Page 5 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

THREE

MATEO

“Hey Boss, you dropped this.”

I lean over Sven, running my fingers through his silver mane and over the bulging muscles of his neck. His eyes swivel as his chest presses in and out against my thighs, evidence that even for him it’s fucking hot out.

I face Jonah, one of my more eager stable boys, shading my face to get a better look at the item in question. He holds my grey shirt in his fist, waving it around like a flag.

A flag that all but announces “the boss” is currently shirtless.

“Leave it,” I grumble, urging Sven’s enormous hooves toward the gate. Cows ball in the distance, a welcome sound in the turbulent voices swirling in my head. Every thought starting with miles of long onyx hair, and ending with purple lipstick and a smile meant to tempt the devil.

“What happens if the ladies see you?” he teases, flinging the shirt over the rails as he leans against it watching me.

I stiffen, my fingers tightening over the leather in my grip a second before I exhale. Sven doesn’t deserve my ire, even if it’s not directed at him.

“Who cares?”

“Uh—”Jonah’s eyebrows shoot to his hair line in surprise before he flails the shirt in my general direction once more. “Every horny daughter, or desperate mother waiting to land ‘the big one.’ ”

I snort at that. No mother would want their daughter to end up with me if they respected or loved them at all. All I do is work.

“Jonah, you read too many tabloids. What am I even paying you for?” I reach for the hook on the gate, something he could have done if he hadn’t been ogling me, and Sven prances beneath me growing impatient.

“Boss, you look great. Ripped even. And the tattoos are nothing but chick magnets. I know you have to get some serious a?—”

I whip my head around, pinning him with a glare.

“Finish that sentence and you’ll find somewhere else to work.

I will not tolerate crude behavior like that.

” Even if he’s right, which I’ll never admit, I believe in being a gentleman even when no one’s around.

It’s about having a standard, and I hold myself to the highest of them.

“Sorry, boss,” he mumbles, and I roll my eyes, feeling half sorry for scolding him.

He’s not much younger than me, probably six years, but I know we were raised differently.

I’m not talking about the difference in wealth even—although that plays a part—I’m talking about the iron fist and the golden bar.

“Hand me that.” I point at the shirt and he hesitantly walks forward, extending the fabric. I grab the piece, stretching it over my head and pulling it down as best as I can. Even when I’m not covered in an offensive amount of sweat my clothes hate to fit.

“Do they have meaning?”

I face him again, motioning at the gate still open where he’s standing. He grabs the latch, but his eyes don’t leave my face.

I shrug, pushing Sven forward. “Most of them, no. They just look cool, or felt right. A couple of them do though.” My eyes flick down to the most obvious one printed across my knuckles: NOBLE ONE.

“I remember when you first got those, after you inherited the company. Everyone said they meant something.”

“Again, I’m not paying you to read magazines.”

“Do they mean something?” he pushes, and I have half a mind to fire his nosy ass. Is he a secret agent or something?

“Do yours?” I hiss.

Sven knickers as we near the barn and I slide off his back, running a hand over his sweat covered flank.

“Do you want me to wash him?” Jonah offers and even though I know I’m paying him to do just that, I grip onto the leather a little tighter.

When I can, I prefer to do the work myself.

There’s something about dirt beneath my fingernails to help remind me I’m more than just a symbol— that I’m more than just a Reyes.

Sven whinnies, pulling on his lead. I know he’d rather go eat the grain that waits for him in his stall than get a bath first, but he deserves better treatment than that. Even if he doesn’t realize it himself.

Just like a salty, five foot nothing brat that’s consumed my every thought since she called me out of the blue only weeks ago. I’ve missed the years where she grew up—taking over my family's empire made having friends nearly impossible—especially when our shared interests were next to none.

In high school, Adalene was the shy, withdrawn good-girl. But Dale—the nickname I started calling her at seventeen—is none of those things. Dale’s a woman, and I can’t help but feel drawn to her in a way I never knew I could be.

I’ve been Mateo Reyes, the millionaire rancher and casino boss now for eight years—a man of power and wealth and motivation. And I’ve forgotten about just being Mateo: the man who loves cattle genetics, and taking long horseback rides just to feel the sun on my skin.

Being a Reyes comes with its perks, but it also comes with its hardships too. The biggest one being losing touch with the people who knew me for who I wanted to be, and not who I had to be.

I need to call her, see how she’s doing. I shake my head, reminding myself I just saw her only days ago when I forced my way into her house. I’ve seen more of Dale in the last few weeks than I have in the last ten years.

And yet… I’m not even close to having enough.

“Sir?” Another ranch hand, Davie— I think —stumbles back.

“Yes, sorry. What did you say?” My voice is far more growly than I’d like, but it’s Dale. The mere thought of her turns me on, which in turn, pisses me off.

