredulous. “‘A nice guy’? That’s all you’ve got for my fiancé? He’s an amazing guy.”

  “I only just met him again.”

  Caleb was six years older than Katrina, and she barely remembered him from when she was a child.

  “Well, sure. But it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

  Katrina couldn’t help but grin at her sister’s mock outrage. “I’m sure he’s amazing. And it’s pretty obvious he’s got it bad for you.”

  “Yes, he does,” Mandy answered with conviction, wrinkling her nose and sticking it primly in the air. She turned sideways to slip between a set of shelves and an ATV.

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sp; Katrina followed, tone playfully placating. “And who could blame him? You’re a great catch.”

  Even in the dim light, Mandy’s eyes sparkled as she moved some plastic bins out of the way. “What about you?”

  “I’m not a particularly good catch.” What could Katrina bring to a relationship? An extensive designer wardrobe? An ability to make small talk at cocktail parties? A demanding and precarious career?

  “I meant are you seeing anyone?”

  “Oh.”

  Mandy moved a tarp as she made her way farther into the shed. “But of course you’re a great catch. You’re like some kind of dream trophy wife.”

  Katrina didn’t want to be a trophy wife. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “Really? What about all those debonair rich guys who go to the same parties as you?”

  “None of them have asked me out.”

  “They have so,” Mandy contradicted.

  “Okay, some of them have. But nobody lately.” Unless you counted Quentin Foster. Katrina shuddered at the mere thought of the offensive man. He hadn’t asked her for a date. His had been a bald proposition, followed by an unsettling threat.

  “New York men don’t know a good woman when they see one,” Mandy put in staunchly. “Aha. Here we go.”

  Katrina banished thoughts of Quentin, coming up on her toes to peer over a wooden crate. Sure enough, there was a sturdy-looking mountain bike propped up against a workbench. She normally rode a stationary one at the gym a few blocks from her apartment, but she was willing to adapt.

  “Will we be able to get it out of there?” she asked Mandy.

  “Easy.” Mandy hoisted it in the air, over the clutter and outside. There she pumped up the flat tires at the compressor.

  Katrina was more than a bit in awe of her older sister. “I can’t believe you did all that.”

  “All what?”

  “Pumped up the tires. You actually know how to run a compressor.”

  “You actually know how to stand up in toe shoes. So, what’s the plan? How far do you want to ride?”

  Katrina shrugged. “Fifteen, twenty miles.” Then she’d limber up, work on her arms a bit, and see how her ankle was holding up.

  “I’m going up to Caleb’s later,” said Mandy.