A Cowboy's Pride

by Karen Rock

  No. Cole was just private.

  His family could tease all they wanted, but he was happy with his life.

  An ache twisted through his heart as he eyed Katie-Lynn.

  Happy, dang it.

  “Wrong way!” His former principal, Miss Groover-Woodhouse, frowned and pointed him in the opposite direction.

  When he whirled, he smacked into Katie-Lynn.

  “Hey!” she protested, rubbing her nose as she glided away then back while his feet stuck to the floor. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

  “I’m dancing in here.” He pointed to his heart, calling up one of her gorgeous smiles.

  “That’s a fifty-yard penalty for corniness. You really need to work on your sense of humor.”

  When she danced away, crooked finger beckoning him, lips curving in a coy smile, he froze, mouth slack. The dancing line barreled down on him, and he careened into Jewel Cade, the youngest of the Cade clan, to dodge it.

  “Sorry,” he apologized loudly. She didn’t seem to hear. Heath captivated the cowgirl as she stood motionless on the dance floor’s edge, watching him sing.

  Cole wanted to warn her not to bother mooning over his younger brother, seeing she wasn’t Heath’s girly-girl type. Plus, he was practically engaged to Mandy Baker, whom he’d been seeing on and off since high school. If Jewel pined after Heath, she’d learn fast he was a one-woman man... Not to mention she’d be their stepsister in a couple of weeks. A relationship between her and Heath was every kind of wrong, especially since the families had only called a temporary truce for the wedding.

  Not that Cole approved of entitled, snobbish Mandy, only daughter of a ranching supply company tycoon, for his humble, sensitive brother, either. But to each his own...

  The music ended with a laughing, magnetic Katie-Lynn in the dance floor’s center, soaking up the admiring attention shining down on her from every angle. It was like she wanted everyone’s glance, every thought, every feeling—not just Cole’s—since his admiration had never been enough.

  And now he’d be seeing her nonstop at the ranch, day in and day out.

  “You lose, big brother.” Sierra clapped Cole on the back. “What will Katlynn make you do now that she won? She said TBD...”

  “I don’t know.” Katie-Lynn’s face sobered when she caught him staring. He ripped his eyes away.

  Busted.

  “Guess I’ll just have to wait and find out.”

  And avoid her at every chance possible.

  Travis warned him only stupid people repeated mistakes.

  This time he wouldn’t be the lovestruck idiot he’d once been for Katie-Lynn. He was older. Wiser. Not a young man full of faith and fancies...

  So why did he sense, deep down, he might be just the tiniest bit happy she was staying at Loveland Hills?

  ʼCause you are that stupid, Stupid...

  * * *

  KATLYNN ROLLED HER stiff shoulders, wincing as she eased into the porch swing’s soft cushion. Overhead, morning light streamed from a cloudless sky. She pulled on a pair of sunglasses against its glare and buttoned up the sweater she’d tossed over her dress shirt. Was she thirty-two or ninety-two? Grueling daily workouts, overseen by a personal trainer, hadn’t prepared her for the rigors of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” apparently.

  Go figure.

  Nor had hours of “mindfulness” coaching armored her against Cole Loveland’s sapphire eyes or the wistful smile he wore when he didn’t think anyone watched.

  And she’d been looking plenty.

  Way too much for an enlightened, successful, evolved woman who knew better. She needed to focus on taping the show of her life, not mooning over a gruff, withdrawn cowboy. Her eyes drifted shut, and her head tipped back to rest on the seat.

  But she could indulge herself for just one moment.

  Dancing with Cole, spending time with his family, had been fun. By the end of the night, her cheeks had hurt from smiling. Very different than the posh parties she usually attended where “coolly amused” was as wild as she got. After years listening to the same conversations about yachting vacations in St. Barts, fashion shows in Milan or speculations about who had what plastic surgery, it all blurred, leaving her numb. Last night, though, she’d felt alive, interested, electric.

