Page 31 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Beth

“ I WANNA KNOW WHAT the heck you’ve all been doing.

How long you been here for, Beth?” Nash asks, beer in his hand, elbows resting on his legs.

In case you’re wondering, the cowboys aren’t the only thing that seems AI generated out here.

If I’d come up with a fantasy barbecue ranch scene, it’d be this.

No kidding, there are hay bales we’re sitting on, with big old blankets thrown across them so the straw doesn’t stick into you.

The barbecue is rustic and huge, the meat smells amazing.

But it’s the fairy lights that really take my breath away, strung as they are from the house to a huge tree across the lawn.

I hadn’t even clocked the lights, though I’ve run past here once or twice.

There’s nothing about these guys that really screams ‘fairy lights’, but then, Beau told me as he poured me a glass of white wine that it was Cassidy who had them put up for her sixteenth birthday party.

“Um, coming up on three weeks,” I say.

“And y’all haven’t seen fit to take her to a rodeo?”

“Season’s not on yet,” Beau says.

“Ever heard of local events?” Nash points out. “Poor girl’s never been.”

“The deprivation,” Mack says, rolling her eyes—Mack’s trademark gesture.

Nash throws her a glance, then a lazy grin, and her cheeks flush.

I look from one to the other, wondering if she has a crush on him.

Makes sense. He’s as gorgeous as they all are, maybe even more so, for someone young like Mackenzie, because of his job.

It’s pretty impressive to be a country music producer.

“You can’t let her leave Coyote Creek without at least seeing Beau ride a bull.”

“That’s not happening,” Cole says.

Silence falls, besides the crackling of the flames, low in the grate. I look at Cole, who’s sitting a few bales away from me.

Good thing, too. After the greeting we shared at the back of the house, I don’t know how I’m stopping myself from straddling him here and now, to hell with who sees.

“You sound just like him,” Beau says, quietly, but with steel in his voice.

Mackenzie throws me a look and Ash puts a hand on Beau’s forearm.

I don’t get what’s going on, though. For as long as I’ve been here, I haven’t heard anything like disharmony between the brothers.

I see Cole’s hand tighten on his beer bottle.

I’m not sure if that’s something anyone else would notice, or if it’s just because of Christopher that I read every change in feeling, emotion, like some kind of self-preservation technique.

Not that I’m afraid of Cole’s mood changes.

He’s nothing like Christopher. I know he’s the kind of man who can feel a strong emotion and handle it, without needing to take it out on someone weaker.

Without needing to take it out on anyone.

“Good.” Cole dips his head. “Kindest thing you’ve said to me all week.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

Cole’s back straightens. I have no idea what they’re talking about, what the issue is, but the whole atmosphere has changed. Tension zips through the air, as fast and furious as the fireflies dancing high above us.

“Beau.” Caleb’s voice cuts across the group. “Watch yourself.”

Beau glances at Caleb—not related by blood, but a man they all treat like a brother.

I can see Beau weighing up what he’s going to say, how he’s going to respond.

Then, he looks in my direction, surprising me, because he grins, like nothing’s wrong.

Like a full-blown fight hadn’t been on the brink of breaking out.

Ash leans closer to Beau and murmurs something in his ear, drawing his attention. He looks at her a good while then nods once, before turning back to look at me.

“What do you say, Manhattan? Would you like to see some bull riding?”

I wrinkle my nose. In truth, it’s not something I’ve ever thought about, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.

“A rodeo sounds fun,” I say, carefully, not wanting to pick a fight with Cole, or undermine him, until I know what the whole situation is.

I feel his eyes on me but keep looking at Beau.

“Oh, they’re the best fun,” he agrees with a wink. “I miss it every day of my life.”

Then, I do glance at Cole, see the way his jaw clenches. “Yeah, but at least you still have a life.”

The accident. Beau was thrown, like all bull riders. I mean, that’s got to be an occupational hazard, I guess. But whatever happened, it was bad enough for him to quit riding, to walk away from his career. Or be forced to.

It’s hard to imagine anyone making Beau do a damned thing, but then again, if there’s one person who could probably accomplish that, I suspect it would be Cole.

I’ve seen the respect they have for each other, and particularly that they all have for Cole.

