Page 33 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

Rye did not need to do this with both of his sisters at the same time right now. Together they were an intimidating tag team. “Of course, Ansley is allowed to talk to her mom. I would never suggest otherwise. I’m not a total jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk at all,” Hannah said. “But you do think you know what’s best for everyone, and that’s probably a mistake.”

Rye rolled his eyes.

Josie leaned forward and touched Rye’s arm. “What did Ansley say that was so upsetting?” She held her brother’s gaze. “You can tell us. We’re part of the same family.”

“It wasn’t complimentary,” he said shortly.

“We figured as much.” Hannah glanced at Josie. “I mean, we’re not always complimentary about our situation. We’re poor.”

“That’s just it. Ansley didn’t realize how…

rough things were.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his face, wishing he could forget what he’d heard, but he was afraid it would stay with him forever.

“She also thinks she’ll play second fiddle to the rest of the family, and didn’t want to share me with everyone.

Oh, and she most definitely did not want to live in my trailer. ”

A faint smile hovered at Hannah’s mouth. “No one wants to live in your trailer.”

“Our house isn’t much better,” Josie added.

“I hate it. I’ve spent my life coming up with plans and ideas to make it better, but there’s never enough money or energy.

And a couple years ago, I realized I don’t want to fix up that house.

It’d be better to start fresh, design something new.

Our house will never be beautiful, no matter how much money we pour into it. ”

“Yes, but it wasn’t just the house. If you’d heard her…

she sounded so shallow.” Rye spit the words out as if they hurt his mouth.

“And spoiled. She has grown up with far more than us, and she thinks—expects—to have the same standard of living when she marries. And since we know I can’t provide that for her, it’s better that it’s over—”

“Why can’t she have the same standard of living with you? You wouldn’t be the only breadwinner, Rye. She’d be bringing in money, too.” Hannah waited for him to say something but when he didn’t, she added, “She might even outearn you, and maybe that’s what’s bothering you.”

“No. It never even crossed my mind.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “It’s great if she can pay her bills and then some.”

“Have you two ever discussed money?” Josie asked carefully. “Have you talked openly about what you earn and where the money goes?”

“ No. ”

“That could be part of the problem.”

Rye rose and stepped over Hannah’s legs that were blocking his path. “I would never question her about her income, or her expenses.”

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “Because I certainly would never marry Ron without a candid conversation about money—what he earns, what I expect to earn, and how we’ll budget.”

“That’s different,” Rye said. “Ron has money.”

“And so does Ansley.” Josie slid off the desk. “Did you see what her paintings were going for? After commissions she made over nineteen thousand with that one show, and she’s been booked for another show this winter.”

“I’m not comfortable discussing her money,” he said stiffly, going to the water cooler and filling up a glass.

“Because you think it’s something you’re supposed to be in charge of,” Hannah said. “You think it’s the man’s job.”

He turned around, gave his sister a hard look. “I’ve never said that.”

Josie’s brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t it be nice to know you don’t have to manage it all on your own? Wouldn’t it help knowing your person, your partner, could help support your family?”

He shook his head, uncomfortable, and unable to continue this conversation.

His sisters meant well, but it was too much, too soon.

“Ansley isn’t my person. The differences between our lifestyles are too extreme.

I have a fixed amount every month to live on.

I have a strict budget so we can make ends meet.

Calhoun Roofing pays for the big stuff, and then my rodeo income is for the extras.

Unlike Ansley, I don’t have the freedom to just do what I want—”

Rye fell silent, his words ringing in his ears. I don’t have the freedom to do what I want.

And then just as swiftly, but she does.

She’s free. Free to reject me, free to criticize, free to find someone better, someone with fewer problems…

Rye turned his back on his sisters, beginning to understand his rage.

He wasn’t just upset with Ansley for what she said to her mother about his family, he was upset with Ansley for having options he didn’t have.

He was upset because she could choose her future, and choose what she wanted to do, and choose where she wanted to live, and he couldn’t.

