Kimberly Raye - Texas Outlaws - Cole

Susie Carlisle had baked him three dozen brownies and Jenny Farmer had brought him fresh canned preserves. Delilah Martin had even made her prize-winning meatloaf. And while Cole had nothing against a good hunk of meat, he was smart enough to know that enjoying even one bite would send the wrong message—namely that he was ready to slow down and settle down.

Like hell.

“Well? How much is there?” he asked Jesse.

“Yeah,” Billy chimed in. He was the youngest Chisholm, and just as anxious to be done with the digging as Cole. Albeit for different reasons. Like Jesse who’d found the love of his life, Billy had recently traded in his bachelor status to play house with his one and only. Both men were set to tie the knot after the finals in Vegas. “What’s the verdict?”

“Hold your horses.” Jesse peeled off bills one after the other. “I’m counting.”

Cole leaned on the edge of the shovel and stared over the top of the hole at the pastureland surrounding them. It was just a few minutes shy of sunrise and a faint orange glow lit the horizon. They usually started digging late at night, under the cover of darkness, but it was Saturday. The Saturday, and so Jesse had said to hell with caution.

Cole eyed the rutted ground. They’d tried to fill in the holes so as not to raise any red flags. The people of Lost Gun, along with a mess of fortune hunters, had been looking for Silas Chisholm’s missing fortune for years now. If word got out that his three sons had actually found the money, the place would be crawling with people.

But Cole, Jesse and Billy intended to be the only ones to dig up their father’s past. Once they had every penny present and accounted for, they intended to give it back to the town and kill the rumors that had been circulating about them once and for all.

That they’d been in on it. That they’d secretly been spending the cash over the years. That they were every bit as worthless as their father.

They hadn’t even known about the money until a few months ago when Jesse had uncovered a connection between Silas and the town’s most notorious moonshiner. Unfortunately, Big Earl Jessup wasn’t the man he used to be. In his nineties now, his old-timer’s had set in. He could no longer whip up his infamous White Lightning moonshine any more than he could remember where he’d buried the money from the bank heist committed by his good friend and partner in crime, Silas Chisholm.

The plan had been for Silas to hand off the money to Big Earl, who would then bury it until the fuss died down. Then they would both dig it back up at a later time and enjoy the spoils. But then Silas had set himself on fire and drawn a wave of media attention to their small Texas town. The story had attracted tons of reporters and earned a spot on a Discovery Channel documentary called Famous Texas Outlaws. Most recently, a “Where Are They Now?” episode had aired on the documentary’s tenth anniversary.

Bottom line, Big Earl had sat on the money for so long that he’d eventually forgotten where he’d buried it all. And so Cole and his brothers, along with Big Earl’s great granddaughter, Casey, had been digging up the old man’s pasture for the past three months.

“This is it,” Jesse announced, stashing the rolls of cash back inside the coffee can. “One hundred thousand dollars.”

“Finally,” Cole muttered.

While he was glad they’d recovered the money and he wanted to see the Chisholm name cleared, he wasn’t as haunted by it as his oldest brother. No, he’d killed himself shoveling dirt for Jesse. So that his oldest brother could make peace with the past.

Cole wasn’t half as anxious to make peace as he was just to forget. To leave the memories where they belonged—way, way behind him—and focus on the future. His RV was packed and waiting back at the prime stretch of land he’d purchased on the outskirts of town. The perfect spot to breed some prime, Grade A horseflesh if he ever got the notion.

A slim possibility because Cole liked moving around, traveling, living.

He’d spent his entire childhood barely existing. Food had been in short supply. Money had been practically nonexistent. And love? He’d had his brothers, but Silas had been a piss-poor excuse for a father. There’d been too much misery, too many days spent feeling like he was being suffocated by his situation, snuffed out, beaten down. He’d been so close to giving up.

But then legendary bull rider Pete Gunner had taken him and his brothers in and helped them become rodeo’s best and most notorious. Cole was now one of the infamous Lost Boys—the hottest group of riders on the circuit, so named because they all hailed from the same small town.

For him, it was all about living life now rather than merely enduring it. About feeling the rush of adrenaline when he climbed onto the back of a bronc, smelling the fresh dirt that kicked up around him, hearing the thunder of his own heart, seeing the whites of his knuckles as he held tight to the reins and gave the ride everything he had.

He felt alive then. Free.

All the more reason to get back out on the road.

“Move your ass.” Billy reached out a hand to Cole and helped him out of the hole. “We’ve got an hour to get back to town and get cleaned up before we head over to the church. Jimmy and Jake will kill us if we’re late.”

Yep, he was leaving, all right.

After he stuffed himself into a tuxedo and walked some blushing bridesmaid down the aisle.

“I’ll put in a call to the sheriff and see if I can set up a meeting for tomorrow morning so we can get this money back to its rightful owner.” Jesse started gathering up their tools. “In the meantime, we’ve got a wedding to get to.”

1

IT WAS THE SECOND biggest wedding the small town of Lost Gun, Texas, had ever seen. Next in line only to the marriage of pro bull-riding legend Pete Gunner who’d married his one and only earlier that year.

Nikki Barbie hadn’t been in attendance at that particular event because she’d been home nursing a bad case of strep.

Thankfully.

Weddings were definitely not her thing.

The truth struck as she stood to the right of the minister of the Lost Gun First Baptist Church and listened to her two oldest sisters vow to “love, honor and cherish.”

Crystal and April were marrying the Barber twins in a massive double-wedding ceremony, complete with a fairy-tale theme that translated in the form of castle-shaped sugar-cookie favors and a live butterfly release. Jimmy and Jake Barber were the hottest team ropers on the rodeo circuit and members of the Lost Boys, which meant that in addition to the few hundred guests, there were at least a dozen reporters crowded inside the sanctuary. Snapping pictures. Documenting memories.

This was definitely the worst day of her life.

And not just because she was wearing a floor-length, pink satin dress, complete with parasol and matching sandals.

Raylene Barbie—Nikki’s mother and owner of The Giddyup, Lost Gun’s oldest and most popular honky-tonk—was the culprit behind the tragic state of Nikki’s life. Raylene was a card-carrying, ball-busting Southern bad girl who would sooner guzzle a lukewarm beer than narrow down her options and give up her freedom to just one man.

Not that she didn’t like men. Quite the opposite. She appreciated a good hunk of beefcake as much as the next red-blooded woman. More so, in fact. Raylene Barbie went through men faster than the members of the ladies’ auxiliary went through panty hose.

Men were good for one thing, and it had nothing to do with any sort of happily ever after. They were fun. Exciting. And very, very temporary.

Which explained why she sat in the front row and stared at her youngest daughter as if she were the last beer in the cooler at a Fourth of July picnic.