“I said, you’re needed at Del Maria.”

I exhale the sudden frustration welling in my body—it’s not his fault no one can keep the ship afloat without me.

“Here.” I extend Sven’s reins to the guy and he eyes them hesitantly.

“I can take him,” Jonah offers, but I only stare at Davie until his fingers wrap around the leather.

“If I have to do work I don’t especially love, you’re going to go down with me,” I state before I turn and head for the house.

He nods, not arguing another second, and I leave him to stumble over the task until Jonah inevitably helps him out.

Wish I had someone who would take over for me when I’m struggling.

“Oh thank god! He does know how to answer the fucking phone.” I roll my eyes, and wait for Valentina’s tirade to continue.

Just like it always does. “Does he know how to show up to work when he’s expected to be there?

Does he know how to run an empire with little to no experience?

Does he know how to not be a raging asshole?

I’m thinking not to all three.” I can just see the red stain of anger on her cheeks.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Motherfucker, do not fucking test me.”

“I’m ten minutes away,” I state, ignoring her growing tantrum.

“Ten minutes? Fuck, Mateo! You should have been here two hours ago, when I first fucking called.” It’s always something with Valentina. She barks, you jump. Or you die.

But she can’t kill her own brother, which is the only reason I don’t worry about her losing her mind at me. I’m safe. For now anyways.

“V, is the place burning down?” She hates when I try to talk rationally to her.

“No Mateo, you know it’s fucking not. I’m not talking to you on the phone, just get here, now.” Before I have time to comment on the fact that she’s the one who called me, she hangs up.

I’ve barely taken a handful of calming breaths before I’m pulling into the enormous casino lot, shiny cars glittering in the afternoon sunshine. People who go to casinos during the day time are a special breed of messed-up. I would know.

I don’t bother parking, but instead pull up to Valet where they meet me before the tires come to a complete halt.

“Mr. Reyes, so good to see you. Can I have anything brought to your office for you?”

“No, thank you.” I don’t even have to open my own door—people scramble around me like ants in a hill making way for their leader.

What I wouldn’t give to be a different fucking bug, in an entirely different world.

“They’re becoming a major problem Mateo, don’t you see that?

” Valentina’s hip cocks, the silky navy dress offsetting the stark red on her lips.

She reminds me of Jessica Rabbit, always decked out in gaudy finery and a sassy attitude.

Men fall at her feet, but I see nothing but a spoiled brat, always wanting to play god and ruin whatever lives she can get her hands on.

“I don’t.” I lean back in the forty thousand dollar, black leather chair she demanded I get for the office, and steeple my fingers against my chest. Her eyes widen, the fake lashes brushing her thin eyebrows, and a stray coil of her auburn hair.

“They’re fucking stealing from us!”

“They stole from us. Once, and it was barely anything. Do I think it’s okay? Obviously not. But people steal from wealthy establishments—especially casinos—all the time.”

“You’re weak.” She spits the words, but I keep my face neutral. I refuse to let her get a rise out of me.

“It’s not weak to see the bigger picture.

And the bigger picture here is that it’s not worth stirring up a hornets nest, just to get a few pennies back.

Let them have it, and next time we’ll be ready to stop them while they’re in action.

We’re not a cartel, V, no matter how much you like playing mob boss. ”

“How fucking dare you. I do what’s necessary to keep this family legacy alive. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty over it either!”

I snort at that, sitting up. “I’d love to see you get your hands the tiniest bit dirty, sister. I don’t think you even know what a cow looks like, what dirt feels like.” She’s always been into the money and glam, leaving the ranching side all to me. Not that I’m complaining.

It’s the one thing in my life she hasn’t ruined.

“The real money is here Mateo, not on some plot of dirt. I stay here because it needs someone to run it.” She won’t back down, even if I gave her concrete proof she’s wrong—which is why I always fold. It’s not worth the headache.

“What do you think we should do about them then?”

“Elimination.” She crosses her arms with finality, and I want to laugh. But that’ll only poke the beast more.

“Absolutely not. You can’t just go around killing people, V.”

She purses her lips at that, like I’m telling her not to breathe, and she’s trying to figure out how to survive otherwise. “We have to do something.”

“We will,” I grind out. This is becoming another one of those conversations that makes my temples throb and the bottom of a tequila bottle look like a good date for the night.

“Now, Mateo.” Her eyes glitter with irritation, and I stand up, going around my desk to stand right in front of her.

“Okay, V, I’ll look into it, I promise.” I reach out a hand, but she steps out of reach, her nose scrunched up in disgust.

“You’re the weakest man I know.” I nod, there’s no arguing with her. No making her see reason—no point trying either. “Father would be so disappointed.”

She always did know how to deliver a killing blow with perfect lipstick and a smile.