A Cowboy's Pride

by Karen Rock

  “Then why haven’t you dated anyone else?” asked his younger brother Heath, joining them. He carried his six-string slung across his back, one of the guitars he handcrafted as a hobby when he wasn’t ranching or gigging at local honky-tonks.

  “Too busy keeping track of you troublemakers.”

  Heath shook longish bangs out of his purple-blue eyes. “That’s your story?”

  “Yep. And I’m sticking to it.” Cole caught Sierra’s eye-roll. Why did they think he pined for Katie-Lynn all these years?

  Because you have been...

  The heart-shaped diamond engagement ring still in his nightstand called him out—just as loudly as Sierra and Heath.

  But seeing her today, noticing how much she’d changed, proved that even if he had carried a torch, it’d been for a girl who no longer existed. Katlynn was someone he didn’t know.

  “I’m heading out for my sound check.” Heath donned a brown cowboy hat and curved its brim. “See you two there?”

  “We wouldn’t miss it. You’re doing the new set, right?” Sierra placed the last glass in the cabinet and shut its door.

  “Classics and originals.” Heath shot them a quick smile then ducked outside.

  “He’s nervous,” Sierra observed, hooking a pot on the rack above their table.

  “Don’t know why he wastes his time with those songs,” Pa grumped. “Ain’t like he’s going to Nashville or getting famous.”

  “He’s not trying to be a country star, Pa.” Cole sprayed cleaning fluid over the cleared table and rubbed a paper towel over it, gathering crumbs.

  “And what if he was? What’s so wrong about that?” Sierra huffed, one fist on her hip.

  “It’s a road full of disappointment,” Pa observed quietly.

  Silence swelled, heavy enough to ache, as they finished the after-dinner cleaning. Cole supposed they all thought of Ma and how her unfulfilled dream to sing professionally drove her to drink. She’d taught Heath to play guitar and fiddle, the only one of her children interested in music...or who’d shown any talent for it. The rare times Cole saw her smiling, heard her laughing, was when she and Heath played together, those music sessions usually followed by even heavier drinking.

  “You kids ruined my life!” she’d scream, stumbling around the ranch, searching for her stash of booze. “I wish you’d never been born.”

  Or...

  “You trapped me!” She’d sometimes hit his father while hurling accusations. “Got me pregnant so I’d be stuck on this miserable ranch.”

  Cole must have made a noise because Sierra’s hand pressed his, yanking him back to the present, away from the mother who’d blamed him, her oldest child, for all her woes, for holding her back from her dreams. “Cole? You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Anybody home?” called a familiar, beautiful voice.

  His body clenched as if bracing for a blow.

  “In here, Katie-Lynn!” shouted Sierra, still staring up into his face. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, needing his sister to move her eagle eye off him. “And she’s Katlynn now.”

  When Katie-Lynn appeared in the kitchen, Sierra flung herself across the space and hugged her old friend tight. “Good to see you, girl!”

  “You, too.” Katie-Lynn’s eyes met Cole’s over his sister’s shoulder, and he ducked his head and draped his damp towel over the drying rack. “Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Love—”

  She broke off when Boyd waved a spatula at her.

  “Boyd,” she amended with a slight catch in her voice. Cole glanced up and caught the pretty flush rising in her cheeks, her eyes still on him.

  “Want to come line-dancing with us? Heath’s playing, and he’s doing some originals, too.”

  “Oh—uh—I’m not sure,” Katie-Lynn wavered, her gaze now shadowed by her long, lowered lashes.

  “It’ll be fun,” Sierra implored.

  Katie-Lynn smoothed a hand over her sleek black dress, drawing his attention to the lush curves beneath the expensive fabric. Unwelcome heat flared inside him. “I’m not exactly dressed for the Hoedown Throwdown.”

  “I’ll loan you something. We’re probably still the same size.” Sierra stepped back, sizing Katlynn up. “Give or take.”

  “Um. I have interviews set up in the morning, so I should probably just go on up to bed.”

