Page 25 of Rogue Cowboy (Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys #3)

C ole forced himself to relax and breathe.

When had standing on the street in a small Montana town become so hard?

There were civilians two to three deep lining the historic main street—the architecture so different from Last Stand’s thick limestone walls and colored tin roofs.

He’d been home nearly a month before he’d hit the road and had hoped that would be enough time for him to settle in as a civvy.

He’d known it wasn’t, but he’d wanted to see Riley to learn if he had a chance.

And if not, make one.

He wanted to grab her and run and get away from all these people. She trusted him. The rest—building a family with her, being able to reintegrate into his Texas family and finally feel whole—would take more time.

But that was the flaw. She trusted him.

So he had to stand still. Relax. Breathe.

Not see the upper windows of something called Grey’s Saloon as a place for a sniper’s nest. There wasn’t even that big of a police presence in his opinion.

And the officers who were stationed milled around chatting.

One even held a baby and took a selfie. Others handed out candy and stickers to kids while other men—he assumed vets—handed out small American flags.

“Cole.” Riley laid her hand on his left arm. “We’re safe,” she said earnestly, her deep blue eyes purpled in their sincerity, and the silver fish on the necklace he’d given her last night caught the light.

He nodded.

She shocked him by pressing her body against his, one arm looped around his neck, and the subtle blend of orange, honeysuckle and vanilla was so intoxicating he felt drunk. She stood on tiptoes and her hair brushed his lips.

“I got you,” she said. Then she stepped back, and a playful grin chased across her features.

“Do you want your own cheesy yummy deliciousness?” Riley asked, holding up the three grilled cheese sandwiches they’d bought from a food truck called The Melt.

“Or are you willing to share so you can try different flavors?”

“I’m up for sharing,” he said, trying to keep it casual when he felt anything but.

The intensity of his feelings had been building over the last three days, and he didn’t want to freak Riley out. Hell, he was freaking himself out, if he thought about it. He wished he was different, lighter, not somber, not a man braced for the worst.

He felt trapped on the street, hyper alert. His mind mapped out an escape route even as Riley unwrapped one of the grilled cheeses—smoked Gruyère with mustard and pickles and a slim slice of honey-baked ham. She pulled it apart and he watched the cheese stretch and stretch and steam.

Smiling, she handed him half and then broke apart a smaller chunk and bit into it. She closed her eyes and sighed, and the desire that burned through him both shocked and pissed him off.

He needed to take care with her. Not to ever put his needs first. She deserved to be cherished. Savored, like she was doing with the sandwich.

“Take a bite,” she advised, her smile beginning to fade. “Cole?”

He took a bite. Chewed. The flavors rushed around his mouth—sweet, tangy, savory, and the sourdough bread had a crunch that was appealing.

“Delicious.”

She watched him, her second bite suspended near her tempting mouth. “Is it the crowd?” Despite her impossibly fair hair that made her look like a glowing princess, her brows were darker and they angled down in concern.

“I’m good,” he lied. He took another bite of the sandwich to shut down that conversation. She didn’t have to worry about him. She was his to care for. He wondered if Riley would find that sexist. Was he supposed to pretend to be different?

He clocked the enthusiasm of the crowd—the waving flags, the kids decked out like cowboys and cowgirls, vendors selling rodeo swag.

This was Riley’s home. Her family was here.

For the first time he wondered what he was doing.

Was he really going to take her away from this? Would she want to come to Texas?

The flavors of the sandwich blended to gritty sand in his mouth. What was he going to do if she wanted to stay? Her family was as established in Montana as his was in Texas.

During his last leave when he’d been organizing to come home for good, the months away, and the weeks back, no one had pushed him to talk about his feelings.

His plans. His paw-paw had just slapped him on the back and said, “Good to have you home, son.” His maw-maw had hugged him and held his forearms and stared at him with an intensity that could strip paint.

“This is your home. It will always be your home,” she’d decreed.

There’d been more. Offers of time to settle in. They still had his college fund—fat with enough money he could get any degree he wanted. Or a job on the ranch.

