Bad News Cowboy

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

JACK 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 unenthused.”

“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.”

“It’s true. You are kind of stupid.” A smile spread over her face. Sometimes, it turned out, Kate did smile at him. But usually only after she was done insulting him.

“I’m wounded.”

“Don’t waste your time being wounded. First, we’re going to have to find out if the Logan County Fairgrounds are available for the date we would need it. Probably the day before the actual rodeo starts or the day after.”

“You know who to call for that?”

“Yeah, but I might want to go through Lydia.”

“Good call,” he said. “See? This is why I asked for your help.”

“Because I’m a genius.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “About a couple things.”

“Aren’t you going to have any coffee?” Kate asked, something searching in her brown gaze now. He had no clue what the hell she was looking for, but even so, he was almost certain she wouldn’t find it.

“I have to run,” he said. He didn’t have to run. He didn’t have anywhere to be. Except for some reason he felt averse to prolonging this moment here in the field with her. “When is the next local meeting?”

“Tomorrow night. You should come.”

He’d stopped going to the amateur association meetings in Copper Ridge years ago. He’d turned pro when he was twenty, using the money that the man who was, according to genetics, his father had given him to keep his mouth shut about his existence.

Sometimes it felt like his attempt at being seen when he’d been paid to disappear. A way to demand attention without breaking that damned agreement. Other times it had all felt like an attempt to bleed that unwanted blood right out of his veins, let it soak into the arena dirt until the Wests weren’t a part of him anymore. But that feeling had faded as he turned that initial bit of money into yet more money through event wins and investments and sponsorship deals.

Though at thirty-three, he felt too damn old to get trampled on a regular basis. He’d felt too old five years ago when he’d quit. Not just too old for the getting-trampled part but the hard living that went with it. He knew there were plenty of guys still out there riding, but he didn’t need to and he felt lucky to have escaped with as little damage as he had.

“Sure, I’ll be there. I’ll do the hard sell and see if anyone else has more ideas.”

“Do you want to ride together?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, let’s do that. Do you want to drive?”

“I think your truck is a little bit cushier than mine, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Okay, then, I’ll pick you up... When?”

“Seven.”

He gripped the brim of his hat with his thumb and forefinger and tipped it slightly. “Okay, then, see you at seven.”

* * *

SHE HEARD A car engine and raced to the window, her heart pushing against the base of her throat. But she didn’t see anything. No truck. No Jack.

“Oh my gosh, calm down, me.”

It was probably just one of the ranch hands headed out to the barn, or maybe Eli getting home from work. There were three whole minutes before Jack was supposed to show up, after all. And she was being ridiculous about it. Completely overcome by the sense of hyperawareness that often assaulted her when dealing with Jack-related things. And she would picture him pulling up, and her stomach would turn over sharply, her breath catching, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The response was completely involuntary, and it was so strong it made her legs shake.

Anyone would think she was waiting for a date.

She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tight just as she heard another engine sound. Her eyes popped back open and she brushed the curtains aside again just in time to see Jack’s truck rumbling up the drive.

She put her hand on her stomach. “Stop it,” she scolded herself. It did nothing.

She grabbed a jacket and her bag and jerked open the front door, then walked out onto the front porch as she slung both over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to sit in her living room and wait for him to come to the door. She was not going to encourage her weird bodily reactions.

She scampered to the truck and flung open the passenger-side door, then braced her foot on the metal running board before climbing into the cab. She slammed the door shut and buckled. “Let’s go.”

“In a hurry, Katie?”

“I would like to be on time,” she said, battling against her urge to bristle.

She didn’t want to bristle. She wanted to be sleek. She wanted to have no reaction to him whatsoever. None at all.

“Is it still at the Grange Hall?”

“Yes, it is. And I hope you ate, because they still serve store-bought sugar cookies and watered-down punch.”

“Ah yes, the official small-town meeting food.”

“I don’t mind the cookies. I don’t even really mind the punch. I just don’t know why people think they go good together.”

He put the truck in Reverse, then turned around and drove back down the narrow driveway that fed into the wider main driveway that eventually curved onto the highway.

“It’s one of the great mysteries of our time,” Jack said. “Personally, I think overearnest meetings like this should come with whiskey.”

“I would have no problem with that. But somehow I don’t think the budget allows for alcohol.”

“Well, that’s an oversight. What has to be cut to make room in the budget for alcohol?”

“There really isn’t much to cut. We kind of pay for our own stuff. In addition to paying dues to be a part of Oregon’s Amateur Riders Association. But you know, support system. Training. And we do get to use the arenas of the fairgrounds a couple times a month at no extra charge.”

“I guess next time I’ll bring my own whiskey,” he said.

“There won’t really be a next time, though, will there?”

“I suppose that all depends on whether or not I’m creating a monster with this.”

“You feel pretty passionately about it, don’t you?” She so rarely asked him sincere questions that he seemed stumped by this one. Well, she was, too. She had no idea what she was doing. Why she wanted to know more. Why she wanted to dig deeper.

“I do,” he said finally. “It feels like half the time the odds are stacked pretty high against women.”

“Seeing as it was my mom that screwed everything up, I can’t say that’s been my experience,” Kate said.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose in your life it was different. Not just because of your mom, but because Connor and Eli would kill anyone who hurt you. You’re surrounded by people who love and protect you. There are a lot of people who aren’t. A lot of kids, a lot of women. They’re either abandoned and left to their own devices, or worse, they’re actively hurt by the people who are supposed to love them.”

Kate immediately felt stupid for her earlier comment. “Did your dad... Did he hurt your mom?”

“No. Thank God all he did was leave. But even that didn’t make it easy. It just... This kind of stuff gets me. I don’t want a wife. I don’t want kids. Because I know myself. It doesn’t make any sense to me, these men who have kids just to leave them. Who get married just to mistreat the women they made vows to. At least I know my limitations.”

“You wouldn’t hurt anyone, Jack.” Kate’s voice was small when she spoke the words.

“Not with my fist.” He tightened his grip on his steering wheel.

She studied his profile, the strength in his hands, the muscles in his forearms. He was tan from hours working out in the sun, strong from all the lifting and riding he did.

And regardless of how he treated her sometimes, regardless of the fact that he had been 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.”