Wild About the Wrangler

PRAISE FOR VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON AND HER NOVELS

“Snappy, funny, romantic.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Carly Phillips

“A trademark blend of comedy and heart.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Count on Vicki Lewis Thompson for a sharp, sassy, sexy read. Stranded on a desert island? I hope you've got this book in your beach bag.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz

“Wildly sexy . . . a full complement of oddball characters and sparkles with sassy humor.”

—Library Journal

“A riotous cast of colorful characters . . . fills the pages with hilarious situations and hot, creative sex.”

—Booklist

“Sweet and light and, above all, charming.”

—BookCrack

“[A] lighthearted and frisky tale of discovery between two engaging people.”

—
The Oakland Press
(MI)

“A funny and thrilling ride!”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Extremely sexy . . . over-the-top . . . sparkling.”

—
Rendezvous

“A whole new dimension in laughter. A big . . . bravo!”

—A Romance Review

MORE SEXY TEXANS NOVELS

Crazy for the Cowboy

ALSO BY VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON

Werewolf in Alaska

Werewolf in Denver

Werewolf in Seattle

Werewolf in Greenwich Village

(A Penguin Special)

Werewolf in the North Woods

A Werewolf in Manhattan

Chick with a Charm

Blonde with a Wand

Over Hexed

Wild & Hexy

Casual Hex

SIGNET ECLIPSE

Published by New American Library,

an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

This book is an original publication of New American Library.

First Printing, November 2015

Copyright © Vicki Lewis Thompson, 2015

Excerpt from
Crazy for the Cowboy
copyright © Vicki Lewis Thompson, 2015

Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

Signet Eclipse and the Signet Eclipse colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

For more information about Penguin Random House, visit penguin.com.

ISBN 978-0-698-16921-0

PU
BLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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.

For my daughter Audrey, because I think this might be her favorite book so far.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, I'm grateful for my editor Claire Zion's unfailing enthusiasm for my books and my assistant Audrey Sharpe's valuable and calming presence in my life. I'm also thrilled to be working with agent Jenny Bent and her efficient team. And finally, kudos to the art department for a gorgeous cover!

A
nastasia waited until everyone was sound asleep before she crawled out of bed. Mommy said horses were dirty and smelly and no little girl of hers was ever getting on one.

Oh, yes, she was.

Her new stepsister, Georgie, got to ride her very own horse named Prince. Anastasia's new daddy had a horse, too, and Georgie got to ride with him. It wasn't fair.

Riding didn't look hard. You didn't even need a saddle. Georgie sometimes climbed right up on Prince and rode off like girls in the movies.

And Georgie had a whip. Her daddy—well, Anastasia's daddy now, too—had taught Georgie to do tricks with it. Mommy said no little girl of hers would be doing tricks with a whip, either. Georgie got to do all the fun stuff.

Quiet as a mouse, Anastasia went downstairs and out the back door. Maybe she should have put on shoes. Lots of rocks out here. Ouchy. But it wasn't cold.

She had to shove real hard to slide the piece of wood out of the way so she could open the barn door. She left it open because she'd be coming out again. On Prince. Her heart jumped around like a frog in her chest.

A yard light helped her see what she was doing. The stall wasn't easy to get open, either. But she finally got it.

She reached up, took hold of Prince's mane and tugged. “Come on, Prince.” He came right out, almost knocking her over. “Stop!”

He stopped, and she dragged a stool close to him. Getting on wasn't so easy, either. And once she was sitting on his back, she was surprised to see how high off the ground she was. His back was wide and kind of slippery.

Holding his mane, she kicked his sides. “Go!”

He walked out of the barn and into the meadow. Her tummy turned somersaults. She was riding! But not very fast. She kicked him again, harder. “Go, go, go!”

He did, and it was yucky. She bounced and bounced. “Stop!”

But he only went faster! This wasn't fun at all! Crying and screaming, she tried to hold on, but his neck was too big. She couldn't reach around it.

She yelled as loud as she could. “Noooooo!”

Just like that, he stopped and she was in the air. When she landed a second later, she hit the ground hard, too hard. She couldn't breathe. Her chest hurt.

Oh, no. He was coming. The horse blew through his nose and his hooves were huge.

“No!” She tried to scoot back. “No! Noooooo!”

She scrambled backward and screamed until her throat hurt. He finally went away. She sat and shivered, afraid to make a noise, afraid to move as her heart thumped really loud.

