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  Stud in Texas

  Calista Fox

  Book 4 of the Rugged and Risque series.

  Sky returns to her hometown of Wilder, Texas to escape a con man trying to get his hands on her money—and her body. She has sworn off men, but taking a job at the Painted Horse Ranch & Inn lands her in the middle of a mission to rescue mistreated horses, and a studly former Marine turned cowboy who’s too mouthwatering to resist.

  Sam has his hands full at the ranch and doesn’t need any distractions. Yet one look at the breathtaking beauty who wanders into his stable, and he’s hooked. Getting all hot ‘n’ heavy with Sky comes with a price. The con man’s not willing to give up his target, and Sam will do anything to keep Sky safe.

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Stud in Texas

  Calista Fox

  Author Note

  I’m so happy readers have asked for Sam’s story, following his introduction in book three of the Rugged and Risque series, Cougar in Texas. I’ve received a lot of emails regarding this series, and it has been great fun to write. This is book four and, yes, I do intend for there to be a book five as the evolution of Wilder, Texas continues!

  I’d like to thank one fan of the series in particular, Linda B. She was my beta reader for Stud in Texas and gave me the title as well, to tie in the horse aspect of the Painted Horse Ranch & Inn. It was such a pleasure connecting with her on this story. And, of course, I wouldn’t enjoy writing this series without my wonderful editor, Bree.

  Finally, in this book, I pay respect and homage to some amazing Texas icons, both living and dead, may the latter rest in peace.

  I hope you enjoy Sam and Sky’s story!

  Chapter One

  “Reese, honey, are you on drugs?” Skylar Travis demanded in her clipped southern accent. She tore her gaze from the elegant inn and the lush lawn sprawled before her and pinned her best friend with a hard glare.

  “Of course not,” Reese scoffed.

  “Well, you’re smokin’ something, girlfriend.”

  “Come on now. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Still intact, I assure you.” Sky bristled a moment at the bizarre predicament she’d suddenly found herself in, then added, “You and me—we’ve done some crazy shit during our time on this Earth together, but I am telling you right here and right now that I am not the woman for you.”

  Reese Middleton smirked, her tawny eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m not askin’ you to marry me, Sky.”

  “Oh but you are inviting me into that big ole house to do something with you that I am just not capable of doing.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Reese demanded, “How difficult is it, really? You know you want this. You’ve fantasized about it since high school—and kept it a secret from everyone but me. Now’s your big chance to fulfill the dream.” She winked suggestively. “You, me, an inn with ten rooms and a walk-in cooler full of whipped cream…”

  “You have a twisted little mind.”

  “Now dammit, Sky. You’re a gal who’s been there, done that when it comes to every expectation people have had of you. It’s time to let the horses run free, sugar. Time to follow your own heart, not someone else’s idea of who you should be and what you should be doing with your life.”

  Sky stared incredulously at her. “When you called, I thought you were asking me to come to town to bake some cupcakes for your bed-and-breakfast, or something. This is not at all what I expected—even from you.”

  “I sold the B&B a while back, when you were in Nashville. I live in a cottage down by the lake, on this property. And my dearest friend, you are so far beyond birthday-party cupcakes, it horrifies me to even think that’s the notion that ran through your head. This is a shot at something grandiose—the ovens at the dessert station in the inn’s kitchen are all yours!”

  “I don’t know, Reesie.” Doubt tinged her voice. “I make wedding cakes for the Luckenbach Dance Hall in a community of, like, twenty-five people.”

  “Let us not forget, that’s a world-famous dance hall. Brides and grooms come from all around to get hitched there—and to have their cakes designed by a celebrity.”

  “I am not a celebrity.”

  “Oh please. When you were just sixteen years old, you won a statewide singing competition and performed the National Anthem at a Dallas Cowboys football game—that alone made you a star in everyone’s eyes here in Wilder. Nobody loves Friday night lights like we Texans, so singing at a Cowboys game is more exciting than performing at the Grammy’s.”

