Unbroken Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  She pulled onto the ranch property, and down the gravel road that led to the main house. Jamie Dodge was sitting on the porch of the expansive log home, her feet kicked out in front of her.

  Bea parked and got out. “Hi,” she said, bounding up the steps toward her friend.

  Jamie smiled. “Hi. I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”

  “Kaylee just invited me. I didn’t realize there was dinner.”

  “It was impromptu. There were leftovers from one of the guest dinners, and Lindy wanted to get rid of them all with the family.” Jamie hesitated for a minute. “Plus, Dane was looking really tired by the end of work today and Lindy was worried. I think she wants to keep an eye on him.”

  Jamie was always hesitant to mention Dane around Bea, which was uncharacteristic for Jamie in all other things, since Jamie never shied away from anything. But with Dane it was like she never wanted to bring up the topic at all. Bea hadn’t had a lot of friends growing up. She had always preferred the company of animals to people, but even she knew it was a little bit strange not to talk about crushes and things with a friend. But she didn’t know if Jamie was averse to the topic in general, or if it had something to do with the fact that Bea gave off the sense that she didn’t want to discuss Dane.

  Or maybe it was Jamie’s own lack of experience with men.

  And Bea didn’t especially want to talk about him. Because the problem was in terms of practicality—it was a crush. A thing that wouldn’t go anywhere, ever.

  But in terms of her emotions...

  It felt real. Like something fragile and sacred, in a weird way. The only place her feelings for Dane lived was inside her and the idea of talking about it with someone, giggling, or whatever it was you were supposed to do, didn’t appeal to Bea at all.

  “Is he okay?” Bea asked, keeping her tone low.

  “Just in pain,” Jamie said. “I’ve watched Wyatt have a lot of minor injuries over the years. Limp around for a few weeks. This is just nothing like that. It’s terrible.”

  “I know,” Bea said. Silence fell between them. “Have you started work with the Daltons yet?”

  Jamie had taken a job over at another ranch, doing rehabilitation and training with retired rodeo horses.

  “Not yet,” Jamie said. “Wyatt is still being an obstinate tool about it. He has issues with Gabe, and I don’t blame him. But, I’m a little bit offended that he doesn’t think I can handle myself around an asinine rodeo cowboy. I was literally raised with them.”

  “He’s an older brother,” Bea said. “They’re like that. I mean, I hear.”

  The corner of Jamie’s mouth tipped upward and she swept her dark braid back over her shoulder. “You have an older brother.”

  “Yes, but my older brother is...useless as an older brother.”

  Damien was so much older than her, she had never felt particularly close to him. But it was more than that. Sabrina was quite a bit older than Bea was too, and they were very different. But still, she loved her older sister. Sabrina was always smooth, polished. The only time that had ever been untrue was when Liam Donnelly had broken her heart when she was seventeen, and she’d had a very public meltdown over it. But even that, Bea hardly remembered.

  At least, at eleven, she hadn’t been able to understand her sister’s heartbreak. Not really.

  She knew that age and personality didn’t have anything to do with whether or not you felt close to your siblings. It was all about how much she wanted to reach out, or not. Much like her mother, much like the man she’d grown up calling Father, Damien just hadn’t had any use for her.

  It was so completely different from Jamie’s family. The way that they rallied around each other. The way that they cared.

  She felt so happy that Lindy had been able to marry into a family like that this time. She had certainly gotten the short end of the stick marrying into the Leighton family, at least, in Bea’s opinion.

  Her family was all cold, stiff ceremony, proclamations about good behavior. For years, their father hadn’t spoken to Sabrina because of that meltdown she’d had in front of all their friends and family.

  She couldn’t imagine a member of the Dodge clan disowning another. They were imperfect, they were noisy and they fought. But they loved, most of all.

  But Bea wasn’t really part of it. Not really. She was friends with Jamie, she still felt like Lindy was her sister, in spite of the fact that she had divorced Beatrix’s brother and married someone else. But none of this was really hers in that way.

  Another thing for her to stand on the perimeter of. But at least this was something she liked.

  “Well, mine are very much fully functional and obnoxious, if you would like to borrow one.”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Anything new with you?”

  She should tell Jamie about the vet tech program. That she was hoping to take a position at Bennett’s place. After all, she would be working with Jamie’s brother, hopefully. But something stopped her. She just felt so silly talking about that kind of thing.

  Felt so silly admitting what she wanted.

  It brought her back to times when she’d felt small, standing in Jamison Leighton’s office, with his disapproving stare boring into her as he questioned why her grades were so poor. Why she didn’t finish her homework. And why she spent every afternoon outside climbing trees and rescuing baby birds, putting them in shoeboxes, when she should be applying herself to something that mattered.

  She had never known how to tell him that animals were what mattered to her. And there was never going to be a career path for her that involved sitting indoors.

  Because when he didn’t care about something, he was quick to make it seem small and unimportant. And she couldn’t fathom opening up her heart and sharing all the things she did care about, so that he could minimize those too. Tell her why they didn’t matter.