  “At eight o’clock?” Sierra scoffed, ever the dog on a bone when she wanted something bad enough. As the only girl among five brothers, she’d learned fast how to assert herself.

  “She’s too fancy for country line-dancing,” Cole heard himself say, the words flying from his tongue without his permission.

  “Excuse me?” A slight twang entered Katie-Lynn’s voice as it rose a half octave. “I’ve probably forgotten more steps than you’ll ever know.”

  “Those sound like fighting words,” Boyd observed, leaning against the counter.

  Cole stepped close and Katie-Lynn angled her face up to his, her chin jutting. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Want to bet?” Katie-Lynn challenged, her cool, controlled mask slipping. Before him stood the competitive country girl who used to dare him to climb trees as high as her, race horses as fast, catch as many trout. And he’d lost almost as often as he’d won. Not that he’d cared. Then.

  “You’re on,” he said, unable to resist her sparkling eyes.

  “It’s a dance-off!” Sierra rubbed her hands together. “And I’ll be the judge. Cole, what are you betting?”

  “If I win, Katie-Lynn finds another place to stay.”

  Katie-Lynn’s head shake silenced his father’s and Sierra’s protests. “No need to worry. I’m not planning on losing.” Her nose flared, and her left eyebrow twitched up.

  “What’ll you get if you win?” Sierra smacked Cole with a death-by-glare look.

  “TBD,” Katie-Lynn announced, her radiant expression mischievous and daring. His breath caught at the glimpse of the gutsy girl he’d fallen for years ago. “Come on, Sierra. Show me some jeans. The real kind without a designer label.”

  And with that, the two women disappeared up the stairs, leaving Cole to stare after them.

  “What’s TBD mean?” his father asked.

  TBD. To be determined. Which could mean anything. He had to win this dance-off and get the intriguing Katlynn Brennon as far from him as possible. She’d already messed with his head and his heart enough for one lifetime.

  He hung his head and peered up at his pa.

  “It means I’m a dang fool.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “COLE LOVELAND?”

  At his name, Cole stopped inside the Silver Spurs’ entrance and peered into the throng of country-western-dressed locals. The dim, one-room honky-tonk was packed. Overhead fans stirred humid air reeking of beer, sweat and peanuts while cowboys and cowgirls jammed the old-time wooden bar. In the far corner, his brother Heath, wearing a black T-shirt with sleeves shoved up to his shoulders, ripped through a guitar solo, sending his hovering female fans into a tizzy of squeals and shrieks.

  “Is that you?” Ted Jansen, an old high school buddy, stomped up and clapped Cole on the back.

  “Unfortunately,” Cole muttered under his breath. Nothing against Ted. He just wasn’t much for talking to people. Or just plain talking.

  “Haven’t seen you in so long—thought you were dead or something.” Ted’s whiskey-scented laugh blasted Cole. Beside him, Katie-Lynn coughed into her hand.

  “Or something,” Sierra drawled, elbowing Cole. “My brother isn’t much for socializing.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Travis spoke up, joining them with their adopted brother Daryl. Travis hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and planted his boots wide on the scuffed wooden floor. “Cole only leaves home to vol
unteer at Fresh Start. Otherwise, he’s a hermit.”

  “Recluse has a nobler ring to it.” Sierra shot Cole a sideways smile beneath the lantern lights dangling from an exposed-beam ceiling.

  He could feel Katie-Lynn studying him, sensed the warm blue of her eyes touching his jaw like a caress. Slipping a finger into his shirt collar, he pulled it from his heated neck.

  “Walking dead’s closer to it.” Daryl lifted his black cowboy hat to reveal brown curls plastered against his forehead before settling it on again. “Just barely alive.”

  “Knock it off,” Cole growled, accepting a beer from Ted. He tossed back a long drink.

  “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it,” Katie-Lynn teased.

  The Western twang creeping into her voice again made him bite back the smile he’d been fighting since she’d emerged from his sister’s room dressed in faded Wranglers, dusty boots and a plaid shirt with fringe piping on the sleeves. She looked downhome and pretty, her hair back in a French braid, her red lipstick swapped for clear gloss over naturally rosy lips.