  She had a point.

  “That wasn’t all, though,” Reese said. “Waylon Jennings heard you and introduced you to a record producer. As soon as your CD released, you opened for him on his last tour, before he passed on. God rest his soul.”

  Ritually, both women dropped their heads, closed their eyes and gave a moment of silence for the dearly departed Texas icon.

  Reese added, “After that, you made a movie. And not just any ole movie, you played Silver Monroe’s best friend—she’s won as many Oscars as Meryl Streep. You also won an award for your role. Not to mention, you were wanted for a movie starring Patrick Swayze before he passed on.”

  Another moment of silence, this time for their favorite actor.

  “You’re actually depressing me,” Sky said. “I sound like a black widow. Well, except that Silver’s happy and healthy. About to marry some gorgeous world-champion surfer named Kolby Marx. She’s invited me to the wedding in Hawaii.”

  “And you’ll be there with lots of other famous people, I bet.” Reese continued recapping Sky’s career for her with bright-eyed enthusiasm. “You also lived in New York for a while and danced in the chorus line for a Broadway show. Then, to top it all off, you became a Las Vegas showgirl. People around these parts were so thrilled to know you, the Wilder Star put your picture on the front page—sparkly costume, full headdress and all. Why, you’re the most glamorous person we know.”

  Sky rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

  “You’re just too modest for words. And what about touring with that super-hottie Casey James?”

  “I was just a backup singer, for Pete’s sake.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Least he’s still alive.”

  “You think you’re some sort of bad curse?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.” For good reason, of late.

  “Let it continue right on out of your head, Skylar Travis. Good Lord, if I had half your singing, acting and dancing talent… Well.” Reese’s brow furrowed. Her mouth turned down at the corners. “I still would’ve stayed in Wilder and bought the B&B.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Guess I’m the type who needs roots. But you.” She picked up momentum again. “You were meant to roam for a while. Then come back home, where you belong.”

  “I don’t really belong anywhere,” Sky lamented with a stab of loneliness. “And I haven’t got the faintest idea what to do with the rest of my life now that I’ve allegedly been there, done that.”

  “You were offered another recording contract.”

  “By a snake in the grass who’s just after my money,” she reminded her friend.

  “Well, there are some seedy characters out there.”

  A violent shudder chased down Sky’s spine. “More than you know.”

  “Anyway, my whole point is that you are a nationally recognized name and most definitely a Lone Star State celebrity.”

  “Whatever. Can we get back to the issue at hand?”

  “And you’re the preferred baker for the dance hall.”

  Sky groaned. “Stop shinin’ me on.”

  Reese didn’t appear the tiniest bit contrite.

  “Look,” Sky said, “much as I love Luckenbach, it’s a ghost town. I
t’s like, nine acres, with just a few old Wild West-type buildings for some light commerce. It doesn’t even have a ZIP code anymore, because the Post Office shut down in the ’70s—supposedly because the owner collected the few pieces of mail as they came in and saved up for one full mail run, which occurred so infrequently, it wasn’t worth sending mail there in the first place. It ended up outdated by the time it was delivered to the intended recipient.”

  Sky had heard all the stories the first few weeks she’d moved there—most of them tall tales, all of them extraordinarily entertaining. She’d had to weed out the actual truths from the colorful yarns the locals liked to spin. The small community was filled with more interesting characters than you could shake a stick at, and Sky had enjoyed getting to know them.

  In turn, they’d oohed and aahed over her—for all of a day. Then they’d all but forgotten her wee bit of fame. Most of them had met Waylon and Willie and the boys during various Luckenbach engagements back in the day, so she’d become more shiny new penny than local celeb, since she was nowhere near on par with the legends that made the town notorious.

