Bad News Cowboy. Maisey Yates

around since she was a little girl, he was most definitely not her brother.

      She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “I’m sure that you... I mean...if you wanted to...”

      “I don’t. So it isn’t an issue.”

      His response, so hard and sharp, definitive, made her feel stupid. Young.

      He took a hard right just before Old Town, moving farther away from the ocean and into the less quaint part of Copper Ridge. The Grange was a tiny little building nestled between a modern grocery store and the edge of a residential neighborhood. It looked as if it was built out of Lincoln Logs, and Kate imagined it was supposed to be quaint, when really, years of repainting and foul weather had left it looking worse for wear.

      An American flag and an Oregon flag flew high in the parking lot, which was already filled with pickup trucks. There was no place for Jack to park, so he pulled up to the curb, put the truck in Park and shut it off.

      “Maybe we should have warned them?” she asked.

      “With what? You can’t email them—you don’t have a computer.”

      She snorted. “I could have called.”

      “You don’t have a cell phone.”

      “I have a landline.”

      “You could send smoke signals.”

      “Jack,” she said, exasperated, opening the passenger door and sliding out, not waiting for him. She went ahead and walked into the building, greeting everyone who was in attendance, already seated in a semicircle in the back room.

      The front room had permanent seating and a stage for community theater. But they met in the back in a sterile environment that had a little kitchenette with bright orange countertops, a white linoleum floor and fluorescent lighting.

      Long folding tables were set out with the promised punch and cookies. They looked mostly untouched.

      The lonely punch and cookies weren’t all that surprising. They were more of a formality. An offering of refreshment because if there was going to be a gathering, refreshments had to be on offer. The laws of small-town etiquette.

      There were only two vacant chairs, and it so happened that they were right next to each other, so any hopes she’d had of getting some distance from Jack were thwarted.

      Her friend Sierra waved, but there were, of course, no open seats next to her. Sierra somehow managed to exude both femininity and strength. Kate had no fucking idea how you were supposed to exude femininity. Yet Sierra managed. Her blond curls were always perfectly set; her brightly colored eye shadow made her blue eyes glow. She was the classic sequined rodeo queen. Kate couldn’t even fathom trying to wear a sequin. It would just feel like trying too hard.

      She wasn’t the type to ride with turquoise and rhinestone.

      But sometimes Sierra made her wish that she was.

      Eileen, the president of the group, was reading minutes, so Kate took her seat as quietly as possible. She kept her eyes fixed on Eileen and jumped when Jack took a seat next to her. Did he have to be so...warm? Yes, he was warm. Uncommonly warm. She could feel it even with a healthy bit of air between them. And it was distracting. And disturbing.

      She looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. But then she saw Jack’s denim-clad thighs in her peripheral vision and became completely distracted by that. They looked hard. And if they were like the rest of him, they were probably uncommonly hot. Temperature-wise. Just temperature.

      She forced herself to glance away.

      When Eileen got to the part where everyone brought up relevant business, Kate didn’t speak up, because she didn’t want to speak first. And also, the dry throat.

      When it finally seemed that topics had been exhausted, from a need for new barrels for the arena they trained in at the fairgrounds to shared transportation to amateur events on the West Coast later in the year, Kate opened her mouth to speak. But Jack beat her to it.

      “Hi,” he said, clearing his throat. “If you don’t know me, I’m Jack Monaghan. I used to ride pro in the circuit, though I haven’t for a few years. But I wanted to come today to talk to you about the possibility of doing a charity day at the upcoming rodeo here in Logan County.”

      Eileen brightened visibly. “What sort of thing did you have in mind?”

      “Well, Kate and I have been talking, and she was the one who told me I should come tonight.” He gestured toward her and she lifted her hand, twitching her fingers in an approximation of a wave. “We were thinking that it would be a chance for this group here to take part in some events. And I could get in touch with some of the riders I know coming through with the pro association. See if maybe they wouldn’t mind participating, either. You could all compete against each other. And we would work with the chamber of commerce both here and in some of the other towns to get food donated, as well. I have plans for the proceeds to go to a couple of the battered-women’s shelters and to help a local business that’s been trying to get disadvantaged women back on their feet after they leave abusive situations.”

      “Well, provided we can secure the space, I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Eileen said. “Can I get an informal count of who would be interested in participating?”

      Nearly every hand in the circle went up, and Kate’s heartbeat increased, satisfaction roaring through her.

      “That’s a good start,” Eileen continued. “We’ll just want to see which day the fairgrounds might be able to accommodate us. I’m willing to do that.”

      “That would be great,” Kate said.

      She was more than happy to let Eileen use her connections with the board at the county expo.

      “Kate and I will work on the roster and the schedule of events.” Jack was speaking again, and volunteering her for things, things that they would work on together. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “So you can get in touch with either of us if you want to participate, and we’ll get you added to the list. If you don’t want to compete, we could still use the help. We’ll need a lot of volunteers to try and keep costs down. Because if it gets too expensive, we won’t have anything to donate.”

      After that, much-less-organized conversation broke out in the room, a buzz of excitement surrounding them.

      “Okay, I think that concludes official business for the evening,” Eileen said above the din.

      Kate stood, and Sierra rushed across the circle and to her side. The other woman spared a glance at Jack, a half smile curving her lips upward, a blush spreading over her pale cheeks. She was doing it again. Exuding. Sierra West was beautiful—there was no denying it. She was even beautiful when she blushed, rather than awkward and blotchy. Kate had a feeling that she was just awkward and blotchy.

      “This is such a great idea,” Sierra said. She reached out and put delicate fingers on Jack’s shoulder, and everything in Kate curled into a tight hissing ball. She did not like that.

      “I can’t take much credit,” Jack said. Except he really should have been taking all the credit.

      “I’d love to participate in a barrel racing event,” Sierra went on.

      Jack cleared his throat and took a step away from their little huddle. “Well, just give Kate a call about it and she’ll add your name.”

      “And anything else I can do to help...”

      “We’ve got it,” Jack said.

      Sierra looked confused at Jack’s short reply, as though no man had ever turned down the opportunity to spend extra time with her. “Okay. I will...call Kate, then.”

      Jack nodded, his jaw tense. And Kate was perversely satisfied by the fact that Jack didn’t seem at all enticed by Sierra’s clear interest.

      On the heels