Maisey Yates - Bad News Cowboy

“Anyway,” she said, unable to help herself, “you comment on my age all the time.”

“I said I never commented on a lady’s age, Katie.”

She snorted. “I am a lady, asswipe.”

“I don’t know how I missed it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his grin turning wicked.

For some reason that comment was the last straw. “Okay, hate to cut this short, but I have an early morning tomorrow.” That was not strictly true. It was an optional early morning since she intended to get up and spend some time with Roo. “And I will be stopping by The Grind to buy a very expensive coffee with the money I won from you.”

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.