  Continuing, Sky said, “Since the damn tourists have stolen most of the road signs to keep as souvenirs, people get lost in Hill Country because none of their ‘sophisticated’ GPS what’s-a-ma-who’s-its can compute farm-to-market routes. Yes, the place does pack in a nice crowd with the weekend concerts, but still. It’s just a tiny dot on our state map. Nothing extravagant about it.” Her gaze slid to the grand building before them. “And you want me to be a pastry chef at this inn?”

  Reese rocked back on the heels of her boots. “Yes, I do. We’ll be partners. You’ll handle the fancy goodies I haven’t the slightest idea how to create, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Come on. You’ve always wanted to move back to Wilder. Here’s a prime opportunity!”

  “Or excuse?” She eyed the other woman speculatively. “Let’s be honest, Reese, I am not the be-all-end-all everyone thought I’d become.”

  “That’s your own personal opinion.”

  She snickered. “You are so biased. I haven’t done anything to warrant the star treatment I receive when I come back to town. Especially lately. Face it, Reese, my star has burned out. I’m in Luckenbach for a reason. Waylon had it right in his song—it’s a laid-back state of mind I currently embrace. Just me and my cakes. You really think anyone in Wilder is going to find that glamorous?”

  “They’ll appreciate the fact that you’re actually doing what you want.” Reese studied her a moment, then asked, “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Nashville when you were recently offered that second recording deal?”

  She sighed. “The recording deal was as shady as the people offering it. They are the very reason I hightailed it to Luckenbach. I’m not interested in rolling in the muck with a bunch of con men.”

  “Couldn’t Casey help you out? Or even Waylon’s widow, Jessi Colter? You two hit it off when you toured with her husband. Surely they know the difference between legitimate producers and shifty ones.”

  “Let sleeping dogs lie, Reesie. I’m not even interested in making another CD right now, anyway. I only agreed to meet with the supposed up ’n coming ‘label’—ha, ha, joke’s on me—because of that good-lookin’ son of a bitch Mac Willett. Some manager he turned out to be.” And an even worse boyfriend. Hell, the latter wasn’t even a word she could bring herself to associate with him anymore.

  Asshole was about the only description that fit him. Well, that and criminal. By a lot.

  It pricked her nerves to have been blindsided by his bright white smile and clean-cut, all-American looks. Actually, the mere thought of him did more than prick her nerves. Anger flashed through her, but she kept herself in check, saying, “Bottom line is, I’m happy in Luckenbach. So thanks for the offer, but…no thanks.”

  Reese made a soft tsking noise. “Oh, Sky. You know better than to say no to me. Just makes me more determined to cajole you until you start singing my tune.” She took Sky’s hand and tugged on it.

  “Cajole is not the word I’d use when it comes to you. Try nag me to death.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Reese said with a wicked grin. She tugged harder. “I’m the only one who knows what you really want—and it involves more than cake baking. This is the perfect place to master your desserts and write that recipe book you’ve always wanted to. So let me give you the grand tour.”

  Sky dug in her boot heels. They’d been friends since early childhood and Reese truly did know Sky better than anyone. But how on Earth had she come to the conclusion that Sky would know what to do in a kitchen that likely served hoity-toity desserts a novice such as herself knew very little about?

  Like petit fours. What the hell were they, anyway? A miniature confection or an appetizer? The French had complicated the fuck out of that one with the different varieties and numerous serving possibilities.

  “Reese,” she said, “this appears to be a very regal-looking, fine-dining type establishment. I make cakes that are shaped like armadillos, wagon wheels and stagecoaches.”

  Her friend laughed. “You’re the one who taught me how to bake. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know the egg white from the yolk. So relax already.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Reese pouted and batted her lashes. “Just try it for a couple of months, until I find someone who would actually enjoy working with me?”

  “Low blow, Reese.”

  “Hey,” she said, the pout vanishing. “I’ll resort to the lowest of lows to talk you into this. Stoop so far down, I have to stare up at you.”

  “Better get on your knees, honey. We’re the same damn height.”

