Rancher’s Christmas Storm by Maisey Yates

Bidding on a Texan

by Barbara Dunlop

One

Rafe Cortez-Williams opened RCW Steakhouse in Royal, Texas, against his father’s wishes. He was expected to carry on the family legacy, running the cattle ranch that had been in Mustang County for multiple generations. But Rafe had four brothers, all of them highly skilled cowboys, and the ranch felt crowded at times.

So three years ago he made the break.

His brick-fronted steakhouse in the heart of downtown was a local hit from the start. It served tender steaks and juicy burgers charred to perfection along with seafood sides and a few Asian fusion specialties. RCW was considered a prime venue for celebrations and special events, which meant patrons were open to higher-priced indulgences.

Despite his father’s doubts, things had worked out exceptionally well for Rafe—at least they had up to now.

“Decent lunch crowd today?” RCW head chef JJ Yeoh was working at the long gas stove top in the center of the big kitchen. He spoke over the sizzle of steaks and sautéing vegetables, and the clatter of pans and dishes as the kitchen staff efficiently prepared dozens of meals.

“We’re completely full out there,” Rafe replied, swiftly stepping to one side as a waitress passed by carrying two sizzling T-bones with all the trimmings. “I don’t think the brand’s been tainted…at least not yet.”

“None of the scandal is on you,” JJ said. He glanced up from where he was spicing a skillet of shrimp. “All you did was invest in a good cause—generously.”

“Our name was strongly attached to Soiree on the Bay. There’ll be blowback. Don’t you doubt it.”

JJ, always an optimist, gave a shrug. “People still like to eat.”

“People can eat at other places.”

“Ahhh, but not like they can eat here.” The chef turned his attention back to his cooking, stirring the mixture in the hot skillet, releasing a spicy aroma that made Rafe’s stomach growl.

JJ was right about that. But in the end, it might not matter.

Because if Rafe couldn’t pay the second mortgage, not even his top chef’s signature sambal shrimp dish was going to save him. But he didn’t have the heart to tell JJ about the company’s true financial peril.

The noise level ebbed and flowed as waitstaff came and went with meals and baskets of homemade sourdough bread. A busboy entered through the far door to deposit a load of dishes with the washing staff. On a busy day like this, it was important to get the tables bused quickly and set up for the next party. Rafe hated to leave people waiting in the foyer.

“I’m going to take a walk around. See you in a bit.”

JJ gave a nod, most of his focus on his cooking as he started on the next order.

Rafe like to do a circuit of the dining room every half hour or so. He wasn’t the kind of owner who intruded on the customers’ dining experience. He liked to think he had an innate sense of who wanted a hello, who coveted a brief chat and who wanted to be left alone to enjoy the company at their own table. The clues were in people’s expressions and their body language, but mostly in their eye contact.

He was particularly cautious with couples. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt a romantic evening for two. Those were sacrosanct. Not that he’d had one himself in the past while.

Rafe made his way down the short kitchen hallway and into the main dining room. His restaurant was set up in three separate sections, and the sections were further divided by strategically placed wooden pillars and narrow, glass-fronted carved wood cabinets. The layout cut down on the ambient noise and gave diners additional privacy.

He checked the front dining room first with its muted lighting, rich wood panels and open wine racks.

He approached a party of six. It looked like a multi­generational group, and he guessed the older man at the head of the table was the host.

“Good afternoon,” he said, taking in the whole table. “I’m Rafe Cortez-Williams, owner of the RCW. How are you enjoying your meals?”

The party looked to be about halfway through dining.

“Delicious,” the older man said with a grin, gesturing to his plate that held a thick rib eye steak. “What’s the secret to your baked potato?”

“A touch of cayenne,” Rafe answered. “Gives it a little zing.”

“I liked that little zing,” the man responded.

Rafe looked around at the other diners to see if they had anything to say.

A pretty blonde woman who looked to be in her twenties lifted her blown crystal goblet and gave it a rock. “These are deliciously dangerous,” she said.

“Is that the guava cranberry or the raspberry?” Rafe asked.

“Guava cranberry.”

“That’s one of my favorites,” he said. “Would you like another?” As he asked the question, he discreetly signaled behind his back for the waitress.

The blonde woman looked to the man sitting next to her.

“Go for it.” The man answered the question in her eyes with good humor. “I’m driving.”

“It’s a family reunion,” a woman to the right of the older man said.

Rafe assumed she was his wife.

Their waitress, Shirley, arrived by Rafe’s side.

“I believe this woman might like another guava cranberry blend,” he stated, raising his brow at the woman in a question.

“Yes, please,” she laughed.

