And face it… If Nevada had any desire for adventure, she wouldn’t have told Dustin she wasn’t doing the Valentine Quest when he asked.
But she didn’t, and she hadn’t.
With a sigh, Nevada returned the brochure to the stack on the display case. She would figure out something else to do for her brother. Taking a chance on anything outside of her comfort zone—whether a race or a hot cowboy—wasn’t going to happen.
*
That evening in the Bar V5’s men’s bunkhouse, Dustin sat on the couch. A blizzard raged outside—rattling the windows with wind and snow—but he was dry and warm inside. Logs crackled in the fireplace. Beer bottles and a bag of chips were on the coffee table. A basketball game played on the television.
A typical winter night at the ranch.
“Foul,” his bunkmate, Eli, sitting in a nearby recliner, yelled. “Put on your glasses, Ref.”
Smiling, Dustin took a swig from his beer bottle. Not the same as drinking a pint of draft at Grey’s Saloon and checking out the women there, but staying home was safer than being out in this weather.
“Come on,” Eli shouted at the television set. “I could have made that shot.”
Dustin grinned at his friend and coworker. “You could have made that shot wearing your boots, spurs, and hat with one hand behind your back.”
“No hat. And two hands.” Eli balled a napkin and tossed it at Dustin.
As he caught the incoming shot, one of the teams scored three points.
The wrangler from Florida jumped to his feet and pointed at the television. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Dustin sipped his beer. Eli was more fun to watch than the game.
Eli sat. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“Not one of my teams.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before.”
Dustin shrugged. “Been thinking about stuff.”
“Time to move on?”
He knew Eli had been looking to see what other ranches were hiring. “Nah.”
After Dustin was forced to retire from the rodeo, money from a fund for injured bull riders had helped pay his medical and living expenses, but he hadn’t want to ask for more so he looked for a job. He was grateful the Bar V5 foreman had taken a chance on a broken-down bull rider. Dustin had lived at the dude ranch for almost three years and saw no reason to leave. The bunkhouse was the ultimate man cave with weekly housekeeping service and meals cooked by a talented chef. If not for the health insurance and sick leave provided for full-time employees, he’d be bankrupt.
And likely homeless.
But a cowboy could only give so many sleigh rides and pass out hot cocoa to guests before he started losing it. Dustin was getting to that point. Especially now that he had so much time to sit around and catch up on stuff like the world he’d been forced to leave behind.
This coming weekend, the bull-riding series would be in California. He wanted to go back.
He missed the lifestyle.
He missed the competition.
He missed the ornery bulls.
The pain in his knee traveled to his heart. Squeezed.
Dustin rubbed the back of his neck. “Winter is getting to me.”
“I can’t wait for summer to arrive.”
“You and me both.” The sold-out summer season meant nonstop activities and riding. He was so busy then, he didn’t miss rodeoing as much.
In the winter, he rode each morning to check the cattle and survey the grounds. Salt blocks needed to be delivered, water sources kept running, and repairs done on fences and outbuildings. But the rest of the chores and guest interactions were limited and, dare he say, boring. Not even chatting up the pretty ladies at Grey’s made that big of a difference.
Dustin stared at his beer bottle. “It’s way too slow right now.”
“Not much we can do about that.”
“Maybe there is.”
He pulled out the Valentine Quest brochure from his pocket and glanced at the front page. Hearts and arrows outnumbered the words, but the event was in honor of Valentine’s Day. What did he expect?
“I picked this up in town today.”
“What is it?” Eli drank his beer.
“There’s a race coming up. It’s called The Valentine Quest.” Dustin might have a bum knee and other injuries, but that didn’t change his wanting to compete at something other than card and board games with guests after dinner. “Thinking about entering.”
“Is that a good idea with your knee and all the other hardware holding you together?”
“It’s not a running race, but a multiday adventure challenge like you see on a reality TV show.” Ty would give Dustin the time off since not much was happening at the Bar V5. “This one also has a community service component.”
“They’re doing that in the middle of winter in Montana?”
Good point. One that had nothing to do with his abilities.
He looked at the brochure. “I’m guessing most events will take place indoors. Especially the service tasks.”
“That would make sense.” Beer bottle in hand, Eli leaned forward. “Any other reason besides going stark, raving mad this winter for doing the race?”
To show others Dustin Decker was still a winner—a champion—albeit on a lesser scale than a national rodeo series, but he would never admit that aloud.
He couldn’t.
A good thing he had a second reason.
“The grand prize is a vacation in Fiji for two. Imagine the smell of salt in the air and the hot sand between your toes. Been a long, lonely winter. A week of fun in the sun surrounded by sexy women in itty-bitty bikinis sounds perfect. Interested in going if I win?”
“Would be nice,” Eli agreed. “But you can find pretty women closer than the South Pacific. You don’t want to chance injuring yourself again.”
Again.
The word echoed through the bunkhouse.
And burned in Dustin’s gut.
His coworkers looked out for him, but some didn’t think he was physically capable of doing the same hard labor, especially during summertime.