  “When do I dish it out?” he protested, dragging his eyes off her pretty mouth.

  “Puh-lease,” guffawed Travis.

  “All. The. Time!” exclaimed Sierra.

  “Like I said, no sense of humor.” Daryl turned slightly and whistled. “Katie-Lynn? You’re looking good, girl!”

  “So are you. Congratulations. Heard you got married. Is your wife here?”

  Katie-Lynn bestowed one of her killer smiles on Daryl. Cole pinned his eyes on the rollicking band, trying—and failing—to tune her out.

  “No... I...uh...she’s not feelin’ herself tonight.” At the note of sadness creeping into Daryl’s voice, Cole turned to study his brother. Daryl and his wife’s marital troubles weren’t hard to miss given she alternated between sulky pouts and sharp put-downs on the few occasions she accompanied Daryl anywhere. But it wasn’t Cole’s business to stick his nose in, so he kept quiet. Didn’t stop him from worrying about his brother, though.

  Not one bit.

  “Now I see why you came out tonight, Cole.” Ted half mauled, half hugged Katie-Lynn, stumbling slightly when Cole pulled her from the man’s grip. “You two, together again. Never would have believed it.”

  Travis’s eyes dropped to the arm Cole wrapped around Katie-Lynn, then rose to meet Cole’s gaze.

  Katie-Lynn jerked free. “I’m here on business.”

  “What kind of business?” Ted leered, winking.

  “Easy.” Cole glared at Ted.

  “Hey, she’s your lady.” Ted backed off. “I get it.”

  “No, she’s not!” Cole hollered at Ted’s retreating back.

  “Sure about that?” Travis grabbed Cole’s arm, stopping him, when the rest of the group departed for the dance floor. Katie-Lynn shot him an inscrutable, over-the-shoulder look before disappearing into the crowd.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I see the way you’ve been looking at Katie-Lynn.”

  “What way’s that?”

  “Like you’ve still got feelings for her.”

  “Dead wrong.” Cole raised his bottle for a drink to shield his expression. Travis was as sharp-eyed as a hawk, reading people and situations in an instant. A good trait for a sheriff. Not so good in a brother when you were hiding something...

  Was he covering up feelings for Katie-Lynn?

  Attraction—yes. But emotions?

  No.

  Not a chance.

  “I hope so.” Travis’s jaw squared. “Just remember what happened after she left you.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Except you disappearing for three months.”

  “I was driving cattle.”

  “Sleeping out on the range, never coming home...”

  Cole drained the last of his dark malt and handed it to a passing waitress. “Are we done here, Sheriff?”

  Travis pinned him with a steady, hard look before nodding. “You’re free to go...with a warning.”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t repeat a mistake you already learned from. Anyone messes up once. Doing it twice is just plain stupid.”

  “Stupid I’m not,” Cole said, eyeing Katie-Lynn’s animated face as she smiled up at another one of their old high-school friends, her hand on Lyle Carter’s arm.

  It didn’t bother him. Not one bit. Yet he found himself closing the distance between them in fast, long strides. “Don’t mean to interrupt. Katie-Lynn, I believe this is our dance?”

  Lyle tipped his head, returned another friend’s wave and headed to a crowded pool table.

  “Hey... I was talking to him...” Katie-Lynn protested as Cole snagged her around the waist and guided her onto the dance floor.

  “Who?” he asked, the side of his mouth hitching up when her expression went blank. “You don’t remember his name.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  “It’ll come to me,” she grumbled.

  “Thought you would have forgotten everything about Carbondale.”

  “Not everything,” she said obliquely then lined up with the other dancers as Heath’s band swung into “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” “In fact,” she shouted over the driving song, “I’m about to prove I remember more than you by winning our dance-off.”

  “Good luck, darlin’,” Cole said in her ear. He tapped the floor with the heel of his left boot twice, then the right along with the hooting, clapping group on the dance floor. “You’ll need it.”

  “Don’t think so,” Katie-Lynn hollered back, kicking her left heel up before turning with him, their bodies in sync.