After a long time, she heard Georgie calling. She tried to answer, but it was a tiny sound. Her throat hurt so bad. Georgie called again, and she made another squeaky noise.

Then she saw the flashlight bobbing along. But she heard something that made her whole body shake. Hoof

beats. She made herself get up even though she ached all over.

The bobbing light came closer. She saw Georgie riding her daddy's horse and leading Prince with a whip around his neck.

She backed away. But running was no use. She sucked in all the air she could. “No horses!”

It wasn't loud. But Georgie stopped. Then she climbed down. Holding the flashlight, she came over. “Oh, Anastasia. What were you thinking?”

“No horses,” she whispered.

Georgie brushed dirt and pieces of grass away from her face. Then she ran her hands over her arms and legs. “You seem to be in one piece, but you're in big trouble, kid.”

She imagined her mommy's face, red and mad. “D-don't tell.”

Georgie wiped away her tears with the tail of her shirt. “Shh. Don't cry. I won't tell, but we have to head back before somebody else wakes up. You can ride with me. Come on.”

“No!” She stumbled backward.

“Come on. You have to get back somehow. I need to put these horses away and clean you up.”

“I'll walk.”

“Just let me boost you up on—”

“No!”

Georgie sighed. “All right. Here's the flashlight. Me and the horses will lead you home. I'll go slow.”

She nodded and took the flashlight.

“But someday you'll have to get back on a horse, Anastasia. It's what people do when they fall off.”

She looked at the two giant horses standing in the meadow and shivered. “No,” she whispered. “Never.”

Present day

“M
ac, you must be craving that cold beer.” Travis hurried to keep up as they walked down Bickford's main street after another successful trail ride. “You haven't moved this fast since the time Vince snuck a tarantula into your shower.”

“And let the record show I haven't forgiven him for that.” But Mac modified his pace. Yeah, he was looking forward to sipping a cold one at Sadie's Saloon, but he was more focused on showing Anastasia the new pictures on his phone.

He'd snapped some beauties of the wild stallion and his herd on the overnight trail ride this weekend and Anastasia would go nuts over them. But he didn't want Travis to know that was why he'd unconsciously lengthened his stride. Knowing Travis, he'd read too much into it.

Anastasia Bickford was just a friend, and that's the way it would always stay. In the short time he'd lived here, they'd established the kind of relationship where they could talk about anything. Anastasia was a talented artist, and with a creative mind like hers, the topics were never dull.

“I like to savor my walk down Main Street after a trail ride,” Travis said. “Makes me feel like a hero.” He tipped his hat to a resident who walked by and called out a greeting. “People are grateful to us, Mac. I mean, just look at the difference we've made in this town.” He gestured toward the colorful storefronts and the bustling tourist trade.

“Just remember, Vince got the ball rolling, not us.”

“Yeah, but we keep it rolling.”

“True.” Mac did take satisfaction in that as he gazed at the revitalized town. They were having a mild fall season, not much rain and not a hint of snow. Mac's denim jacket kept him plenty warm in the evenings, and during the day he was in his shirtsleeves. Perfect weather for trail rides.

Most shop windows displayed a poster version of Anastasia's painting advertising Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. It was a great image, but then Anastasia was a great artist. The poster featured a majestic gray stallion against a blue Texas Panhandle sky.

Mac couldn't believe how much things had changed in Bickford in the last six months. He, Travis, and Vince had come to town then for a reunion, thinking they'd relive the fun times they'd had while working at a nearby guest ranch. They'd arrived to find stores boarded up and the town on the verge of collapse. After the guest ranch closed, the local economy had tanked, but Vince had saved the day with his brainstorm to offer trail rides into the canyon to see wild horses and their legendary leader, the Ghost.

“The way I look at it,” Travis said, “we guide the trail rides, right?”

“Right.”

“And according to those online surveys Anastasia sends out, customer satisfaction is high.”

“So she says.” He got a kick out of Anastasia's excitement over those surveys. He also suspected she deleted the negative ones.

“Which means we're doing a helluva job and I'm gonna claim some credit. Hello, ladies.” He touched the brim of his hat as they passed a couple of tourists laden down with shopping bags. “You oughta come on the trail ride,” he called after them. “I lead it!”

“Then we just might, cowboy!” one of them called back.

Mac shook his head. The actual trail boss was the one bringing up the rear, which would be Mac, but Travis did love to flirt.

“See? I just drummed up more business by being my usual outgoing self. You and I are vital to the success of this venture.”