  “You’re really not helping your plight any,” Reese said in a droll tone. “Aren’t you listening to me? I am willing to do anything. So just have a look around. Meet the staff. Let me introduce you to the owner of the newly opened Painted Horse Ranch & Inn—not to mention the love of my life. His name is Caleb Bennett. I did show you the ring, right?”

  “Nearly blinded me when the sun hit it. I am too envious to even ask how many carats that sucker is. It’s a wonder you can even lift your hand.”

  Reese beamed. “He does spoil me. And boy-howdy, I forgot to mention the best part about this gig I’m offering—Caleb has a brother.” She wagged her chestnut-colored brows. “Former Marine and just about the sexiest damn thing in Wilder, Texas. My fiancé excluded, of course.”

  “Now you’re just plain pushing my buttons.” She tore her hand from Reese’s vise grip and added, “In fact, I’m getting back in my car.”

  “Skylar Travis,” Reese said as she stomped her foot on the gravel drive. She always used Sky’s full name when she had a serious point to make. “There is nothing wrong with letting your friends help to better your situation. I know this personally. If it weren’t for Nadine Sadler, Jess and George Mills, Ryan and Ginger Bain, and Jack and Liza Wade, I never would have given Caleb the time of day, ended up madly in love, way over that lying, cheating ex-husband of mine—Tommy—and now the manager of this beautiful inn.”

  Sky tried to keep up. “Ryan, the reverend’s nephew, married Ginger, Wilder’s lingerie princess? And perpetually single Jack tied the knot? Who’s Liza?”

  “A crazy New Yorker who actually threw a dart at a map of Texas and impulsively moved here. And guess what? She ended up one hellaciously happy woman because of it.”

  Sky’s eyes narrowed on Reese.

  “Just sayin’,” came her friend’s sassy retort.

  Sky folded her arms over her chest once more. A warm spring breeze ruffled the leaves on the voluptuous trees dotting the ranch in clusters and blew strands of dark-auburn hair about her shoulders and face. She paid them no mind.

  She asked, “How am I so far out of the loop?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?” Reese countered. “’Cause it’s a very simple scenario of you letting that sidewinder you
called a boyfriend and manager crush your cell phone under the tires of his ’57 Cadillac convertible.”

  “I didn’t let him. Asshole”—ah! his new nickname—”took it from my purse. I searched for weeks and finally found the bits and pieces on the dirt road about a half mile from my trailer in Luckenbach, after he’d paid me an unwelcomed visit there.”

  She’d explained to Reese what she’d surmised had happened to the phone when Reese had finally called the dance hall to locate her, since she obviously wasn’t returning messages without it.

  Truth be told, Sky had been lax about keeping in contact with her Wilder friends over the past few years. Nothing like the class of 2000’s Most-Likely-to-Rock-the-World falling so miserably short, she was hiding out at the neverending cowboy-and-music fest that was Luckenbach, baking her cakes.

  No, she hadn’t failed financially. She’d raked in plenty of cash with her various jobs—and now Mac Willet was after a hefty amount of her nest egg. And she would concede that she had, indeed, amassed a modicum of notoriety. Was, in fact, the most famous daughter, sister and friend in Wilder. But Sky had never excelled at anything… She’d gotten by. Had earned a stamp in her career passport for the things everyone her whole life had claimed she ought to do, given her gregarious personality and what they’d always considered immense talent.

  In reality, Sky was a Jill of most trades—not a born superstar. There wasn’t one single thing that she did so exceptionally well that she’d call herself successful at it, except those damn wagon-wheel cakes. But she loved baking, so she couldn’t complain there.

  Beside her, Reese urged, “Check this place out with me. Puh-leeeeze?”

  Sky sighed. “Exactly how much energy do you intend to put into wearing me down?”

  Reese snickered.

  “That’s what I thought.” She threw her hands up in the air in surrender. “Fine. Show me around. But I’m not interested in meeting any former Marine stud. I’ve been through more men than Erica Kane.”