  Being part of a group rather than its star lightened her somehow. It challenged her belief that her authentic self was something to hide. Just being her old self had felt so good. No doubt it was the newness of coming home. Soon she’d grow bored as she had years ago, feeling marginalized, invisible and itching to leave. Best she remember the feeling when her thoughts strayed to the man who’d tempted her to stay once upon a time.

  So. Work.

  Today she hoped to meet with Cole’s great-great-aunt, Susanna Loveland, if the woman would ever return Katlynn’s phone calls. She seemed as reclusive as her nephew. Katlynn rose in the seat to head inside and call Susanna again, then sat when a black town car rolled to a stop. A suited man stepped from it and slammed the door.

  “Morning, beautiful!”

  She returned Tom’s double cheek air kiss when he joined her. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Terribly. It took three Ambiens and a bottle of cheap Zinfandel to knock me out. Now I have a pounding headache.” Tom brought his phone to his mouth to dictate. “Reminder. Have Sara overnight me a case of Scharzhofberger Riesling.” He lowered his cell. “Any requests? Sparkling water? A facialist?”

  Katlynn’s hands rose to her cheeks. Did she look sallow? Corpse-like as Gabe, the director, had said? And had she applied sunscreen? The delicious sound of twittering birds and frying bacon hustled her out of bed this morning without much thought to her appearance.

  Strange, considering how she obsessed about it in LA.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Of course you are. Our star’s no diva.” Tom’s smile fell when he considered her somber face. “I mean, not that demanding women are all divas or...or...”

  She held up a hand. “It’s okay, Tom.”

  His shoulders lowered, and he dropped onto the porch swing beside her. “Just feeling the pressure, I guess. Heard from headquarters the higher-ups are meeting with writers pitching a reality show called Millennial Millionaires. It’s being workshopped for our slot if our numbers don’t improve.”

  “They’re already considering our replacement?” she asked when she trusted her voice.

  “They’re always considering replacements. It’s the biz. With our network’s takeover, and TV viewership down, we’ve got to take this seriously.”

  “I am.” Katlynn’s lungs inflated in a long, steady intake of air. When she exhaled, she tried pushing out her anxiety. Tried being the operative word; it clung to the back of her neck, squeezing. “A lot’s planned. I’m meeting with Loveland family members this morning and then heading to County Records to look up survey maps of the families’ properties.”

  Tom smothered a yawn. “Sounds dead boring. Survey maps?”

  “Water rights is a major component of the feud. If I can prove, definitively, who has legal access to the Crystal River—”

  “Katlynn,” Tom cut her off. “Legal mumbo jumbo doesn’t grab ratings. Rumor has it the first episode of Millennial Millionaires is about a twentysomething who made her first million as a preteen by selling virtual real estate.”

  “How can you sell something that’s not real?”

  “It’s part of an online game. Wish I’d thought of it. You know, a show with that kind of potential might need an experienced producer like me...”

  She peered at him steadily. “Are you jumping ship?”

  “No...just preparing myself...in case...”

  “We’ll nail this. Without shortcuts or virtual whatever. And investigative reporting is part of my job, by the way.”

  “Let’s not kid ou
rselves.” Tom’s hand dropped to her knee, and his thumb stroked the bare flesh below her hemline. “You’re gorgeous, smart, articulate and more important, people like you. It’s great you have a history degree, but that beautiful smile’s the draw, not your brain.”

  She jerked her leg away. “Are you asking for a sexual harassment suit?”

  Tom shrugged. “Okay. Touchy. But leave the fact-checking to our team and focus on finding skeletons in closets. We need scandal. Intrigue. Sex. Maybe throw in something about your breakup with that bull in a cowboy hat. What’s his name? Propane?”

  “Cole,” she said through gritted teeth. “And personal stuff is off-limits.”

  “Why’d you two break up?” Tom sprawled back in the swing, undeterred. “Can’t see how you were ever a couple.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “He called you Katie-Lynn.”

  “Don’t use that name.” Hearing Tom say it rubbed her every kind of wrong way.