“You certainly are. You should get a sandwich board and a bullhorn.”

“Nope. Doesn't fit my cool-dude image. But speaking of sandwiches, I'm hungry.” Travis paused at the entrance to Bickford's refurbished ice-cream shop with its red-and-white-striped decor. “I have a hankering for a hot fudge sundae with extra fudge and nuts. Let's do it.”

“You go right ahead. I'd rather have a cold beer.”

“We'll have both. We'll drink beer after we finish the sundaes.”

Mac grimaced.

“You're such a finicky eater, Mac Foster. Go ahead to Sadie's. I'll catch up with you after I have my primo sundae.”

“Suits me.”

“But don't start the darts tournament until I get there.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” In the late afternoons, they'd formed the habit of playing darts with Anastasia and anyone else who was interested. “I'll just drink until you get there.”

“Perfect. I'll be sharp and you'll be sloshed.”

“As if that would keep me from beating you, amigo.” Mac grinned and continued on to Sadie's. He was just as glad Travis had decided to stop for ice cream. Talking to Anastasia about the pictures would be easier without Travis hanging over his shoulder making comments and doing his usual flirting. Travis wouldn't ask her out, though, for the same reason he wouldn't.

Anastasia was Georgie Bickford's little sis, and Georgie was officially in charge of Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Vince had dreamed up the idea but he hadn't wanted to run the thing. He hadn't even planned on sticking around to see how the business worked out, but that was before he'd fallen for Georgie.

So Georgie ran the operation, but Vince had become the official spokesperson for the venture, the one who handled the media. Surprisingly, there was media. A wild stallion and his band had turned out to be a story that had captured national attention.

In fact, Vince was in Houston this weekend talking to an animal-advocacy group, and a film crew from Dallas would arrive in three weeks to shoot a documentary. Bickford residents were busting their buttons with civic pride. Nothing this big had ever happened here. Dwarfed by Amarillo to the north and Lubbock to the south, the town had always been small potatoes, even when the guest ranch had been operating.

Mac was happy for everyone, especially Anastasia. She deserved recognition for her work, and the documentary would help give her that. Sure, she had some art in a local gallery in Amarillo, thanks to Georgie's prodding, but that wasn't nearly enough exposure. With her talent, she should be famous.

Opening the street door to the saloon, Mac looked straight over to the corner where she'd set up shop. Georgie had urged her to rent a storefront and create an actual studio, but so far Anastasia hadn't made that happen. She seemed to prefer the familiar atmosphere of Sadie's.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Lots of people came in here and her work hung all over the walls with For Sale tags on it. Ever since the trail rides had taken off, she'd sold plenty of her watercolors depicting the town and, of course, the Ghost. Plus she did charcoal portraits, and she'd picked up a lot of business sitting in a corner of the saloon with her sketch pad at the ready.

She was sketching someone right now, in fact. Mac smiled when he saw Ida Harrington sitting at Anastasia's table having her portrait done.

Some people might laugh at a ninetysomething woman who colored her hair bright red and wore jeans and vests decorated with bling. Mac thought Ida was terrific. She'd moved to Bickford after her wealthy husband died and left her a pile of money. She could have given it to the town when the residents were in so much trouble, but she said it would just be throwing it to the wind if they didn't have a plan. Once Vince had suggested the trail rides, she'd underwritten the bulk of the expenses to get the business started.

Because Mac didn't want to interrupt Ida's portrait sitting, he walked over to the bar and ordered a beer.

Ike Plunkett had been the bartender when Mac had been a wrangler at the guest ranch, and Ike had hung on through the economic downturn. He was probably only in his forties, but had started losing his hair early. That, plus his wire-framed glasses, made him look brainy.

But it was his welcoming smile that brought customers into Sadie's, and he flashed it now. “The conquering heroes return. Where's Travis?”

Mac slid onto a stool. “Eating ice cream. And don't tell Travis he's a conquering hero. He's already out of control on that subject. I keep trying to convince him that we're just regular working guys.”

“Not to a lot of people around here.” Ike set a foaming glass in front of him. “You're like knights in shining armor.”

“More like tarnished armor.” Mac reached for his wallet.

“Put that away. This one's on the house, like always.”

Mac gazed at him in frustration. “I know the saloon's doing better, but you still have to make a living.”

“I make a good one, thanks to Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Steve and Myra are doing handsprings over the number of hotel reservations that came in this week.”

