A Cowboy of Her Own. Marin Thomas

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      “Sure.”

      “I’ll see you then.”

      Wendy wove through the parked cars and hopped in one of those gas-efficient vehicles that looked as though it belonged in a Matchbox car collection. Not until she drove off did his arm begin to throb again. Unless he wanted Wendy to put in her report that his bum shoulder interfered with his ability to drive the rig, he’d better hightail it home and ice the injury.

      No way was he losing his job over something a nosy claims adjuster—a pretty one at that—put in her report.

      * * *

      WENDY WAS STILL blushing after her talk with Porter at the rodeo. Why her friend’s brother made her nervous was anybody’s guess. Sure, he was good-looking—all the Cash brothers were handsome—but Porter wasn’t her type. According to Dixie, he didn’t want to grow up. He was more interested in partying and working only when he needed money to fill the gas tank or treat a buckle bunny to a night on the town. Wendy was Porter’s polar opposite. She was a go-getter and a stay-later at the job.

      Even though they were different, Wendy had felt a tingle in her stomach when Porter’s gaze roamed over her body. She preferred serious, career-minded men, but there was something appealing about Porter’s laid-back attitude—not that she would ever do anything unprofessional with him.

      As if you’d ever get the chance.

      A girl could indulge in a fantasy or two, couldn’t she? Porter gravitated toward the well-endowed buckle bunny cheerleaders who screamed his name at rodeos. Voluptuous was not an adjective anyone would use to describe Wendy. Thanks to her Asian genes, her petite body lacked pronounced curves.

      She pulled into the parking lot behind her parents’ flower shop and entered through the back door. “Hi, Mom.” Her mother was hard at work. “Are these the centerpieces for the ladies’ auxiliary banquet?”

      “Where have you been? I thought you were helping me today.”

      “I had to take care of a few things at the office.” Wendy hadn’t told her parents she’d be riding along with one of Buddy Davidson’s drivers because they’d worry. They agonized over everything—her safety, her diet, her job and her single status. Lately she’d begun wishing she didn’t live next to them. They shared a duplex that her parents had purchased in the ’80s. Although the low rent allowed her to put a substantial amount of money into savings each month, Wendy yearned for her privacy. Whenever she suggested she look for a new apartment, her parents became upset and changed the subject.

      Wendy threw on an apron. “How many arrangements do you need to make?”

      “Twenty-five.” Her mother pointed to the table against the wall. “I’ve finished ten.”

      Wendy selected several sprigs of greenery and copied her mother’s design. When she finished, she held up the vase. “Good enough?”

      “Perfect.”

      They worked in comfortable silence for a half hour before Wendy spoke. “I’m traveling on business next week.”

      “Where to?”

      “Colorado. I’m documenting livestock drivers for our annual report.” No need to explain that she’d be monitoring just one driver. Her parents were old-fashioned and wouldn’t approve of her being alone with a man, even if that man was her friend’s brother.

      “You’ve never done that before.”

      “My boss believes it’s important that I have a good understanding of the transport process when I’m working claims for missing or injured livestock.” The less her mother knew the better. Wendy didn’t want word getting out that American Livestock Insurance was doing their own investigation into Del Mar’s missing bulls after the sheriff’s search had stalled out.

      Buddy Davidson had been with American Livestock for fifteen years and had never had a bull go missing until a few months ago, when he’d filed claims for three. If that wasn’t suspicious enough, Wendy had interviewed Glen Fenderblast, Buddy’s ranching neighbor, and he’d said that Buddy had his eye on buying a bull named Happy Hour worth $1.2 million. The payout on Buddy’s missing roughstock would cover half the cost of the new bull. Before Carl Evans, Wendy’s boss, cut Buddy a check, he wanted to make certain that Del Mar Rodeo wasn’t trying to swindle its insurance company. The ride-along was their last chance to uncover any information that might be useful to the sheriff’s case.

      Wendy had her doubts that Porter was involved in any illegal activity since he’d been hired right after Buddy had reported the lost bulls, but she had to be objective and look closely at everyone who worked for Del Mar Rodeo.

      “Is there a promotion in this for you?” her mother asked.

      Wendy had been promoted a little over a year ago, a fact that her parents frequently forgot. “I doubt Carl is ready for me to take over his job.”

      As an only child and a daughter, she felt the weight of her parents’ high expectations of her. The constant pressure to climb the proverbial career ladder was overwhelming. She wanted more out of life than working twelve-hour days.

      “Is the company paying for your motel room?”

      “Yes.” Wendy finished a second arrangement and placed the vase on the table.

      “When are you leaving?”

      “Monday morning. I won’t return until the following Sunday.”

      “You’ll check in with us.” It wasn’t a request or suggestion—it was an order.

      “I’m twenty-six years old. I shouldn’t have to report my daily whereabouts and activities to my parents.”

      “Then find a husband and get married so he can worry about you.”

      Grrr...

      “By the way, your father’s taking one of his suppliers to dinner tonight and he’d like you to join them.”

      Not again. Wendy wished her dad would stop playing matchmaker. Even though her parents had been born in the United States, they clung to their traditional beliefs and wanted their only child to marry a hardworking, dedicated Chinese man so there would be no cultural clashes in the family. Wendy walked a fine line between two worlds, struggling to balance embracing the American way of life while still respecting her Chinese ancestry.

      Unbeknownst to her parents, she had lost her heart in college to a classmate at Arizona State University. Tyler had been spontaneous, adventurous and exciting. They’d dated almost a year when Wendy found out by accident that he was engaged to a girl in his hometown of Tucson. The two-timing jerk had broken her heart and left her gun-shy when it came to serious relationships.

      After graduating from college, she’d returned to Yuma and dated Asian men her father had selected for her. Polite, educated and dedicated to their careers, the men were everything her parents believed important. But none of them had made her heart stumble or her pulse quicken. Wendy wanted to marry a man she fell in love with, not a man her parents believed she’d be compatible with.

      Wendy had grown up watching her parents toil in the flower shop seven days a СКАЧАТЬ