Page 6 of Boston (Coral Canyon: Cowboys #12)

“Do you always ride Goldie?” He turned back toward the fire pit. “We need to get the food out of the saddlebags on your granddad’s horse.”

She moved with him, her boots crunching over the gravel the same way as his. “Usually, yes, but I would’ve been okay on another horse.”

“Dolphin?”

“Yeah, he’d have been fine.”

“But you prefer Goldie.”

“When she’s not bolting.”

Boston glanced at her, those aqua eyes devouring her in a single second. She wondered what he’d seen yesterday, as she couldn’t quite remember everything that had happened.

He seemed like he might ask her another question, which had her irritation already firing. Then he said, “She’s a good horse,” and grinned at her in a way that made her think perhaps he was flirting with her too.

Could he be? Was that even possible after she’d whispered threats in his ear after bodying up to him?

“Though none of ‘em beat Coach. He’s a dream.”

“He’s brown ,” Cora said, as if a brown horse was the worst thing possible.

Boston blinked, obviously trying to catch up to her implication too. “So you judge a horse’s worth based on his or her color?”

“Goldie is so pretty ,” Cora said, a slight whine in her voice.

Boston’s smile only got brighter, and he shook his head as he undid the buckles on a saddlebag. “Hold this, would you?” He passed her a package of butcher-exclusive hot dogs with gouda, a bag of buns, and a plastic container that looked like it held pasta salad.

Another memory shot forward, and Cora felt like she was beaming starshine from every pore of her body. “Is this that vegetable pasta salad? I loved this stuff as a kid.”

“It came from the kitchen at the resort,” Boston said. “Anne’s a genius, so it’ll be good, even if it’s not the same.”

“I bet it’s the same,” Cora said. “It’s an old family recipe, and it’s so good.”

Boston loaded up his arms with condiments, a box of granola bars, and a bag of beef jerky. He turned from the horse and took a couple of steps away. “Oh, good. Jeremy has the table set up. I completely forgot about that.”

He glanced at her as she came to his side. “I should’ve done that first.” His neck turned a bit patchy and red, and he sobered right on up as he approached the table and put down the items he’d collected.

“I’ll get the rest. Why don’t you just come enjoy the sunshine and shade?”

Cora couldn’t help feeling dismissed by him, and she didn’t like the pinching in her stomach. She also wasn’t sure why she couldn’t just sit down and chat with her mother, but that didn’t appeal to her either.

Boston went over to Granddad and gave him a granola bar, and when he looked up at Boston, Cora saw the respect and love her grandfather had for the younger man.

That only made Cora like him more, and she turned away from the scene, something part excitement and part hissing snakes filling her gut now.

She didn’t do what he said, though, and she joined him back at the saddlebags to get the utensils, plates, and extendable weenie roasters. He met her eyes for only a moment, and then moved around to his horse to get something else.

When he came back, his arms laden with dripping bottles of water, Cora cleared her throat. This was probably the best place to do this, as they stood as far from her momma and granddad as they could get.

“Listen, I’m totally out of my element, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Boston paused, his expression serious and giving nothing away.

“I know my mother is going to step down soon, and I’m going to take over Silver Sage.” She hadn’t said those words to anyone, and why she was telling a man she’d barely met, she had no idea. He had kind eyes, though, and a good spirit, and for some crazy reason, Cora felt like she could trust him.

“This is not common knowledge, so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself.”

“Can I tell Coach?”

The next thing Cora had been about to say dried right up. “Coach?”

“I tell Coach all my secrets,” Boston said seriously.

“And sometimes my daddy, but I don’t have to tell him.

” He gave himself a little shake, which Cora found absolutely adorable.

“It’s just…I don’t like keeping things inside.

They sort of eat me up, so if I can tell Coach, then I won’t have to tell anyone else. ”

Cora glanced over to the medium brown horse, who had his head down lazily, his tail flicking left-right-left-right in a slow pattern. “I suppose you can tell Coach.”

“Okay, then.”

“I know my momma, and she’ll want me to work with someone.” Cora sighed. “I suppose I could ask Jeremy, but I was thinking…maybe you and I could…I don’t know.” Cora’s courage failed her, and she couldn’t ask for his number.

