by KC Klein
“Don’t be ridiculous, Katie,” Cole said as he walked closer. “I live right next door. Besides, I have to get your dad’s truck back.”
The fact that Cole now stood between her and the exit wasn’t lost on her.
Pa pressed his hand to his throat. “No, let Cole take you. I can’t relax thinking you’d be all alone.”
Katie repressed a sigh. And here she’d been living on her own in New York all this time.
“He was upset that you wouldn’t let me pick you up at the airport,” Cole said from behind her since she’d turned her back to him. She’d refused to let him coax her attention from where it should be, her father. “He hasn’t closed his eyes for more than a few minutes since your plane landed.”
Her father’s eyes were smudged with deep purple as he fought to keep them open.
She was just being stupid. She was an adult now, no need to play childish games. “Yes, of course.”
A weakened smile played across Pa’s lips; then he nodded. Katie kissed him one last time and turned to roll her suitcase back the way she’d come. But a stronger hand already gripped the handle.
“I got it,” Cole said, his eyes now hidden beneath the low brim of his Stetson.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.” She tugged again. Overly aware of how close she was to touching him.
He didn’t let go. “I said I got this.”
Katie looked at him from under her lowered lashes and let her most insincere smile spread across her face. “And I said no thanks.”
In the dark, a white smile flashed. “You’re not going to win this one.”
Her jaw clenched. A voice inside her head told her to let it go—she was tired. It wasn’t that big a deal. “That implies I’ve won at least some.”
She needed to work on being reasonable.
“Katie, you’ve always won,” he said as if everything was one big joke.
Damn him. And damn the way he addressed her, as if he only fully exhaled when he spoke her name. Anger, hot and bright, seared her blood, and she balled her hand against her stomach to keep from slapping his smirking face.
Liar! She’d lost the biggest gamble of her life with him.
With the suitcase now unencumbered, he wheeled the luggage out the door and down the hall. She stole a glance at Pa to make sure he hadn’t witnessed the episode. His eyes were closed and his mouth slack. She turned back around. Her icy glare was lost on the dirty tee stretched across Cole’s broad back and the faded jeans that molded what some would consider his best asset. With no real choice, she followed.
What did she expect? That things would be different? They’d been fighting since she was seventeen. Before that he’d been her best friend, but the summer of her senior year things changed. Heat rose to her face, and she was glad Cole walked in front of her.
She’d been so naïve, and at the same time so sure of herself. What she wouldn’t give to take the summer of her senior year back, to wipe her shame off the world’s slate. And yet she would’ve never left for New York, and she would’ve never found love . . . true love. A love that didn’t hurt like the swallowing of a heated blade.
Chapter 2
Three years earlier, Katie’s senior year
A finger of sunlight slipped between the edge of the yellowing plastic shade and the delicate pale curtain. Katie squinted, her eyes narrowing against the dawn. She blinked twice, and went from begrudging awareness to full alert in the span of a breath. She rolled from her tangled sheets and shimmied herself into yesterday’s jeans, which she’d rescued from the dirty hamper. After wiggling her bottom into the glove-snug denim, she reached for the standard work shirt from off her dresser, then hesitated.
Cole was a stickler for rules, but time was running out. Just last night Pa had pressured her to make the final decision about which college she was going to attend. She couldn’t stall forever, and she sure couldn’t tell Pa the real reason she didn’t want to live out of state.
Should she toe the line and play it safe, or risk Cole’s wrath and break the rules? She stilled and worried her bottom lip as she eyed her work shirt, and then the blouse hanging in her closet. Katie’s heart quickened in answer, though it wasn’t fear that pumped through her veins; it was excitement. Cole just needed a little push, a tiny shove to open his eyes and see her for the woman she’d become, instead of the little girl he insisted she was.
Hadn’t Pa always told her the bold blazed the trails, and the cowards slinked in the shadows? She made her decision. Katie disregarded the plaid button up and, instead, pulled out the white peasant blouse and her best lacy bra.
