Page 5 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Three

Cole

R ANDY REYNOLDS SLIDES THE beers down the bar, one for me, one for Beau.

Austin, our ranch hand Caleb, and Mackenzie the intern are already at a table in the back.

The place is packed tonight, just like always on steak night.

Then again, when isn’t it steak night around here?

This one though is legendary, with an open mic later, so after a few beers people sing their lungs out.

I feel a hint of guilt assail me as we weave through the tables toward the others, thinking about Beth being all alone at the ranch on her first night.

It’s not exactly country hospitality but I get a feeling it’s what she wanted: to be left alone. Though if Beau had had his way, she’d be sitting right down at that empty chair, letting him regale her with whatever story he wanted, shooting the breeze, trying to get her out of her boots.

“You don’t know shit,” Mackenzie snaps at Austin as I take my seat, and he lets out a guffaw.

“Just admit it, you like her.”

Mackenzie rolls her eyes, and I wonder if she’s already met the new bookkeeper.

“Shut it,” she warns. If I was Austin, I’d pay attention. Mackenzie doesn’t mess around and she sounds pissed as all get out.

“I saw you,” Austin digs down, laughing a little.

“Whatever.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, passing a beer to Beau before I turn the last empty seat around so I can straddle it backways and rest my arms on it.

“Mack over here likes to talk tough, but she’s gotten herself attached to that damn stray mutt.”

“Did not,” Mackenzie snaps.

“You’ve been sneaking it food for two weeks.”

Mackenzie’s lips parts. “How did you?—,”

Everyone laughs.

“Sounds like he’s got you there,” I say, gently.

She glances at me—the only one at this table she doesn’t ever arc up to, like she knows pushing my buttons would be crossing a line or something. “Yeah, well, if you’d seen him…he’s all skin and bones. He’d go after the cows if he stayed hungry like that.”

I nod, not totally oblivious to Mackenzie’s thinking.

Two years ago, she was the starving stray, the mutt without a home, who my dad found and took in.

She was the one who was skin and bones, desperate for a decent feed, needing a roof over her head.

Just like my mom had been, at fifteen, when she’d sought shelter in one of the barns and my dad—himself only seventeen—had found her and taken care of her.

Yeah, he had a soft spot for strays all right, and apparently that’s a legacy he’s passed down to Mackenzie.

“It’s a ranch, Mack, not a dang animal shelter.”

She glares at Austin, but it’s only when I wave a hand in his direction that he shuts his trap.

Beau takes over. “So, did y’all meet our new house guest yet?”

Mackenzie’s face immediately claps with thunderclouds. Wariness. She’s been through too much—not that she’d ever open up and tell you about it—to take kindly to strangers.

“The new Reagan?” Caleb asks. He’s my go-to out here.

Beau and Austin each have their own strengths, their own gifts, but Caleb’s just like another brother to me.

We’re a lot alike. From our temperament to our values to the fact we neither of us feel like we should use thirty words if three will do.

If I go off-ranch, he’s the guy I leave in charge.

He’d die before he’d let anything happen to this place.

It’s as much in his blood as it is in mine.

I tense a little, wondering for about the millionth time if I’m wrong to be keeping the truth from him.

From all of them. The truth of the financial mess we’re in.

The trouble. The fact that dad, who we all idolized, and thought could do no wrong, had let his love of mom lead him to throw all of his money into a venture that almost bankrupted him. And the ranch.

I’m going to be picking up the pieces for longer than I can imagine. That’s if I can even manage to dig us out of this hole.

Tension tightens my gut, my spine, my shoulders.

I can’t tell them.

Not without destroying the picture they had of dad.

The respect they had for him. He was on a pedestal in life and damned if I’m going to rip it to shreds when he’s not around to defend or explain himself.

It’s bad enough that I’m having to get my head around it, no way do I want to put them through that.

“You’re so gross,” Mackenzie says with an eye roll. The time her vitriol is directed at Beau.

“You’re just jealous, honey,” he winks, and Austin laughs.

“You really do think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?”

He tilts his hat. “If the cap fits…” He takes a drink of beer. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t kick her out of my bed, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what you mean,” Caleb says, sharply. “Correct me if I’m wrong, hasn’t this woman come to work on the ranch?”

They’re talking about Beth. Something tightens inside of me; a protective instinct I felt flare to life almost the minute I saw her.

“So? Doesn’t mean she can’t get to know me a little better. And have a lot of fun doing it,” he grins.

I drink my beer, letting the cold liquid wash down my throat, but my temper stays right where it is.

Hot and fiery, catching me off guard. My brothers talk a lot of shit.

It’s part of what we do. But Beth is different.

Despite just meeting her, it’s as plain as the day is long that she’s… complicated.

“Listen here.” I place my glass down, arms braced on the chair, pose mirroring a state of relaxation, when my voice shows I’m deadly serious. “Leave that girl alone.”

Austin glances at me, a frown on his face. He’s so like Nash—our brother, his twin—that I almost do a double take.

“I don’t know what her story is, but I reckon there is one. So, let’s just respect the lady’s privacy and let her get on with her work.”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about interfering with her work,” Beau says with a wiggle of his brows. “Last I checked, it’s a free country. If she wants to join me for a meal…”

“She won’t,” I say sharply. “Because you ain’t gonna ask her.”

“What’s the matter, bro? You called dibs?”

It’s just the kind of dumbass comment Beau always makes. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He was raised by the same folks I was, the same manners, the same courtesies, were drummed into him as they were me. He just talks a good game.

