by Cindi Madsen
As his fingers combed through her hair, a different sort of prickling tiptoed across her scalp.
Don’t let yourself get pulled in. He might be nice for one tiny second, but then he’ll do a total one-eighty and you’ll end up stung again. As soon as Maddox freed her hair, she widely sidestepped both her mirror and him.
His gaze lifted to the straw cream-colored hat atop her head. “Do you ever take that thing off, or is it glued to your hair?”
Harlow clenched her jaw, justification coming along for the ride now that he’d taken a jab at her fashion choices. “Do you ever pull your head out, or is it permanently lodged up your butt?”
He gaped at her, his mouth gaping like a fish that hadn’t figured out why he’d been yanked out of the water. A twinge of regret twisted her chest, even as she told herself to ignore it. Let him see how it felt to think they were bantering, only for her to shift gears and snap. “Damn,” Maddox said. “Someone’s in a mood.”
Harlow crossed her arms. “Saying I’m in a mood only puts me in a bad mood.”
“Which makes me right.”
It was like he enjoyed pissing her off. Did that mean she should hide her anger or keep it on full blast whenever she was around him?
Harlow hefted her gear from the bed of her truck and charged toward the training course. Maddox followed, picking up a coil of rope on his way over to where she was squaring off in front of a bale of hay.
As he posted up beside her, she spared him half a glance and said, “If the next words out of your mouth are rude, or if you’re gonna be a smart aleck, I’ll give you a demonstration on how they castrate steers.”
Maddox winced and stuck a protective hand over his package. “Damn, girl. Also, smart aleck? What’s that?”
She gritted her teeth. “You should know, since you’re the very definition. And acting like you don’t is doing the exact thing I just warned you against.”
With her blood pressure already rising, Harlow decided the best thing to do was to concentrate on training and only training. “Do you remember how to make a lasso?”
The tip of his tongue stuck out as he formed the loop the way she’d instructed him to during their first session.
“Good enough. Now, pay attention to my refresher course on throwing, because I don’t wanna keep explaining over and over.”
He mumbled something about how he’d salute her if it wouldn’t leave his crotch unprotected, but she continued on as if she hadn’t heard.
“Arm up, loop nice and open as you swing, get some momentum going as you aim, and…” The movements were second nature, ones Harlow had repeated countless times through the years. “Throw.”
Most of the time, she could feel if the toss was right the instant she let go, and that sense of rightness flared. Sure enough, the loop slid over the plastic calf head, and she yanked back on her rope to tighten the knot.
After she’d undone the loop and gathered her line, she glanced at Maddox. “Your turn.”
Maddox swung the lasso over his head a couple of times. The momentum was there, but he didn’t follow through, even though she’d harped on it when she’d taught him to throw. She probably should’ve mentioned it again.
His rope hit the ground half a foot short and to the right of the bale, nowhere close to grazing the plastic head. Then he snapped his fingers. “Gosh darn, that son of a gun got away.”
* * *
Maddox had been counting down the hours till he’d get to mess with Harlow again. He’d been pretty bored the past couple days, and her arrival was the only thing keeping him going.
Partially because she wouldn’t pry into his past. Wouldn’t ask about his family, or if he regretted things he’d done, or force him to attend a class that covered signs of addictions and how to deal with them.
As if the first half of his life wasn’t all the experience he’d ever need on that subject. Then there was group therapy, where he sat frozen while his classmates spilled their emotions. Didn’t they realize people could use those against them? Not his problem, though.
“What?” he asked when Harlow simply tilted her head, frustration wafting off her in waves. “I didn’t swear. I made it all PG, just for you.”
The line of her mouth tightened, her full lips practically disappearing.
His shoulders slumped. Apparently, this part of the day would be as shitty as the rest of his time here had been. He’d resolved to just do his time and be done, but eleven days had seemed like a fucking eternity. Two months might as well be a death sentence.
He reeled in his rope, dragging plenty of dirt and grass along with it. “Look, Harlow, I’m really trying here. Not just with the rope but with you.”
She dug the toe of her boot into the dirt, focusing on the motion before looking back up at him. As she shifted her weight to her right leg, a beam of sunlight drifted to her eyes. Chocolaty brown, somehow sweet and fiery, like those chocolate-covered cinnamon bears his mother used to love. “I tried the other day,” she said.
“And I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”
She studied him as if she didn’t quite buy it, and he supposed he deserved that. Why was he even trying with this girl anyway?
So he could disappoint her later?
He opened his mouth to tell her to forget it, but then she said, “Fine. I guess you can have two strikes before I count you out.”
“In baseball, it’s actually three.”
Under the brim of her hat, one eyebrow arched higher than the other. “In Harlow World, it’s two.”
Maddox bit back his smile. “Oh, I’m in your world now?”
“You’d better believe it, buddy. Look around. You’re a long way from skyscrapers and sidewalks full of rude people who believe moving out of someone’s way is a weakness. Honestly, I’m not sure you can hack it out here in the country.”
“I want to say something hard-core and tough, but I’m not sure, either. I’m getting twitchy without my motorcycle. I miss the days I could go for a drive without fuc—screwing over my future.”