He’d always planned to make Texas and the ranch his home.

He owed his family. They’d cared for him when he’d been orphaned, and as they aged they’d need him, though they had most of their family close.

But he’d never felt he’d belonged in the same way his cousins had.

His cousins, uncles and aunts all had careers on the ranch or in Last Stand.

Purpose. Lives. He felt adrift. Finding Riley and bringing her home was going to be his anchor.

“When Rohan came home for Christmas before this past one, he had trouble assimilating back into the family,” she said while Cole took another bite. He didn’t want to try to avoid her scrutiny.

He chewed and tried not to feel stripped naked.

“He didn’t feel like he belonged. We were too boisterous. Inside jokes. He felt like we were a unit, and he was on the outside, not sure how to get back in or if he wanted to.”

“He told you that?” Cole was shocked. Rohan had been a soldier nearly as shut down and serious as he had been.

“Over time.” Riley’s smile bloomed. “I pushed. A lot.” She popped another bite of the savory cheese sandwich in her mouth and chewed. She rocked back on her boots and looked a little smug. “Good thing to keep in mind while you’re wooing.”

Then she sobered and unwrapped the second sandwich that was melty Brie cheese, which he wasn’t sure he’d ever tasted before, and something called chutney. He took the half she offered.

“We didn’t do our best initially,” she said softly, her smile fading.

“We were so thrilled he was home that we just dragged him back into the heart of our family, trying so hard. We have always been a big Christmas celebration family—so many traditions and all the happy, all the lights, the crowds, the memories: the Marietta Stroll, the gingerbread-house decorating, Christmas-tree-decorating competition and auction—it was too much for him. And the harder we tried, the more he tried to cover how much he wanted to retreat.”

Cole stopped pretending he wasn’t listening, that her story didn’t pertain to him.

“Finding Ginny, his high school girlfriend, and helping her and her son with a project steadied him.”

“Ginny’s his wife,” Cole remembered.

Riley bit her lip. She went to wrap up the remaining half-sandwich again, but he stayed her hand. The unusual combinations of tastes were surprisingly pleasant. He might want more if she didn’t.

“I want to be your Ginny,” Riley said quietly looking at her hands.

It was probably the best declaration he could hope for, and her words did settle him. Inches and feet, he thought. Steps. The were moving forward.

“We can go back to the rodeo grounds,” Riley offered, slipping her hand into his. He stroked his thumb along her callouses, feeling them, happy that though she was delicate, she was strong. She’d need to be. “It’ll be pretty quiet during the parade.”

She meant it, and he felt the pressure in his chest ease more.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said and tore off a quarter of the sandwich and held it out for her to take a bite.

She did. “But I intend to.” He put it out there and popped the other part in his mouth and chewed, concentrating on the texture and creaminess of the cheese he’d never known had existed—what was wrong with plain cheddar cheese or if you wanted fancy, pepper jack?

Then he pushed because despite the fact that he had always been quiet and watchful, he had determination stamped in each strand of his DNA. “When we go to Texas, I need to introduce you to queso.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “But Cole…” She paused, clearly not wanting to ruin the moment just like he didn’t want it ruined.

“We need to stay to cheer on Petal and Arlo,” he said, hoping to delay a more serious conversation. “And then I’m sure you’re going to have work throughout the day to organize the horses for their rodeo events.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Yes,” she drawled out. “It’s a working weekend for me.”

“I’ll be your assistant. You can boss me around. I’m sure that holds an appeal.”

She laughed at him. “Did you sort of make a joke?”

“No.” He leaned in and kissed her smiling lips—just a brush, and it took all his willpower to pull back. He didn’t need her folks or family on his ass for PDA. “I’m serious, but that doesn’t mean I won’t boss back. Later.”

*

It was funny. She’d stood on this parade route a few times as a little girl—usually with ranch hands or friends as her father and mother rode in the parade, and then when she’d been a bit older, she’d participated either in her 4-H group, FFA, or as a junior rodeo queen or her Marietta high school barrel racing team.

