Page 8 of Rogue Cowboy (Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys #3)

A s she and Cole walked across the footbridge back to the fairgrounds, Riley wondered how she was going to ditch him.

She needed a breather. A reset. He’d been kind to her, and she needed to treat him with respect, but he couldn’t imagine he’d be glued to her side the entire rodeo weekend.

What would her family think? And even though she’d pulled back socially, she knew a lot of people, and Cole was not someone easily ignored.

“Listen.” She turned around once they got to the other side of the bridge and was disconcerted with how well attuned to her he was.

His body stilled. His expression was remote, but his gaze swept the area before settling back on her face so attentively she nearly forgot what she’d been about to say.

The yellow flecks glinted. He was taller than her and twice as wide in the shoulders, which had made her feel like she could cling to him if she needed.

But she didn’t want to be weak. She didn’t want to need.

One dark brow arched in expectation, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I know you want to spend time together.” She channeled her inner cowgirl.

“And you owe me dinner at Rosita’s,” she reminded him, thinking of one of their long-ago text exchanges, or was she the only one who still read over them?

“But I’m working.” Good she sounded professional.

She pushed her advantage. “I’m taking care of eight horses—four are barrel-racing clients’ that we bred, trained and board.

And I’m helping my cousin, and her friend do an exhibition in trick riding.

Also I’m in charge of Boone and Rohan’s horses—Boone still competes in bulldogging and some roping events.

And they might need me to jump in and help Rohan with the buckin’ broncs and bulls. ”

See, I’m fine.

“Understood.” He nodded. “I grew up ranch. Put me to work.”

She stared at him. No. Her explanation was supposed to sideline him, not invite him to dog her heels more.

“Shoveling manure and spreading sawdust?” She crossed her arms. “I’m sure you can think of far more entertaining things to do during Marietta’s biggest week on the map.”

A smile ghosted that speared a shiver of anticipation throughout her entire body.

“I intend to,” he promised. “But I came to see you.”

“You said you were here for stock contracting. Your family.”

“And that. But you’re here. I’m here. Put me to work.”

Dang it.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Didn’t think it would be easy.”

“I’m not talking about…” she swished her hand between them “…us this weekend. I’m too busy and…disconcerted. You should have texted me you were coming. Set up an appointment so we could talk.”

And divorce. The word was getting easier to think.

“We don’t have to talk.” He said the words quietly, deliberately so that she almost had to lean forward to hear him.

She blinked. That sounded too easy.

“I’m more a man of action.”

“There’ll be no action,” she warned, barely stifling the urge to run.

He lifted one shoulder. “Can’t promise that, Riley. I love a challenge. You should know that about me.”

That was the trouble. She didn’t know much about him except he was calm in the storm.

She’d built him up in her head to be this noble, beautiful, self-sacrificing hero—saving her, serving his country, leaving behind friends and family and freedom with no comfort or thanks.

She’d dreamed he’d come back to her but hated that girlish fantasy.

She didn’t want to be an anchor to a man.

She’d wanted to have wings so they could fly together.

“You met me at my lowest,” she admitted looking down at the toes of his worn boots—cowboy boots, not the combat boots that he’d worn during their brief time together, and these weren’t new. “But you should know, I’m not a pushover.”

“Don’t want a pushover.”

She waited for him to tell her what he did want, but he said nothing more, just had that air of anticipation.

“You confuse me,” she confessed.

He took a step closer, touched her hair, ran his fingers through it, careful of her injury, and all the while he never broke eye contact.

“We’ll spend the time working and playing this weekend. Get to know each other.”

Her heart jumped in alarm. He was such a good man. She had to save him from himself.

“Cole, there’s no point. We’re not really married.” She held out her hand to shush him. “Be reasonable. You didn’t want to marry me. You were just my white-hat cowboy.”

“Yours.”

She barely resisted rolling her eyes, which her mom had instilled in her when she’d turned eight and had been full of herself and beyond rude.

“I never expected you to keep the…the V word.”

“I did.” His voice was deep and rough, and she didn’t want to hear any more of that. He couldn’t be serious. Couldn’t be. But Cole was also no liar.

“I’ll sign what we need to sign. You should have your freedom. Find a woman to love, who can be a true partner. We weren’t real. We were never built to last.”

