Free Once Upon a Cowboy by Day Leclaire

ranch and get cleaned up," Holt instructed.
    "What about you?"
    "I have work to do."
    "But—"
    He tensed, his hands balling into fists. "Don't argue with me." He'd clearly reached the end of his patience. He took a deep breath, struggling to rein in his temper. "Go to the ranch and get cleaned up," he repeated in a low, stern voice.
    Deciding to follow the prudent course for once in her life, she nodded obediently. "Yessir. And then?"
    "We'll get the cow and calf back with the rest of the herd down by the river. You can join us there."
    "Yessir," she repeated and climbed aboard her horse.
    With a shrill "Hiyah!" she wheeled Petunia around and dug in her heels. The horse took off like a shot. This time, Cami clung to the saddle with all her might. Judging by the look in Holt's eyes, falling off meant death. And most likely a slow one, at that.
    * * *
    Holt watched Cami charge through the bushes and up over the ridge, shiny black curls bouncing against her back. He remembered sliding his hands through that hair and the feel of her curls beneath his hands. The softness had taken him by surprise, the little ringlets twisting around his fingers, clinging and twining so he'd been afraid he'd hurt her when he'd gathered sufficient wits to pull free.
    He also remembered what her mouth had felt like beneath his. Soft. Soft and sweet and welcoming. And then there'd been the rest of her. The scent of her skin. The tiny groan of desire slipping from her mouth to his. Delicate curves pressed tight against him. Breasts as close to perfect as he'd ever laid hands on.
    He'd almost stripped her down and taken her right there beneath the cottonwood. Would she have resisted? Something told him she wouldn't have. Something told him, she'd have given herself to him with the same determination and generosity that had characterized her from the minute he'd first seen her.
    Of course, if nature had taken its course Frank would have gotten quite an eyeful. Then he'd have had to shoot Frank. Frank probably wouldn't take well to having been shot and feel obligated to do something about it. Plus, Holt would have the small problem of the law frowning on ranchers shooting each other. Once upon a time he might have gotten away with it. But today people tended to frown on it.
    He sighed.
    "You've got trouble," Frank said.
    Holt didn't bother denying it. "Big trouble."
    "So what are you going to do about it?"
    "Keeping my damned hands off her might be a good start."
    "A difficult proposition."
    "A painful proposition." They both fell silent for a few minutes. In a resigned voice Holt asked, "I don't suppose you've heard of any decent wranglers looking for work."
    "I put the word out. The few I heard were free I wouldn't have within a thousand miles of my spread. What about those other resumés you received? Isn't there anyone else you could hire?"
    Holt shook his head. "Only one's still available and she's eighty-two. I'd have hired her on the spot, but she's just been released from the hospital following a bout of pneumonia and the doctor won't okay it."
    "Which leaves Tex."
    "Which leaves Tex and all that damned black hair," Holt agreed.
    "And those big blue eyes."
    "Not to mention the dimples."
    "Or the freckles."
    Steel crept into Holt's voice. "Mention those cute little freckles in that tone and I'm like as not to knock you on your arse."
    "You've got trouble."
    Holt yanked his hat low on his forehead. "Big trouble."
    * * *
    Cami walked to the side of the ranch house and into the laundry room. Holt had pointed it out the day she arrived and told her he'd recently put in sufficient machines to service the hands as well as the guests. "Feel free to use it anytime," he'd said. "You'll get plenty dirty working around here." He hadn't been kidding.
    She bypassed a long folding table covered with a pile of heavy duty commercial towels, several pairs of faded jeans and a neat stack of flannel shirts. Crossing directly to the washing machine, she opened the lid