Katie finished dressing, skidded to the bathroom, and brushed her teeth. She sighed at the brown tangled mass on top of her head. With a few rough brushstrokes and a swipe of product, her hair went from savage to merely disheveled.
Outside on the back steps Katie sank her teeth into the apple she’d filched from the kitchen table, and shoved her feet into her scuffed work boots. She took off at a run, not remembering the last time she’d simply walked over the small hill and down the slope to Cole’s barn. Not when the barn housed two of the three loves of her life—Star, her three-year-old palomino, and of course, Cole.
The sun wrestled with the darkened sky and began the inevitable, the conquering of even the hardiest of stars. The early call of birds and the rustle of leaves was a whispered background to the crunch of Katie’s apple and the flattening of grass beneath her boots.
It was crucial for Katie to get to the barn before the day actually started. For her, this was a coveted time, and nothing but natural disaster could keep her from it. The ranch hands didn’t show up until around seven, so no one else was in the stable except Cole, her, and the horses. There wasn’t much time for talking. Cole had horses to feed, supplies to check and order, and a truck of hay to unload before he left for the day job that “paid the bills.”
Katie helped out where she could, but had the responsibility of her own horse. That was the condition Pa had put in place when he’d bought Star for her a year ago. Katie was to do all the work, and not expect Cole or the ranch hands to bail her out. Not that she minded. She loved doing everything that involved Star.
Katie held the apple core with her teeth so she could push the weather-beaten green doors wide. The barn was dim and a bit chilly. A few of the horses rustled their beds of hay and one near the back pushed on his gate, rattling the latch. But in general the barn was still, and Katie paused herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweetest fragrance in all the world—the earthiness of moist hay, the biting scent of leather, and the richness of Texas soil mingling with the pungency of horse.
Katie flipped on the entry lights, letting the stables stay in the shadows. She walked to the first stall, which held a brown quarter horse with the markings of a spilled foam latte across her hindquarters.
“Hey, Cappuccino,” she said as she walked past. “And Gus? How’s my favorite big man?” The huge black trotted over and thrust his nose into her hand demanding attention.
“Impudent man, always think that I’m gonna bring you something. Spoiled,” she said, letting him slobber over her open palm as he devoured the apple core. She let him finish his treat before she took off toward the opposite end of the stable. The east entrance had two wide double doors, big enough to back a truck or tractor through, and both were open, meaning Cole had beaten her here.
Katie shoved her hands in her pockets, perfecting her nonchalant posture as she shuffled down the aisle. She waited for the telltale flinch of her heart at her first sight of Cole. It was always the same, a skip then a hard thump, a freezing of her breath, then a whoosh as it came back again. Her response never faded, never went away. It was reality, and she accepted it. No need to fight; it was Cole.
Dawn had won the battle with amazing speed and colored the sky behind Cole. The mellowed pinks and purples highlighted him against the landscape. His jeans, stained with oil and ground-in dirt, hung loose around his hips and bunched ov
er old work boots, two summers past good condition. A half-cleaned white tee was untucked and stretched over a wide chest. He wore his favorite faded long-sleeve plaid, buttons undone and cuffs pushed up.
He hadn’t shaved yet, his dark whiskers a black shadow against his tanned face. Katie loved his gruff morning look; it made her feel privileged to peek into his intimate life. But today the dark circles under his eyes marred his usual appeal, and not even his flashed white smile could ease the constriction of her heart at his exhaustion.
He bowed his head back to his task, letting his everyday Stetson conceal his face. She climbed in the bed of his truck and slipped on the leather work gloves he always left on top of the hay for her. She started lifting the bales to the tailgate so he could stack them next to the wall and then later distribute them by wheelbarrow to each stall.
“Good morning,” Katie said. He wasn’t a morning person and preferred action to words, but the summer of her senior year was fast approaching; the time for waiting was over.
