Cowboy to the Core

by Maisey Yates

  “I’m okay,” she insisted.

  “Good,” he said, releasing his hold on her and taking a step back. “Jamie, you need to be careful.”

  “She seemed fine,” she said, gesturing to the horse. “Actually, she was fine. It wasn’t her fault. A stupid ass—” Jamie waved her hand and made a skittering motion with her fingers “—squirrel ran out under her feet. Any horse could’ve freaked out like that.”

  “Jamie.” Those blue eyes bored into hers all serious, and she couldn’t breathe. “You don’t even have a helmet on. You could have been seriously injured.”

  “I don’t wear a helmet when I barrel race,” she said.

  “Not even with a new horse? Jamie, you have to take precautions. The dumb-ass bull riders even wear face masks nowadays. There’s no point putting yourself at risk when you could take a small step toward keeping yourself safe.” He still wasn’t mad. His voice was shot through with concern and that only made her angry. Though maybe more than that, she was angry at herself for wanting more. More of the tenderness. More of his touch.

  “Hey,” she said, “it was just an accident. And it happens. You can’t tell me you’ve never been thrown from a horse.”

  His jaw firmed. “I ride bucking broncos. That’s kind of part of the deal.”

  “I ride,” she said simply. “It’s part of the deal there, too.”

  She turned away from him and limped over toward Gem.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting back on, jackass. That’s what you do.” She felt prickly and uncomfortable, and like her skin was too tight for her body. Combined with the pain, it was a damned annoying sensation.

  She gritted her teeth and touched the horse’s neck before putting her foot in the stirrup and launching herself up onto her back. They rode a quick easy loop, with Gabe’s gaze on them the whole time, and then she dismounted before leading the horse back to the barn. She ignored the fact that Gabe was following her, still clearly irritated.

  “I’ll put her away,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “I’m going to put her away. I’m going to finish my work. I’m fine.”

  He didn’t seem to take that as his cue to leave. Instead, he leaned in the doorway, muscular arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes like ice as they appraised her every movement. Like he was waiting for her to crumble to the ground and swoon like a maiden from an old movie from all the pain at any moment.

  “It’s just pain,” she said. “There’s a big difference between being in pain and being injured, Dalton. Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You make a pretty good doorstop, I’ll give you that,” she said. “But you could also go do anything else.”

  “You’re a potential liability,” he commented. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I told you that I am,” she said, fierce.

  “Next time you ride one of the new horses, one that no one has ever ridden, you make sure I’m out there.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a great idea. Had you been out there would you have gotten down on your hands and knees and intercepted the squirrel before it got into the arena? Because that’s what you would have had to do to prevent this.”

  “I could have appraised the situation.”

  “I appraised the situation,” she said. “If the horse hadn’t been startled it wouldn’t have been a situation.”

  She patted Gem on the rump and sent her into the stall, closing it behind her.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think,” Gabe said. “That’s the new rule.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m your boss. And I say that’s the protocol now.”

  “You’re being ridiculous and you’re treating me like a child. I’m not a child, Gabe.”

  She moved to walk past him, and he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. Those same rough hands connecting with her skin. “If you have a problem with the order, Jamie, you can take your things and go, and don’t bother to come back tomorrow.”

  Just like that, she saw everything she was working toward evaporate into dust. Those blue eyes were still boring through her, right through all her shields, and she couldn’t catch her breath, much less find it in her to defy him one more time.

  That strange sensation that felt like a shimmer of heat over hot pavement was coursing through her. An intensified version of what she’d been feeling in his presence ever since that first day of work.

  She hated it. She kind of liked it.

  She had no idea what to do with it.

  She just needed some distance.

  She needed him to not be touching her.

  “No,” she said.

  “No, you’re not going to take the order, or no, you’re not quitting?”

  “I’m not quitting,” she said.

  She stared at him, not breaking eye contact, stared until the air seemed to vibrate between them. And he finally released his hold on her arm.

  “When you ride Gem tomorrow, text me. And let me know that’s what you’re doing. I want to be out here.”

  She bit her tongue to keep from arguing, and instead she nodded.

  “Go home,” he said. “Put some ice on your hip.”

  And it hurt badly enough that she wasn’t going to argue with him about that. But she collected her things without saying another word and got into the truck, starting the engine and beating a hasty retreat from the ranch.

  And it wasn’t until she was out on the highway that she realized she was shaking. And she didn’t think it was from the fall.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GABE WAS MADE of pure agitation by the time the evening rolled around. He kept seeing Jamie, tumbling off the horse and hitting the barrel.

  It played in his mind over and over again. And then, worse than that, he kept on reliving the moment he had knelt down in front of her and touched her face. Realized how soft her skin was.

  He didn’t know what in hell had possessed him to do that. To act like he was a nurse, when he was the furthest thing from it.

  But all that, mixed with the conversation he’d had with his dad earlier in the day, had driven one thing home for him. He needed to get a grip on himself.