He’s the oldest, but it’s more than that.

He’s got a natural authority and command that can’t help but take over.

“Are we gonna eat, or what?” Austin asks, standing, eyeing off the barbecue.

“Yeah, let’s eat,” Nash agrees, heading to a table behind the barbecue, where there are plates and cutlery, as well as a big bowl of slaw.

Just like that, the tension that was zipping through the air dissipates completely, like it never even happened.

I breathe out slowly, relieved, after everything I’ve been through.

With Christopher, tension never just eased.

“We keep it pretty simple,” Nash calls to me. “Just one salad. The meat’s the star of the show.”

“Fine by me.”

“We already checked. She’s not a vegetarian,” Beau says.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Nash winks. “Wouldn’t last too long around here if you were.”

“Hey, we’re tolerant of all types,” Austin contradicts. “Don’t go giving her the wrong idea about us.”

I laugh then. “I think I’ve got your measure pretty well,” I say, moving to the table where Nash hands me a plate. But as I go to the barbecue, it’s Cole who’s holding the tongs, breaking up the meat.

His eyes meet mine and he says, voice low and graveled, “Allow me, sugar.”

I flush to the roots of my hair, glancing around to see if anyone else is close enough to hear the term of endearment. Mack’s just a few feet away, but then, I quickly remember that both Nash and Beau have called me ‘sugar’, or ‘darlin’ before. That it’s sort of just a part of how these boys talk.

“Why, thank you, handsome,” I respond in kind, winking at him as he piles my plate with pork. “That smells so good; I can’t wait to try it.” I lean closer and whisper, “Almost the best thing I’m going to eat today.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and I love the way his cheekbones flush a darker shade. I walk off before he can say anything back, or act on what I’m pretty sure he’s feeling and kiss me silly, right here in front of his whole family and the two Callahans.

I barely talk to Cole. I guess we’re both keen to avoid raising suspicion.

Still, it’s hard. Hard to be here, under the stars and twinkly lights, full of great food, a glass of wine, listening to beautiful music, to see him, and not be near him.

To hear his voice, but not be able to catch everything he’s saying.

I know I’m the reason we’re pretending nothing’s happening between us—because I suggested it—but I also know it’s better for him, too.

I don’t want him having to answer questions about us, questions that might make it seem like something more’s going on than there really is. That makes it seem like a bigger deal.

I mean, it’s a big deal to me, because of Christopher, and the fact I haven’t been with anyone other than him in a really long time.

Not to mention how much I’d come to fear intimacy of any kind, so taking ownership of what’s happening with Cole, letting myself sink into it and throw caution to the wind is a heady rush of freedom.

It’s intoxicating. But I’m not stupid enough to think this is anything more than that.

Cole is Cole. Sexy, smart, decent. But in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if this is just about me reveling in my newfound autonomy, my power, rather than him, per se.

Which is why it works to keep this quiet. To keep it casual. To make sure we both know it’s just for fun, no strings. God knows, the whole concept of strings is something I’m probably going to spend my whole lifetime running from. The idea of being tied down to anyone is anathema to me.

Never again will I give up my independence.

Never again will I trust, to that degree.

I walked into my marriage without having any concept of what I was giving Christopher. Of how good he’d be at trapping me, undermining me, gaslighting me until I was a shadow of my former self. I will never make that mistake again.

From now, until the day I die, it will be this: casual, easy relationships for just as long as it suits me—always reserving the right to walk away when it suits, definitely before it gets serious. Not getting invested. Not wanting more.

Protecting myself, first and foremost.

My eyes flick to Cole and my stomach lurches, but I relax, because that’s just a physical response.

Being sexually attracted to him doesn’t mean I’m giving up my freedom, it just means I want to jump his bones, as soon as I possibly can.

But in the back of my mind, I know that I’m only here a bit over two months longer, so making the most of the time we have, then walking away, is my ticket to enjoying Cole without either of us getting hurt.

I can’t wait to get started. Or finish what we’ve already begun, anyways.

The message comes from Elsie as I’m carrying plates through to the kitchen. The boys all said they’d take care of it, but that doesn’t seem right. Besides, after hours of sitting around with them, trying to ignore the sexual tension that’s stretching between Cole and me, I need a break.