“Enjoy your meal and the rest of the reunion,” he said to them all, leaving them in Shirley’s hands.

Smiling to himself, he moved on, stopping at a few more tables before he entered the southern dining room at the back of the restaurant.

Rafe swiftly scanned the vicinity from the doorway, barely believing what he was seeing. Gina Edmond, the only daughter of oil magnate Rusty Edmond, had graced RCW in person.

Though Rafe had never met Gina, he knew the gorgeous and glamorous heiress on sight. She was Royal’s most pampered princess, and RCW was definitely not her usual haunt.

It hit Rafe then why she was here. She couldn’t exactly show her face at the Texas Cattleman’s Club right now. Not after that colossal scandal that had rocked the town.

At the center of that scandal was Billy Holmes, the man who was at the very least a close friend of the Edmonds, and possibly Gina’s secret half-brother. Billy had disappeared with millions of dollars of investment in the Soiree on the Bay festival. And by all accounts, the Edmond houseguest had not only doomed the festival to failure but was directly responsible for bringing some of the local businesses to bankruptcy.

The last person Rafe wanted to chat with was Gina Edmond and…his attention moved to her dining companion. It was Sarabeth, Gina’s estranged mother. Well, not so estranged anymore since Sarabeth had returned to Royal and was planning her wedding, a very expensive yacht-board wedding, proving the Edmonds weren’t suffering in the slightest from the financial ruin of Soiree on the Bay.

A waitress slipped past Rafe, and he reminded himself to get on with business. Gina was here. She was a customer, and he’d be professional if it killed him.

Gina Edmond was aware she’d spent her whole life on the gilded social glide path that came with being Rusty Edmond’s only daughter. Rusty was a legend in the Texas oil business, a prominent member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, and a mover and shaker in the Royal Chamber of Commerce. For twenty-six years, Gina had been treated with automatic respect and had enjoyed the advantages of her family’s position.

But her glide path had come to an abrupt halt.

The family was no longer venerated by their fellow citizens and TCC members. Instead, the Edmonds were all treated with suspicion, even though they’d had nothing to do with Billy’s crimes. Her family had been duped along with everyone else, and they’d suffered for it.

“After the false accusation about Asher…” her mother, Sarabeth, was saying from across the dining table. “And now Billy and the missing money on top of it all. You kids have way too much on your plates. I wonder if we should postpone the wedding.”

“Don’t you dare postpone!” Gina countered. Her stepbrother, Asher, had been exonerated of the embezzlement charge and was out of jail now.

Gina was looking forward to the wedding. She’d been estranged from her mother since she was eight years old. She’d been angry for most of those years, but she’d since learned about her mother’s troubled past. And after getting to know her mother these past few months, the rift between them was healing. Sarabeth deserved her hard-won happiness with local rancher Brett Harston.

“It seems…” Sarabeth was clearly searching for the right word.

“It seems wonderful, exhilarating and inspirational,” Gina finished for her. “It’s just what the community needs to take their minds off the disaster. Everyone loves a happy ending.”

“I feel selfish,” Sarabeth admitted, looking unconvinced.

“You’d be selfish to cancel,” Gina countered.

She wanted her mother to be happy, but she honestly believed the rest of her sales pitch as well. Royal needed a distraction, and the wedding would provide it for the four hundred guests on the invitation list, covering many of the TCC members and most of the families and businesses that had been hurt by the cancellation of Soiree on the Bay.

“You think so?” Sarabeth asked.

“I know so.” Gina reached out to pat her mother’s hand. “And if you’re going to worry about anything,” she joked, attempting to lighten the mood, “worry about me getting a date for the wedding.”

Sarabeth waved away Gina’s concern. “You can get all the dates you want and then some. Look at you!”

Gina knew her looks were fine. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she thought she had a decent sense of humor. And if her grades were anything to go by, she was reasonably intelligent. She’d earned a bachelor’s degree in business administration from Texas Southern. Still, she’d never truly clicked with a boyfriend, and she already knew most of the men in Royal.

“You can’t stick to such a strict list of attributes,” Sarabeth said, taking a thoughtful sip of her chardonnay.

Gina leaned forward to lower her voice. “I don’t have a list of attributes.” That said, she supposed she did have a few general criteria she’d look for in a man. Honesty, for starters, as well as someone who was honorable, funny, successful or, she supposed, more like happy in their chosen career. She wasn’t a snob about money.

“Who would be perfect?” Sarabeth asked. “Toss out a name.”

Gina didn’t have a name.