“No one is going to ask Beth out. No one is going to flirt with her, look at her a second time, or put a single finger on her. Got it?”

I lay down the law like I always do, knowing that when push comes to shove, no one’s going to challenge me.

Caleb throws me a glance, Austin does a salute, Mackenzie rolls her eyes and Beau shrugs.

“Whatever. Plenty more fish in the sea.” He glances around the bar.

“In fact, there’s a pretty little thing I wouldn’t mind getting to know.

” He scrapes back his chair and, beer in one hand, begins to make his way through the bar, to a table of young women sharing a bottle of wine.

I expel a breath when he’s gone and force myself to relax.

To look relaxed, but I can’t help wondering: what if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew by letting this woman onto the ranch?

The last thing I need right now is to give two cares about anything or anyone besides the mess we’re in, and that includes knock out New Yorkers with a penchant for numbers.

Beth

I’m just about to pull the mac and cheese from the oven when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel. I freeze, like a deer in headlights, but it’s when the sound of the front door opening reaches me that I go into full blown panic. Just like I did almost every night of my marriage.

The days were okay, because Christopher was at work. In the days, I could read, eat what I wanted, heal. Think about leaving. But the second I heard him coming home, I knew my walking on eggshells time was about to start, and the consequences of saying or doing anything wrong would hurt. A lot.

Even though it’s been three months since I’ve had to live with that fear, the sound of the door opening brings it all back like a freight train, so by the time Cole strides into the kitchen—too distracted to notice me at first—I’m shaking like a leaf.

But he’s deep in thought, so it takes a second for his gaze to stray my way. I’m still shaking, but at least I’ve had time to hide my hands by my side and try to arrange my face into some kind of smile.

“Jesus, Beth, you scared me half to death. I didn’t realize you were in here.”

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and he grimaces.

“I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands, palms out. “I should have knocked.”

It’s so kind and unnecessary that I shake my head. “It’s fine,” I say, after a beat, then clear my throat, aiming to infuse my voice with a bit more volume and steadiness. “I mean, it’s your house. You can come and go as you please.”

He nods, still looking at me. Looking inside me.

Silence crackles around us. I hate silence. With Christopher, silence was always bad.

“Watcha making?” he asks, surprising me with the subject change.

I exhale slowly. “Mac and cheese.” It might not seem like a big deal, but to me, it is.

Calorie laden, carb heavy pasta was on the banned list, under Christopher’s regime.

And before you’re asking how a smart woman ended up being so totally controlled, let me tell you: it doesn’t happen overnight, and it doesn’t come with a lot of warning.

If I’d seen any sign that he was capable of taking over my life and controlling it like a dictator, I would have run a mile.

But he waited until I was in too deep for that.

“Mmm,” Cole says. “It smells good.”

“You want some?” Out of habit, I’ve cooked for two, anyway.

He glances at me. “You sure?”

“You’re hungry?” I prompt. “I presume you’d all gone for dinner or something.”

“Yeah, we did,” he says. “But I didn’t eat.”

I frown. “You went for dinner but didn’t eat?”

“It was too busy.”

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I shrug. “Did you want a salad, too?”

He pulls a face. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d want salad?”

I laugh. A natural, light laugh. Since when was I even capable of that? “Don’t tell me you’re a stereotypical tough guy, Cole?”

He pulls two beers from the fridge, and I stiffen. Alcohol makes everything worse. But this isn’t Christopher. It’s Cole. And this isn’t several glasses of whisky. It’s a single beer.

“You want?” He holds it out to me. I hesitate a moment, before taking the bottle. Another act of defiance to Christopher.

“Sure,” I nod. “Thanks.”

Cole takes out two deep bowls and hands them to me, but this time, he stands close, so I inhale a hint of his cologne and those hairs along the back of my neck all stand on end again.

“This smells so dang good,” he mutters, reaching for a fork and taking a big scoop then and there.

I watch, strangely invested in the outcome, and not just because I sweated on Christopher’s reactions every night.

This is different. I used to want Christopher to like the dinners I’d cooked because I was afraid of getting hurt.

I want Cole to like it just because I want him to.

“Man,” he groans, as he swallows that first mouthful. “Holy crap, Beth. This is just about the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had.”

Warmth floods my body—a warmth I quickly remind myself to ice out, because trusting anyone, liking anyone, is absolutely not on my radar.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m glad you like it.” I take a step back, bowl in one hand and beer in the other. “I’ll see you later.”

He frowns. “Where’re you going?”

I glance over my shoulder. “I’m going to work while I eat.”

“Come on, Beth. You don’t have to get right into it.”

“I like to work,” I explain, and God knows that’s true. I haven’t had a job of my own for three and half long years. Does Cole have any idea how good it feels to have this job? It might not seem like much—I know I’m overqualified for it. To me, though, it’s everything.

“Ten minutes,” he says. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

I bite into my lip and shake my head. “Another time,” I say, backing toward the door. “I’ll come back and clean up in a bit,” I say, glancing at the pot.

“No way. I’ve got this.” He scoops another huge mouthful. When he’s finished chewing, he says, softly, “It’s the least I can do to thank you.”

I wrinkle my nose. “It’s just mac and cheese.”

“This is not ‘just’ anything,” he corrects.

Warmth threatens to overtake everything, and my smile, when I look at him, is genuine, albeit short lived. “Thanks,” I say, leaving the room and expelling a deep, shaky breath.

Focus, girl . Keep your head down and focus. No cowboy, no matter how sexy and kind of sweet, is going to derail you. You’re here to recover, and that’s not about Cole Donovan, or anyone else.