  “Not half bad.” They did a grapevine to the right, stopped and clapped. “For a Hollywood-type.”

  Katie-Lynn rocked forward four steps, lassoing an invisible rope overhead. “What’s a Hollywood-type according to you?” she asked directly into his ear before they pivoted again.

  “All about money. Fame.”

  “Nothing wrong with being ambitious,” she shouted as they hopped backward. “You never got that.”

  “What about fake?” he challenged once Heath strummed the last note on his six-string. “You changed who you were.”

  “For the better.”

  “That’s one opinion. Your freckles are scraped off.”

  “Lasered.” She shoved loose strands of her white-blond hair off her glistening forehead and squared off against him. “And they’re not gone-gone. If I’m out in the sun without protection, they’ll come back.” She mock-shuddered.

  “’Cause looking like your real self would be a fate worse than death, I’m supposing,” he drawled.

  “Almost as bad as having to socialize with people instead of cows and cattle dogs,” she countered, her eyes glittering bright blue beneath a black fringe of lashes. “Right?”

  “Guess we understand each other.”

  A short, humorless laugh escaped her. “Doubtful.”

  “Seein’ as we never did.”

  “Except at our Say Anything tree,” she added.

  Their gazes locked for a brief, heart-pounding moment before she suddenly got engrossed smoothing her shirt fringe.

  Sierra gave them both a thumbs-up as Heath strummed the opening counts to “Achy Breaky Heart.” Cole clamped his jaw. He had to beat Katie-Lynn. Otherwise, he’d spend the next couple of weeks up close and personal with her while she bunked on his ranch.

  Worse, he’d owe her some sort of favor.

  TBD, she’d said.

  To be determined...

  As they slid, twirled and stomped through the Billy Ray Cyrus tune, his body was acutely conscious of her curvy form beside him. If he closed his eyes, he’d picture them doing these exact steps ten years ago, a couple in love and al
tar-bound. But love didn’t always guarantee happiness. His pa was a case in point. Close to the band, Boyd ushered Joy Cade through the song, repeating every step while keeping one protective hand on the small of her back.

  Cole smiled at the sight of his father’s open, happy expression. It’d been a long time—if ever—since he’d seen Pa smile like that, no worry darkening his eyes, no concern deepening the lines on his face. He’d been miserable married to Cole’s mother, and deserved happiness at long last.

  By reopening wounds and stirring up controversy, Katie-Lynn might mess up the former high school sweethearts’ second chance. She’d promised Pa to keep things aboveboard, but Cole wasn’t so trusting.

  “You two can dance,” Sierra shouted once the song ended, fingers cupped around her mouth. “Too close to call yet.”

  “Do I get extra points for style?” Katie-Lynn angled her borrowed, black, leather-tooled boots. “These feel like walking on clouds. I’m always in heels.”

  Sierra laughed. “I don’t even own a pair.”

  “Count yourself lucky,” Katie-Lynn insisted, sounding sincere. Cole’s forehead scrunched in confusion. Wasn’t wearing fancy clothes, looking like a star, why she’d left Carbondale? Him?

  “Okay,” Heath hollered into his microphone. “This one’s for everybody who wants to be country for just one day!”

  A roar practically lifted Silver Spurs’ tin roof. Katie-Lynn pressed close as people shoved by onto the dance floor. Instinctively, his arm clamped around her waist. His eyes nearly closed at the heavenly softness of her against his hard angles. How long since he’d held a woman?

  Too darn long...

  Not since Katie-Lynn, years ago.

  A lifetime ago, it seemed.

  His fingers strummed the length of her back, and she shivered, angling her face up to his, her eyes wide and hazy. The need to get her alone, to undo her braid, to kiss those lips, to smudge her polish, seized him hard.

  Katie-Lynn slid left and flowed into the dance’s next move. Mind blank, Cole struggled to match her steps. Since he rarely went out, he’d never danced this newer song before.

  Did that make him a hermit?

  He jerked right then turned in the wrong direction, bumping into Travis, who shook his head and shot Cole an amused grin.