Prologue
Kissing the Bull Rider
“So are you going to give me that kiss now?” Rio asked.
“What kiss?”
“The one you almost landed on me when we were sharing a moment over the cake.”
“What makes you think I wanted to kiss you then?” Yvonne parried.
“Because I loved your cake so much?”
She found herself smiling despite herself. “You don’t let things go, do you?”
He pointed at his chest. “World Champion Bull Rider, remember? Focused, tenacious, and successful.”
“And I’m your next challenge?”
He studied her for a long moment. “Yeah. I suppose you are.” He sounded almost as surprised by his answer as she was.
“I’m not a prize to be won.”
“I get that.” He nodded.
“So even if I kiss you because you liked my cake it doesn’t mean you’ve won anything.”
“I understand.”
“It’s just a kiss.” She was no longer sure which of them she was trying to convince.
“Okay.”
He moved even closer, his broad shoulders blocking the waning evening sunlight as his mouth came down over hers in the gentlest of butterfly kisses. Even that was almost too much as she reached blindly for something to anchor herself to. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, and then curved around his neck to keep him exactly where she wanted him . . .
Chapter 1
“Ah.” Yvonne Payet kicked off her shoes, leaned back precariously in her chair and flung her arms wide. “Sunday.”
It was the only day of the week when she didn’t have to get up at four in the morning to start baking for her coffee shop. Of course, she would have to go to bed early for the Monday morning start, but at least she’d had four glorious hours of extra sleep. She led such a glamorous, exciting life....
A tap on the back door had her turning her head.
“Hey, Yvonne! Can I come in?”
“Be my guest, January. Door’s open.” Her apartment was actually above the shop, but she was currently sitting in the stark steel splendor of the industrial kitchen, where she did all her baking. She’d come down to get some croissants out of the pantry, and never made it back up the stairs.
“Hey, girlfriend!”
She smiled as January Morgan breezed in, and took a seat opposite her at the table. Her friend wore her usual jeans, and a yellow Morgan Ranch T-shirt topped with a cozy blue fleece.
“Hey yourself.”
“You ready?” January looked expectantly at her.
Yvonne blinked. “For what?”
“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” January sighed.
“No, I haven’t forgotten. I’m just . . .” Yvonne waved a vague hand around her head. “Okay, I’ve forgotten. Just don’t tell me I promised you five hundred choux buns for your guests at the ranch this morning?”
“Nope. You agreed to come up to the ranch and have lunch with me.”
“Is that all?”
January widened her eyes. “What else would it be?”
“You and Avery have a terrible habit of introducing me to attractive men.”
“That’s terrible?” January did the wide-eyed innocent thing, but Yvonne wasn’t fooled.
“Well, not exactly, terrible, but I’m not really in a position to date anyone at the moment. I work fourteen-hour days, I’m still getting over being dumped by you know who, and I’m picky as hell.”
“Like that’s supposed to stop us?”
Yvonne sighed. “Obviously not. Just because you and Avery are insufferably happy with your Morgan brothers doesn’t mean that you have to try and match all your friends up as well.”
“Yes, it does,” January pointed out. “It’s the rule. We love you, and we’re determined to find a man worthy of you, unlike He Who Shall Not Be Named.”
“Isn’t that Voldemort?”
“You know who I mean,” January said darkly, and made encouraging motions at Yvonne like she was herding chickens. “Go and get ready. It’s almost eleven o’clock.”
Grumbling, Yvonne rose and headed for the stairs. “I’m not going riding.”
“I didn’t say you had to,” January called out. “By the way, do you have any éclairs left over?”
“Pink box on the second shelf in the large refrigerator. It has your name on it.”
“Cool! Thanks!”
Yvonne had already showered, so all she had to do was pick something to wear that she didn’t mind getting ruined at the ranch. It wasn’t the sort of place where you sauntered around in designer heels without getting horseshit all over them.
She carefully applied her makeup, and brushed out her long, dark hair. No jeans because that might create the impression that she was willing to get back on a horse, so capri pants, old shoes, and a striped T-shirt in navy and white.
“Very French,” she murmured to herself, grabbing a jacket and sliding her feet into her favorite pair of old wedges. “Tres jolie.”
When Yvonne got downstairs, January was sitting at the table texting. She looked up and nodded her approval.
“I don’t know how you get ready so fast. You always look so chic.”
“All those years in France at catering college rubbed off on me, I suppose.” Yvonne grimaced at her striped shirt. “Maybe I should put on a beret, and bring one of my French sticks to look really authentic.”
