Roping Ray Mccullen. Rita Herron

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      “That’s because you wouldn’t let him love you,” Scarlet said. “You were always angry, acting out.”

      “I had a right to be mad. He cheated me out of his name and that ranch.” The flame flickered low, nearly burning out, and he suddenly dropped the match into her lap. Scarlet shrieked as heat seared her thigh through her skirt, and she raked the match to the floor, then stomped it out with her boot.

      Bobby’s maniacal laughter echoed through the room. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to a standing position.

      Scarlet sensed the situation was spiraling out of control. She had been a punching bag before and swore she would never be one again.

      “Maybe he did when he was alive,” Scarlet said as she yanked her arm away. “But he didn’t forget you, Bobby. He left you something in his will.”

      Bobby’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

      “Didn’t you receive a notice from his lawyer?” Not that she wanted to tell Bobby about it, but she had to do something to defuse the situation.

      His bloodshot eyes pierced her. “His lawyer?”

      “Yes,” Scarlet said, desperate. “I received a notice to attend the reading.” She extricated herself from Bobby’s grip. “Let me get it and show it to you. He took care of you in his will, too. Maybe Barbara got the notice.”

      Bobby cursed, but he allowed her to pass. She heard him in the kitchen digging through her refrigerator, and she rushed to her nightstand. She yanked out her pistol, reminding herself that she couldn’t allow him to turn it around and use it on her.

      She loaded it, then held it down by her side as she slowly walked back to the den.

      Bobby popped the top on a beer as he stepped into the doorway, and she raised the gun and pointed it at him. “I want you to leave.”

      “You bitch.” He started toward her, one fist knotted as if he planned to slug her, but she lifted the gun toward his chest.

      Bobby froze, his jaw twitching. “You were lying about the lawyer and the will.”

      “No, I wasn’t. Ask Barbara. We’re all supposed to attend the reading.”

      Bobby hesitated, still contemplating what she’d said as if he thought she was trying to trick him. “What is this lawyer’s name?”

      “Darren Bush.” Scarlet took a step toward him, her hand steady. “I don’t want to use this, Bobby, but I will if I have to. Now, I don’t have anything you want here. No money. Nothing of Joe’s. And if you want to collect on whatever inheritance he left you, then you need to leave me alone or I’ll either shoot you or have you arrested.”

      Pure rage flashed in his eyes, but he lifted the beer as if to toast her. “Shoot me and you’ll go to jail.”

      “Make one more move, Bobby, and with your record, all I’ll have to do is claim self-defense.”

      Bobby stared at her for a long tension-filled minute, his fury a palpable force. Then he downed the beer, crushed the can in his hand and threw the can at the fireplace. His boots pounded the floor as he strode to the door.

      Her hand was shaking as he paused and turned back to face her. “You’re going to be sorry for pulling a gun on me.”

      His evil laugh rent the air as he opened the door and stormed outside. As soon as the door slammed shut, her adrenaline waned, and she stumbled back to the couch.

      Bobby didn’t make empty threats.

      He would be back for revenge. It was just a matter of time.

      * * *

      RAY PLANTED HIMSELF on a barstool at The Silver Bullet and ordered a beer. Tonight the place was packed, the country music was rocking, the dance floor was crowded and the women were on the prowl.

      He tipped his hat at a brunette who’d been eyeing him ever since he walked in, then dropped his gaze to his beer. He had too many problems to even think about crawling into bed with a woman tonight.

      Besides, another woman’s face haunted him.

      Scarlet Lovett’s. He couldn’t shake their conversation. Worse, he couldn’t erase the image of her porcelain face with those damn blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s dolls.

      Had his father seen that similarity? Was that the reason he’d been drawn to help Scarlet?

      A brawny man with a beard and cowboy hat straddled the stool beside him, then angled himself toward Ray.

      “You’re one of Joe’s sons, aren’t you?”

      Ray swallowed hard. He’d forgotten what it was like to live in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. And Joe McCullen had been well-known around the ranching community.

      “Yeah, I’m Ray.”

      “Arlis Bennett,” the man said. “I’m out at the Circle T.”

      Ray rubbed his chin. The owner of that ranch, Boyle Gates, had been arrested for his involvement in a cattle-rustling ring.

      “I’m planning to expand,” Bennett said. “If you and your brothers decide to sell, give me a call.” He removed a business card from his pocket and laid it on the bar.

      Ray slid it back toward him. “We’re not interested in selling. My brother Maddox plans to keep it a working ranch. And my brother Brett is staying to help.”

      Bennett tossed back his shot of whiskey with a nod. “Well, I just thought you guys might want to move on. That it might be too hard for you to stick around without your father.”

      Ray shifted, uncomfortable. “It is difficult, but the McCullens have put too much blood, sweat and tears into Horseshoe Creek to ever sell.”

      “Then I guess we’ll be neighbors.” Bennett stood and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ray. Again, I’m sorry about your daddy.”

      Ray nodded and shook the man’s hand. But something about the dark gleam in Bennett’s eyes reminded Ray of a predator. Not that he should be surprised that someone wanted to buy the ranch.

      There might be more offers down the road.

      A buxom blonde brushed up against his arm, her eyes glittering with invitation. “Hey, cowboy. Are you lonesome tonight?”

      Hell, yeah he was, but an image of Scarlet taunted him. He saw her beneath him in bed, naked and clutching him, that porcelain skin glowing with passion.

      “Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go.” He threw some cash on the counter to pay for the beer, then strode toward the door, disgusted with himself for being attracted to the damn woman. She was going to wreck his family.

      A gust of wind blasted him as he walked to his Range Rover, and he jumped inside, started the engine and drove to the ranch.

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