  “Just when I want to get your attention, then?”

  “Really?”

  Tom held up his moisturized hand, his buffed nails gleaming in the strengthening light. “I get it. You don’t like being reminded of where you come from.”

  She dropped her gaze, and Tom ducked his head to catch her eye. “Hey. None of us do. That’s why we all came to Hollywood. Land of pretense, right? Who wants to be real when illusion is much more civilized?”

  “Why’d you come over this morning?”

  “Since I’m scouting locations down the road at Cade Ranch, I thought I’d drop by. One of our interns dug up something about the Cade girl who died. Said she might have been betrothed.”

  “Maggie Cade?”

  Her producer nodded. “And not to the Loveland man they think killed her and stole the family jewel.”

  “Interesting...”

  “Find out what you can about that. Was she a runaway bride? Was Everett Loveland a jilted, murderous lover? I want you to question everything and everyone. Overhype even the slightest rumor, whether you can verify it or not. Lots of drama.”

  Katlynn folded her arms and glared at Tom. “The Lovelands aren’t those kinds of people.”

  “They’re the subject of a make-or-break episode for us... Make them those people.”

  “The hell she will.”

  Tom jumped to his feet at the sound of Cole’s growling bass and scuttled to the porch steps. “Our contract allows us full coverage. Ask your father. He signed it.”

  Cole advanced, a muscle jumping in his jaw. In dark jeans and a black cowboy hat, he looked like an avenging angel, otherworldly handsome and deadly. “No drama.”

  “Talk to him, Katlynn,” Tom called before scrambling into his car. “Remember where your loyalties lie.” The door slammed, and the sedan roared down the drive, tires kicking up dirt.

  Loyalty... She owed the show hers, yet she wouldn’t go against her principles, or this fine family she might have called her own once.

  “The show is called Scandalous History.” Katlynn joined Cole at the porch’s railing and stared out at Loveland Hills. Tiny green leaves colored the twisted limbs of distant apple trees. Farther still, gray Brahmans milled in a pasture, calves nursing and frolicking in the cool spring sunshine. For such a peaceful spot, it’d witnessed its share of heartache, even hers.

  “You gave Pa your word.” Cole spoke without taking his eyes off the distant, snowcapped mountains.

  “And I’ll keep it. Your mother won’t be in the episode. What happened to her—” Katlynn’s voice broke slightly as ghastly images from that night returned. “It has no bearing on the story.”

  “It’s scandalous. And it’s history.”

  “But it didn’t cause the feud. It’s not relevant.”

  “The feud’s more about people than water rights access. Thirty odd years ago, a Loveland lost the woman he loved to a Cade. Now he’s marrying her. It’s connected.”

  She slid her hand over the one he wrapped tight around the banister. “I won’t connect them. Don’t you trust me?”

  He flipped his hand and laced his calloused fingers in hers. The spot where his warm, hard palm rubbed against hers ignited a shivering awareness. The tiny hairs on her arm rose. “I used to.”

  “We never lied to each other.”

  “We lied to ourselves.”

  “True. But we’re older now.”

  Cole leveled his deep blue eyes on hers. “Maybe I don’t trust myself with you.”

  “Oh.” Her tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. “I—I—”

  He jerked his hand free and raked it over his hair. “Forget I said that.”

  She nodded, her throat tight. “Forgotten.” Did he still have feelings for her? Did she return them?

  Good thing her life coach was on speed dial. Now all she needed was a cell phone signal...something she hadn’t considered when she’d marooned herself out on Loveland Hills.

  Cole leaned one shoulder against a newel post. “What’s this about the episode being make-or-break?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Thought you said we never lied to each other.” He peered at her steadily. “Say anything, Katie-Lynn.”

  An exclamation of air escaped her. He’d invoked their sacred credo. “Say Anything” was shorthand for “Tell the truth,” a rule they’d created when they’d begun meeting at the tree that’d been remote enough, and big enough, to hold all their secrets and fears.

