Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(3)

In reality, the entire trip had been a bust. He should have known the ol’ man would back out of the deal. Dirk must have jumped on the opportunity to undermine Wade the moment his back was turned, or more rightly, the moment he’d boarded the plane for Denver. Not that it would have taken much work for his brother to persuade their father. Wade had been a fool to think the lure of cash would overcome four generations of fealty to the land, regardless of the pressing circumstances. Ranching ran bone-deep in all the Knowltons—all but him.

Still, it had come close. Closer this time than he would have expected.

Allie, of course, was pissed as a wet cat, having spent weeks brokering the deal. She’d already refused his invitation for lunch after the thwarted closing. If he’d been stuck in Denver, he wouldn’t have been welcome in her bunk tonight.

He realized he was getting damned tired of her using sex to manipulate him. For nearly four years they’d played it fast and loose, which had suited him just fine. Work took up most of his time anyway, but now Allie had begun to press for commitments he wasn’t ready to make. From the moment he’d met her in Denver, she’d acted like he was a bonus to the six-figure commission she’d expected—the one she’d just lost.

Hell, we’ve all lost out on this one—who knows when or if another offer might come along in this shitty economy.

Like most private ranches in these times, the Flying K had teetered on the brink of foreclosure for years. The Knowltons had forged on in the false hope that the next year would be better, but it never was. It was just no damn good any more. They needed to sell out while they still could, but Dirk had refused. Instead, he’d been willing to hazard everything, the ranch and his family’s entire economic future, on the slim chance that his breeding experiments would pay off.

“Damn you to hell, Dirk!”

Wade was bone weary, stretched to the breaking point, but his family showed little appreciation for his efforts, and he’d worked too friggin’ hard to keep them above water to watch it all go down the drain. Perhaps he and Allie could still salvage the deal? As soon as he got back to Twin Bridges he, Dirk, and the ol’ man would have a serious “come to Jesus” meeting.

He had a lot of time to strategize with an eleven-hour drive ahead of him. But two hours out of Denver had him yearning for the good old days when he could have done it in about eight—the days before they’d reinstated a speed limit on Montana highways. At least the weather had cleared, and he’d left late enough to have missed the outbound commuter traffic.

As for Allie, he supposed the rift was no great loss. Although he wouldn’t be getting any for a while after this fiasco, he’d survived lengthy dry spells before—even during his marriage. Given Allie’s recent change in attitude, it wouldn’t hurt to put some distance between them anyway. He’d never been a player, but maybe it was time to seek out greener grazing.

His mind wandered back to the girl at the airport. He still marveled at the impulse that had spurred him to give up his seat. He wondered what might have happened had he been stranded in Denver with her. Maybe he would have offered her dinner. Maybe she would have accepted. And maybe they would have shared a room at the airport Hilton. He then shrugged it off as another lost opportunity, a sorry addition to all the rest.

Wade plugged his iPod into the audio jack of the rental car and scrolled impatiently through various playlists in search of something to help the two cans of Red Bull keep his eyes open for the all-night driving marathon. He settled on the blaring sounds of Big and Rich.

I’m a dynamite, daddy, I’ll put the rhythm in your blues, I’m not a wishy-washy boy like you’re used to…

Yeah. That was the ticket. Part country, part urban madness. Much like him.

Grinning, he punched the accelerator of the Dodge Avenger. And like any good cowboy, Wade drove off into the sunset.





Chapter 2


It was after eleven when Nikki landed in Bozeman. Expecting to arrive hours earlier, she’d reserved a rental car, but after collecting her bags and proceeding to the Thrifty counter, she found it dark and abandoned. She glanced down the row of rental car desks in mounting frustration. All of them were closed. Damn it all! What now?

The bank of hotel courtesy phones caught her eye next. That was it. She’d just call a hotel with an airport shuttle and get the car in the morning. She was dead tired and in no shape to drive almost a hundred miles in total darkness on unfamiliar roads anyway. It would be smarter to pick up her car early in the morning and then depart for Sheridan. She could live with a few hours delay. At least she wasn’t stuck in Denver.

Satisfied with this plan, she picked up the phone, reserved a room at the Holiday Inn Express in Bozeman, and settled on the bench at the shuttle pickup. Up until now she hadn’t thought through many of the details and the flight delays had screwed everything up even worse. Now she had to put her mind to reordering her priorities.

The mortuary had already held his body for an entire week before anyone had tracked her down. She wondered if he would have wanted cremation or a burial. She didn’t even know him well enough to say. Did he have any friends who mourned him? No one aside from the mortuary had even tried to contact her. Had he left a will? She didn’t know that either. She supposed she’d have to contact the attorney’s office to find out. She rolled her eyes at the prospect of dealing with blood-sucking lawyers.