“Or a bicycle and a string of onions around your neck?” January asked helpfully. “I don’t think you need too many accessories.”
“Less is certainly more, especially on a cow farm,” Yvonne muttered as she picked up her purse and put on her sunglasses. “Let’s go.”
She enjoyed the drive out to the ranch, which was just outside the boundary of Morgantown, where she lived and worked. The ranch had been there for over a hundred and fifty years and was still run by the Morgan family. The town—the second attempt to found a settlement in the area—was also named in their honor.
January had come to the ranch to complete her research for her doctorate and had ended up marrying the oldest son, Chase Morgan, who was a Silicon Valley entrepreneur on the side. Chase was also a good man who adored his wife, which made him okay with Yvonne.
“Is Avery going to be there?” Yvonne asked.
“Yup. I think everyone but Rachel is home for a change.”
“Nice. Morgans everywhere.”
January chuckled. “It does get a bit overwhelming sometimes.”
“Yes, all that testosterone in one place.” Yvonne mock scowled. “All those hot, unattainable men.”
“Like you were ever interested in any of them.” January snorted.
“True. I’ve never had a thing for cowboys. I like my men docile, subservient, and beta.”
“Yeah, right. Good luck with finding that around here.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Yvonne said. “I’m just too busy to give some man the attention he thinks he deserves. Running a business is hard.”
January shot her a concerned sideways glance. “You certainly work too hard. Have you thought about getting an assistant?”
“Finding a good assistant out here is like finding a good man now that all the Morgans are taken,” Yvonne said firmly.
“You should ask Avery. She has lots of contacts in the hotel industry.”
“I have asked her.” Yvonne sighed. “It’s the fact that we’re out in the sticks and I can’t pay much that sucks.”
“What about finding someone to train up?”
“I’ve been doing that, but it’s very time consuming. Every time I get them to a decent level of competence, they leave for the big city and I’m back at square one.” Yvonne fiddled with her seat belt. “Want me to get the gate?”
“No need. They’re all automatic now.” January punched in a code. “Chase set it up last week. We’re expecting our first full guest list over spring break, so he wanted to make sure everyone would be secure.”
“Are you excited?”
“Excited and terrified at the same time. I don’t think we’re going to fail, but you never know what’s going to happen when you put horses and new riders in the mix together.”
Yvonne patted her friend’s arm. “You’ll be fine. I bet Chase has a plan for every contingency.”
“He does.” January chuckled. “Including one for an alien invasion, or California experiencing a massive earthquake and us ending up in the sea or on the coast.”
“If I didn’t know your OCD, nerdy husband, I’d be laughing right now, but I suspect he really has got plans for that.”
January drew the big truck up in the circular driveway in front of the old ranch house. It was a Victorian structure with a slate roof, a deep porch, and fancy spiral woodwork. The original barn now housed the new and improved horse stables, and the tastefully designed guest cabins were secreted behind the new welcome center on a downward slope.
Yvonne sucked in a great big lungful of fresh air, and sighed happily as she alighted from the truck. She loved the ranch and enjoyed spending time there. Opening the rear door, she gathered up the pink boxes containing extra lunchtime treats and balanced them carefully in her arms. There were already several trucks parked in the driveway, and one fancy car.
“Who does that car belong to?” She pointed at the Mercedes.
“One of Chase’s partners is here,” January said way too casually over her shoulder. “Didn’t I mention that?”
“No, strangely enough, you did not.” Yvonne followed her friend up the steps to the main house. “Traitor.” She sniffed appreciatively as January opened the screen door. “Ruth’s cooking a roast. My favorite thing to eat on a Sunday.”
“Lamb, I believe,” January said. “With all the trimmings.” She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. “Matt is a really nice guy. I think you’ll like him a lot.”
“Well, look who’s here!” Ruth Morgan, the tiny woman who ruled over the whole Morgan clan, looked up from stirring something on the stove, and smiled at Yvonne. “I haven’t seen you for ages.”
“I’ve been really busy.” Yvonne placed the boxes in the old green 1950s refrigerator. “Business has picked up.”
“It’s the same around here. I never thought I’d live to see the ranch thriving like this.” Ruth lowered the temperature and peered into the pan. “I never thought I’d get all my grandchildren back either. God is very good.”
“Amen.” Yvonne crossed herself out of habit. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Not yet. Why don’t you go into the parlor and keep Matt company while I finish up?”
Yvonne meekly did as she was told. It seemed the whole Morgan family was intent on finding her a new man. . . .
Spice:
