"I hate gyms," Nicky pronounced the next morning as Dixie met him in the family room, prepared to work all morning on his rehab before strength training the rest of his body in the afternoon.

"Good morning," Dixie said, looking innocent.

"Good morning," Nicky echoed, chastened for a moment that he hadn't even greeted her. "I hate gyms."

Dixie looked pointedly at the gym equipment in the next room, then back to Nicky.

"Tommy and Danny use that," Nicky said tersely. "I don't. I get bored."

"How do you stay in shape?" Dixie asked, her tone inquiring but not rude.

Nicky shrugged. "Well, I don't know if you know this, but I ride motorcycles a lot, and that keeps me in pretty good shape."

Dixie crossed her arms across her chest and eyed him speculatively. "Cade tells me your core and your arms aren't up to par, and with the switch to Honda next year..."

"How do you know about that?" Nicky interjected. "We haven't announced. Not for a couple of weeks yet."

"I know that, and I'm not going to run to the media, but there's a couple of things you need to come to terms with. I know everything there is to know about your physical well being, and Cade has a big fat mouth. And Cade tells me you aren't up to the task when it comes to working with the Honda next year. You know they're changing the specs and you know it's heavier, and if your only workout regimen right now is wandering around the farm and occasionally driving a bike, you are going to rodeo it the first time you hit the asphalt."

Nicky glared at her, assessing all she'd just said. Cade and his blabbermouth telling her about Honda... and ratting him out for not being strong enough... and how the hell does she know what rodeoing a bike is?

Oh yeah, because she's got some expertise in this area, thanks to her brothers.

Dammit, Nicky thought. He really thought with getting a girl trainer he could snow her into believing every word he said, but Dixie Colson was proving she knew a lot more about his livelihood than he initially thought.

This meant she was going to work his ass harder than he intended.

Damn.

"Look," Dixie continued, her tone softening a bit. "You're in great shape compared to most of middle America, but as an elite athlete in an elite sport? You have to be more than the average American – you need to have abs of steel and arms like tree trunks; you need your legs back under you, and your back needs strengthening to support your ride."

Nicky remained silent, knowing she was right bur refusing to admit it.

And hoping to God this wasn't what cost him races last year – his lack of discipline in the gym.

"You've gotta get hip to the fact I know what I'm talking about. I'm a chick, but I'm qualified as a trainer and rehab specialist, and more than that, I know way more about bike racing than you think. I can help you – I want to help you – but only if you don't stand in your own way. You're so close to greatness – don't let your stubbornness and this whole 'lone wolf' thing stand in the way."

She thought he was close to greatness? Nicky mused on that for a moment before breaking the silence. "I'm not used to asking for help," Nicky mumbled, looking down at his running shoes.

Dixie bit back a smile. "Well, you could have fooled me. You've just been so damn effusive..."

Nicky's head snapped up and his eyes met her twinkling ones, and he bit back a smile of his own. "We just cowboy up and handle things. It's not that I don't think you're qualified..."

"I know," Dixie said "You're just a big damn baby about needing help. I've got your number, Gamble. So just cowboy up and let's go, okay?"

"But I really hate gyms," Nicky said. "They're so damn repetitive. I get bored."

"What do you like to do?"

"Something productive," Nicky said. "Something I can concentrate on. In gyms... I don't know. Too much time to think, to set up mental roadblocks, too much time focusing on myself, on my flaws, of which I have many. I like working, being productive."

"What? Like tossing hay bales and fixing fence posts?" Dixie mused, but Nicky's look told her she'd hit the nail on the head. "Oh. Seriously?"

"Seriously," Nicky said. "Can we at least split the difference? I do actual, you know, work for the morning, and you do your rehabilitation mojo in the afternoon when I'm already worn out?"

"Other way around, actually," Dixie insisted. "I want you fresh when we work your muscles, then we'll put you to work on the farm. Will you wear a cowboy hat?"

"Will you?"

Dixie laughed, and Nicky tried not to. "Sure. Do you have one in pink?"

"A pink cowboy hat?"

"Yeah," Dixie said, smiling.

"Get off my land," Nicky deadpanned, and Dixie laughed outright.