  Because what he’d said to his dad was true. He didn’t forget who he was or where he was. He didn’t forget what his obligations were.

  Those were his dad’s excuses. That he was in the moment. That he had just kind of forgotten that he had a wife and children waiting for him at home. That a pretty little thing smiled at him and he just couldn’t help himself.

  He could well remember his dad trying to excuse himself with words like that after screaming fights with Tammy.

  He remembered the time his mother had taken a bat to his father’s truck out in the driveway.

  Gabe had been fourteen at the time.

  And Hank just smiled and laughed.

  I made a mistake, he’d said. I can’t say it more than once. She’s left me before, but she never stays gone. She knows how I am. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But you know... Think of how stupid you feel sometimes when a pretty girl looks at you. That’s just how it is. Some of us are a little weaker than others.

  He had given him a conspiratorial grin like Gabe was supposed to understand. Like it was just how it was for men like them.

  And then, God help him, he’d proved he was just like that.

  Seventeen and on fire for Trisha and not taking time to use a condom. Her late period had ended up being nothing at all, but it could have been. And it was enough to prove he actually did understand just what his dad was talking about.

  A pretty face, a pretty body. And everything else turned to dust.

  He’d thought it was love. He truly had. But he�
��d failed at that first hurdle, and he’d seen exactly what he was made of.

  Gabe hated it. He hated understanding it, and it had made him double down on the protective feelings he had for his mom. Because he was determined he wouldn’t be like that.

  He would protect the women in his life.

  And when it came to relationships, he just wouldn’t make any promises.

  And he would keep his control.

  There was something easy about the kinds of hookups he’d found in the rodeo. He played the part of cocky cowboy while the woman played the part of insatiable buckle bunny.

  And both of them had real lives outside those choreographed encounters, but neither of them shared them.

  He’d done it for so many years, being that character was easy.

  But he couldn’t be that here. He had to be engaged. He had to take his responsibilities seriously.

  Jamie was a responsibility in a lot of ways. Wyatt wasn’t a close friend, but Gabe knew that Wyatt was worried about Jamie, and Gabe had told Wyatt he could trust him. That Gabe didn’t have any designs on her. He’d hired Jamie and assured her of the same.

  And that meant going out and dealing with himself.

  He toyed with the idea of calling his brothers. But he figured he was better off dealing with it on his own. He took a quick shower, put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Put three condoms in his wallet, because he was feeling optimistic.

  And as he got in his truck to head out toward the Gold Valley Saloon, he did his very best not to think of the last woman he touched.

  Because he couldn’t think of her that way. He couldn’t think of her while he thought about condoms, or anything else.

  And he wouldn’t.

  What he wanted to do was go into his dad’s office and throw the condoms down on his desk and say: This is what real men do. We think about our actions and the consequences of them.

  But he wasn’t going to do that, because it was a little bit too dramatic for him. And also, as much as Hank Dalton might be comfortable elbowing and winking and implying things about his sex life, Gabe was not.

  So instead, he started his truck and tried to convince himself that this particular brand of responsibility would be a pleasure and not a chore.

  In the whole ten-minute drive to town, he couldn’t seem to convince himself.

  He just had to hope that when the right woman showed up, it wouldn’t take much convincing at all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “LET’S GO OUT,” Beatrix said.

  “Oh, yes,” McKenna agreed. “We should go out.”

  Beatrix had come over that night to talk about the horse, and had been round-eyed and overly concerned about the fall that Jamie had had. McKenna had stopped by Jamie’s cabin, too, and for a moment Jamie felt content. Like maybe life wasn’t so different and difficult, after all.

  “Out?” Jamie wrinkled her nose.

  “Yes,” McKenna said. “I’ve gotten domesticated. And I’m getting married in five months. I have to get out and enjoy my freedom while I can.”

  “Me, too,” Beatrix said.

  And just like that, Jamie’s stomach curled in on itself. “Well, I have endless freedom stretching before me. So I feel no particular pressing need to go out to a bar. But if you really want to...”

  “I do,” Beatrix said, nodding.

  “Fine,” Jamie said. She picked up her flannel shirt she’d been wearing earlier and shrugged it on. There was a little bit of dust on it, but otherwise, it was fine.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” McKenna asked, her tone absent of judgment, but the fact that she asked the question at all impressed upon Jamie the judgment all the same.

  “Yes,” she said. “You have a problem with it?”

  “Well,” McKenna said. “It’s just that you mentioned your endless freedom. And perhaps, you could be less free if you...”

  “I am not dressing up to try to get a man’s attention,” Jamie snapped. “If I wanted a man, I could go out and get one.”

  Men were simple, after all. She’d seen it over and over again. It played out all the time in her family.

  She flashed back to Gabe, the way he’d looked at her when she was down on the ground, and she pushed that image to the side.

  “Okaaayyy.” The skeptical word came from Bea, and Jamie bristled.

