Bad News Cowboy (3 page)

Jack stood, putting his hands behind his head and stretching. “I'll walk you out. I have an early morning, too, so I better get going.”

Dammit. He didn't seem to understand that she was beating a hasty retreat in part to get away from him. Because the Weird Jack Stuff was a little more elevated today than normal. It had something to do with overexposure to him. She needed to go home, be by herself, scrub him off her skin in a hot shower so she could hit the reset button on her interactions with him.

She felt as if she had to do that more often lately than she had ever had to do in the past.

The thing was, she liked Jack. In that way you could like a guy who was basically an extra obnoxious older brother who didn't share genetic material with you. She liked it when he came to poker night. She liked it when he came into the store. But at the end of it she was always left feeling...agitated.

And it had created this very strange cycle. Hoping she would see Jack, seeing Jack, being pissed that she had seen Jack. And on and on it went.

“Bye,” she said.

She picked up her newly filled change bag and started to edge out of the room. She heard heavy footsteps behind her, and without looking she knew it was Jack. Well, she knew it was Jack partly because he had said he would walk her out.

And partly because the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. That was another weird Jack thing.

She opened the front door and shut it behind her, not waiting for Jack. Which was petty and weird. She heard the door open behind her and shut again.

“Did I do something?”

She turned around, trying to erase the scowl from her face. Trying to think of one thing he had actually done that was out of line, or out of the ordinary, at least. “No,” she said, begrudgingly.

“Then why are you acting like I dipped your pigtails in ink?” he asked, taking the stairs two at a time, making uncomfortable eye contact with her in the low evening light.

She looked down. “I'm not.”

“I seem to piss you off all the time lately,” he said, closing the distance between them while her throat closed itself up tight.

“You don't. It's just...teasing stuff. Don't worry about it.”

Jack kept looking at her, pausing for a moment. She felt awkward standing there but also unable to break away. “Okay. Hey, I was thinking...”

“Uh-oh. That never ends well,” she said, trying to force a smile.

“What does that mean?”

“I've heard the stories Connor and Eli tell. Any time you think of something, it ends in...well, sometimes broken bones.”

“Sure,” he said, chuckling and leaning against the side of his truck. “But not this time. Well, maybe this time since it centers around the rodeo.”

“You don't ride anymore,” she said, feeling stupid for pointing out something he already knew.

“Well, I might. I was sort of thinking of working with the association to add an extra day onto the rodeo when they pass through. A charity day. Half-price tickets. Maybe some amateur events. And all the proceeds going to...well, to a fund for women who are starting over. A certain amount should go to Alison's bakery. She's helping people get jobs. Get hope. I wish there had been something like that for us when I was a kid.”

Kate didn't know anything about Jack's dad. As long as she'd known him, he hadn't had one. And he never talked about it.

But she got the sense that whatever the situation, it hadn't been a happy one.

And now mixed in with all the annoyance and her desire to avoid him was a strange tightening in her chest.

“Life can be a bitch,” she said, hating the strident tone that laced its way through her voice.

“I've never much liked that characterization. In my estimation life is a lot more like a pissed-off bull. You hang on as long as you can, even though the ride is uncomfortable. No matter how bad it is on, you sure as hell don't want to get bucked off.”

“Yeah, that sounds about like you.”

“Profound?”

“Like a guy who's been kicked in the head a few times.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, what do you think about the charity?”

Warmth bloomed in her stomach. “Honestly? I think it's a great idea.” She couldn't even give him a hard time about this, because it was just so damn nice. “We only have a couple of months until the rodeo, though. Do you think we can pull it off?”

“We?”

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. I think it's a good idea. And I would like to contribute in any way I can. Even if it just means helping the pros tack up or something.”

“When are you going to turn pro, Katie?”

She gritted her teeth, and it had nothing to do with his unwanted nickname for her. “When I'm ready. I'm not going to waste a whole bunch of money traveling all over the country, entering all kinds of events and paying for association cards when I don't have a hope in hell of winning.”

“Who says you don't have a hope in hell of winning?” he asked, frowning. “I've seen you ride. You're good.”

The compliment flowed through her like cool water on parched earth. She cleared her throat, not sure where to look or what to say. “Roo is young. She has another year or so before she's mature. I probably do, too.”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around her braid, tugging gently. “You're closer than you think.”

Something about his look, about that touch that should have irritated her if it did anything, sent her stomach tumbling down to her toes.

Then he turned away from her and walked around to the other side of his pickup truck, opened the driver-side door, got inside and slammed it shut. He started the truck engine and she felt icy spots on her face. She released her breath in a rush, a wave of dizziness washing over her.

You'd have thought she'd been staring down a predator and not one of her family's oldest and dearest friends.

Freaking Jack and all the weirdness that followed him around like a thunderclap.