  Why the way she saw the world wasn’t important at all.

  Maybe that was why it was so difficult to talk about things now.

  That and the one time she’d found someone she thought might care...

  She’d discovered how small and unimportant she was in a new way. One that hurt far worse than Jamison’s cold detachment.

  “I’m getting some chickens,” she said. “So that’s exciting.”

  Jamie rolled her eyes. “Chickens.”

  “Chickens are useful,” she insisted. “Last time we talked about my animal collection, you told me that you didn’t understand useless animals like rabbits.”

  “You don’t really want the chickens because they’re useful though,” Jamie said.

  “Not especially. They’re very cute.”

  Jamie shook her head and laughed. “Horses are enough for me.”

  “I’m happy to let you have all the horses. I like all animals, but I do prefer the small ones.”

  Jamie’s lips twitched. “Except for Dane? He’s a very large animal.”

  “And I’m not doing a very good job caring for him,” Bea said, sidestepping any potential double meaning her friend was trying to walk her into.

  “I have a feeling you’re doing as good a job as anyone can do. Men like that are hardheaded,” Jamie added, with exceeding confidence.

  Bea had known—at least as much as she could know with intuition and scattered comments—that Jamie had about the same level of experience with men that she did.

  But Jamie was a totally different type of person. She was confident and outspoken. She didn’t go through life hoping to be invisible. She went in with guns blazing, to every situation, and never seemed to be at a loss.

  Bea admired it in a way, though privately wondered if her own method of baiting metaphorical flies with honey worked a bit better.

  “It’s a good thing his head is so hard,” she said, as she followed Jamie into the
house. “Otherwise his brains might have fallen out completely.”

  There was laughter and conversation filling the living area of the house, and it continued, even when she and Jamie walked in. But her eyes found Dane immediately, and he looked up from his beer, his eyes meeting hers, a small smile on his lips.

  She took that, held it close. Even if she shouldn’t.

  But it was right next to all the other things that she never talked about or showed anyone else, so it was safe.

  She was greeted almost immediately by Lindy, who grabbed her and gave her a quick hug before ushering her into the kitchen to fill up her plate with chips, a hamburger and baked beans.

  “How is everything going at the house?” Lindy asked.

  She knew she meant how was Dane.

  “Good,” she said. “How was everything at the winery today?”

  “Good,” Lindy responded. “It’s a little bit strange. I go there to work, then come back here. Dane is working here, and going back home to the winery.” She paused for a moment. “Bea, does it bother you that he’s in the house?”

  “Why would it bother me?” Bea asked.

  “Because you’re out in that little cabin. And I feel like... You grew up in that house. Maybe it should be yours.”

  Horror hit Bea in the chest, spreading out like ice. “No,” Bea said. “No. I did my time in that mausoleum. Thank you very much.”

  “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. It’s the Leighton family home and...”

  But Bea wasn’t actually a Leighton.

  There were only four people on earth who knew. Jamison, her mother, her real father and her.

  When her mother had told her, it had almost been a relief. Because suddenly it made sense why she didn’t fit in.

  And that it was Michael Fulsome made so much sense to her. She’d forged a connection with the quiet, reclusive winery worker when she was thirteen. And at sixteen she’d discovered he was her biological father.

  It made her feel whole. Brought her a connection to herself she hadn’t felt before.

  Because those same things she’d witnessed in him lived inside of her. A wildness. A desire to roam.

  That piece of herself that felt suffocated by those walls and marble floors. That part that didn’t want to get lost in rows of grapevines, but in dense forest and endless mountains.

  Until he’d left. Because money given to him by Jamison had mattered more.

  The fact of the matter was the winery and the property were far more suited to Lindy than it would ever be to Bea. Sabrina still worked at the winery, but she wouldn’t want to live there. She lived on her husband’s ranch.

  Which was perfect for her. Bea wanted the life she’d made for herself. Simple, humble. Full of creatures and freedom.

  “I’m happy in the cabin,” Bea said. “Really. It’s perfect for me. I’m just one person.”

  “So is Dane,” Lindy said.

  “You have to fit him and his ego into one place,” Bea said, smiling. “The cabin isn’t up for it.”

  Not to mention all of the equipment that he needed to keep him safe. But, she wasn’t going to mention that. Because he really wouldn’t like her throwing out the reminder that he was injured. And even though he couldn’t hear her, that mattered to her.

  He would have agreed about his ego.

  “True,” Lindy said, grabbing her own full plate, and leading the way out into the living room.

  Bennett, Kaylee and Dallas had arrived, and they had a full house, including Luke and Olivia Hollister, and their baby girl. Bea naturally sat back and faded into watching everyone interact.

  Voices rose up and filled the warm space, the log home absorbing the sound and holding it in around them.

  She enjoyed it. She found it comforting and interesting. She liked being around all the happiness. She also would’ve been happier if there was a dog around that she could have snuck potato chips to.

