Bad News Cowboy. Maisey Yates

cut through a little thicket of pines and came out the other side on another little road. This was the one that led all the way back to Kate’s cabin, but if he crossed that and cut through a little field, he would make it to the barn in half the time. So he did, wet grass whipping against his jeans, dewdrops bleeding through the thick denim.

      He could only say thanks for good boots that would at least keep his feet dry.

      He hopped the wire fence that partitioned the next section of the property off from the one he’d just left and stood there in the knee-high weeds, staring off into the distance. Then he saw her, riding through the flat expanse of field, strands of dark hair flying from beneath her hat, her arms working in rhythm with the horse’s stride. As she drew closer, he could see the wide smile on her face. It was the kind of smile he rarely saw from her. The smile of a woman purely in her element. A woman at home on the back of the horse.

      He felt the corners of his own mouth lift in response, because that kind of joy was infectious.

      He stood and watched her as she drew closer, hoofbeats growing louder as she did.

      He could pinpoint the exact moment she saw him, because she straightened, pulling back on Roo’s reins and slowing her gait. He started to walk toward her, and she dismounted, her smile faded now.

      “I have coffee, so you can stop frowning at me,” he said, holding up the thermos and the mugs.

      She squinted, her expression filled with suspicion. “Why do you have coffee?”

      “Because I want to talk to you about something. And I figured it was best to try and bait you.”

      Kate screwed up her face, wrinkling her nose and squinting her eyes. “I am not a badger. You can’t bait me.”

      “Sure I can, Katie. I bet I tempt you something awful,” he said, holding out the thermos and unscrewing the lid.

      Kate rolled her eyes. “Tempt me to plant a boot up your ass.”

      He left one mug dangling from his finger and straightened the other, then poured a measure of coffee into it. “Be nice to me or I won’t give you what you want.”

      He watched as the faint rose color bled into her cheeks, lit on fire by the first golden rays of the sun breaking through the cloud cover, adding a soft glow to her face. “You seem to be forgetting who you’re talking to, Monaghan,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the sentence picked up momentum. “Boot. Ass.”

      “You do need your coffee. You’re cranky.” He held out the mug and she took it, wrapping her fingers around it like claws.

      “I wasn’t.”

      “Well, stop. I want to talk to you about the rodeo.”

      She took a sip of the strong black coffee and didn’t even grimace. But then, she would have trained herself to never make a face. She drank her coffee and her whiskey straight up and never complained about the burn. Kate never seemed to show weakness, never appeared to have any vulnerability at all.

      In that moment he wondered what it might be like if she did. If she softened, even a little bit.

      Dark brown eyes met his, a core of steel running straight on through, down deep inside of her. Yeah, there would be no softening from Kate Garrett. “Then talk,” she said before taking another sip.

      “Who do you think you can get to volunteer to ride when there’s no score or purse at stake? I mean, we can keep score, but it won’t count toward anything. Just winning the event.”

      “I’m not sure as far as the pros go. We’ll probably have to reach out to the association. But I know some people who can do that. You being one of them, I assume.”

      One thing about the rodeo he’d liked. He’d come in with no established baggage. Nobody cared that he didn’t have a dad, that he’d grown up poor. His luck with buckle bunnies and his propensity to fight in bars had also added to his popularity.

      But the circuit wasn’t real life. It was like living in a fraternity. Too much booze, too much sex—it was all good there. It just wasn’t real life.

      Of course, real life was often hard and less fun. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of buddies from back in those days.”

      “You make it sound like it was a million years ago.”

      Only five, but it felt like longer sometimes. “It doesn’t just have to be all pros,” he continued, pitching an idea at her he’d had the other day. “We can do amateurs against professionals. That would make for a fun event.”

      “Well, you know I would do it. And a few others might. I bet Sierra West would.”

      At the mention of Sierra’s name Jack’s stomach went tight. Her involvement in this could be a slight complication.

      He gritted his teeth. No, there was no reason to consider the Wests a complication. Sure, he shared genetic material with them, but the only people who knew that were his mother, the man who had fathered him and Jack himself. As far as he knew, the legitimate West children knew nothing about it, and Kate certainly didn’t.

      If he were a sentimental man, he might have been tempted to think of Sierra as a sister. But he couldn’t afford sentimentality. And anyway, he’d accepted quite a bit of money to pretend he had no clue who his father was. And so he was honor bound to that. Well, not exactly honor bound. Bought and paid for, more like.

      “Great. Sure.”

      “If you don’t want my suggestions, don’t ask for my help,” she said, her tone cutting.

      “I want your suggestions,” he bit out.

      “You sound like you want my suggestions like you want a root canal.”

      If he was this transparent at a mention of Sierra’s name, then dealing with her while coordinating the rodeo events would be somewhere way beyond awkward. Which meant he had to get it together.

      “Sorry, honey,” he said, not quite sure why the endearment slipped out. Because he was trying to soften his words maybe? “I do want your suggestions. That’s why I came to you for help.”

      She chewed her bottom lip. “You really do want my help?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why? I mean, there are a lot of people you could get to help you. People who aren’t kids.”

      “I don’t think you’re a kid.”

      He could remember her being a kid, all round-faced enthusiasm, shining dark eyes, freckles sprinkled over the button nose. Usually, she’d had dirt on her. Yeah, he could remember that clearly. But that image had very little to do with the woman who stood before him. Her cheeks had hollowed, highlighting the strong bone structure in her face. Her nose was finer, though still sprinkled with freckles. Her dark eyes still shone bright, but there was a stubbornness that ran deep, a hardness there developed from years of loss and pain.

      She cleared her throat. “That’s news to me.”

      “Consider yourself informed.”

      “Now that we’ve established we’re on equal footing—”

      “I didn’t say we were on equal footing. I said I didn’t think you were a kid.”

      “What is that supposed to mean?”

      “I’ve been pro, honey badger,” he said, combining her earlier assertion that she was not a badger with his accidental endearment. “I know the ins and outs of these events. My contacts are a little bit out of date, which is where you come in, but the rodeo is still my turf.”

      “Bull riders. The ego on y’all is astronomical.”

      “That’s because we ride bulls. Those are some big-ass scary animals. A guy has to think he’s ten feet tall and bulletproof to do something that stupid.”

      “It’s