She walked over to her pickup and climbed in, then started the engine and threw it into Reverse without bothering to buckle. She was just driving down the narrow dirt road that led from Connor's house to her little cabin.

The road narrowed as the trees thickened, pine branches whipping against the doors to her old truck as she approached her house. She'd moved into the cabin on her eighteenth birthday, gaining a little bit of distance and independence from her brothers without being too far away. Of course, it wasn't as if she'd really done much with the independence.

She worked, played cards with her brothers and rode horses. That was about the extent of her life. But it filled her life, every little corner of it. And she wasn't unhappy with that.

She walked up the front steps, threw open the front door that she never bothered to lock and stepped inside. She flipped on the light switch, bathing the small space in a yellow glow.

The kitchen and living room were one, a little woodstove built into a brick wall responsible for all the heating in the entire house. The kitchen was small with wood planks for walls that she'd painted white when she'd moved in. A distressed counter-height table divided the little seating area from where she prepared food, and served as both infrequently used dining table and kitchen island.

She had one bathroom and one bedroom. The house was small, but it fit her life just fine. In fact, she was happy with a small house because it reminded her to get outside, where things were endless and vast, rather than spend too much time hiding away from the world.

Kate would always rather be out in it.

She kicked her boots off and swept them to the side, letting out a sigh as she dropped her big leather shoulder bag onto the floor. The little lace curtains—curtains that predated Kate's tenure in the house—were shut tight, so she tugged her top up over her head and stripped off the rest of her clothes as she made her way to the shower.

She turned the handles and braced herself for the long wait for hot water. Everything, including the hot-water heater, in her little house was old-fashioned. Sort of like her, she supposed.

She snorted into the empty room, the sound echoing in the small space. Jack certainly thought she was old-fashioned. All that hyperconcern over her not owning a computer.

Steam started to rise up and fill the air and she stepped beneath the hot spray, her thoughts lingering on her interaction with Jack at the Farm and Garden. And how obnoxious he was. And how his lips curved up into that wicked smile when he teased her, blue eyes glittering with all the smart-ass things he'd left unsaid.

She picked up the bar of Ivory soap from the little ledge of the tub and twirled it in her palms as she held it beneath the water, working up a lather. She took a breath, trying to ease some of the tension that was rioting through her.

She turned, pressing the soap against her chest, sliding it over her collarbone.

Yeah, Jack was a pain.

Still, she was picturing that look he got on his face. Just before he said something mouthy. She slid the bar of soap over her breasts just as she remembered her thwarted retaliation for his teasing tonight. The way his fingers had wrapped around her wrist, his hold firm...

She gasped and released her hold on the bar of soap. It hit the floor and slid down between her feet, stopping against the wall.

She growled and bent down, picking it back up, ignoring the pounding of her heart and the shaking in her fingers.

The shower was supposed to wash Jack off her skin. He was not supposed to follow her in.

Another jolt zipped through her at the thought because right along with it came the image of Jack and his overbearing presence sharing this small space with her. Bare skin, wet skin...hands on skin.

She turned and rinsed the soap off her chest, then shut the water off, stepped out and scrubbed her skin dry with her towel, much more ferociously than was warranted.

She needed to sleep. Obviously, she was delirious.

If she didn't know better, she would think she was a breath away from having a fantasy about Jack freaking Monaghan.

“Ha!” she all but shouted. “Ha ha ha.” She wrapped her towel around her body and walked to her room before dropping it and digging through her dresser for her pajamas.

She found a pair of sensible white cotton underwear and her flannel pajama pants that had cowboy hats, lassos and running horses printed onto the fabric.

There could be no sexual fantasies when one had on cotton panties and flannel pants.

With pony pajamas came clarity.

She pulled a loose-fitting blue T-shirt over her head and flopped down onto her bed. Her twin bed. That would fit only one person.

She was sexual fantasy–proof. Also sex-proof, if the entire long history of her life was anything to go by.

“Bah.” She rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. She had arena dirt, pounding hooves, the salty coastal wind in her face, mixed with pine and earth. A scent unique to Copper Ridge and as much a part of her as the blood in her veins.

She had ambitions. Even if she was a bit cautious in them.

She didn't need men.

Most of all, she didn't need Jack Monaghan.

CHAPTER THREE

J
ACK
ROLLED
INTO
the Garrett ranch just after nine. He'd finished seeing to his horses earlier and was ready to ambush Kate with coffee and a plan. It was her day off, and he knew she wasn't still in bed lying low while the sun rose high. It wasn't her way. Which meant he would have to track her down on the vast property.

But that was fine with him. He didn't have much else happening today.

His equine operation had gotten to the point that it was running so smoothly he often felt as if he didn't have enough to do. He had people who worked on the ranch seeing to all of the horses' needs and a housekeeper who took care of all of his needs. He was forging great connections in competitive worlds. Both the Western riding community and dressage. And he was very close to signing a lucrative deal to breed one of his stallions to a champion hunter jumper, Jazzy Lady.

