The New Cowboy at Miller Ranch: Miller Brothers of Texas Prologue Page 2

  Huh. Samuel wondered what that was like, having someone to go home to. Someone who missed him and needed him there. He’d been a spare wheel for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be wanted.

  That thought lingered in his head as he headed back to the main house. Aunt Annie was right there, her wrist in a cast, kissing his cheeks and looking at him like he was her own son, all safe and sound and back in her home.

  “Are you hungry? I’ve made dinner.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

  She let out a dismissive sound. “It was simple. Nothing too exciting. Come now, eat!”

  He followed her to the dining room and was surprised to see there were already a few people there. He recognized Bart, but other than that everyone else was a stranger. Workers, maybe? Part of the extended family that was all just generally called “cousins”? He didn’t know, but it didn’t seem to matter because then they were praying, and then everyone was eating, and it was so wonderful, cozy, and welcoming.

  He didn’t say a lot, but there weren’t any awkward silences. Aunt Annie caught him up on any family news he didn’t know already, and the others talked amongst themselves. The only one as quiet as him was Bart, which was nice. It made Samuel feel like it wasn’t an obligation to join the conversation. That he could just sit and listen and absorb, and that was alright too.

  It all wound down eventually, and he managed to convince Aunt Annie to let him take care of the kitchen and dishes, then he was heading up to shower and go to bed.

  But as he went to bed, he couldn’t help but think about the difference between this warm, cozy place and home, and how home seemed more like an empty, oversized house in comparison.

  2

  Samuel

  Samuel found the chores charming in a quaint sort of way. Old-fashioned. It allowed him to shut down his brain and just be with nature. The animals. His own hands. The morning passed quickly and before he knew it, he was eating the lunch Aunt Annie had packed for him—packed for him! What a trip!—in the loft of one of the barns.

  It was a simple thing. A roast beef sandwich with some sort of spicy cheese and mustard on it, plus an apple. There was also a thermos inside that was still icy cold thanks to the impressive ice pack she’d placed in there, which was pretty refreshing after his hard work.

  No wonder all of his cousins stuck around. He could see himself getting used to the simplicity of it all, but then he batted that idea down as soon as it rose up. He didn’t belong at the Miller Ranch; he was just on loan for a while.

  Most of the time it felt like he didn’t belong anywhere.

  Oh well, that was probably mostly just his own awkwardness to blame.

  He finished his lunch up quickly then went back to the animals. Then, after that, there were some fence posts that needed mending by the pig area. According to Benji, there was always some area of fence that needed fixing somewhere, so there was always something to do.

  All of it was… nice.

  The sun was high, it was hot enough for him to work up a good sweat but not so hot that he felt like he was going to die. The breeze was flowing, and the pigs were all eyeing him with their oddly intelligent gaze.

  There was something different about Uncle and Aunt’s animals. Something brighter… happier? Maybe they weren’t hippies so much as just really kind people. Maybe… they were on to something.

  His dad didn’t really view kindness as a good thing. Not unless it had a direct profit.

  Samuel’s nose wrinkled at that word. Profit. His whole family’s lives seemed to revolve around it. He found it empty, making him feel hollowed out and starving, like he was trying to live on breadcrumbs when all his body wanted was meat.

  “Aw, come off it,” he growled to himself. He hated when he got like this, all introspective and sour. There was a reason that his dad always called him a softie. There was a reason he wasn’t set to inherit the head of the business. He was… weak. Unsuited for their growing corporate empire.

  He didn’t know what to do to get himself out when his thoughts started to spiral, it was always such a slippery slope, one that left him feeling more alone and useless than when he started. But before he was launched off that cataclysmic edge, a noise distracted him.

  What could that be?

  Samuel had never been much of a brawler, but it distinctly sounded like the breath being driven from someone as they hit the ground. Hard. Had one of the workers taken a fall?

  Concerned, he stood up and looked around. He didn’t see anything, but the pigs were at the bottom of a small crest of hills. Not really big enough to be any trouble but just big enough to block his view.

  More strange sounds came to him and his curiosity rose. Standing, he wiped off the sweat of his brow and followed it, hoping he didn’t find one of the workers hurt, or some other bad accident. He knew the Millers took care of their employees, but accidents always meant insurance spikes and insurance spikes meant lost money.

  Or at least that’s what his dad had told him.

  He crested the hill and realized the sound came from inside a glen of Aunt Annie’s mini orchard. Just like she’d told him, it wasn’t the full deal, but it was large enough for her to make all the pies and jams that she liked to every season.

  Drawing closer, he stepped over a line of blueberry bushes and finally saw what was making all that noise.

  And it was about the last thing he expected.

  Two women were fighting in the middle of one of the gaps, several other women around them. Full-on fighting, with punching, kicking, and attempted takedowns.

  Samuel blinked multiple times, his brain trying to figure out what was happening. Both women were blond, tall, and muscled like Amazonian warriors. One wore a simple white tank and sweats while the other was in a pretty blue camisole and shorts that were much shorter than Samuel was used to seeing on someone with thighs that were so well… equipped.