Her features softened, but she still pulled off an epic eye roll. “Of course you have a motorcycle. Did it come with your bad-boy starter kit, along with your earrings and a bunch of tattoo needles?”
Despite his attempt to smother his laugh, a snicker burst free. “For someone who told me not to be a smart aleck, you’re sure walking that line.”
He didn’t bother explaining he’d designed the tattoos himself. Not that he thought that his artwork would impress a girl like her anyway.
Harlow crowded him in an attempt he was fairly certain was supposed to be intimidating, but all it accomplished was giving him a close-up view of her freckles. She didn’t have makeup on, her features natural and bare, showing off her flawless skin. “My world, my rules.”
“Guess I’d better learn how to survive in your world, then.” He readjusted the honda, which he still thought was a better name for a car than a knot. “It might help if you talked me through the throw. I wouldn’t be opposed to you wrapping your arms around me and taking the demonstration a step further. I know it’s typically a guy move, but I’m all about equality and feminism.” He waggled his eyebrows, and this time when she pressed her lips together, it was because she was fighting a smile.
“You’re trouble.”
“That’s why I’m here, babe.”
Her muscles tensed, and she swallowed hard. “Let’s make a rule. No nicknames. It’s Harlow or ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as gruff and flirty as he could.
Pink crept across her cheeks, and then she positioned herself behind him, grabbed his wrist, and guided it through the motions.
The heat of her body seeped into his, and he became acutely aware of the press of her curves. She smelled amazing, too, like strawberry vanilla flowers with a hint of grapefruit. Not that that was a
thing, and what had she said about the way he should flick his wrist?
Maddox glanced over his shoulder at her. “Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask you something since the other day.”
Her sigh sent her breath across his cheek. “You’re not payin’ attention. I’m not gonna keep my arms around you for much longer, so stop stallin’ and throw the dang rope.”
How damn cute was it that she didn’t swear? While he’d originally thought she sounded like a country bumpkin, he liked the lilt to her words. The same twang he’d heard in country songs when he’d been surfing radio stations and winced before quickly changing it.
He let go of the lasso, watching as it soared through the air and caught on the plastic ear of the calf head.
Then slid off and hit the ground. Shit, I missed.
Harlow grabbed his arm and bounced on the balls of her feet. “That was so close! You’re getting better.”
Her happiness transferred to him, and a tingly sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time spread through his chest.
“Reel in the rope and try again,” she said.
What could he do but follow her instructions? After all, he was in her world now.
And surprisingly, in this moment, he didn’t mind.
* * *
Brady surveyed the teens in their various stations. One of the biggest challenges at the ranch was motivating kids to apply themselves. But man, once they did, they certainly caught on quickly.
He’d watched as Harlow instructed Maddox on how to toss a lasso. When she’d wrapped her body around his, Brady had about strode over for closer observation—and by that, he meant to glare until they put more space between them.
Mrs. Griffith trusted him and his family to keep Harlow safe while she was at the ranch. In the beginning of their arrangement, Mrs. Griffith had hesitated to allow her daughter to train and stable her horse at the ranch because of the at-risk teens.
It was the kind of automatic judgment many of them received out in the real world. Sure, some of them had deserved it at one time or another. Plenty of the teens had even gone out of their way to cause trouble before. But once they had a breakthrough, big changes occurred. Seemingly overnight sometimes.
A sense of fulfillment flooded Brady’s chest as he recalled the faces and names of kids they’d helped through the years. There was nothing like seeing that change.
Just like there was nothing as hard as growing to love a kid who refused to engage. A handful left the program without ever opening up or learning the necessary tools to fight off and overcome their demons.
Brady worried that Maddox Mikos might end up in that last group.
When teenagers were sent to the ranch because their families were worried about them, it came from a place of love. But when a judge ordered someone to serve time, that made it practically impossible for them not to regard their stay as a mere punishment.
Brady racked his brain for an out-of-the-box idea. The trill of his phone scattered his subpar ideas on the matter, and he glanced at the display and then quickly answered. “Nash. Hey.”
“How’s it going?”
“Same old same,” Brady said into the phone over the sound of Desiree and Danica’s cheers. As he’d hoped, the duo was having an easier time with the smaller ropes. They encouraged and razzed each other, the combination of friendship and competition pushing them past their limits. They reminded him of himself and Tanya, actually. “What about you? Where you at today?”
“Hamel, Minnesota.”
“Should’ve guessed. It’s Bull Ridin’ Bonanza time.”
“You know me. Gotta defend my title.”
In a lot of ways, Brady knew Nash better than anyone. While he’d felt a bit restless himself lately, Nash rarely felt anything but. He was forever switching up the scenery, upping the stakes, and working to find a bigger rush that didn’t involve drugs or alcohol. “When’s the last time you talked to Ma?”
“Called her right before you.”
