Beau Luckadeau stomped the brakes of the three wheeler and jumped off, anger boiling up from some where down deep in his scuffed up cowboy boots. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at the skinny, short stranger’s back on the other side of the fence. The fool held the reins of a jet black horse and was looking out across the pasture at several white faced heifers and his prize Angus bull that nobody ever borrowed for free, not even his best friends or his favorite neighbors.

“You idiot. That’s my stud bull you’ve cut this fence and let through,” he continued to rant as he passed through the tangled barbed wire, ready to strangle the man who must’ve been hired at the Lazy Z Ranch which bordered the Bar M Ranch. Jim Torres had hired very few dummies in his life, and when he did, they didn’t last long. This man would be riding his big black horse into the sunset before night fall when everyone found out about him cutting the fence and letting an Angus bull in with a herd of thorough bred white-faced cattle. If Jim Torres didn’t fire him on the spot then Lucky fully well intended to string him up in the nearest oak tree. The man must have rocks for brains to deliberately cut a fence and let an Angus bull in with pure bred white face cattle.

Milli heard a commotion behind her and turned to see if Alice Martin or maybe even Buster had come to help her. Lord, but her grandfather, Jim Torres, was going to have a hissy fit seen only in the front gates of hell if that big Angus critter actually bred one of these cows. Thank goodness the big black bruiser was just eating grass and didn’t seem to be interested in the cows milling around him.

She’d only arrived yesterday to help Poppa Torres while he was getting over hip-replacement surgery. A cut fence and a big, mean Angus bull in the pasture wasn’t exactly what she had in mind for her first day’s work. She turned abruptly, expecting to see Buster or Alice, waving their hat and sending the bull back into his own territory on the other side of that fence.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Milli gasped when she saw the man, yelling at her instead of the bull. “And why in the hell did you cut the fence and let that stupid Angus bull in with Poppa’s pure breed white faced heifers. Don’t you have any sense at all. Well, apparently not!” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Poppa will have a stroke if he finds out that big, dumb animal got close to one of his cows. Wait ‘til he tells Alice that she’s got a cowhand that don’t know pure breeds from culls. You just as well crawl up on your play pretty back there and go pack your bags, ‘cause Alice Martin is going to fire you by nightfall.” She pointed at the three wheeler he rode in on and shook her finger under his nose, amazed that she could utter a single word to the blonde haired man in front of her. Just how in the hell did he get from Louisiana to Oklahoma and why did Alice Martin hire a drunk like him. One thing as sure, he could pick up his paycheck and ride off into the sunset because he’d just pulled the damnedest stunt in history.

Lucky stopped dead in his tracks, not three feet from the stranger who turned out to be a feisty, medium height girl instead of a short man. Her brown eyes were flashing just as much anger as he felt in his own steel blue eyes. She jerked her hat off in the middle of the tirade about Jim getting mad about the bull, and hair as black as the bull grazing in the pasture, fell down to the middle of her back. Her lips were full and sexy and her eyebrows arched in anger. A tingle on the nape of his neck said he’d met this hell cat somewhere before, but he damn sure didn’t know where.

He might be a sucker for dark hair and big, brown eyes, but no one was cutting his fence and using his prize bull without paying stud fees. To be threatening him on top of her stupidity was adding insult to injury, and Lucky wasn’t in any mood to explain to this upstart female that the Bar M was his ranch now, not Alice Martin’s.

“Don’t you lie to me. You’ve cut this fence and thought you’d take advantage of my prize bull.” He pointed his finger at her. “That bull is worth a whole pasture of those ignorant cows and I don’t let him breed nobody’s cattle for free. Not even Jim’s — even though he’s my neighbor and friend.”

“Get back on your land.” She slapped his finger away. “And don’t point at me or yell at me again. I didn’t cut the fence, but I’m damn sure going to repair it so your horny bull won’t be on Lazy Z ground again.” She shoved her hand in the pocket of her tight blue jeans and hoped it didn’t burn a hole right through the denim. Just touching him brought back memories she thought she’d buried and long since forgotten. It all went to show just how damn fickle her body could be. One touch and she was a melting pot of passion again.

“You ain’t repairing a thing. I’ll fix the fence as soon as I get my bull back in my own pasture.” He turned abruptly and stomped back to his three wheeler, crawled into the seat like it was a saddle and started toward the fence. Where had he seen that girl before? Something tickled his mind and when she slapped his finger, just the touch sent a jolt of desire through his body like he’d only known one time before. But that wasn’t possible. That had just been a drunk man’s dream. One that put him on the wagon but still yet, nothing but a dream.

She pulled a .22 rifle from the sheath fastened to the side of her saddle and before he had gone ten feet, she fired twice, dusting up the gravel in front of him. He jumped off the three wheeler for the second time in less than five minutes. “You stupid bitch. You could have killed me. Put that gun down right now,” he said, growling deep in his throat. There was no way that spit fire of a woman had ever been in his dreams. Maybe in his worst nightmare, but damn sure not in any sweet dream like he remembered when he thought about a night in paradise with a lady by the name of Amelia.

“If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. And if you want to be dead, you just tell me what part you want shot first and where you want to drop and I’ll make it as painless as possible. And don’t you never call me a bitch again. You get a warnin’ the first time but the second time I just let my anger have its way.” She drew a bead right between the sexiest blue eyes in the whole world and wondered how in the hell this man ever got to be in southern Oklahoma. He was supposed to be in northern Louisiana. At least that’s where she left him after that fatal night when she let her hormones have precedence over her better judgment.