  Both of the women were glistening in the sunlight, dirt and sweat speckling their skin as they moved. And boy did they move, like a couple of apex predators sizing each other up and going at it.

  The slightly shorter one lunged, trying to get her arms around the other. Then he saw the taller one raise her hands over her head, clenching them together in a double fist. He knew what was going to happen instantly, and even though he didn’t know why the fight was happening, he knew he needed it to stop.

  He hated seeing people hurt.

  He rushed forward, no plan on what to do, but then everything was happening at once.

  Hand outstretched, he had intended to put space between them. Maybe free the shorter woman from the bigger one, but before he could touch either of them, the smaller woman whipped around, grabbing his arm and flipping him right over her strong back.

  He hit the ground hard, driving the air from him—that was exactly the first sound he had heard. Groaning, his head spun, and he blinked up at the woman.

  “Who the heck is this?” she asked, leaning over him.

  Samuel was all set to tell her exactly who he was and ask who the heck she was when his vision cleared, and he got a good look at the woman.

  Oh…

  She was unearthly gorgeous in a way that absolutely wasn’t fair, with him on his back and her looking down at him with a nonchalant sort of curiosity.

  Hazel eyes with thick, thick lashes fit into a heart-shaped face. Her lips were full and a pretty gradient of dark pink to an almost pastel color. A riot of blond curls stood in a mane around her head, glistening in the sun behind her. She looked like a vintage movie star, like a Marilyn Monroe, all feminine and pretty in a way that just wasn’t fair.

  “I’m Samuel,” he managed to say. “What’s going on? Why are you fighting?”

  “Fighting?” her full lips grew into a wide smile, exposing an adorable little gap between her front teeth. “Oh, I see how ya got that impression now.”

  “Geez, Virginia, would you help the man up? I’m pretty sure that’s one of Ba
rt’s cousins.”

  “Oh no, a Miller?” the woman’s eyes went wide in shock. “Aw geez, please don’t sue me.”

  She offered her hand and Samuel took it, still a little sideswiped by the situation. He let her help him to his feet, and on the way up he didn’t miss her impressive biceps.

  “Sorry about that,” Missy said once he was up. “You walked in on the middle of our self-defense class.”

  “Self-defense class?” he parroted, feeling like an idiot.

  But if she thought he was, Missy certainly didn’t let on. She was as charming and welcoming as always—albeit a bit sweatier than when he usually saw her.

  “It was Sophia’s idea, actually, after I taught her, she said that it helped her with her confidence, so I asked some of the ladies if they were interested. What you saw was me and my star pupil here showing them how to do a couple takedowns.”

  “Your pupil?” Was he ever going to stop repeating things? He felt like an idiot. But he also wasn’t sure what was the proper, polite way to act after catching two very beautiful women fighting each other in a pretty impressive way.

  “That’d be me. Virginia. Nice to meet you, uh, again. I want to reiterate that ‘please don’t sue me’ part.”

  It was the shorter woman who spoke, sounding mischievous in a charming way that reminded him of one of his younger brothers. He turned to look at her and tried pretty hard not to be struck by her looks again. He wasn’t a teenager; he knew how to respect women.

  But it was hard not to miss her natural hourglass shape. The way her waist tucked in then flared out into an impressive set of thighs. Bart had once told him that Missy could crush a watermelon between her muscled legs, and he was absolutely sure that Virginia would be able to do the same.

  And why was he picturing that so clearly in his head?

  “I won’t sue you,” he said without thinking. “I’m sorry I interrupted.” He really did feel stupid about that. Of course, there wasn’t some strange female fight club in the middle of his cousins’ ranch. Self-defense lessons made way more sense. If he had just stopped to think for a moment, all of it could have been avoided.

  But Virginia just laughed and clapped him on the back. “Well, if you’re gonna be a good sport about it, I don’t have a problem throwing you any time you’re in a mood to be pitched.”

  She beamed at him and her smile was blinding. Geez, she was gorgeous and in such a completely natural, easy-going way that he just felt more embarrassed than ever. Sputtering another apology, he excused himself and said he had to get back to work.

  He left quickly, feeling apprehension along his shoulders. Ugh. He really was awkward. It wasn’t that he was normally intimidated by beautiful women; he knew plenty. But what he’d never experienced was coming across two gorgeous and capable women brawling it out in the middle of a field and one of them smiling at him like he was her best friend.

  Shaking his head, he told himself to get over it. It would make a good story later, but it wouldn’t be polite to let his thoughts linger on the rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath or the way the sweat on her neck had trickled down her collar bone—

  No. That wouldn’t be polite at all.

  3

  Virginia

  That strange guy was watching her again.

  Not in a creepy way. No, if he was doing that, then she would just walk right up to him and clean his clock—rich or not. It was more of a curious or baffled thing. Like the way a driver’s eyes were always drawn to a car wreck on the side of the road or how a zoologist might observe an animal in the wild. No malice or anything that made her uncomfortable, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t intense.

  And that intensity made the hair on the back of her neck stand up whenever she realized he was around and staring at her. Whenever she’d turn, he’d always look away or busy himself, but she wasn’t an idiot.

  Well, maybe a little bit of an idiot because she did literally flip a millionaire over her back.