  She looked around and noticed that Dane didn’t look very good at all. He wasn’t participating in the conversation. He was just eating. He looked like he was in pain. And she didn’t like that at all.

  Unlike her, Dane never faded into the background. Not before the accident. He had always been the focal point in any room he was in. Happy to lead the charge telling stories about his exploits on the rodeo circuit, making everyone laugh.

  He was a natural charmer, and it was something that Bea had always admired about him. Because the only thing she had ever turned naturally was beast, not man.

  She stood from where she was sitting and edged her way over to where Dane was on the couch. There was a small wedge of blank space next to him, and she hesitated, before sitting there.

  Then, she took a breath, and did.

  Her knee brushed up against his thigh, and the air she had just taken in rushed out of her completely. He didn’t seem to notice. But he did look at her, unperturbed.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

  His blue eyes cooled slightly. “That seems to be the only question anyone wants to ask me.”

  “You look tired,” she said.

  “I’m fine. I’m just not used to working these kinds of hours anymore. But it’s fine.”

  “I might need you to come look at my chicken coop before it gets dark.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Beatrix, that sounds like a particularly ridiculous pickup line.”

  Her face got hot, shame prickling over her. Because it had not been a pickup line, but him suggesting it might be made her feel exposed. And worse, him laughing about it, as if it were ridiculous, wounded her. It shouldn’t.

  “I’m just saying. I could use some help. And... You can come by and look, and then go get some rest. But, no one has to know that you’re tired.”

  He gave her a long look. “I’m fine. But if you need me to come and look at the chicken coop...”

  “I do,” she said. “The rescue chickens are coming in just five days.”

  “We can’t have homeless rescue chickens. They’ll need to be rescued from the rescue.”

  “That’s kind of what I was thinking.”

  That little burst of shame shifted and expanded into something else. Pride. Because he was taking her help. And he might rather have her punch him in the injured thigh than admit it, but he did seem to be taking it.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Dane said, looking at his brother-in-law. “Bea needs some help out at the cabin before it gets dark, so I think it’s time for us to head out.”

  The way he said us made Bea’s stomach kick a little bit, and she was instantly irritated at her body’s nonsense. This was a little white lie of her own making. She could hardly go getting worked up about it.

  “I’m not actually going to let you look at the chicken coop,” she said softly once they were outside.

  “Bea,” he said. “I can handle coming out to look at the chicken coop.”

  She crossed her arms and planted her feet resolutely, staring him down. Which felt a little silly since she barely came up to his chin. “You looked like you were about to pass out.”

  “It was just a lot of noise. Sometimes... I don’t know. I don’t know what all makes it bad like that. But, some of it is just pretending it’s not bad. If I show even a hint of what I’m feeling, then Wyatt is going to make sure that I actually can’t do any work at the ranch, and Lindy is going to lock me in the basement until I’m healed. And not let me move at all.”

  “So what? So what if they did? Is it the worst thing to get taken care of?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Like that it is. I left home when I was eighteen, Bea. No one has ever taken care of me. I mean Lindy... She was my older sister. But, she hooked up with Damien pretty early on, and she was involved in that. I’m happy for her. I mean, I was. I was happy she escaped. But my next goal was to esc
ape. And I had to make sure that it happened myself. We made it. Lindy and I. We didn’t just stay like our mother. No one fussed over me then, they don’t need to do it now.”

  “Is that what this is about? Being mad that Lindy wants to watch over you now when she didn’t before?” Bea knew all about being angry about the past. Mostly, she was the least angry person around. But she also understood what it felt like to feel isolated while surrounded by people.

  To feel like you were somehow alone, no matter how good the intentions of those around you were.

  “No. But I made a whole life based on doing what I felt in my gut was the right thing to do. I don’t need somebody to step in now and try to handle everything.”

  “Okay. In that case, come and look at the chicken coop. But if something hurts, please feel free to cuss about it and make a big show of how terrible it feels.”

  “You’re not going to try to manage me?”

  The question made Bea blink. She was so used to feeling managed by those around her it hadn’t occurred to her she could make...anyone else feel that way.

  Though she supposed she was managing him a little bit. But it was all with good intentions. Just making him think he was getting his way a little bit more successfully than Lindy was.

  But she didn’t say that.

  “I’ve taken care of a lot of wounded animals,” she began. “And each one heals its own way. But, none of them hold their pain in. If it hurts, growl about it.”

  Dane lifted a brow, the slowly sinking sun casting a gold wash over his face, illuminating the light whiskers around his jaw. The way he was looking at her now... It made her heart trip over itself. Because it wasn’t really neutral, or cool. Not at all. “You know I’m not one of your creatures, right?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I only meant...”

  “I’m a man, Bea. Not a dog.” He lowered his head as he said that, and the wind kicked up, tangling his sharp, masculine scent around her. His skin, the sweat from the day’s work. Something twisted, low and deep inside of her.