Dedication

  For my grandparents.

  Rudolph & Eleanor and Frank & Frances.

  Forever in my heart.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Rustlers Creek Series

  About the Author

  By Addison Fox

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte Wayne put on her best and brightest smile in an effort to avoid clamping her jaw so tight she might as well have welded it. She’d grown up around cowboys, was the daughter of one and a sister, too. She understood the pride and promise that lived in a man’s breast when he worked the land and built a profitable business from his labors.

  But she had no time for the ones who thought they were smarter than her, needed to protect her or saw her goals and ambitions in life as some amusing object of humor.

  Her father was one of the most well-known cowboys in all of Montana, and he didn’t treat her that way. Her brother Zack, equally as well-known as their father, didn’t do it, either. Neither did the ranch hands at Wayne and Sons.

  And she sure as shit wasn’t taking it from these jerks. Jerks she’d invited to one of the finest steakhouses in Bozeman after having spent nearly thirty hours proactively building out a kick-ass marketing plan to pitch them.

  “Tom. Merrill. I’m getting the sense you didn’t read the proposal I shared in advance of this meeting.”

  The soft, dim lighting in the dark-paneled steakhouse couldn’t hide their quickly dropped gazes, nor did it hide their twin reaches for drinks to wet their throats.

  Merrill Harvey and his son Tom ran a ranch outside of Bozeman. She’d focused on them because, while not the most progressive males on the evolutionary chain, they had done some incredible work with herd rotation and sustainability practices. They’d also recently started a vitamin line to add to feed. Her sister-in-law’s sister was engaged to a large-animal vet, and Dr. Gray McClain felt there was real promise in what the Harveys offered.

  And Charlotte was unequivocally positive she could help them market the heck out of the product.

  “Look, Ms. Wayne,” Merrill started in. “I’m sure you’ve got some good ideas, but I don’t see why we need a PR firm. We’ve done just fine without one to date.”

  “You’re part of the Montana Ranchers’ Association. You take part in their activities.”

  “Well, yeah. I’ve been a part of the MRA for years.”

  “Then you’re well aware marketing is one of the key items on their agenda in their ten-year plan.”

  “Plans, Charlotte, are all they are.” Tom scoffed as he took another sip of his whiskey before resettling his glass. “No one I know wants to put a ton of money into ads to support someone else’s business.”

  Charlotte avoided pasting on another smile in favor of appealing to Tom’s business sense. And the fact that he still had a lot more years of ranching ahead of him. “It’s good business for all of you, Tom.”

  “It’s a waste of money.”

  “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time, then.”

  Merrill gave her an indulgent smile. “It’s never a poor use of time to share a meal with a beautiful woman. And your daddy’s one of my favorite people in Montana.” The older man shook his head. “Even if the sonofabitch beats me every time we play poker.”

  When she had made the decision to go out on her own, leaving the PR firm where she’d worked since graduating college, she’d known it would be hard. Montana wasn’t the center of the marketing world, and she’d made the choice a long time ago to stay in the northern reaches of the Western wilderness instead of going to New York or LA. She loved her home and her family and—for her—believed in staying where she’d been put.

  But she had little care for people who were overly comfortable or lacked ambition. A person could stay in the place they called home and still make something of it.

  She also had never wanted to trade on her family notoriety, even as she knew people paid attention to the name Wayne in this part of the country.

  Admittedly, it was hard to ignore or hide since her brother Zack had more than doubled the size of Wayne and Sons’s output since taking over the management of the ranch from their father. And their family-name recognition had only gone global as Zack’s wife, Hadley, became a major Cooking Network celebrity.

  But it didn’t mean Charlotte didn’t want to make something of herself all on her own.

  Merrill excused himself, leaving her and Tom alone at the table. The younger man had been respectful, but Charlotte hadn’t missed the appreciative gaze in his eyes or his overly touchy demeanor. He’d already laid a hand on her lower back as they’d walked to their seats—a move she’d deliberately shaken off by beelining toward another table to say hello to her parents’ friends—and then he’d brushed his fingers over hers as he’d taken her menu to hand it to their waitress.

  “How long are you staying in Bozeman?”

  “I head home first thing tomorrow. I have an early meeting I need to get back for.”

  “But you’re here this evening. Maybe we can go get a nightcap after we finish dinner.”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I’m not going to be able to.”

  His smile dimmed, but he pressed on. “It’s one drink, Charlotte.”

  She kept her voice steady but pumped the slightest bit of steel under her even tone. “I believe I said I wasn’t able to join you.”

  “And if Dad and I were signing on the dotted line of your damn proposal? How would you feel then?”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been propositioned and, tiring though it may be, she recognized the eternal dance behind modern dating. Tom was single and unattached, and the dating pool in this part of the country wasn’t huge. She didn’t blame him for taking a shot.

  But she sure as hell blamed him for thinking she’d prostitute herself on the altar of her business.

  “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t care one goddamn for my work or my efforts to improve your business. And that’s entirely within your right.” She lifted a hand and made the universal gesture for the check to their waitress. “I won’t, however, sit here and be called a whore.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  Tom looked about to argue further when his father wove his way back to the table. Merrill arrived just as the waitress did, and Charlotte already had her credit card out, handing it over without looking at the check, adding one final instruction. “Please add one more round of drinks for these lovely gentlemen. I’m the one who has to end our evening early.”

  When Tom remained sullen and his father looked about to protest, Charlotte added, “Merrill, I apologize for my abrupt departure, but I’m afraid I need to head out. You’ve both been so kind to give me so much of your time, but I need to prepare for a meeting tomorrow as well as the early drive back to Rustlers Creek.”

  As excuses went it was one of the types she hated—pandering to her elders to get what she wanted. At the same time, the world was small, and she couldn’t afford to go around pissing off the very people her business depended upon.

  Especially because she couldn’t afford to alienate any of them.

  “I do appreciate your time, and if you have a chance to think about what I said, I’d love to review my proposal with you should your perspective change.” She signed the check with a flourish, pleased when the waitress had sensed the mood shift and already arrived with the next round of drinks. “You enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  The men stood in unison as she got up, Tom offering a sullen thank-you for the dinner and Merrill sending his best to her parents. And in moments, Charlotte was breathing the fresh fall air as she trekked across the parking lot toward the hotel she favored when she stayed in Bozeman.

  And refused to let a single frustrated tear slip over her cheeks.

  Chance Beaumont hadn’t meant to eavesdrop from his perch at the end of the bar. Or sightdrop, as it were, since he couldn’t hear what was being said. But as he’d watched the tableau play out across the restaurant, off and on as he ate his meal, he had a pretty damn good idea of what had happened.

  The fact that he had a difficult time tearing his gaze off of Charlotte Wayne under the best of circumstances had little to do with his observations. He normally couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering to her, but it had been a marvel to have an opportunity to do it with little fear of getting caught.

  The two of them had managed a low-level sort of animosity since grade school. It was a state that, while initially his fault, had morphed into a sort of Olympic sport of sheer stubborn will. They’d go months at a time without seeing each other, but no matter how long it had been, their mutual aversion managed to flare high and bright within a matter of minutes of being in one another’s company.

  Even if he’d struggled to ever find a single thing about Charlotte he actually, leg
itimately found distasteful.

  Still, it was their love language, as he’d heard Hadley Wayne jokingly refer to it once. A state that had changed only modestly about six months ago when Hadley’s sister, Harper, had come back to town. Harper had reconnected with several of them when she’d come back to Rustlers Creek from Seattle, and it had put Chance and Charlotte in each other’s way a bit more often than usual.

  Often enough that they’d shared an incendiary kiss still haunting his dreams.

  He’d seen Charlotte a handful of times since that night, but she’d avoided him to just shy of basic politeness, and he’d kept his distance, oddly disappointed they couldn’t even find their way back to the arguing and bickering that had characterized most of a lifetime of experiences with each other.

  Not that it mattered, he kept telling himself. He was focused on reviving his business back from being nearly dead, the damage his late father had done to Beaumont Farms shockingly deep. He needed to focus on the life and business he wanted, not pine away for the cool beauty who’d never be his.

  This trip to Bozeman was a perfect example of why he needed to focus. He’d come in for a meeting with a potential supplier and had sprung for a night in a hotel. A gamble that had been worth it when his long day of meetings turned into a follow-up appointment the next morning.

  The small chain of all-natural grocery stores in Bozeman was expanding, and they wanted a local beef producer they could feature in their stores. Beaumont Farms was in the final running for the deal.

  The celebratory glass of bourbon—the only one he’d allowed himself—was his determined attempt not to be superstitious and to appreciate a good, productive day.

  And then he’d seen Charlotte.

  He didn’t know she was working with the Harveys, but based on the frustration that covered her gorgeous face as she’d marched from the restaurant, Chance was guessing they weren’t working together any longer.

  If they ever had been.

  He’d already signed off his own check and took the last sip of what was left in his bourbon glass and slipped out of his high bar chair. He might have a wild, raging crush on Charlotte, but he also knew when a friend needed an ear. And he was pretty sure she needed one now.

  The Harveys were the only people he knew in the steakhouse, and he was far enough away from them to make an exit unnoticed. In moments he was outside, Charlotte’s retreating form still visible at the other end of the parking lot, heading for the hotel on the opposite end. He picked up his pace and managed to intercept her just as she hit the edge of the lobby.

  “Charlotte!”

  She whirled at her name, her face set in firm lines. “Chance? What are you doing here?”

  “I was in Bozeman for some business today and saw you leave the restaurant.”

  “Oh. Yes, well, my meeting was over.”

  “Not a great meeting, I take it?”

  Although his and Charlotte’s history was fraught at best, he’d only lied to her once, when they were both in the fourth grade. It had made him feel awful and had set the trajectory for their relationship for the next twenty-plus years, but he’d vowed at ten that he’d never do it again.

  Along with never lying to her, he’d also made it his personal policy never to bullshit her. Between her family’s reputation and her stunning looks, nearly everyone he’d ever observed spent their time weaving heaps of bullshit around Charlotte Wayne. And since he’d never been a big joiner—and all that BS felt too close to lying—he’d adopted a sort of Honest Abe vibe around her.

  Plus, he liked her too damn much to insult her like that.

  And God, why did he always somehow manage to forget just how much of a stunner she was? No amount of thoughts or memories ever quite replicated what it was like to be in her company and look at her. The severe cut of her black business suit did nothing to diminish the long, lithe frame and the lean curves he knew were underneath.

  And his memories never quite reproduced the soft look of her skin or the way her high cheekbones set off intelligent, observant, intense brown eyes.

  “The meeting was”—she stopped, and he got the briefest sense she was debating a lie of her own before she sighed—“not the outcome I was hoping for after working really hard to prepare for it.”

  “Why don’t you join me for a drink and tell me about it?”

  “I have an early meeting.”

  He tilted his head toward the bar. “And it’s not even nine. You deserve a vent session, and I’m all you’ve got at the moment. Plus, you barely touched your lone drink at dinner.”

  “You watched me?”

  “You’re hard to look away from, but I was also eating at the bar by myself. You and the Harveys caught my attention, and let’s say I didn’t like Tom’s intense intention.”

  “Caught your attention? That’s your excuse for watching me all through dinner?”

  Despite her accusations, she’d already started toward the bar and Chance followed, taking his first easy breath since he’d seen Tom Harvey lay a hand on Charlotte’s back as the hostess led them to their table.

  He liked Tom. He’d even say Tom Harvey was a good guy. But Chance had seen a hell of a lot of shades of red as the man touched Charlotte.

  They took two oversize leather seats that cornered each other near a small cocktail table. A waiter took their orders—a glass of red wine for each of them—and discreetly disappeared.

  It was only as their waiter walked away that Chance saw the real misery stamped on Charlotte’s face. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  She turned that vivid gaze on him, but her voice softened to a tone she didn’t normally direct his way. “Because I’m not in the mood to get embarrassed all over again.”

  Chance had already admitted to watching her business dinner from a distance. Wasn’t he the one who should feel embarrassed?

  “I’m here to listen. And for the record, nothing you do is embarrassing.”

  “Yeah, well, this is. And I’m guessing you’re here on business, and I want you to get a chance at succeeding. Making an enemy of the Harveys isn’t in your best interests.”

  An enemy?

  “I’m not doing business with the Harveys. So what the hell is this about, Charlotte?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Or haven’t been handling for a long damn time.”

  Their waiter arrived with their drinks, and Chance gave Charlotte an opportunity to collect herself. He wasn’t giving up on this, but he figured he might need to change his strategy a bit.

  Because his head wasn’t fully in the game, nor was the air between them as clear as it once was.

  Ever since the kiss they’d shared six months ago, Charlotte had taken on a sort of mythic quality. She’d always intrigued him—likely more than she should—but that kiss had messed with his head.

  So he needed to tread lightly here.

  But what the hell had happened at dinner?

  While he’d admitted to watching the proceedings, he hadn’t sat and stared at her the whole time. He’d eaten his own meal and shot the shit with a few of the men seated nearby as well as the bartender who’d covered their end of the bar. Had something happened while he’d looked away?

  Chance took a sip of his wine and considered how to play things. It was only when he caught a single tear slip down her cheek that he realized something was really wrong.

  “Please tell me. Whatever ridiculous comments or nonsense the two of us manage to cook up between us, I do hope you count me as a friend.”

  “I do. Which is why this is so humiliating.”

  “I won’t repeat it.”

  Charlotte shifted her gaze then, all that intensity laser-focused on him. He felt her size him up, take his measure. No matter what he’d always believed about himself, it never failed to lift him up that whatever she seemed to see when she looked into his eyes met with some inner approval. He’d felt like that at ten and every time he’d been in her company since.

  It was all sorts of intoxicating, even though it was at direct odds with all he’d ever believed about himself.

  “No, I believe you won’t.”

  She hesitated for another second before seeming to come to a decision. “Tom asked me out for a drink after dinner.”

  “I’d suspected as much.”