  She hadn’t even thought about it when it had happened. She’d been fighting with Missy, showing the women how to freestyle a bit after doing so many structured exercises in a row, and then something had been rushing towards her. She’d reacted on instinct, and the next thing she knew, she was staring down at a ridiculously handsome face.

  And she meant handsome.

  It had taken quite a lot of self-control not to gape at him like a teenybopper because man the guy was pretty. His skin was smooth, with only a slight bit of that cowboy stubble that was always far more attractive than it had any right to be. His hair was a thick, dark chestnut and a little messy from whatever work he had been doing. His chin was chiseled and tanned, in perfect balance with those cheekbones.

  But it was his eyes that had made her swallow. They were that classic Miller-green. Bright and burning and staring at her with an intensity that she wasn’t used to. Sure, she’d been fielding off too-eager men ever since she hit puberty and got all womanly, but he wasn’t looking at her like that.

  She didn’t have words for how he had been looking at her.

  And she hadn’t found any since.

  Virginia was aware that it should probably unnerve her that he was always looking at her, but it didn’t. It just made her… curious. Who was he? Was he angry that she had somehow bruised his masculinity by flipping him? He didn’t seem like the type… but then again, with rich folks it was impossible to tell.

  Granted, he was a Miller, and the Millers were about the nicest people she knew.

  “You’re staring at that man again,” Chris said teasingly from beside her. The two of them were fixing a storm drain that had gotten damaged in the last storm, but she’d paused in the middle of her duties.

  “Excuse you. He’s staring at me.”

  “I told you that you should stop wearing those tanks around. It ain’t decent.”

  “Chris, you’re lucky your mama is my mama’s best friend. Otherwise, I’d knock you off this roof right here and now. You’re wearing a tank right now.”

  “Yeah, but that’s different.”

  Virginia rolled her eyes and—even though she knew that idiocy was going to come out of his mouth—she found herself asking anyway. “And how is it different?”

  “I mean, that’s pretty obvious. You’ve, uh—” She saw him making a specific gesture around his chest and growled. Whipping around, she chucked one of the nails from her bucket at him.

  “You’re disgusting, Chris. You know that? Go do something else before I climb down the ladder and find your Ma.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Virginia glared at the young man. She knew she gave him far too much slack, but he was eighteen and stupid while she was thirty and… slightly less stupid. “Get. Now.”

  “Fine, fine. Whatever. Just wanna protect my big sis is all.”

  “I ain’t nobody’s sis,” she snapped, her mood softening ever so slightly as he clambered down the ladder.

  Except that wasn’t entirely true. She wasn’t blood-related to anybody at the Miller Ranch, but they had pretty much all adopted her.

  It’d all started with her mother, who’d stumbled onto the ranch while she was in a bad way, her fiancé had just up and left her with no warning. The Millers had taken her in, given her a job, given her insurance, and then welcomed Virginia with open arms once she popped into the world. They’d even paid for Virginia’s college in a far-away state, and they hadn’t been mad when she quickly found out that wasn’t for her and returned to work full-time with them.

  It wasn’t that she was dumb, it was just that everything she wanted out of life was already on the ranch. She loved animals and getting dirty and riding around on four-wheelers. She liked fixing things and coaxing food up from the earth and helping people and pretty much everything else that came with ranch life. She loved the community of it. The welcoming. Even if she did have trouble with Chris sometimes, or the seasonal workers who weren’t around as often, it was still her famil
y.

  …he was still looking at her, wasn’t he?

  Turning her head fully, she caught him brushing out the fur of one of the working dogs around the ranch. But as soon as he realized she’d spotted him, he ducked his head and hurried away, Peter Barker following quickly after him, tail wagging.

  Curiouser and curiouser.

  Returning to her work, Virginia wondered if she’d ever get the courage to confront him on exactly what he was looking at.

  It turned out that Samuel Miller, of the McLintock Miller Corporation, was one fast son of a gun.

  It made sense; he certainly had the legs for it, but after nearly a week of trying to confront the man on his weighty gaze, Virginia found herself in the situation of having spoken exactly zero words to him.

  If it were any other situation, she would think he hated her. But it wasn’t hate she saw in his expression. Not lust either. It would have been easier if it were either of those because those she knew how to deal with. The only reason she wanted to talk to him was because the intensity of his gaze was paired with things that she just couldn’t read.

  And that was frustrating to her.

  She had gotten used to people being relatively predictable. Relatively being the key word. But this Samuel guy seemed to be confounding everything, and she didn’t think it was just because he was from Texas.

  Although Texas folks were pretty strange, as it were.

  Finally, she saw her chance. She was just heading into the grub house, but later than usual, when she saw him over by the pole barn, fixing the rotating blade of a thresher.

  He was concentrating on his work, his tongue slightly sticking out between his lips and his brows furrowed. He looked a right picture. She bet that if she walked up on him he wouldn’t notice her until she said something.

  So, she waltzed over to him as quietly as she could, musing to herself that Benji was going to have nothing to do when he came back if Samuel kept on going. She almost didn’t think that it would work out, that he would sense that she was coming and just vanish in a puff of smoke.