"Fine, fine, no pink cowboy hat," Dixie said. "Maybe later. For now, let's see what we're dealing with today."

Reluctantly, but obediently, Nicky followed her into the spare bedroom where all her rehab equipment lay in wait. He blanched at the sight of massage tables, ropes, strength bands and lots of other contraptions.

This was going to be a long day.

Hell, a long off season.

**

"I've ridden motorcycles a million times, but I've never ridden a horse before," Dixie said, eyeing the large beast with some trepidation.

"I've never had a little girl turn me into a human pretzel before," Nicky shot back, and Dixie stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. "I managed."

"Yes, but there was no chance of you being trampled to death while turning into said pretzel."

"There's no chance of that happening to you with Sugar," Nicky said, tossing her a glance over his shoulder. "She's a gentle giant, aren't you, my girl?" Nicky said, his tone suddenly sweet and cajoling as the white mare cantered to the fence and nuzzled his shoulder affectionately.

"Which one are you riding?" Dixie asked, still eyeing Sugar apprehensively.

"I'll ride Devil," Nicky said easily, gesturing to the solidly built back stallion across the paddock. "He's mine, more than anyone else's."

"Is he appropriately named, or is it supposed to be ironic?" Dixie asked, stepping back as the black horse charged the fence.

"No," Nicky said. "He was pretty much the devil since the day he was born. But he's mellowed with age," he added, patting the horse's shoulder.

"Uh huh," Dixie said, not sounding convinced. "Should I have, I don't know, chaps or spurs or a lead lined vest or something?"

"Why? Are you joining the professional bull riding circuit or something?"

"Don't make fun of me," Dixie insisted, her voice tight. "I haven't made fun of you and your fear of exercise equipment."

"This is my exercise equipment," Nicky said, gesturing to the two horses. "We're just going for a walk – we're not going to gallop or even canter, we're just, you know, riding, looking at the ranch and the world as a whole. Jeez."

Dixie squared her shoulders, resenting his condescending tone. "Well, since you've been so gracious and not at all a big asshole about my fear of being killed by a huge beast, I'm just dying to jump in the saddle."

Nicky softened, detecting real concern in her voice. He liked a woman that didn't let him get away with being an insensitive jackass – which he often was. "I'd never let anything happen to you. Sugar is sweet as her name, and you're tough as nails. You'll be fine."

Dixie flushed at the compliment, and flushed further when a few minutes later, Nicky had Sugar saddled and boosted her into the seat, his hands framing her backside as he helped her up.

He laid his hand on her thigh, as though to gentle her, while he explained about verbal commands and how to hold the reins. Moments later, he was astride his own horse, grimacing slightly at the pain in his leg, and with a whistled command, both horses trotted gently out the paddock gate.

Dixie had to admit that after about three minutes of terror, she was quite enjoying herself. She liked being up higher and seeing the land spread out before her, liked the sound of the hooves hitting the dirt, liked not really having to concentrate, just follow Nicky's lead.

And the land... she could see for what felt like miles in all directions, which was almost dizzying after the sprawl of California. Mountains jutted up from the earth in the distance, and the fields were rolling and undulating with a mixture of dead brush and green grazing ground. She could see a brook cutting through the earth a fair bit off, and felt that perhaps by understanding this land and its solitude, she could understand her client better.

How he survived the media attention, tight spaces and massive crowds of the MotoGP world when he was clearly so much more at home here baffled her. She turned her gaze towards her charge, watching as he smiled, a genuine, toothy smile, as Devil jumped a brush pile and continued down the trail, clearly both man and beast in their element.

He didn't smile much.

Or communicate.

Or, as far as Dixie could tell, have much in the way of emotions.

She had to admit it, though – Nicky Gamble intrigued her.

On a purely professional level, of course, she reminded herself with an inner smirk.

She could see the muscles in his shoulders bunching beneath his thin tee shirt as he shifted in his seat, shifted direction, shifted the horse, all with seemingly little effort.

He had broad shoulders.

She liked that.

She liked the strength in his forearms as he gripped the reins, the veins popping and shifting in that uniquely masculine way, his muscles clenching and unclenching with his efforts.

She liked...

