Page 11 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

I n his small trailer at the fairground, Rye turned out his light and stripped down to his boxers since the night was hot and there was no fan or air-conditioning in his trailer.

In the dark, he stretched out on his narrow bed, arms folded behind his head, and looked up at the ceiling, moonlight spilling through the narrow window, patterning the metal ceiling.

He tried to relax, but he was amped up, emotions not at all manageable.

Tonight had been a roller coaster, mostly highs, but he was aware that the highs would lead to lows.

He didn’t want the lows. He didn’t want to expose Ansley to lows, either.

Perhaps it was old-fashioned but it was his job to protect those in his life, and now Ansley was one of the ones he needed to protect.

She didn’t understand his world, or how complicated it was. He didn’t want her in his world, didn’t want her to be part of the struggle. Better to keep the walls up than let her in, because if she got in…

He shook his head, not wanting to continue the train of thought.

He’d not open his family to criticism or ridicule.

And maybe Ansley wouldn’t make any of them uncomfortable.

Maybe she wouldn’t be uncomfortable, either, but he wasn’t taking chances.

He loved his family too much to render them vulnerable.

His phone vibrated with a text. Was it Ansley letting him know she was home? He hated how his pulse quickened as he reached for his phone.

It was.

Pleasure filled his chest, a warmth that undermined his discipline and intentions. He didn’t often feel warm. Pleasure was as alien as joy. He shouldn’t be feeling, but Ansley had cast a spell, his lovely magician, and he found himself wanting to hope.

But hope was a dangerous bedfellow. Hope, so seductive, could also disappear in the morning, never to return.

Glad you’re home , he answered. Sleep well.

You, too , she replied, adding an emoji of a smiling face with hearts. He wasn’t sure what the emoji was supposed to mean, but a smile and a heart was sweet. She was sweet.

And she was trouble.

Rye woke up in an upbeat mood. He stretched, and yawned, surprisingly well rested. It might have taken him a while to fall asleep, but once he did, he slept deeply. This morning, he didn’t remember his dreams—he never did—but they must have been good because he felt good.

But checking his phone he saw a text from his sister Josie and his sense of well-being vanished. Call Mom , the text read. She’s having a hard morning.

Gut knotting, he texted his sister first. What’s going on? Jasper?

No , she answered. Dad.

What’s Dad doing? Rye asked.

He’s in one of his bad moods. It was awful last night. I hate it when he feels sorry for himself.

I’m sorry , Rye responded.

It’s not your fault. You’re not the one complaining, making everyone miserable.

Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll call Mom.

Love you, Rye.

Love you, too, Josie.

Rye boiled some water making a simple pour over coffee. He wasn’t about to make a call home without some coffee in him. He drank half a cup quickly, while it was hot before phoning his mom.

He almost didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally she picked up. “Hi, honey. Good morning. How are you?”

The words were right, but her tone was off. She sounded flat and down. He hated for her to be down.

“I’m good,” he answered. “How are things there?”

She hesitated just a moment. “Fine.”

“Hmm. You don’t sound very convincing.”

“There’s nothing you need to worry about. You’ve got your events today and fingers crossed you’ll do well so you can compete again tomorrow.”

“Win or lose, I’ll be back home tomorrow night.”

“Exactly. So focus on what you have to do. We’re surviving without you.”

Rye carefully thought through his answer. “I want more for you than that, Mom. You deserve better than that.”

She sighed. “It was a hard night, but it’s a new day. Everything is better already.”

“Dad’s sleeping it off?”

“Rye.”

“Be honest.”

“He’s never his best when he drinks, no. But at least he’s not angry when he drinks. He doesn’t get violent. He’s just… you know, Rye, you know how he gets.”

“Pitiful.”

She sighed again. “I don’t like that word.”

“It’s true.”

“Yes, he can be exhausting, but he isn’t your problem. You didn’t marry him. He’s your dad, not your husband. I love him and I will take care of him—”

“And who takes care of you, Mom?”

“Why you do, Rye.” She laughed, the sound full of anguish instead of humor. “You always have.”