Deep down, he resented her freedom. Because he wanted to be free, too. He wanted what she had, and he was afraid he’d never have it.

Just like that, he heard her voice again, heard the one-sided conversation with her mom and he knew she wasn’t shallow, or spoiled.

She was trying to figure out where she fit in his world, which was why he’d invited her to Eureka.

He needed her to know it wouldn’t be easy and she hadn’t found it easy.

And now he was punishing her for being honest.

But would he have been happier if she’d pretended all was good? Would he have respected her if she hadn’t taken a good hard look at his family and realized there were issues?

No.

Rye walked to the front door and looked out the glass to his truck in the parking lot.

He glanced at his watch. She’d been gone maybe thirty-five minutes. Could he catch up to her? He could if he left now. But he’d need a little help.

Rye turned around, looked at Josie. “Call Ansley and tell her you’re going to meet her in Whitefish. Tell her you know things went badly with me and you’re on your way. Pick a coffee place you like, and once she agrees, call me, and let me know where to go.”

Josie and Hannah both stood.

“You’re going after her?” Josie asked, eyes wide.

“I am. And we’re going to communicate like two mature adults should.”

Rye knew the roads like the back of his hand. He’d spent every weekend for the past eleven years driving and he knew where the speed traps were and the places he could go fast. Provided his truck didn’t break down, he should reach Whitefish fifteen minutes after Ansley.

Driving, he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw that he looked rough.

No shower last night, no shave this morning, no sleep, either, as he’d crashed at the office and couldn’t get comfortable resting in a chair.

But he wasn’t going to sell his looks. He wasn’t chasing her down to play Prince Charming.

He was going after her to apologize because her concerns about his family were valid, and even though his pride had been hurt, he cared about Ansley too much to lose her without a fight.

*

Ansley had been surprised by Josie’s call.

She’d thought Josie was in Missoula with Hannah, but apparently, she’d heard about Ansley and Rye’s situation and was racing home to try to fix things.

Not that the situation could be fixed. Even if Ansley hadn’t had doubts, Rye’s reaction made it clear that there was no fixing this.

There was no going back. It was over. Done.

It had to be done. This was just too hard.

Romances were roller coasters but this was one of those rides that dropped you from a horrifying height, letting you plummet all the way down.

It wasn’t fun. There was no pleasure in the drop.

It didn’t make her feel good, or more alive.

It just made her sick. She was so tired of feeling heartsick.

Ansley parked on Second Street and walked the block to Folklore Coffee. She wasn’t in the mood to meet with Josie, but Josie had been so worried about everything and was making a herculean effort to meet Ansley that Ansley couldn’t refuse the stop in Whitefish.

The coffee shop had a bustling business which looked like mostly locals at this hour. She got in line to order something, and then texted Josie to see what she’d want to drink.

Whatever you’re having , Josie answered. I should be there soon.

Ansley ordered two caramel macchiatos then found a table and waited for the order to be called. As she rose to get the drinks, the Folklore Coffee’s door opened and instead of Josie arriving, Rye walked in.

Ansley froze. What was he doing here?

He walked to the table and hugged her, a long hard hug that made tears start in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She still couldn’t process that it was Rye here, and she blinked, trying to chase the hot tears away.

“I was an ass,” he added, still holding her close. “You didn’t deserve that. You try so hard, and I see it.” He stepped back but didn’t let her go. “I’m the problem here, not you.”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to feel.

She looked up into his eyes and they were pink.

Lines bracketed his mouth. Dark circles formed shadows beneath his eyes.

Rye looked stressed and exhausted, but he was here, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

But she felt a tiny ray of light. If he’d come after her, there was hope.

“Ansley,” the barista called again. “Your order is ready.”

“I’ll get it,” he said.

She nodded and sat down, grateful to take her seat because her legs were shaking, and she was trembling head to toe.

Rye returned to the table with a small carboard tray holding the two cups. He placed one cup in front of her and then the other in front of himself.