She spoke rashly, a little harsh, but she spotted more people arriving. The camping area for competitors and stock contractors was filling up and her family would be looking for her. Petal and Arlo would need her help practicing for the exhibition.

“I asked for the weekend, Riley. I want a chance for us.”

“But why?” She really didn’t understand him. “I’m no one to you. I’m not special. I’m…” it killed her to admit it; she hated to be so defeatist and weak “…damaged. We were over before we began.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw and his pupils flared, making his eyes look black, fathomless, drawing her in, despite the knowledge that she had to back away, keep clear. Cole deserved her best, and she couldn’t give it, not anymore.

“That’s quitter talk, Riley. Woman who’s accomplished what you have is no quitter. Neither am I. We are married. We made vows. I intend to keep them.”

*

Riley fast-walked back to the rodeo grounds, and he had a hard time not fixating on her high, tight ass in her dark, boot-cut stretch denim with the pink embroidered roses on the pockets, sprinkled with pink rhinestones. So cute but the attitude was all sass and badass.

Bling was what he thought it was called, though why he could dredge that word out of his brain, when he hadn’t experienced anything remotely blingy in well over a decade, was faintly astonishing.

But he’d grown up in Texas and gone to school with quite a few cowgirls who’d loved to have sparkles in their hair, lip gloss and eyes, tight western shirts and definitely on their jeans.

Made a man notice.

And Cole felt like his libido was not only waking up, it was raring to roar.

Riley had a devastating walk—fast, fluid and full of purpose, and though she was petite, her body was perfectly proportioned—toned, athletic, and yet unconsciously feminine.

She dragged her hair back from her face, made a thick ponytail and held it in her hand.

He’d used several napkins and a bottle of water at the food truck this morning to help her rinse the blood out of her hair.

Connor, the medic, had told her not to wash her hair for a few days, and Riley’s disgusted expression had made Connor laugh, and made him want to haul off and hit Rohan, though he’d beaten himself up enough about it.

She snapped her fingers.

“My elastic from my braid. You took it when Connor treated me.”

Her eyes flashed with impatience as he strolled toward her.

“And stop staring at my butt.”

“Pardon?” Yup, his libido was waking up as was his long buried, dirty, rusty flirt. He’d never been smooth with the ladies as his granddad would say, but he’d been genetically blessed so hadn’t had to work much to seduce a woman.

Riley had been too young when he’d met her, but she’d been the only woman who had made him feel like he’d been picked up, spun around a few times and then roundhouse kicked out a window to land in a water trough.

“You’re not pardoned, and don’t play innocent with me.” She held out her hand. “I’ve got a lesson soon, and I can’t have my hair all crazy.”

“I love your hair all crazy.”

She held up a finger, and he had a hard time not sucking it into his mouth.

“Wipe that look off your face and stop messing with me. Elastic.”

The flip in her attitude was spectacular and his laugh rumbled, surprising them both by the looks of it. Her eyes darkened to a beautiful purple indigo, and he had an image of some faraway sea that he’d wanted to dive into and keep swimming.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly just to yank her chain again.

Mission accomplished.

“I must really be out of practice wooing.”

“Wooing? You sound like you’re from the nineteenth century or some backward time. No wooing. And no courting. You’ll give my dad a heart attack and my brothers prison time.”

“Are there going to be rules for the time we spend together?”

“Lots,” Riley said. “I’ll give you a list and stop sounding like you’re going to be around. I know your family has a big spread in Texas.” Her cheeks flushed a little, and her eyes sparkled, and he thought she looked a little embarrassed, like she’d googled him.

He’d never googled himself. He had no social media and other than teen athletic achievements, his career had been in the shadows and darker, so he doubted there was much about him online.

“Your home is in Texas,” she reiterated.

It was. Cole had never imagined living anywhere else.

He’d come to see Riley. Get to know her now instead of the fantasy and then tragedy of then.

Convince her to come home with him. Build a life together.

Make a family together—not that it would replace what he’d lost, but maybe the black hole would get smaller.

He didn’t know jack about love. Only one of his cousins had reached the altar, but that had been a cautionary tale—short-lived, blessedly, but Cole didn’t think Elijah would come within spitting distance of marriage again.

He held out the elastic. She took it, eyeing him suspiciously.