“That’s my job.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not your job. It’s never been your job. You should be independent. You should be dating and falling in love, starting a family, not worrying about all of us. I hate that you have so little freedom, and even less spare time—”

“What would I do with free time, Mom? Play video games? Shoot pool? I don’t think so.” He sat up, swung his legs to the floor. “I’m happy with my life. I love you all. I’m not complaining.”

“No, you never have, but that doesn’t mean it’s not stressful.

There’s a lot of pressure on you, and I can’t help wishing you could be like the other cowboys.

I wish you could have that freedom. I’d love for you to be carefree, not always calling home, not always rushing home, not always giving up all your money. ”

“You’re my family. You come first. End of story.”

She drew a low, unsteady breath. “What would I do without you?” she whispered. “I don’t think I would have been able to handle all of this without you.”

“That’s not true. You’re strong, Mom, and you’ve taught me to be strong. It’s all good. Now, don’t get all weepy. Dad doesn’t like to see you sad. He’ll feel guilty and today won’t be any better than yesterday.”

“You’re right.” She took a bigger breath, a steadying breath. “You have such a good head on your shoulders, Rye. You make me so proud.”

“Thank you, Mom. Now, I’ll be home tomorrow. If I’m in the finals, it’ll be late. If I’m not, well, you’ll see me early afternoon.”

“I’d rather you place in the money.”

“Me, too, and hopefully with big money.”

“Stay safe.”

“I try my best.”

“Don’t need both of my sons in wheelchairs!” she laughed, trying to make it a joke.

“That’s not going to happen.”

*

Instead of going to the morning parade in Marietta, Ansley woke early, had coffee, and got to work.

It was a gorgeous morning, and although it’d be quite warm later, it was perfect right now.

The sky was blue, and a fragrant breeze rustled through the trees, scenting the air moving through the loft.

Montana had its charms. She focused on her canvas with the dark blue Yellowstone River snaking through the valley floor.

She’d taken photos of the scene and had those clipped to the side of the easel for reference.

But the photos didn’t do the stunning landscape justice.

It was more powerful on a larger canvas with the mountains looming large, and the river gleaming against a backdrop of golden alfalfa fields.

She took a fine brush to touch up the split-log fence in the distance.

She was lucky the Bridger Mountains sold to the Sterbas, because these big canvases were expensive, and they took so much longer than the little ones, but she was falling in love with the bigger pieces.

They challenged her and intimidated her, but it was exciting to do something new and hard and when it was finished she felt…

amazing. Invincible. No longer that sweet blonde girl who kept to herself, but Ansley the artist, Ansley the creative.

No one else in her family did what she did.

No one else was particularly creative and her parents used to scratch their heads and say, where did she come from?

Where did the passion come from? Ansley would just smile because she didn’t care…

she didn’t think her love of painting had to come from anyone.

Why couldn’t it just be her thing? Why couldn’t she just be herself? An original?

Cleaning her little brush, Ansley caught sight of the time. Almost noon. The rodeo would be starting soon. She had to get going. She didn’t want to miss the beginning, not sure when Rye would be competing, but she wanted to be there for everything.

*

He’d been in Marietta ten years ago for the seventy-fifth Copper Mountain Rodeo.

He’d ended up in the hospital, wasting money instead of earning money.

This time Rye was going to take home some big money, not just because he needed the money, but he needed the satisfaction. He needed the distraction.

The rodeo’s opening ceremonies were about to begin, and he joined the other competitors waiting to ride in for the national anthem.

Even from behind the gate, he could see Ansley in the stands.

She was impossible to miss with that long golden hair.

She was beautiful and it blew his mind that she’d even taken a second look at him, never mind kissed him with so much sweetness and desire.

He’d forgotten the pleasure of kissing, the pleasure of being close to someone that made him feel.

He liked how she smiled at him even when he said nothing funny.

She smiled at him as if he wasn’t the hard-ass he was, but a man of wit and warmth, which everyone knew he was not.

The fact that she could smile at him when he didn’t feel like smiling, made his lips curve ever so slightly, easing the heaviness within him, making room for other emotions, and much-needed light.

She was sunshine and warmth, and she had so much it just spilled over onto him, illuminating his world.