God, shut up, she mentally commanded herself. Just because it had been a while – okay, a really long while – since she'd had a man, didn't mean she had to objectify every one she got to know.

She could admire the strength and beauty of his arms, and that was it.

Moving on, she ordered herself. Focus, Colson, she chided herself. Do the job, and then go home, she commanded herself.

Besides, it was easy to see that Nicky clearly held little but contempt and annoyance for her and her duties here, so why even give him a second thought as anything other than a somewhat annoying client?

Exactly, Dixie agreed with herself, giving herself a mental shake to rid herself of such thoughts.

Exactly.

**

He had to give it to her – Dixie Colson was pretty fearless.

Even though she was obviously uneasy about riding her first horse, she didn't bitch about it much, she just got in the saddle and figured it out.

Nicky always admired that in people – people willing to take a chance, try something different, take a risk.

Obviously, his profession wasn't exactly risk-averse, so that must be where the feeling came from.

Once she had settled into the saddle, though, Dixie was a natural, leading Sugar the way he'd instructed, and holding her seat naturally, without tensing up or freaking out when they picked up speed.

She'd make a fine cowgirl – with or without the pink cowboy hat.

He watched herself out of the corner of his eye for another minute or two, careful to make sure she didn't see his observation.

He couldn't figure Dixie Colson out.

She knew her stuff when it came to physical therapy – he'd give her that. His muscles and ligaments had been screaming once she was done with him this morning, but he could already feel strength returning to his leg, felt more confident that he wasn't going to fall on his ass with one false step.

But when she tried to make conversation, to figure him out... his guard went up.

He knew it bothered her to know so little about him, but Nicky couldn't just... he didn't have the happy knack of chattering about things, of making small talk with people, especially people he didn't know.

He could feel her studying him like an insect trapped in a jar, trying to figure out what made him tick; what made him who he is.

No one studied him that way. Family took him at face value, Cade and he focused on work first, always, and he didn't have much of a trusted circle of friends. He'd learned early on in racing that fans were fans, not friends. Competitors were competitors – friendly, but rarely friends.

And as for women...

Nicky mentally scoffed at the thought. Sure, there were paddock girls and pit lizards aplenty on the circuit, and when he'd joined the circuit that had been all kinds of fun and great for his ego, but now that he was older – jaded – he wanted and needed more. He'd quit paying attention to the girls who just wanted to brag that she'd fucked a MotoGP rider – he was done with that scene.

He wanted emotional connection with someone, but didn't know how to get there.

For all his bluster and ego, Nicky Gamble was painfully shy, and he knew it.

Tommy and Danny had always been the gregarious duo, the outspoken ones, the 'fun' ones in the family.

Nicky had always been the second parent, stepping in and taking care of things when Earl was left alone.

Nicky's mother had left Gamble Ranch and gone to get groceries one day when Nicky was ten years old, and had simply never returned. Weeks later, after thinking of every scenario from kidnapping to murder, she sent a letter to her abandoned family, begging for forgiveness, but she couldn't live like this anymore.

Couldn't live in isolation, couldn't live in a man's world, couldn't live with Earl, whom she loved, but didn't like very much anymore.

Earl had been shattered; Tommy and Danny too young to understand that Mommy wasn't coming back, that she didn't love them all enough to stay and try.

Nicky had to hold it together, had to grow up in a hurry and step in to raise the boys, to help keep the ranch profitable, and to serve as son, servant, mother, employee and confidant to his family.

From the time he was ten years old, Nicky had always been wary, hell, distrustful of women.

If his own mother couldn't stay with the Gambles, what other woman would choose to?

So how had Dixie Colson already wriggled her way into his consciousness? Made him think about her more than just in the weight room? Made him want to know more about her, rather than less, as was his natural inclination?

Proximity, Nicky decided, watching Dixie navigate a turn in the trail as though she'd always been a rider. Just because she was shoved right up in his business, his land, that must be it, he mused.

Not that red hair or twinkling green eyes, not that wide smile or tiny frame, not those curves and confidence under her track clothes...

Jesus, Nicky chastised himself. Get it together, Gamble, and quit ogling the help.

Jesus, he mentally said again, spurring Devil onto take over the lead, refusing to follow anymore.