Now that all that was falling into place and he wasn't traveling with the rodeo, he was left with a lot of free time.

His mother had said idle hands were the devil's workshop, usually before she booted his ass outside so he'd stay out of her hair. But then, he'd never had much use for worrying about things like that. In part because he never worried all that much about the devil. He'd gone to church once when he was a boy with a friend from his first-grade class. The pastor had said something about Joshua the son of Nun. And after the service the boy who had been his friend when they'd walked into the building had decided Jack the son of Nun was a fitting nickname for him since he didn't have a daddy.

Jack had punched that little son of a bitch in the face and had never darkened the doors of any holy institution from there on after. He hadn't stayed friends with the kid, either. In fact, the only people he had stayed friends with were the Garretts and Liss. He'd raised too much hell over the years to keep many other connections.

Hell, he'd taken to it as if it was his job. And when he'd transitioned from causing trouble in town to bull riding, it had just been a more legitimate method.

And another way for him to try to get his old man to take some notice. To make his mother look at him for more than thirty seconds.

It hadn't worked. His success hadn't changed that, either.

But he had Eli and Connor.

Together they'd knit a strange and dysfunctional group that continued on to this day. He liked to think they were all a little more functional now. Well, the rest of them more than him, he supposed.

Though he had some stability now with his ranch. He might not be married and procreating like his friends, but he wasn't a total lost cause.

And he knew that in and of itself was a big surprise to most people in Copper Ridge. Oh, sure, they were all polite enough, but he knew for a fact no one wanted him dating their daughter or their sister.

Though now they were happy to have him spending money at their establishments.

He killed his truck's engine and got out, grabbing hold of the big metal thermos he always carried with him during the workday and two tin mugs.

This was a peacemaking mission, which meant he had come prepared. He shoved his truck keys into his jeans pocket and crossed the gravel lot, heading toward the newly built barn, Connor's pride and joy, with the exception of his wife and unborn child.

Just then Connor walked out of the alley doors and Jack called out to get his attention. “Morning,” he said.

“You brought me coffee,” Connor said, flashing him the kind of smile that up until a few months ago had been absent from his friend's face.

“Sorry. You're out of luck. The coffee isn't for you.”

“I'm hurt,” Connor said, putting his hand on his chest. “You're bringing coffee to another man, Monaghan?”

“Nope. It's for Katie.”

Connor's brows shot up. “Uh-oh. What did you do?”

“Nothing. But I do need to convince her to help me out planning this charity rodeo day. I can use some contacts with the pro association. I've been in touch with a few people since I stopped competing. But she's in a better position with the locals.”

“You could probably seduce help out of Lydia. Or just ask.”

Jack thought of the pretty dark-haired president of the chamber of commerce. Yeah, Lydia would be into it, no seduction required. The charity event, not sleeping with him. He let his brain linger on that thought for a moment, if only because it had been a while since he'd seduced anyone or been seduced in return.

“Sure,” he responded.

“You don't sound enthused.”

“I'm not
un
enthused.”

“Yes, you are.”

Jack shrugged. “Not interested, I guess.”

“Are you sick? Because she's female, so she's your type.”

Jack couldn't argue with that. “I don't need to seduce her into helping. It's a good idea. You make it sound like women only want to listen to me because of my body,” he said, arching a brow. “I'm more than just a pretty face.”

“I want to say something right now...but I have a feeling I could dig myself into a hole I'll never get out of.”

“You probably shouldn't say it,” Jack said. “However, if you were thinking that I'm also a very sexy ass, you would be correct.”

“You better wash your mouth out with soap before you bring that coffee to Kate. Or she'll probably end up throwing it in your face.”

“She's not my biggest fan.”

Connor offered him a skeptical smile. “Actually, I think she's a pretty big fan of yours.” Jack puzzled over the words for a second before Connor continued. “You're like another brother to her. Which is why she gives you hell.”

Jack let out a hard breath. “Lucky me. Do you have any idea where the little she-demon is?”

“She took Roo out for a ride. But she should be back in soon.”

“Which way does she normally go?”

“She rides out through the main pasture toward the base of Copper,” Connor said, talking about the mountain that the town was named after. “And she comes back around behind the horse barn.”

“Thanks. I'll head that way.”

Jack turned away from his friend and started walking down a dirt path that would lead him toward the horse barn and hopefully bring him into line with Kate.

The cloud cover hadn't burned off yet, gray mist hanging low over the pine trees, pressing the sky down to the earth. The air was damp, thick with salt from the sea, and he had a feeling it would rain later. Or if they were lucky, the moisture would burn away, leaving clear blue skies.

But he doubted it.

He 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.”