Let Dustin take care of the guests. Go on a trail ride. Save seats at the rodeo.
We’ve got this.
Code words for Dustin couldn’t handle the job.
Except he could.
He might move a little slower when his joints got stiff or ached, but he was still capable.
Fit.
Strong.
He worked out and didn’t need coddling.
“I’m not an invalid.” At least not yet. “And I’m not looking for a girlfriend. The women around here tell you one thing but want the exact opposite.”
“True that.” Eli picked at the label on his bottle. “Heard Daisy got engaged.”
Daisy was a riding instructor from Livingston and Dustin’s ex-girlfriend.
“Yeah, she texted me about it.” Dustin thought he’d mentioned that. Guess he hadn’t. “She didn’t want me to hear the news from someone else.”
“Nice of her.”
“She’s a nice person.”
Her breaking up with him hadn’t changed his opinion. He just wished Daisy would have remembered what he’d told her on their first date—that he wasn’t a settle-down type of guy. Daisy had said she wasn’t ready for a serious relationship herself, so he thought they were fine and hadn’t mentioned it again. Things had been good for a year, and then she’d accused him of leading her on by not wanting to get married and broke up with him.
He’d moved on, but no more girlfriends. “I’m glad Daisy found someone who could give her what she wanted.”
Eli shrugged. “Didn’t take her long to find a new guy.”
“A year or so.”
“Still a little too quick to meet someone, date, and get engaged, if you ask me.”
“Daisy was ready to settle down.” Dustin drank the rest of his beer.
Unlike him.
His divorced parents had taught Dustin
that marriage wasn’t for him.
The paycheck-to-paycheck living, moving from ranch to ranch for jobs, and the time his dad spent on the rodeo circuit, had been too much for his mom. She’d taken Dustin when he was three and left for Idaho. After she met a man with a stable, well-paying job who didn’t want the baggage of a stepson, she’d sent him back to his dad when he was six.
His dad had never remarried, and he’d done the best he could as a single parent. Still, Dustin never wanted to put his kid through divorce and hardships. If he got married and had a family, he would be doing the same thing his father did. A kid deserved better.
Besides, no woman wanted the kind of life he lived. The cowboy lifestyle made anything but casual relationships impossible. He’d let things with Daisy go too long, and, for that, he was sorry.
“You dodged a bullet.” Eli grinned. “Or should I say a ball and chain?”
Dustin nodded, but he still couldn’t forget Daisy’s words about him leading her on. The hurt in her voice and in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to cause her pain. He’d thought she’d understood and agreed things would never get serious between them. He didn’t want to make another woman feel the way Daisy had. That meant finding women who only wanted to date casually or have a fling.
“A vacation romance is just what I need,” he said.
No strings. No misunderstandings. No hurt feelings.
He scanned more of the brochure to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. This one must be old because the grand prize was listed as a bouquet of gift cards to various shops in town. No mention of a vacation package. “The race doesn’t look difficult.”
The participation waiver’s small print caught Dustin’s attention. The wording sounded like the typical legalese companies used to protect themselves from lawsuits.
“Sounds like fun,” he added.
Eli shook his head. “More like an injury waiting to happen.”
“It states not all the tasks are physical.” Dustin rubbed his leg.
He would wear a brace. That might make him feel like an old man, but he’d learned precautions were necessary. Even with a bad knee and other parts that weren’t working at a hundred percent, he had a feeling this race was his to win.
Eli’s gaze narrowed. “You’re serious about doing this?”
“Yeah, I am.” Maybe winning something, even a silly Valentine event, would make him feel better.
And if he lost… well, that wasn’t an option. He’d felt like a loser for way too long.
Chapter Three
The next morning, the weather had improved enough for Dustin to drive into town. He had errands to run for himself and for his foreman, Ty Murphy. Walls of snow lined each side of the road thanks to the snowplows, but only flurries hit the windshield.
Heat blasted from the vents on the dashboard. Music played from the radio. He tapped his thumb to the beat of a song about drinking whiskey and playing guitars. Maybe tonight he and Eli could hit Grey’s. Ty still had an apartment in town in case they drank too much and couldn’t drive. All the wranglers had bunked there on many occasions.
Dustin turned onto Main Street, parked, and climbed out of his truck. His feet sank into the slush on the road. Cold air stung his face and lungs, but only a few snowflakes fell from the sky. A big change from last night.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
He looked to his left where the sound was coming from.
Wade Burns shoveled snow off the sidewalk in front of the flower shop. The man was bundled up in a black parka, striped hat, and heavy-duty gloves.
“Good morning,” Dustin said to the handyman, who did odd jobs for businesses and residents around town. “You’ve been working hard.”
“Making the rounds.” Wade leaned against his shovel. “Got a late start due to a dead battery, but I’ll be caught up shortly and hit the neighborhoods after getting a hot chocolate at Sage’s place.”
One of the many townspeople addicted to Copper Mountain Chocolates.
Dustin grinned. “Enjoy it.”
“I will.”
