Cowboy Dragon Read online

  “You think you bigshots are such hot shit. Living out here like you own the whole range.”

  “I do. This land is mine, and I aim to protect what’s mine.”

  They were like hyenas, moving forward a step, then back, then forward again, just within punching range of Harrison’s fist.

  He was deciding which one was going to get it first when a large man appeared from the still-settling dust. Not as big as a dragon, but tall and built, a wolf alpha like Reno.

  Wexler, the current leader of the gang.

  He had dark-blue eyes, short black hair, and was wearing a beat-up Stetson with a denim jacket like he was somehow above the rabble he ran around town like thugs.

  Wexler tipped his hat. “You dragons all ready before the spring storms hit? Would be a real pity if you lost a few hundred head if your pastures weren’t secure, wouldn’t it?” His fake niceness grated on Harrison even more than the drunken hollering, when he knew the man’s heart was black as tar.

  “Is that a threat, Wex?” Harrison tipped back his hat, but there was none of the politeness in his bearing.

  If they wanted war, he’d sure as hell give ‘em war.

  “No, never.” Wexler laughed, and several of his men joined in nervously. “Just some friendly neighboring. You know, just stopping by to see if you needed a cup of sugar or some eggs.”

  “And breaking my shit and scaring my cattle to high hell while you’re at it.”

  To the left, some of the Copperheads were starting to get up in Reno’s face, feeling bolder about hassling a fellow wolf than playing games with the much bigger dragons. Reno shoved one off while another came behind him, throwing a punch. Before it could land, though, Beck grabbed both the Copperheads and threw them into the clearing before looking back at Harrison with an audible grunt.

  Harrison nodded back. As the leader of the crew, it was his job to make sure things didn’t escalate further than they’d already gone. To watch the mood and be in control at all times.

  Not that three dragons, a tiger, and an alpha wolf couldn’t kick these devils into the dirt and beat them senseless with ease. But sometimes that was what lowdown folk like these guys were looking for—a fight. Like rabid dogs waiting for an excuse to bite back.

  Harrison wasn’t going to give them what they wanted unless he really had to. Because at the end of the day, he cared about his crew, his land. Experience had taught him that stirring up trouble just led to more trouble.

  He looked over his shoulder to make sure Marian had stayed put, glancing at the front porch.

  And then his heart about fell out of his chest when he saw that the annoying woman was no longer there.

  Instead, she was charging down the steps, looking as angry as a bucking stallion and sexier than she had any right being.

  “Whoever you guys are, you need to leave, right now,” she said loudly, jabbing a finger at the rabble-rousers and putting her hands on her hips. “You have no right.”

  Harrison couldn’t help smiling at the little hellion. He was literally the last person in the world that needed help defending what was his, especially from the likes of her. But it was as amusing as it was badass to see that she wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Badass and utterly reckless.

  A woman unlike any other.

  The wolves didn’t move an inch. Instead, they grinned amongst themselves and leered at the newcomer with mean smiles and evil in their gazes.

  “What, is the Dragonclaw Ranch so hard up they have to hire women to do their dirty work?” one of the men closest to Marian said.

  Suddenly, Harrison wasn’t smiling anymore. Marian was a dozen feet from him right now, but she wasn’t his problem, his employee. Not yet anyway.

  But if she wanted to get into trouble, frankly, that was her fault, he told himself.

  Three men sidled up to Marian, who kept her ground even as the much bigger guys circled like a pack of… well, wolves.

  Even Wexler had a glint of something in his eyes that was starting to make Harrison’s blood burn.

  “Is this what the legendary Harrison has come to? Hiring little city slickers like this piece of work because you can’t run things on your own?” Wex called out.

  Marian’s gaze shot to Harrison, and he saw the confusion in her hazel eyes for a moment before they narrowed to anger.

  Looked like the cat was out of the bag.

  “Harrison?” He could hear the sudden realization in her voice, and he would have found it amusing if the wolves around her weren’t more interested in creeping on her than they were in the silent duel of wills he was having with the woman that had appeared in his life with a silver coin and a personality like nails.

  “Come back to our place, lady. We’ll show you a much better time than these tired-ass cowpokes.” The closest man grinned down at Marian, practically licking his lips as he did.

  Another raised a hand, nearly touching a lock of her chestnut hair. “Come work for us. You can polish my—”

  Harrison’s fist flew forward as he covered the distance between him and the man about to touch Marian in an instant, unable to hold back anymore. The wolf yelped as knuckles met jaw in a crushing blow that sent him flying back twenty feet into the caravan of vehicles.

  He’d tried to be patient. Tried to be cool. But he would rather die than let these damn Copperheads touch even a single hair of the woman that he was feeling unnaturally protective of.

  In the exact same moment, he heard a barely audible scuffle of feet, and like a blur, Dallas had yanked the other man away from Marian, grabbing him by the neck and holding a glinting bowie knife to his throat as he sputtered for mercy.

  The third wolf reached for something behind his back, but Clancy appeared on Harrison’s other side with a familiar click of steel. Before he could even grab whatever he’d been hoping to brandish, Clancy had a polished revolver trained on him in an instant.