  “Fine,” she said. “The show’s been flagged for possible cancelation. We need big ratings to impress the higher-ups.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Then I’m out of a job.”

  “You’ll find something else.”

  “Starring roles don’t grow on trees.” She gestured to the orchard. “I worked hard to get where I am. Made a lot of sacrifices.”

  “I’m aware,” he said, his voice dark. Hushed.

  She swallowed hard. “I’ll be a nobody again.”

  Cole lifted her chin with strong, gentle fingers. “You’ll never be a nobody, Katie-Lynn. Not to me.” He dropped his hand. “You saw my pa and Joy last night. He’s happy. I don’t want you to ruin it by digging up old hurts.”

  “History isn’t easily erased.”

  Their eyes clung for a long, charged moment. A bawling calf echoed in the quiet.

  “You need to save your job. I need to save the ranch and keep old animosities from threatening Pa’s wedding.”

  She nodded. “We both have a lot at stake.”

  “We have that in common at least.”

  “We can help each other,” she speculated out loud.

  Despite their thorny past, Cole would be an asset. At the very least, he’d help get his eccentric great-great-aunt Susanna to return her call. Sierra had told her that Susanna, a bit of a hoarder, had many Loveland artifacts.

  Cole shook his head. “Your boss wants scandals, and I want to prevent them.”

  “So do I. Join me. I need someone who knows this land, your family, intimately to guide me.”

  One thick brow lifted. She nearly squirmed under his intense, speculative stare. “What do I get out of it?”

  “My investigative expertise and know-how in examining historical documents. Plus, you’ll get to keep an eye on me.”

  “You had me until that last part.”

  “Come on, Cole. We used to work well together. Maybe we’re on different sides, but we both want the truth.”

  When his wary expression didn’t budge, she added, “Plus, you owe me.”

  “Owe you?”

  The screen door creaked open behind them.

  “I won the dance-off last night. I’m calling in the bet.”

  “If I’d known you’d ask me to work with you, I wouldn’t have agreed.”

 
Katlynn stiffened her spine to keep from flinching. She was a red-carpet darling. America’s sweetheart, according to US magazine. But to Cole, she was a nobody. No one he wanted to be around, anyway.

  “Katlynn said ‘to be determined,’” Sierra pointed out, joining them. She’d donned kitten-print scrubs over jeans tucked into heavy work boots, her blond hair scraped into a low ponytail. “And you gave your word. And Lovelands—”

  “Always keep their word,” he finished for his sister. A look of resignation pulled down the corners of his mouth. He hesitated then stuck out his hand and clasped Katlynn’s. “Looks like you got a partner.”

  Katlynn flashed her trademark smile, despite the unease rattling inside.

  She’d liked the sound of “partner.”

  Way too much.

  She’d come to uncover the truth of a story seeped in murder, betrayal and theft.

  Would her heart betray her, too? Cole had stolen it once before...and if she wasn’t careful, he might succeed again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “AUNT SUSANNA? IT’S COLE.”

  Cole knocked on the front door of a ramshackle, two-story house smothered in ivy. Scattered pines filtered the afternoon sun and cast a cool pall over an unkempt front yard.

  “Are you sure she’s home?”

  His nose curled at the dank smell rising from a moss-covered wood stack beside the stairs. “It’s Monday—she’s home.”

  Katie-Lynn peered up at him through oversize sunglasses. In a gray fitted suit and dark heels, her hair stiffly molded to frame her made-up face, he hardly recognized her from the laughing, flushed, disheveled woman who’d ensnared his attention last night. “How do you know?”

  “Because she only goes out on Sundays for church.” The front door’s glass panes rattled as he knocked again.

  “How come I’ve never met her?”

  “If we’d made it down the aisle, you would have.”

  “Better late than never.” The slightest hint of sadness tinged her voice. He wished he could read her eyes behind those dark lenses.

  “Might think differently once you’ve met her.” He eyed the curtains in his aunt’s second-floor bedroom. The edge of a panel fluttered.