Good Time Cowboy. Maisey Yates

stubble on that firm jaw of his, and it looked like it would be prickly if she touched it. His boots were always dusty, and his jeans usually had holes. Unless he was dressed up, and then he put on some slightly nicer jeans and boots that she suspected were made from snake. She wished she didn’t know that. She wished that she hadn’t retained those details.

      She knew that he had more than one black cowboy hat, though you could be forgiven for thinking they were all the same. And that he had one that was tan, which usually went with his nicer clothes.

      She also had the first moment they’d met branded into her memory.

      She knew way too much about him, having seen him from afar over the years when Damien was doing PR for the circuit and she was still his wife.

      And then, she had relearned a lot of it over these past couple of months while the two of them had been forging something of a business relationship.

      None of it made her feel at ease around him. She was decidedly easeless in his presence, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

      He reached out and took both brochures from his brothers, his large, weathered hands making the brochures look...well, wrong.

      Like maybe he needed information carved on a stump of wood with some kind of sharp, rudimentary object.

      Damien had been something of a rhinestone cowboy. He dressed the part, but that was so he fit into his surroundings. He didn’t do ranch work.

      Wyatt was as real as it got.

      And it shouldn’t matter to her at all. Only in the sense that it was probably good for business. And the more business that came out to the ranch, the more traffic it would drive to Grassroots.

      Plus, they had a deal. Get Out of Dodge was going to serve Grassroots wine exclusively, and that would draw people in to buy more as well.

      He turned the pamphlets over, examining them, and for some reason, Lindy felt that examination in a close personal way. She shifted awkwardly, attempting to ignore the strange, hollow feeling between her thighs.

      “It all looks good to me, Melinda,” he said, using her full name, which no one ever did. He only knew it because they had gone out drinking once after a big win for Wyatt had resulted in a good endorsement deal that Damien had helped Wyatt net. And the subject of middle names had come up, which had brought up the subject of her full name.

      And now, years on, he sometimes used it to irritate the hell out of her.

      “Thank you,” she said, keeping everything smooth and serene on the surface, while internally she was flipping him both middle fingers.

      That was what she did now. It was how she played this game. She had perfected her polished exterior to the point that no one knew there was a little grit left beneath.

      She did. Because it was the grit that kept her going.

      “Why don’t we walk outside a bit?” he asked, his eyes connecting with hers and lighting her insides on fire.

      Lord almighty.

      “I want to show you some things,” he continued.

      She squared her shoulders and followed after Wyatt, giving Grant and Bennett a small wave before heading outside.

      “Something we need to do in person?”

      “Yes. Otherwise I would have emailed you. I have your address.” His handsome face was a study in sincerity and she wanted to punch it.

      She bit the inside of her cheek. “Right. Anyway.”

      “I just wanted to talk a little bit about the Fourth of July shindig that we’re having.”

      “Right. The shindig.” Grassroots would be providing wine, and they would also be serving Donnelly cheese. Plus, they would be touting the virtues of both Grassroots and Get Out of Dodge. It was an important event, one that they were heavily advertising for in surrounding communities.

      “I was thinking we would do some rodeo demonstrations,” he said. “Over there in the main arena.” He gestured broadly across the way at a grand, covered area, with two sets of bleachers on either side. The bleachers were new.

      It looked like Wyatt figured that if he wasn’t traveling with the rodeo he might as well bring it back here.

      “Really?” she asked.

      “Yes. I was wondering if Dane was going to be around?”

      “I doubt it. Anyway, it’s not like you’re outfitted to do a bull ride here.” There were bleachers, but they were missing the heavy gates and fencing needed to keep people safe if they were going to bring those animals out.

      “Not bulls,” he confirmed. “I figured we would do some roping. Not going to go crazy. You’re right. We don’t have the facility for it. But it would be damned cool if we did.”

      “I’m not going to have my brother get himself injured doing a stunt to benefit your ranch, Dodge.”

      “Your brother rides often enough. He can get injured anytime.”

      “Right.” She pursed her lips. “But competing. Not messing around here.” Dane’s ability to earn a living was everything to him. His way of escaping their upbringing. He didn’t need to put it at risk messing around here. “Anyway. I’m pretty sure that Dane is solidly booked in competition for the next few months.”

      “That’s a shame. I like him.”

      Heavily implied in that sentence was the fact that he did not like her. But, that wasn’t her problem. It also wasn’t fair. Dane was different. His life was different. He got rewarded for being a good old boy. For being a reckless redneck.

      She got no such rewards from life. She had to prove that she was capable. She was strong and smart. That she belonged in the world she’d married into, and divorced out of.

      Dane got to be fun and dangerous and get rewarded for it. But then, that was her experience of all these rodeo idiots. Their life was a big party. They didn’t do responsible things like keep to their commitments or honor their vows. No. And her husband had jumped right into that.

      But, that was beside the point.

      “Sorry. He didn’t quit.”

      “I retired,” he pointed out. “I didn’t quit. Midthirties is a rough time to still be flinging your body around like that. Other guys do it, but...not me. I’m done.” A smile tipped the corner of his mouth upward, and she noticed some lines crease his skin right by his eyes.

      He had aged since they’d first met all those years ago but that didn’t make him less attractive. Instead, those weathered signs of aging, of years lived, only made him more attractive in a strange way. She had to wonder if it was some kind of weird female survival instinct. That this man who had taken all these risks was here, had made it well into his thirties in spite of those risks, was sending signals to her body that he was a good provider, or something.

      But her body was terrible at correctly identifying men’s true natures. Even if it wasn’t, she didn’t want to know Wyatt or his...nature. So, she wasn’t even going to ponder it.

      “Well. Whatever. So you’re thinking roping events?” She pushed the conversation back on track.

      “Yes. I got all the approvals from insurance. As long as we don’t have any guests participating, or anything like that, we are cleared for it.”

      “Glad to hear it.”

      “I was also thinking Jamie could lead a ride during the barbecue.”

      She nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

      “Will it be all right with you if we take the group over to the vineyard?”

      “Should be fine.”

      Their eyes caught for a moment, and for