Cole looked up from under a thick-lashed gaze and twitched one side of his mouth into a sleepy grin. “Morn’, Katie.”
She gave him a full smile, the ache in her heart easing at his greeting, and bent to pick up the closest bale. Her cotton shirt’s scooped neckline fell low, gaping wide. She didn’t bother adjusting for decency, but instead pretended not to notice the cool air as it tickled her chest.
She’d spent her painful teenage years believing in a fantasy that Cole would one day notice her. She had endured years of acne, braces, and one particularly horrid summer of wearing much despised headgear. But things had changed in the last two years—her face had cleared, the braces had come off, and her body had leaned out in places and filled out in others. But her love for Cole never changed, never faded. It was as if her body had finally caught up with her heart. And now, when all the conditions were right for the perfect storm, time wasn’t on her side. Pa was bent on sending her away for college, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cole for four years or longer. And she knew Cole didn’t want that either; he loved her, he just hadn’t realized it yet.
Katie stopped loading the hay as she noticed the bales beginning to stack up on the tailgate. She straightened and placed her hands on her hips, catching her breath. “What’s up?”
Cole stood, glaring from underneath the brim of his hat. “You know what, Katie. You’re out of dress code.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Cole. It’s too hot for long sleeves and a turtleneck.”
Of course, the morning was a bit chilly and the dress code wasn’t that strict, but for a twenty-five-year-old, Cole was a tad old-fashioned. He insisted everyone on his ranch wear proper dress. Work boots, jeans, and a shirt high around the collar. No tank tops or bared cleavage allowed.
“You know the rules, Katie. No exceptions.” He turned his back toward her as he hauled the hay to stack it against the wall.
“What does it matter, Cole? It’s just you and me here, and no one else cares.”
“I care, Katie, and I’m the boss. No low cuts and no . . . white.” His gaze flicked to her chest as he said the last word.
That was new. She lifted her brows. “You’re wearing white,” she countered.
“Yeah, well you can’t.” The muscle in his jaw flexed. “I can see right through the damn thing.”
She sighed. Duh, that was the whole point. How was he ever going to notice she was old enough to wear a bra if he never even saw it?
The subject was dropped and soon they were finished and ready to go their separate ways, Katie to take care of Star before going to school, and Cole to finish his chores before work. He took her hand in his and helped her jump down. She sprang harder than necessary and landed a few inches in front of him. He stepped back, either uncomfortable with the invasion of personal space, or to prevent her from stepping on his toes. He waited to make sure she had her balance before he dropped her hand and absently wiped his palm on his pant leg.
Cole sighed and studied the brightening horizon, and for a moment he seemed sad . . . sad and incredibly tired like the years before him could only be traveled with a dogged persistence. He reached for the silver travel mug that sat waiting for him on the wooden post. Katie’s gaze focused on his lips as they pressed against the black plastic rim and watched the corded column of his throat work as he drank.
Cole’s gaze found hers. He took another sip, then handed her the mug to finish off. It was something of a tradition between them. Sharing morning coffee had started when she was a kid and begged for a sip. Coffee had been off-limits, her pa believing it would stunt her growth. Now, close to five feet seven inches and her eighteenth birthday no more than six months away, she’d be allowed her own cup, but still preferred to share Cole’s.
She waited until Cole rolled the wheelbarrow down the aisle toward the back stalls, and then turned the mug to line up his lip mark with her mouth. This was the best moment of her day. The small stillness of time that made waking up at dawn worth the sleep deprivation. She closed her eyes, inhaled the deep roasted aroma she always associated with Cole and imagined his lips pressed to hers as she drank.
“Katie.”
Startled, she flushed, embarrassed to be caught in such an intimate moment, even if it was just in her own mind. She nodded and faced Cole, who had turned, watching her with intensity in his gaze. Nervous he might’ve guessed her thoughts, she felt her heart thud loud and uneven.
“If you wear that shirt again. I’ll burn it.”