Mac grinned at the image of Steve and Myra Jenson, both middle-aged and stocky, doing handsprings. They'd bought the Bickford Hotel and the attached saloon years ago when business was booming. They'd weathered the bad years, and now business was good again. They deserved to reap the rewards.

“I'm glad everyone's happy,” he said, “but I still think I should pay for my beer.”

“Don't tell me.” Ike swiped a bar rag over the polished mahogany surface that had been the resting place for drinks for more than a century. “Steve gave me my orders. You'll have to take it up with him.”

“Maybe I will.” Mac sipped his beer and licked the foam from his lip. He liked it here in Bickford. He liked it so well he'd bought a fixer-upper east of town and was gradually getting it the way he wanted. First house ever. That was probably a sign he was growing up.

“Hey, handsome.” Ida appeared at his elbow. “Where's Travis?”

“Eating ice cream.”

“How wholesome of him.”

“He plans to follow the hot fudge sundae with his usual quota of beer.”

Ida wrinkled her nose. “That's disgusting. Did you tell him that's disgusting?”

“More or less. But he's a big boy.”

“You don't have to tell me. All three of you are pure eye candy.”

Mac's face heated. “Cut it out, Ida.”

“Not on your life. Age has its privileges. Anyway, I'm done if you want to go over and chat with Anastasia.”

“Can I see your picture, first?”

“I was hoping you'd ask.” Ida opened the folder Anastasia mounted the portraits in to protect them.

Six months ago she'd sketched Mac and had simply handed him the sheet of paper. These days the presentation was far more elegant. He'd had her sketch of him framed, but he still didn't know what to do with it. Hanging it up in his house seemed conceited.

He looked at Anastasia's vision of Ida, and it was perfect. Anastasia had caught the woman's irreverence and sparkle, plus an underlying wisdom that some people missed because Ida was so outrageous. She didn't appear young in the portrait, but not ancient, either. More like ageless, and certainly someone you'd want to know.

Mac glanced at Ida. “It's you.”

“I
know
. That girl has some kind of magic. I've had her do my portrait six times, and this is the best. She just keeps getting better. When I croak, I want this in the paper with my obituary, not some studio shot when I was a kid of fifty.”

“I hope you're not planning on croaking anytime soon.”

“God, no. Too much going on. They want me to be in the documentary, and eventually Vince will marry Georgie, and I can't miss
that.
”

Vince laughed. “You certainly can't. None of us can. I'd crawl through quicksand to see Vince Durant finally get hitched. He was so sure it wouldn't ever happen.”

“He was at that, foolish boy.” Ida smiled. “But I knew.” Her thick glasses magnified the curiosity in her gaze. “When are you going to admit you have a thing for Anastasia?”

He gulped. “Excuse me?”

“You can't fool an old lady, Mac Foster. FYI, she likes you, too.”

“I know she does.” He tried to steady his racing pulse. Not a good conversation to have right before he walked over to her table. “We're good friends.”

“I don't mean she likes you. I mean she
likes
you.” Ida waggled her plucked eyebrows.

Mac was determined to make light of it, despite the way his libido reacted to that comment. “You're a romantic, Ida. You want everybody paired up. But I can't date Anastasia. It's way too complicated.”

“Bullshit.”

He cracked up. Couldn't help it. Hearing a woman her age using the word
bullshit
was plain hysterical. She was the type, though. Ida didn't pull her punches.

“Go ahead and laugh all you want, but that's another reason for me to stick around. I want to see how you and Anastasia turn out.”

Still chuckling, Mac gazed at her. “I'm happy to provide the motivation for you to stick around, no matter how misguided that motivation might be. But I have to tell you, I'm not dating her. End of story.”

Ida looked into his eyes for a moment longer. “You are completely clueless, just like your friend Vince was.” Then she stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek, and left the saloon.

He wasn't sure if he'd just been blessed or cursed. But Ida knew things. You couldn't live on this planet for almost a century and not get pretty damn good at reading people and situations.

For the first time he questioned the wisdom of being so chummy with Anastasia. Maybe he shouldn't show her the pictures he'd taken, after all. She had a whole bunch on her computer already. These were nice, but if Ida was right and Anastasia
liked
him, then deliberately spending time with her wouldn't do either of them any favors.

Georgie was super protective when it came to her sister, or rather her stepsister. Georgie's mom had died when she was a toddler and later on her dad had remarried a woman with two girls—Anastasia, the younger one, and Charmaine, the older one. Charmaine lived in Dallas while she hunted for a wealthy husband, something her greedy mother hoped for.