The tightness in Brady’s chest eased. Wade often grew frustrated over how infrequently Nash called and visited. The longer he went without checking in, the more Ma worried. Plus, there was the whole bull-riding thing. “Good. She’s always fretting over the day someone will call and inform her that a bull’s speared you with his horn or that you’ve been stomped on in the arena. Or a handful of other morbid scenarios that keep her up at night.”
“Well, I’ll make sure that day never comes.”
As if it were that easy. Since Brady couldn’t leave the teens unsupervised, he paced the training grounds as he talked. Chloe and Abby were setting up a barrel one of their horses had tipped over, and Abby’s uncommonly wide grin had him patting himself on the back for pairing her with Chloe. She had experience with the program, much like Aiden, and with her practically family, it was nice to have her involved and helping as well. She was good at breaking through to girls who were shy, depressed, and dealing with some of the same anxiety issues she did.
“How’s Nick? You takin’ care of him for me?” Thanks to Nash, Nick had been spared most of their biological father’s abuse. Before Nash had driven away to follow his bull-riding dreams, the main thing he’d requested of Brady was to take care of their younger brother.
“Yeah, but honestly, he does a fine job of taking care of himself. And you should see him with the teens. He’s a natural at the counselor thing.”
“Sounds like Nick, turnin’ lemons into pie.” Pride echoed in Nash’s voice. “I’ll always be grateful you guys got him out of there before my dad…” Nash didn’t finish; he didn’t have to. Shuffling sounds carried through the phone. “Anyway, on to the point of this here phone call. The state fair is in Ogallala this next weekend, and since it’s only a four-hour drive, I thought you and Tanya might wanna drive up and watch. For old times’ sake.”
Unlike most everyone else around these parts, Nash never mentioned Tanya’s name with all that hint-hint to it. Probably on account of being around them enough to see they were simply super close friends who happened to be of opposite sexes.
Sex. With Tanya. That could be…
Nope, not going there. Brady blew out his breath, reprimanding himself for letting his thoughts snag on her standing across from him in only her underwear. All those fiery curls against her pale shoulders and spilling down to the swells of her breasts…
His head swam and his heart jackhammered his rib cage at a rapid, almost punishing pace.
“You still there, bro?”
Brady cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry. There’s just a lot going on here.” Like, say, him having highly inappropriate thoughts about Tanya. The past couple of nights he’d called to check on Phoenix and Tanya and chat, and ever since that moment in the stables, he swore there’d been a different type of chemistry beyond their strong connection—one with an underlying current of desire.
Could they mix everything together without it resulting in a messy explosion that blew up in their faces, though? He’d driven himself crazy volleying back and forth because he couldn’t gamble something so important on a maybe. Not if it ran the possibility of ruining their friendship. “Both Tanya and I are busy getting ready for the local rodeo, but I’ll talk to her and see if she can sneak away.”
“Cool. Let me know. Also ask her if she has any hot friends she can bring along. Surely a sexy woman or two have moved into Silver Springs since I left.”
While Brady didn’t pay much mind to all the goings-on in town, he would’ve heard if the population had grown. He could say for certain that the only sexy woman he’d seen in months was Tanya. Well, he wouldn’t say it aloud, but she was in his head all the damn time these days, especially when he fell into bed at the end of the night. “If I say yes, will you make an appearance at the Silver Springs Rodeo?”
“I’ll see how things look at the end of the month,” Nash said, deploying h
is expert-level skills at avoiding firm plans. “Lately, it does seem as if I’m reliving the same day over and over, like a version of Groundhog Day but with bucking bulls instead of annoying groundhogs. Maybe a change of pace—even a slow pace—would be a good idea.”
“Ma would love it.” Growing up, Nash hadn’t heard he was appreciated, cared about, or wanted nearly enough, so Brady didn’t bother holding back. “We’d all love it. Everybody misses you.”
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it.” Code for: This is turning mushy, and you’re still trying to get me to visit, so I’m going to flee the scene of the feelings.
“Later,” Brady said, holding back the love you. Not because he didn’t love his brother but because it might shut Nash down more.
With a sigh, Brady slid his phone into his shirt pocket, his mind lingering on his conversation with Nash.
Aiden walked by, and Brady gestured him over. All three of the brothers who’d become family in an unconventional way had grown leaps and bounds, although Brady wouldn’t go calling Nash completely over his demons. Point was, there was hope, and a lot of a person’s progress depended on the work they put in. There was something to be said for individualization, too, though.
“What’s your read on Maddox?” Brady asked Aiden.
Aiden kicked at a rock on the ground. “He’s confrontational. Mad at the world in general. But to tell the truth, I haven’t talked to him much.”
“Think you could? See if maybe you could get through to him?”
If it made a difference, Brady would use about any means at his disposal. Not at his youngest brother’s expense, obviously, but if Maddox could find a friend here to talk to—particularly one who’d understand him better than most—it might help. “You don’t even have to report back. I just think he needs to know someone’s on his side, even if he resists at first.”
Aiden lifted a hand to shield his eyes—he still wasn’t sold on cowboy hats, although he occasionally donned one. “He seems to be happy around Harlow.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Brady said. “The something he needs can’t be her, or Mrs. Griffith will have our heads.”