  “What?”

  “I’m just... You don’t... Okay. I love you, Jamie, but you don’t actually know anything about men.”

  Jamie frowned. “What?”

  “We’ve listened to you talk like this for months. You tried to give us both advice on our relationships,” McKenna said.

  “I was helpful,” Jamie insisted.

  “You meant well,” Bea offered.

  Jamie huffed and McKenna went on. “We let you talk. No one wanted to hurt your feelings. We still don’t. But now we need to have a real conversation here because you’re about to bite off more than you can chew.”

  “I literally grew up in a house with all men,” Jamie protested. “I know more about men than any one woman could want to. I helped you out with Dane.”

  Bea and McKenna exchanged a glance that turned Jamie’s blood to lava. “No offense, Jamie,” Bea said slowly. “But no. You didn’t. And no, you don’t. You know about men as brothers. You don’t know anything about... You don’t know anything about sex.”

  Jamie’s whole face felt like it had been lit on fire. And she wanted to push against this. Against this feeling of being lost and of not knowing. “I know about sex,” she said.

  McKenna frowned. Deeply. “Oh...Jamie.”

  “Don’t! Don’t Oh, Jamie me like I’m a sad kitten. I am completely fine. I’m not envious of your relationships or your...your...carnal knowledge of men’s bodies, okay?”

  “I didn’t say you were,” McKenna said, holding her hands up in a defensive pose.

  “No, but you’re acting like I don’t know anything and—”

  “Jamie, it’s not like anyone is calling you out. But it wouldn’t kill you to acknowledge that maybe your friends who are in relationships might be more up on men and sex than you are.”

  Bea, being Bea, was beginning to look concerned. Probably that she might hurt Jamie’s feelings. But Jamie wasn’t hurt. She was annoyed.

  Jamie held up her hands. “Tab A. Slot B.” She made a rude gesture. “I’m aware of how it works. And if I want to know more, I’ll go on a fact-finding mission all on my own. Now, do you have any more comments on me, my clothing or all the things I don’t know, or can we go and get a drink?”

  Her friends stared at her.

  “You look good,” Beatrix said finally. “Let’s just go out.”

  “Good,” Jamie said.

  They piled into Jamie’s truck and headed down to the Gold Valley Saloon.

  It was packed out tonight. Always busy any day of the week, it got a little bit of an extra influx on the weekends, especially during this time of year, when there were tourists hanging around on the edges of town to tour wineries, go on white-water rafting trips and use the hiking trails that wound around in the mountains beyond the town.

  And once all that outdoor activity was done, it was definitely drinking time.

  Jamie was always somewhat bemused by the injection of people, but their favorite table in the back corner was available, so she didn’t feel the need to complain.

  She also still felt plain uncomfortable after the conversation at her house. They’d done their best to make conversation on the ride over but Jamie had mostly stewed.

  “Drinks?” Jamie asked once they deposited all their things in the chairs.

  “I’ll get them,” Beatrix said.

  “No,” Jamie said, conscious of the fact that Beatrix could be overly generous if you didn’t watch her, and she would end up paying for ev
erything before anyone had realized it. And even annoyed with her, she didn’t want that.

  “All right. I’ll have a...a beer,” Bea said.

  “A beer?” Jamie questioned.

  Bea shrugged. “I live with a rodeo cowboy. I’ve acquired a taste.”

  The change in her friend—tiny though it was—hit Jamie funny.

  She had acquired a taste for beer because of Dane.

  Bea had always been a sugary alcohol drink or soda kind of girl, more than a beer drinker. She wondered if Bea and Dane sat around in their living room drinking beer now. And then she wondered what that would be like. To have your life so wound around someone else’s that it changed what you drank.

  “What about you?” she asked McKenna.

  “Beer,” McKenna said.

  That, at least, was normal for McKenna, as far as Jamie knew. It wasn’t like she had known McKenna all that long before she had gotten together with Jamie’s brother. But they had formed a friendship somewhat separate of her relationship with Grant, when McKenna had first come to the ranch to work.

  “All right. I guess I’ll be back with three beers,” Jamie said, turning around and heading off toward the bar, while Beatrix and McKenna took their seats.

  When she approached the bar, Laz, the bar owner, flashed her a grin, and then walked down to her end. “Hi there, Jamie,” he said. “What can I get you?”

  “Just three bottles of beer. Whatever’s good and cheap.”

  “I think I can figure that out,” he said. He turned away from her, headed toward the cooler.

  Jamie leaned against the bar, resting her elbows against the scarred wooden countertop, then turned and looked over her shoulder.

  McKenna had her hand extended, held in front of Bea, who was studying McKenna’s engagement ring.

  Bea smiled about something, then placed her own hand at the center of the table, pointing to something on her ring.

  Jamie blinked, grappling with that sense of isolation that had walloped her suddenly the other night.

  She turned back toward Lazarus, who was headed toward her, beer bottles in hand.