Big Red lowered his head, blowing hard in the heat. The horse’s sides were lathered with sweat. Cole could sympathize. His own shirt was plastered against his back, and the inside of his mouth was gritty from dust. He sat high in the saddle, his thighs burning as he squeezed and kicked the stallion into mastering the subtle commands the horse needed to learn in order to earn his keep on a cattle ranch.
Cole dug in his heels under the horse’s ribs, and kicked the stallion up to a fast trot. This was the “sweet spot,” the moment when muscles were heated and the commands were fresh. When man and beast came together and flowed as one.
He pushed the stallion one last time through the figure-eight barrel pattern, and Big Red didn’t disappoint. The massive roan took the turns tight and sure, confident in his strength. Easy, quick, perfect. Pulling back, Cole slowed the horse and patted his neck. “Good job, boy. Nice work.”
Tires crunched over dirt and Cole squinted at the truck and trailer rumbling along the gravel drive. He recognized the fancy, double-wheeled truck, one in too much of a pristine condition to ever have done more than drive to a few local bars and nightclubs, but not the dingy horse trailer hooked up behind it. Dismounting, he handed Big Red off to Lupe for his cool-down walk. The rest of his ranch hands had gathered around, some to help but most, Cole suspected, to watch.
He waited for Jett, his best friend since the second grade, with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He didn’t have to wait long.
Jett was decked out in his usual uniform of designer jeans and crisp white button down. His hat, one of those custom jobs probably costing more than Cole’s monthly paycheck, was squarely on his head. Jett was one of those people who never had a bad day, rarely met a stranger, and made any female from age nine to ninety turn into a giddy, blushing girl. He greeted Cole the way he did everyone, with a firm handshake and a grin that split his face like the break of day.
Cole wasn’t fooled. A slyer snake in the grass there’d never been. “If I’m not mistaken that’s a horse trailer you’re pulling behind you,” Cole said.
Jett might’ve been his best friend since childhood, but that didn’t mean he had to like him. Cole wasn’t friends with Jett because he was a good guy. Jett was loyal. And to Cole, anyone who had stuck with the Logans this long deserved his loyalty in return. In a town where reputations took generations to establish, Cole’s didn’t stand a chance. The Logans had been considered trash even before he’d been born. Cole came from a long line of
swindlers, cheats, and gamblers. But that wasn’t him, and he didn’t care. Neither, apparently, did Jett, since he’d been slummin’ it with Cole since they’d been kids.
Jett laughed and flashed a row of straight white teeth that would’ve made the orthodontist who’d done the work proud. “Correct, and for that you win a prize.”
“Take back whatever you got tied up inside,” Cole growled.
“Ah now, don’t be like that. I’ve got you a gift.”
To Cole’s way of thinking Jett was too pretty for a man, but the women didn’t seem to mind. A few years back the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders came into town to do a photo shoot for their annual calendar. Jett convinced the management that a personal tour guide was needed, and he’d be more than willing to “donate” his time. Four months later, Jett got his own personal copy. Each month was signed with lipstick kisses and phone numbers, thanking him for a great time. The damn thing hung for years at the local bar, turning Jett into a hometown legend.
The trailer swayed from a resounding kick. A scream split the air, followed by clanks of metal on metal.
“No.” Cole shook his head. “Turn around and drive right back out of here.”
He was still feeding the last “gift” Jett had suckered him into taking. Because underneath Jett’s charming womanizing ways he had a savior complex. Be it a three-legged dog, an abused horse, or a damsel in distress, Jett felt the need to take care of them all. All good, except Jett’s need to save all too often became Cole’s burden to bear.
Jett stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave Cole the look of a dog that had just had his bone taken away. “Hey now, what happened to not looking a gift horse in the mouth?”
Jett’s ability to gab had suckered Cole one too many times, but not today. “Is that what it is? A horse? By the sound of it, I’d thought you’d captured the devil himself.”