Just then she caught sight of a tall, dark, broad-shouldered man in a finely cut jacket chatting with the diners at another table. His smile was bright white and beautiful. His dark eyes were warm and friendly. And judging by the laughter from the four people sitting at the table, he had a good sense of humor.

“What about him?” Gina asked, giving a discreet nod.

Her mother looked over her shoulder. She stared for a moment then turned back, a worried expression on her face. “Uh… Gina…”

“Shhh. He’s coming over.”

The man strode their way, looking self-assured and in his element. But as his gaze met hers his brown eyes hardened. His beautiful smile disappeared, and his jaw went taut.

“Ms. Edmond,” he said, giving her a curt nod. “Mrs. Edmond,” he said to Sarabeth.

“Hello,” Gina murmured in return, puzzled by his attitude.

“I’m Rafe Cortez-Williams, owner of the RCW.”

Recognition jolted Gina like a splash of ice water.

RCW was a major sponsor of Soiree on the Bay. Rafe had been among the biggest financial losers in the festival debacle. And he blamed her. Or at least he blamed her family for his loss.

“I hope you’re having an enjoyable lunch.” His friendly scripted words were at odds with his hostile demeanor.

“Everything is delicious,” Sarabeth said in a perfectly amicable tone.

Gina shot her mother a look of confusion. Why was she kissing up to the guy?

“I’m very glad to hear that. Please, enjoy.” And then he was gone, off to the next table where he smiled and treated them to the compelling glow in his gorgeous eyes.

“Unfortunately, not the guy for you,” Sarabeth said.

“Why were you so nice?”

“Rafe lost a big chunk of money. He deserves to be angry.”

“It wasn’t our fault. It was Billy’s fault…maybe.” They didn’t even know that much for sure.

“And if Billy’s your half-brother?”

“We don’t know he did it, and we don’t know for sure he’s Dad’s son.”

Sarabeth lifted her glass again, gazing contemplatively at the pale wine. “Remember, I was married to your father back then.”

Gina took a drink of her merlot, needing it. She’d gotten past the squirming discomfort at discussing her father’s infidelity with her mother, but it was far from her favorite subject. “Antoinette Holmes admits she also slept with other men.”

“Maybe,” Sarabeth said, looking unconvinced by that detail.

“Back to your wedding,” Gina said, wanting to move her thoughts past Billy and well past Rafe Cortez-Williams, since he was obviously far from her perfect man. “Let’s talk about your hair…”

Sarabeth easily switched topics. “What do you think? Up or down?” She gathered her blond hair at the back of her neck and pulled it up to demonstrate.

As they delved into an in-depth discussion about hairdos, veils and age-appropriate wedding gowns, from the corner of her eye, Gina caught another glimpse of Rafe. She tried to ignore it, but he snagged herattention—his square shoulders, confident walk, that thick head of lustrous dark hair…

He might be all wrong for her, but he sure was smoking hot.

“Gina?” Sarabeth prompted her.

“Hmm?” She gave herself a little shake.

“I like the idea of tea-length. I don’t want to dress up all frothy like some dewy-eyed ingenue.”

“Do they even use that term anymore?”

Sarabeth chuckled. “Ingenues? Maybe not. But you know what I mean.”

“We need to go talk to Natalie Valentine,” Gina said, referring to the owner of a local bridal shop.

It might not be her own wedding, but she was excited about planning her mom’s. Maybe someday it would be hers. Her thoughts went back to Rafe for a split second before she banished him. Sure, he’d look good in a tux at the front of church, but there was a whole lot more to a marriage than a guy who could rock the wedding.

“I am marrying a rancher,” Sarabeth mused. “What about country rustic?”

“But you’re marrying him on a yacht. Maybe go for a classic or elegant style?”

Sarabeth closed her eyes.

Gina couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing to the archway that led to the front dining room. Rafe was on the other side of it in the distance, and she gazed at him for a minute longer, thinking there was no law against looking.

“I’m thinking tea-length, slightly A-line,” Sarabeth said, opening her eyes. “Ivory silk, maybe a thin organza overlay and flat lace on a sweetheart neckline with cap sleeves?”

“That’s a very detailed picture.”

“Can you see it?”

Gina could see it, and it was beautiful. She smiled. “Yes. Not too froufrou, but formal enough for the opulent surroundings.”

“That’s it!” her mother said, sitting back. “Next, we do you.”

Sarabeth left to meet her fiancé, Brett, while Gina stayed behind to take care of the RCW tab. She hesitated over the tip amount. She wanted to be generous to their waitress, but she was afraid Rafe might see a large tip as flaunting the family wealth, especially in light of the collective losses of Royal businesses from Soiree on the Bay.

