Page 73 of The Wildest Ride

“Drives?”

Lil nodded toward the cows. “Right up until the end we thought he was still taking two to three cattle drives every year. Turned out that wasn’t the case—he’d stopped when he’d just got too old but was too ashamed of the fact to tell us.”

Her words bounced around in his chest uncomfortably, echoing Diablo’s and The Old Man’s. “I know the type. What’d you do?”

“I tried to get a few drive commissions, but nobody wanted to send a young woman out on a drive team. Things have been tight, but we’ve been managing—until we got the notice that the terms of the reverse mortgage had come due.”

AJ smiled. “We never expect the piper, do we? The Old Man started CityBoyz to give boys who lived in Houston a chance to learn how to cowboy. One of his old sponsors loved the idea and funded the whole project. When that sponsor died suddenly this year, the money disappeared in an instant.”

“And he never got nonprofit status?” she asked. “I remember that from your bio.” She added the last bit at his look of confusion.

He grinned. “You read my bio?”

Lil’s cheeks turned pink. “I read everyone’s bio.”

His right dimple peeked out with a smile and a spark lit his eyes. “Sure you did.”

“I did,” she insisted.

The other side of AJ’s lopsided smile lifted. “Sure you did,” he repeated.

“You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?” she asked irritably.

He shook his head. “Not really, no. You either, I bet.”

She hit him on the shoulder, but smiled and didn’t lie. “Nope.”

He shrugged. “It’s lonely at the top.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I think I’m very possible. Want to try me?”

Lil made a choking sound in the back of her throat and scooted away from him. “No thank you. Not one for cowboys, myself.”

“Funny, that’s not been my experience,” he said, returning her long ago words to her with delight.

Outrage lit her face. Eyes narrowing, she sassed, “Cowboys aren’t known for their stamina...”

AJ gave her his best stern look. “Now don’t go making any eight-second-ride jokes. You’re better than that.”

She shrugged, a mischievous light coming to her eyes. “If the shoe fits...”

AJ scooted closer. “I could show you how it fits.”

Lil scooted away like she she’d touched fire, eyes wide and glittering. “No thanks. I’m good.”

AJ stretched lazily and watched her eyes follow the movement. She was lying. But all he said was, “Suit yourself.”

“I will,” she said with too much conviction.

AJ chuckled. “Tell me more of the Lilian Sorrow Island story.”

She shook her head. “Nope. It’s your turn.”

“I won’t do it. Not until you give me more. You don’t know your daddy, but what about your mom? What was she like? You talk about your grandparents. Do you have any memories of her? How did she die?” It was strange, the way the spare details of her life had stayed with him. He’d never been good with birthdays, names, or faces—for AJ, if it wasn’t attached to rodeo it didn’t stick. At least that’s how it had been. Until Lil.

Her smile froze before she took a moment to look down and straighten his jacket, pulling it tighter around herself. When she looked back up the smile was still stuck on her face, though her eyes had gone as cold and gray as a lake he had seen during his first trip to the snow. “I was four when she died and three when she started down the path, so mostly she’s fuzzy, but I remember her singing. She loved to sing and dance.” What had started out terse and matter-of-fact had softened into sad before his eyes, but AJ didn’t think Lil had been aware of the transition.