But for the last few years, she’d avoided the parade, staying instead on the fairgrounds taking care of the stock animals for her parents or Boone when he competed so that a couple of the ranch hands could peel off and have a good time before all the behind-scenes work began in earnest.

But today she felt a bit like a kid playing hooky—not that she’d ever done so.

But she was happy. Thrilled to have Cole beside her in a way she felt like she shouldn’t, and yet, she felt a bit of a rush—an inkling of that girl she’d once been.

Last night dancing up on the stage, showing off a little, had cracked something open in her again.

She’d felt a light, and instead of wanting to douse it, she wanted more.

Did she dare?

I have to.

Cole stood beside her, handsome, virile and so present, but she didn’t want to be an obligation.

She wanted to be his partner. A team like her parents.

And that meant she had to stop hiding—from her feelings, from her desires and goals.

But also from her fears. No longer let them lead.

Maybe she could start imagining them trailing after her like the naggy little sister she’d never had.

Cole’s hand slipped around her waist and lightly rested on her hip.

He stepped in to her, and she felt her body go pliant once again.

His presence felt wonderful. He was warm where she was cold.

Could she let herself keep him? For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined it.

Not always pretending with everyone, hiding herself.

Could she have a friend and a man who knew her darkest secrets and was still at her side?

She concentrated on the feel of his hand, spread so it took up more real estate on her body.

She breathed in, imagined the crowd gone.

Just her and Cole. Could she let him touch her—skin to skin—or would she fail him?

Or would the monsters in her head wake? Cause her to panic, her mind in chaos, her body revolting, leaving her a balled-up, shivering mass on the bathroom floor again?

“Here they come.” Cole’s voice was low in her ear.

Riley flushed, embarrassed that she’d been more focused on her growing attraction to Cole instead of keeping an eye out for Petal and Arlo. Some coach she’d be.

Cole’s husky laugh shivered through her.

Riley relaxed and laughed at herself too. “Your fault for distracting me.”

“I plan to do it often,” he promised.

Rather than be subtle, she took off her hat and waved it, shouting out as Petal and Arlo stood on the backs of Cinnamon and Spice and smiling at the crowd.

They wore matching sparkling red stretchy jeans, stretchy western shirts, and hats, and looked confident and adorable. How was Petal already in high school?

The girls high-fived each other and then hooked their hats over their horses’ saddle pommels before executing an arabesque pose on the horses, holding through the cheers and a few gasps and then each of them did a back bend before gracefully kicking their legs over their heads so they were straddling their horses again.

Petal and Arlo donned their hats and waved at the cheering crowd and rode sedately down the next block.

Riley and Cole followed them, and Riley couldn’t keep the hop out of her step.

“They did so well,” she gushed, holding on to Cole. “They’re so proud and accomplished. I want to feel happy like that again,” she admitted.

“You will.” Cole drew her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on her knuckles and then her palm. His dark gaze held hers.

“I will,” she agreed, a promise to them both.

I went shopping in Bozeman today with my mom.

She wanted it to be special. Girls Day Out.

I haven’t done that in so long with friends or my mom.

We had tea with scones and those fancy cut up sandwiches that are one small bite each.

I think she wanted to talk. But a woman my mom had known in school saw us and came up.

She’d seen me on TV. She wouldn’t shut up about when my next record was coming out. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Your mom knows your heart. She understands.

His answer was utterly inadequate. Cole wanted to hit something.

Thousands of miles away. Useless. But he didn’t have to stay gone.

His re-enlistment was coming up. Riley might reach out to him via text now, but he needed more.

She did too. He could learn the words to say so she’d see his heart. Know that it was hers.

I ruined tea. I let someone else intrude on our moment because I was scared. I didn’t want the moment. But I sort of did. But I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. And my mom was sad on the drive home. Quiet. It’s not fair to her.

Or you. You deserve your best and you can’t always control what happens in life, but you can take charge of your reactions and actions. You’re the boss. It just takes will.