Then she laughed at her own foolishness, realizing Rafe would never even see the tip. What were the chances he went through a day’s credit card receipts? Slim to none. She tipped big and punched in her PIN.

There. Done.

She came to her feet, smoothing the front of her sleeveless black-and-white dress and slipping her olive green handbag over her shoulder. She walked with confidence in her jungle-patterned pumps. The spike-heeled shoes weren’t made for long walks, but they did great things for her calves, and they’d get her as far as her Jaguar convertible.

As she rounded a polished wood pillar near the front foyer, a man stepped unexpectedly out in front of her. She stumbled, nearly falling into his chest.

His hands came out, grasping her upper arms to steady her, and she looked up to find it was Rafe. Strong hands, handsome face, sinfully sexy lips…

Gina told her brain to shut up already.

“Sorry,” he said, then obviously registered who she was. He let go of her like she was contagious, that frown reappearing on his face.

“My fault,” she said, because it was, and she didn’t have to like him to tell the truth. “I was in a hurry.”

He glanced into the dining area behind her. “Your mother?”

“Left to meet with her fiancé.”

“Ah, yes, Brett Harston.”

“Right. You would know Brett.”

“Ranching fraternity.”

Rafe didn’t look much like a rancher. His face was tanned a deep brown. His hands were broad and strong, but she hadn’t felt thick calluses on his fingertips like most ranchers’.

She wondered how long it had been since he rode the range on his huge family ranch.

“I haven’t seen you in here before now,” Rafe drawled, his watchful gaze betraying his assumption. He’d concluded she was persona non grata at the TCC. He was right, but that didn’t excuse his rudeness.

“Are you trying to start an argument?” she asked bluntly.

“No…yes…maybe.” There was a hint of amusement in his expression along with what seemed like a flare of admiration for her grit.

She might have laughed at the comeback if he wasn’t being such a jerk. “We were victims, too, you know. Just like everyone else.”

His dark brows went up in obvious amazement. “You?”

“Yes, me.”

“The Edmond princess, a victim of financial misfortune?” He made a show of peering out the front window to the parking lot. “Let me guess which car you’re driving.”

“Well, that’s irrelevant.”

He took his time looking over her designer outfit. “Where, exactly, are you going to have to cut back, Princess?”

Her clothes were expensive, sure. But, again, irrelevant. “Don’t call me that.”

“It fits.” He waited a moment. “You don’t have an answer, do you?”

“An answer for what? For you being so rude?”

“On where you’re personally cutting back. Give me one concrete example of the festival embezzlement impacting your exclusive lifestyle, and I’ll apologize unreservedly.”

She didn’t have a quick answer for that.

“That’s none of your business,” she huffed.

He laughed at that, a full, rich sound.

“Well, clearly nothing’s changed around here yet,” Gina pointed out, glancing around at the bustling staff and the upscale decor.

Rafe sobered. “You can’t see what’s happening under the surface.”

“You can’t see what’s happening under my surface, either.” The Edmonds might not be in an immediate cash crisis, but their reputation had been savaged, starting with Asher’s arrest and then with Billy’s disappearance. And the fallout from that was just beginning.

Never mind that she and her brothers felt honor bound to try to fix the mess. She’d never admit it to someone like Rafe, but she did feel some responsibility for the catastrophe since it was her family that brought Billy into the community.

Rafe considered her for a minute. Up close, her initial attraction to his looks, his powerful presence and his graceful movements grew even more potent. She felt hot and prickly with awareness of him as a man.

“You want to show me?” he asked, his low, deep voice reverberating around her.

She was taken aback by the question. It could be interpreted in a whole host of different ways, some of them extremely seductive. Her face and neck warmed with her reckless thoughts.

“Hang on,” he said. “I didn’t mean it that way…”

She didn’t know what she hated more, that he seemed to be able to read her mind or that she seemed to be able to read his.

“I didn’t think you did,” she answered tartly, willing her hormones to calm the heck down.

“Then why the blush?”

“I don’t blush.”

“You’re blushing now.” He was making it worse.

“I’m angry now,” she said.

“Why?”

She didn’t have a quick answer for that either, but she tried her best. “Because…because, you’re being so rude!”

“Me?”He feigned surprise.

“Yes, you.”

“I only asked about the more subtle impacts of the embezzlement situation on your family.”

She narrowed her eyes, not buying his innocent act for a moment. “Yeah, right.”

He shook his head pityingly. “Oh, Gina. You’re so used to men falling at your feet in abject adoration that you don’t recognize anything else.”

She wasn’t. She didn’t. She hadn’t just done that…

Had she?

Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.