  Clancy clicked his tongue. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you, son.”

  The wolf raised both hands to the air in placation. Good call, considering Clancy was a legendary gunfighter as well as horse wrangler.

  Beck and Reno were at his side in moments as well, the five of them standing between Marian and the Copperheads, ready to spill blood if it was what they were looking for.

  The sky was blue and pale orange above them, the last remnants of sun fading as the courtyard went deathly still. Harrison spotted several men, hands on guns, ready to draw. Others had backed away, afraid they were biting off more than they could chew. The drop of a fucking pin could be heard, everything was hanging at the precipice of violence.

  Harrison let out a harsh breath. He’d almost lost it completely and shifted into a fire breathing, world-ending monster. And he’d do it in an instant. But for now, Marian was safe, glaring at him with fire in her eyes that meant she was far from done with him.

  He was far from done with her too.

  “Get your men off my property and leave my people alone, and nobody else gets hurt.”

  There was a pause as Wexler considered his options. Then he grinned, showing sharp canines as if something about this amused him. “Ah, so she is working for you after all.”

  “What she is to me is none of your business,” he growled.

  “My apologies for the friendly intrusion.” With a nod, Wex hopped into his custom dirt buggy, making the shocks creak as he did. “Best keep an eye on your back. Never know what’s going to bite when you’re not looking, Harrison.”

  “Nothing I can’t smash underneath my boot if needed,” Harrison replied darkly.

  He wanted to charge into the group of men just so he could find the first fucker and punch his lights out all over again. Wanted to show all of these lowlifes exactly what happened when they messed with Texas dragons.

  But as the wolves piled back into their cars and Dallas finally released the wolf he’d had the knife on, Harrison just nodded at his men with approval.

  For now, Marian was safe. T
hat was all that seemed to matter in the moment.

  Even his crew seemed to know that too, and they quickly dispersed, going back to whatever they’d been doing before the Copperheads had shown up.

  Leaving Harrison alone in the dusty center of the ranch with a certain someone that seemed intent on making his life worse—but at least more interesting—with each passing moment.

  He finally turned to look down at Marian, who had her arms folded as she angrily tapped her foot. He tried to hold back a grin, and that just seemed to make her angrier, her eyes creasing as her full lips turned down in a frown.

  Time to face the music, he supposed.

  “So when exactly were you going to tell me that you’re Harrison?”

  5

  Marian was furious.

  The smirk on the man she now figured had been Harrison all along just made her angrier.

  Who did he think he was, jerking her around and telling her over and over about the mysterious Harrison when he could’ve just been square with her?

  It almost pissed her off as much as needing to be saved from those creepy Copperhead guys. She thought telling them to leave would work. She’d been genuinely bothered on the behalf of this tight-knit crew of men that seemed like good, honest people, not bothering anyone.

  Not that they’d needed her help after all.

  She could still remember the jerk in front of her, about to get up in her business, when Harrison had flown in front of her like some overprotective beast defending what was his.

  Marian felt a little thrill of something zing up her spine, remembering the flex of his muscles, the poise of his body, that killer instinct, and the dominance to make everyone else around practically turn into docile sheep before him.

  Harrison made for the house, and she followed, feeling an odd sensation that someone else was hovering nearby.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Dallas, eyeing the surroundings and following her around like her old Labrador used to when she was six.

  “You can cool off, tiger. The lady’s fine for now,” Harrison said without looking, and Dallas finally sheathed his ridiculously large knife, gave her a surprisingly friendly nod, and walked off in the opposite direction.

  Marian tried to keep in step with Harrison as he opened the door to the ranch house and beckoned her in.

  “Ladies first.”

  “I thought Dallas hated strangers?” she asked, simultaneously annoyed and pleased by this cowboy’s good manners.

  She came inside, and the smell of aged wood and a well-kept home filled her senses. The house, though definitely lacking for decoration, had sturdy wood floors and light-blue painted walls. Like the ranch itself, it was both too old to call it new but too well kept to not enjoy the rustic feel of the place.

  “Not anymore, apparently. You’re the first human he’s ever taken kindly to in…” He paused, intense blue eyes getting a distant look in them. “Well, ever.”

  “Human?” she asked.

  “Person,” he corrected with a wave of his hand, pulling what looked like a handmade chair up from a large, round oak table for her to sit at, which she took.

  One thing she loved about the place was the wall-to-wall windows, their shutters open, giving her a splendid view of the wild, open ranch out to the west. It was almost dark, and Harrison hit the lights as he looked down at her from that towering height of his.

  “So are you actually Harrison?” She folded her arms, feeling guarded whenever he watched her in that certain way that seemed to say, “I own everything I look at.”

  And he’d been watching her a lot.

  He nodded. “I am.”

  “You mean his son, right?” She had to crane her neck just to look up at him. “My dad met Harrison years ago.”

  “Something like that, yes.” He walked to the sink to fill a glass of water, so she couldn’t see the expression he made as he did it. To her surprise, he plopped it down in front of her. “Drink.”

  She did, downing the whole thing in one go. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since so much had happened in so little time.

  “You eat recently?” He gave her a stern glance.

  Marian said nothing. As a curvy girl, what was another excuse to hold off a meal? After all, there had been those Cheetos…

  Her silence did nothing to placate him, though, and he went straight to a large fridge off to the side and grabbed the first thing he saw, unwrapping the foil and putting it on a plate along with another glass of water.

  A big sandwich, like the kind you get from a restaurant, but homemade.

  “Eat,” he demanded, hovering until she picked up the sandwich and took a big bite before he moved to a chair across from her and sat himself heavily in it.

  The chair creaked, and she wondered how men this big even fit in normal furniture.

  The sandwich was delicious, with sliced beef and cheese and just the right condiments, and her hungry body felt instant relief as she ate.

  Across from her, she watched as Harrison munched a pretzel from a handful he must have grabbed when she wasn’t looking. Seeing his huge hands, watching the way his muscles moved in his shirt—which was even more open since the last time she’d looked—was an entirely delicious experience along with the sandwich, but in a different way.

  She wanted to be angry with him, but all she felt was relief.

  That still didn’t mean she trusted cowboys, though.

  “This wasn’t someone else’s sandwich, was it?” she asked, halfway finished already.

  “Nobody important,” he said, pulling the silver coin out of his pocket and laying it on the table between them.

  “So what about the Harrison that gave my pa this coin? Do I need to meet with him and figure this out?”

  “There’s no one else here that runs this ranch, so you’ll be dealing with me,” he said in a way that brooked no further questions about the matter.

  So he’d lost his father too, she assumed.

  It made sense. Being a cowboy was a hard life, with daily dangers the likes of which most people never had to consider in their comfortable world. Thunderstorms, fatigue, accidents, stampedes, spooked horses, snakes.

  In that moment, Marian finally respected Harrison. How he’d been able to keep going after loss. It was hard not to relate to someone when they’d been through the same things as yourself.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  His expression was unreadable, utterly calm, so she just took another bite.

  There was a long pause as he watched her, studied her. Like a wrangler waiting to see if a colt will buck its first time around the track.

  “So about you working here…” He finally spoke.

  She dropped the sandwich, too excited to hold back. “So you’ll let me stay?” She planted her hands on the table.

  “Hold your horses a damn minute,” he replied, sounding annoyed but with a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Speaking of horses, first off, do you know how to ride?”

  “Yes. Well, sorta. Dad taught me how to a long time ago, but it’s been a while.”

  “Good, because you’re as good as useless to me if you can’t.”

  That riled her up good. She wasn’t useless. “There’s a lot of other things I can do too.”

  “Like what?” The amusement in his voice only got her angrier.

  Then she quickly went over the odd jobs she’d had as an adult in her mind.

  Store clerk. Call center. Receptionist. Nanny. At the time, it was whatever could pay the bills, but suddenly, she realized none of those things had much to do with raising cattle or ranching.

  “I’m good with my hands,” she said firmly, not to be outdone by this presumptuous, sexy man.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” His blue gaze caught fire for a moment, and Marian felt her body heat up as he looked past the stubborn facade she wore straight down to the woman at her core.

  She didn’t look away but knew she wouldn’t be able t
o keep eye contact much longer for fear of melting.

  Suddenly, the front door flew open, and both of them relaxed back into their chairs like nothing had happened as heavy footsteps brought a towering Beck into the kitchen. His gray eyes went from her, then to Harrison.

  If Harrison was built like a champion stallion with the title of finest thoroughbred in Texas, Beck was built like a freakin’ Clydesdale that could pull five wagons all by himself, a wall of sheer brawn and muscle.

  “Updates?” Harrison asked, all work and no play right now.

  “That beater you had us pull in from the road is as good as toast. At least until I can get a new radiator and find the parts it needs.”

  “What? Freddie? No.” Her heart sank. She’d had that car for years. And at least up until now, it had never let her down.

  Freddie wasn’t going to be the gallant, sacrificial horse at the end of some western movie. She’d get him fixed and get her freedom back.

  She looked up at Beck. “How much work do you—”

  But she was interrupted as Beck went to the fridge and opened it, then bellowed so loud it felt like it shook the whole house. “Who ate my goddam sandwich?” With rage in his eyes, he looked toward the front door. “Reno!?”

  Beck stormed off, making the floor shake as he rumbled away, leaving the two of them in silence again.

  “Should I tell him?” she asked nervously. If she’d known the sandwich was Beck’s, she would have definitely not accepted it.

  Then again, Harrison was the one that had offered it.

  “Nah. He’ll figure it out eventually.” Harrison grinned calmly, though she felt anything but calm in the moment.

  There was more yelling and the sound of bodies scuffling outside. But she couldn’t listen longer because another man was walking in, the click of polished western boots and spurs preceding the model-handsome Clancy.

  He took off his white Stetson as he entered, showing perfectly trimmed wheat-blond hair that fell around his collar and was swept off his face. He had deep, emerald-green eyes and full, red-hued lips that looked like they wore a smirk everywhere they went. The kind of man that other women probably threw themselves at.