She wanted it for work purposes, sure, but also so she could text him about anything and everything she wanted. Just to have this man’s number would be something in a world where Cora had very little.

“I’m not even sure what you’re asking me.

” Boston took a step closer, glanced over to the fire pit, where everyone else still sat.

“I work with groups on excursions and hikes, hunting parties, stuff like that. And I work in the office sometimes, dealing with the conference and event side of the lodge.”

Cora nodded. “All the things I need to learn about. There’s just so much more here than when I left ten years ago.”

“And you think I can….” His eyebrows went up. “What? Mentor you?”

“You could at least, uh, meet with me and start to outline some of these types of things. Then, when I meet with my mother and sister, I won’t feel like I’m drowning.” She swallowed, and with her throat so dry, she didn’t think she’d ever feel like she could drown.

Boston inched even closer, the scent of sunshine, horses, and leather coming with him. Cora tried not to take a deep breath of it, and failed. She committed it to memory, so she could smell this when she imagined him laughing.

“I could probably do that,” he said. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with the other things I have going on at Silver Sage. I really like this job, and I don’t want to lose it.”

She nodded. “Great,” she croaked out. “So sometime before we part ways today, maybe I could get your number.”

“Sure,” Boston said easily, and then he let his gorgeous cowboy smile out. “Now, come on. We’re having roasted corn on the cob and the best hot dogs on the planet for lunch, and I’m starving.”

He stepped around her and took the water over to the table, then hand-delivered a bottle to everyone around the fire pit, where he tended to the fire and started building a bed of coals for roasting.

Cora watched him, starving for something else entirely. Acceptance. Belonging. The human touch.

“No,” she grumbled. “Not any human touch.” Because her sister and mother both hugged her. They were both thrilled she’d come home.

Mm, she wanted a thrilling, warm touch from Boston Simpson, and Cora wondered if she’d lost her mind completely. She hadn’t come back to Wyoming to find a cowboy boyfriend, especially not one who worked for her.

She gave herself a powerful shake then and put an extra foot between her and Boston when he came to the table and started wrapping ears of corn in tin foil.

She had a job to do here, and it wasn’t to flirt with handsome cowboys. She’d get his number, and she’d learn what she could from him—and if she could do that while basking in the beauty of those blue eyes, all the better.

But she wouldn’t dive into them. Oh, no, she would not.

She went with him to put the corn in the fire, and when she straightened after handing them all to him to nestle down into the coals—which he did with his bare hands—her mother said, “Come sit, Cora.”

“I’m learning,” she said.

“Yes, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Cora gave a weary sigh and sat next to her mother in the only available chair. That meant Boston didn’t have one, and she told herself not to watch him walk back to the table to do the next thing. He was working here, and he wasn’t going to sit down with the guests.

“I’d like you to work with someone,” Momma started. “Kat and Jeremy can still meet with you, and I’ll be there too, of course.”

“Of course,” Cora murmured. “Momma, I’m planning on being everywhere and learning as much as I can.” She didn’t need a babysitter.

“What about Boston?” her mother asked just as he returned.

“Yes?” he asked. “Did you need something, ma’am?”

Momma beamed up at him. “Yes, Boston.” She didn’t look at Cora, and it felt deliberate.

Her heartbeat pounded dangerously in her chest. “Momma, I already asked him to show me the ropes.”

Her mother swung her gaze to Cora then. She studied her with interest, her gaze becoming more and more calculated.

“I don’t need you to do more than you’ve done,” Cora said, her defenses flying into place. Who knew what Momma might say next? Cora didn’t want to hear it; she didn’t want Boston to know the extent of her ineptitude.

“He’s going to help me,” she said, shooting Boston a look that she couldn’t quite stick. “Right?”

Momma turned back to Boston too, and he nodded a couple of times, his jaw set in pure determination. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, good,” Momma said. “I’m glad that’s settled.” She spoke like she’d orchestrated the whole thing, and Cora turned away from the conversation, half-wishing she could get on a plane and head back to Miami.

Then Boston said, “Cora, could you come help me with these roasters?” and Cora had a third thing that would stick with her for a long time: the way Boston said her name with such tenderness and care.

“Of course.” She got to her feet and strode after him, wondering what in the world the cowboy really needed help with, because it surely wasn’t the roasting sticks.