With a wave, Dustin crossed the street. The sidewalk in front of the Java Café was clear. Wade must have started on this side.
Dustin entered the coffee shop. Music played from overhead speakers. Warm air and the smell of freshly brewed coffee surrounded him.
A small glass case displayed pastries and muffins, but he was still full from the breakfast burrito and potatoes he’d eaten at the Bar V5 breakfast buffet.
“What can I get for you this glorious morning?” a friendly barista asked. She’d joined the staff in September and only worked a few shifts a week. He didn’t know her name, but she dyed her short, spiky hair to match the season. She currently had pink and red streaks.
“An Americano, please,” he said. “To go.”
“Coming right up.”
Dustin paid, placed a tip in the jar next to the register, and then stood away from the counter to wait for his coffee. He glanced around the cozy shop.
Quiet and empty.
A woman, the only other customer, was reading a book. A coffee mug sat on her table next to a legal pad and pen. A black jacket hung on the back of her chair. The woman was wearing a black sweater, too.
That was Dakota Parker’s sister, Nevada.
He hadn’t known what to make of the woman yesterday. She might be book smart, attend a prestigious Ivy League school, and speak different languages, but walking around when she couldn’t see through her glasses showed a lack of common sense.
Unlike her sister.
Dakota was kind and down to earth, but she could also cut to the heart of an issue and find a solution every time. Bryce Grayson was a lucky man.
Nevada Parker wasn’t like her sister. Yesterday, she’d acted so prim and proper as if she belonged in an ivory tower and not with regular human beings who didn’t know a predicate from a participle. If she liked to read, he assumed she enjoyed grammar, too.
He took a closer look.
The way she tilted her head and had her lips parted as she read told him she was a bookworm. She might be present physically, but mentally she was off somewhere else and happy to be there.
That was cool. He liked reading and always picked up a book for himself whenever he took Brooklyn, his foreman’s eight-year-old stepdaughter, to the library.
Nevada’s hair wasn’t as light as her sister’s, but the length was as long. She wore a low ponytail. No glasses today. Even so, she had that smart-girl look about her. She wore little to no makeup or jewelry, not even earrings. Low-maintenance or just didn’t care? Something told him the latter.
Not his type.
But she was still pretty without trying just like her sister. Nevada, however, didn’t seem as warm and welcoming. Dakota had an ever-present smile whether working at the chocolate shop, volunteering at the Whiskers and Paw Pals Animal Rescue, or walking dogs around town. The definition of friendly.
Nevada had acted wary with a hesitant smile and a gaze that didn’t quite know where to look.
Must be a New York thing.
Except for her blushing.
That had been unexpected.
Today, she wore a green scarf around her neck. Guess not everything she owned was black.
Nevada lowered her book and picked up her coffee.
As her mouth touched the mug, he wondered if she ever wore lipstick. Lipstick stains on cups were sexy. He didn’t mind lipstick smeared all over his face, either.
He half-laughed.
Yes, a trip to Grey’s tonight was in order if Dakota’s sister was bringing these thoughts to mind.
“Dustin,” the barista called.
He picked up his drink. As he turned from the counter, his gaze met Nevada’s. “Good morning.”
She raised her coffee mug as if she could hide behind it. “Hi.”
Her voice was quiet, but with no one else in the place, he could hear her.
Walking toward her gave him a better view of her eyes—hazel
. More green than brown. Maybe due to her scarf. He hadn’t noticed the color yesterday. The glasses or just not paying attention.
“Having a coffee before you drive to Bozeman?” he asked.
“No classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
He stood next to her table. “What are you reading?”
She showed him the worn front cover. Multicolored tabs stuck out from the pages. The title wasn’t written in English. “Effi Briest.”
Dustin had never heard of the book, but a cowboy like him wouldn’t have the same reading list as a PhD candidate. He preferred genre fiction. Westerns, thrillers, and the occasional mystery novel. “What language is that?”
“German.”
Dakota hadn’t been kidding when she sang her younger sister’s praises. “What other languages do you speak?”
“French,” Nevada said without hesitation. “I know a passable amount of Italian, Spanish, and Latin, but I don’t consider myself fluent.”
Dustin had the feeling most other people would think so and flaunt the knowledge. He liked that she didn’t. “No wonder your sister is so proud of you.”
Nevada’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks.”
There was that charming blush again.
Maybe studying in her ivory tower had something to do with how quick her skin reddened. The reaction was unexpected and cute.
Dustin glanced at the clock on the wall. He had a little time.
Nevada Parker might not be his usual type, but he’d rather talk to a pretty woman than head out into the cold with his coffee to run errands.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Nevada glanced around as if to see if he was talking to her before looking up at him. “Go ahead.”
Not the warmest response, but she hadn’t said no. That was good enough for him.
He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. “Good book?”
“Very.” She set her book on the table. “I’ve read it several times. I’m reviewing sections for my dissertation.”
“What are you writing about?” he asked.
When she picked up her coffee, the wariness returned to her gaze. “You really want to know?”
The Valentine Quest (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 5) Page 3
