Page 2 of My Cowboy Boss (Lucky River Cowboys #2)

Flint

Silence. Oppressive, overwhelming silence. I fight my way from beneath the covers, gasping and sweating to stumble from the bed, the floor cool beneath my feet. Another nightmare about The Gentle Children’s Home.

I choke off a bitter laugh. As my brothers and I say whenever the past rears its ugly head, “There was nothing gentle about it.”

A light breeze stirs the curtain through the open window. I like to sleep with the windows open. I need to know that I have a way out. That I’m never trapped again.

It’s still dark out. Morning has yet to break and bring with it a welcoming light to chase away all the shadows.

I turn on the lamp and get jeans and a shirt from the closet. Everything in my room is neat and organized. It has to be. I need cleanliness and order in my environment.

Once I pull on a pair of socks, I make my way down the stairs into the kitchen. There’s an insistent meow as I pull open the drawer where the coffee filters are kept.

“I know. I’m up early.”

My cat, Warrior, acknowledges this by rubbing his head against my shin. The cat survived a coyote attack and is missing half his tail. My brother River found him. He has a habit of rescuing injured or unwanted animals and doctoring them back to health.

Then they stick to him, following him around like he’s their daddy. Except for Warrior. As soon as he saw me, my furry buddy rushed to my side and hasn’t left since. Maybe he recognized that like him, I was also once injured and unwanted.

I dig out a cat treat for him, and he bumps against my hand before he gobbles it up. He can sense when I’ve had a bad night.

Wilder walks into the kitchen blinking sleepily and rubbing his beard. His shirt is inside out. “You okay?”

“Busy day,” I say like that can explain why I’m up early.

He nods. Like the others, Wilder isn’t my blood brother.

He’s my brother by bond. All of us boys were adopted by Gavin and Frances Richford.

Taken from that hellish place known as The Gentle Children’s Home and brought to Lucky River where we were given a true home in their house and within their hearts.

He’s responsible for bringing the wrath of the law down on that home.

I never knew a man could be kind, could be safe to be around until I met him. Standing before him in pants too big for my scrawny body, I remember shaking like a leaf in a storm.

He spoke softly to me then. Still does. That first night with my adoptive parents, when I asked him what I’d have to do to get to eat the dinner he set in front of me, he wept like he knew everything I’d had to go through and said, “You don’t have to do anything like that ever again, son.”

“Don’t forget the new manager starts today,” Wilder says as he pours a thermos full of coffee.

When he speaks, I blink back the memory.

“Yeah, I did forget.” The last ranch manager we’d known for years and trusted like he was family emptied the ranch bank accounts and forged paperwork to take out a loan on the place. All of us boys came back to Lucky River, and we’ve been fighting like hell to save the place.

It’s my heart. It’s home. I belong. I know that now.

Wilder screws the lid onto his thermos and goes to get his Stetson.

“You almost drained the pot,” I say noticing the little bit of coffee he left. “That won’t even make a cup.”

“Love you, too.” He makes a kissy face, laughs at my expression, then leaves.

“Your shirt’s on inside out,” I say to the empty kitchen.

The sound of his truck heading out has barely faded before I hear gravel spitting in the distance coming toward the house. We’ve been meaning to take care of the dips in the road leading up to the driveway but it’s one of many things on a never-ending to-do list.

I sigh and go get my boots. I’m betting it’s another woman chasing after Wilder. Despite everything he’s experienced, he’s too friendly, too caring for his own good.

Pushing open the screen door, I step out onto the porch. I’ve got better things to do than to handle this shit. I squint against the sun’s rays as it begins to rise.

There’s a small car stopping in the driveway looking like it’s on its last wheel.

I scowl when the door swings wide and a woman steps out, taking a minute to get her bearings.

Shit, she’s gorgeous.

My heart does a strange glitch thing like it forgets to beat, then picks back up and goes on.

She’s wearing break-an-ankle heels and a skirt that flashes long, well-toned legs. Long brown hair. Wide blue eyes. A body that’s made for loving. Those three thoughts pound into my brain like I’m driving nails into a fence post.

Stop thinking about that body . And for sure as hell don’t try to make what I’m thinking a reality. That would be a big fucking mistake because I know her kind. And I lie and tell myself I’m not disappointed at that.

Women like her have been chasing my brother in droves since the evening he sang at Bean’s Bar. It’s owned by a guy named Ben who’d hired one of his family members to make the business sign. His cousin had added the a while he was drunk and the sign’s been that way ever since.

Some of the women who’d been at the bar had come here after that karaoke night, honking their horns and driving donuts in front of the house to get Wilder’s attention. They’d scared the hell out of the animals.

My scowl deepens when I recall how Warrior had run and hidden from all the noise, meowing pitifully. “Listen, bunny,” I tell the vision in front of me, “save it for the bar. This is a working ranch.”

She laughs and the sound makes me think of butterflies flitting about on a sunshine-filled day.

I blink and she says, “Right. I’m here to get some things done.”

She’s here to get some things done? Or to do Wilder? Heard that before.

I let my gaze travel up and down her delicious body and my own body takes a decided interest in what I’m seeing. I shift my stance to hide the reaction occurring below my belt. “Honey, go back where you came from. No one here needs your kind of trouble.”

“Trouble? Ah…I think you’re misunderstanding something. I’m the new manager, Arizona.”

Her face flushes bright red.

I survey her again, glancing pointedly at the heels. “You’re working here?”

She squares her shoulders, her lips firm and says, “That’s what I was hired to do.” Then clearly irritated, she puts her hands on those delectable hips that are perfect for a man to grip. “And who are you, cowboy?”

I’m the idiot who thinks you’re cute and sexy and I can’t have that kind of trouble here. “I’m your new boss.”

“ My cowboy boss?” Her mouth hangs open for a second.

Those lips of hers were made for kissing. And wide open like that, I can think of a few—I slam down the naked thoughts I’m having. “Follow me,” I bark out.

I spin on my heel and stride inside. My heart is double-timing in my chest, and I hate that. Hate that my dick is pressing against my zipper. Hate that I was thinking about where I could put it. What the hell’s wrong with me?

As we walk toward the office, I ask, “What kind of management software have you used?”

“Uh…management software?”

I stop in front of the door of the office, arching a brow. “For tracking.”

“Um…tracking?”

I cross my arms and narrow my eyes.

Her expression is like a deer in headlights, and I’d bet my right nut she doesn’t have a clue what the hell I’m talking about.

Her sudden smile is bright, her blue eyes wide. “We’re wasting time. I should get started.” She rubs her hands together.

Nice redirect, Sugar.

“You can use that laptop.” I tip my head toward the desk and watch her walk across the thick rug in the center of the room. Her heels make her hips sway as she moves. There’s something off here…is she lying?

I can’t fucking stand lies. I’ve heard too many .

I don’t know if she’s lying, and I don’t trust her. But I’ve got nothing to prove anything. I’m not about to let my family get taken advantage of again. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get away with shit. I’m going to watch her every fucking move.