Winning the Cowboy
A Sweet Bad Boy Romance
Emma St. Clair
Copyright © 2020 by Emma St. Clair
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Questions? email [email protected]
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
A Note from Emma
What to Read Next
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Elton
Elton pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to ease the headache forming there. He didn’t know if the pounding stemmed from the thump of the bass coming through the walls of his office or from the crowd outside ready for fight night. Or maybe his brain was simply protesting the fact that this was his life. Groaning, he continued massaging his head.
Nope. Not working.
Just like putting his hands over his ears didn’t drown out the voices and the music.
What am I doing? Why am I still living like this?
This was the first fight since the one six weeks ago that got his buddy Pax in so much hot water. Pro football players were not supposed to be involved in underground fight clubs. Elton thought about shutting it all down after that. But when the photos of Pax went viral, people were begging Elton for another.
The barn was more packed tonight than it had ever been. If people were hoping to see a famous face again, they’d be disappointed. Elton would benefit from the curious and hopeful crowds. More money than normal was changing hands, both for the betting and for the sale of beer. Not that he needed the money. It was never about that.
So, what is it about?
He didn’t like asking himself these kinds of questions. Either he didn’t know the answers, or he didn’t want to know. For the past few years, Elton felt aimless. Trapped doing things he didn’t really want to do but didn’t have the motivation to stop.
Fight nights had started so small. His older brother, Davis, had been the one to set it in motion when he was in high school. But back then, it was just Davis and his buddies from the football team. Then he went off to college and Elton took over. That’s when it got out of hand, as things always seemed to do when Elton was left in charge.
Now? Fight nights weren’t a stupid high school thing. Davis had called Elton after the photos of Pax were published, shouting about all the different violations and potential prison terms and fines.
“At least I’ve got a good lawyer,” Elton had joked, knowing full well that Davis wouldn’t represent him. Conflict of interest or something.
In truth, Elton was tired. Not just of this, but of feeling aimless. Of chasing shiny things. He’d been living off his parents’ inheritance for three years now. He’d quit his job in finance after their deaths, not able to force himself to put on a suit and go into an office.
Now he had no job. No goals. And no luck winning the heart of the woman who had captured his years ago.
Adele had zero interest in him, and not just because Elton’s life was a mess. Anyone with eyes could see that she had it bad for someone else. His twin brother. Funny how they could have the same face, but Adele saw something in Easton that she didn’t see in Elton. His only consolation was that his brother seemed to have no interest in Adele, making this an almost-but-not-quite love triangle.
Elton put a hand back to his aching head just as the door opened, letting in the rowdy sounds of country music, shouting, and raucous laughter. Easton stepped inside and closed the door, leaning against it as though he too wanted to keep the sound out. His eyes were unreadable. They always were these days.
“The first fighter is a no-show, El. Want to call it off?”
Yes.
“Nah. I’ll handle it.”
Easton’s expression didn’t change. “Handle it how? Where are you going to find someone to fight this late?”
Elton pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor right next to his boots. Holding his arms out wide, he gave Easton the same grin he gave everyone lately, the one no one seemed to realize was totally fake.
“We’ve got ourselves a fighter right here.”
Easton rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot. Five minutes?”
“Yep.” Elton checked his watch as Easton disappeared back out into the fray. Fighting was idiotic, and not something Elton had done since he was seventeen. It definitely wouldn’t fix his headache. But how much worse could things get, really?
Getting to his feet, Elton paced the office. It had once been his bedroom. Before that? It had been a horse stall.
He scanned the walls, letting memory take over. His parents had remodeled two stalls for Elton and Easton’s sixteenth birthday. The rooms had been outfitted with flat-screen TVs and game consoles, but the real draw was being near their horses. Easton still kept a few in the newer barn at the back of the property, but Elton hadn’t ridden in years and didn’t miss it. Not the way he thought he would.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll see if Easton wants to go for a ride.
He snorted, shaking that thought off quickly. Going for a ride together wasn’t the kind of relationship he and Easton had these days. Sure, they lived in the same house. They had the same group of friends, for the most part. And together, they ran these underground fight nights.
But they didn’t talk. They definitely didn’t go for rides together.
The car accident that took their parents’ lives took more than that. He and his brother hadn’t been close since.
Elton ran his hand over a framed photo of himself and Easton that still hung on the wall. It was taken in high school, both of them in their red and white Katy Tigers football uniforms. They had the same sweaty hair, Elton’s just a little bit longer than Easton’s, helmets tucked under their arms.
He remembered his mama taking that picture over the chain-link fence by the stands, right after they’d beaten Cinco Ranch. At the last second, right as she’d said, Say cheeseburger!, Elton had thrown his arm around Easton’s neck, pulling him close. Seeing that visual reminder of how close they’d once been made his chest ache.
Turning, Elton could remember his bed being where the desk now was. His mama probably never would have gotten them rooms in the barn had she known how many girls he’d brought back here. A lot of kisses had been had here. The memories made Elton uncomfortable.
Mama would be so disappointed if she knew. She would be so disappointed in me now.
But she’s not here. She’s gone. They both are.
Even three years later, the realization that his parents were really gone still sometimes hit Elton right in the gut. Clenching his jaw, he opened the door to his office, finding Easton standing just outside.
“You really going to do this?” Easton asked.
“Aw, you worried for me, E? Want to take over my job as emcee?” That was more a joke than anything. Easton was a man of fewer than few words.
Easton crossed his arms and looked away. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No. And this is my last night helping with these.”
&nbs
p; That should have made him angry, but Elton only felt relief. If Easton was out, he was out too. No more fight nights. Finally. Maybe he could get on with the rest of his life as well. If only he could figure out how.
“Fine,” Elton said. “I’ll emcee and fight. Might as well go out with a bang.”
Chapter Two
Elton
He ended up going out not just with a bang, but a concussion. If he’d thought that his headache before was bad, that was only because he hadn’t been punched repeatedly in the face. Now, his head was like an ocean, crashing with wave after wave of pain. Easton glowered in the corner, listening to the doctor’s discharge instructions.
“So, staying awake after a concussion is a myth?” Elton asked. Sleep sounded good. And then he could wake up and hope he would just have the pain from his swollen cheek and eye and jaw. That he could deal with.
The doctor shook his head. “You can sleep. As long as you have someone who can wake you up every two to three hours and check on you.”
Elton gave puppy dog eyes to Easton, who simply glared, crossing his arms.
“And no alcohol or drugs.” The doctor gave Elton a pointed look.
Elton could smell the beer on him. But it was only because someone had spilled theirs on him when a particularly hard punch sent him flying into the crowd. He hadn’t been wearing a shirt, but his jeans were still damp.
“You got it, Doc.”
They made their way back through the myriad of hallways to the ER, where they’d come in. At the reception desk, Elton handed Easton his credit card and slumped into a chair. A few minutes later, Easton nudged him with his boot.
“I’ll pull the car around.”
Elton got to his feet, trying to stifle a groan. “I can walk.” Even if every step was like a hammer hitting his skull. Somehow, he felt like he deserved it. Might as well suffer.
Before they’d crossed the room, a familiar redhead burst through the doors. Just the sight of Adele storming toward him sent Elton’s heart sprinting. He kept trying to tell it to slow down, but the stubborn organ just wouldn’t listen.
“Easton!” Adele shouted, grabbing Easton in a big hug.
Elton winced at the volume of her voice. Of course she went right to his brother. She always had. Always would. Easton extracted himself from her grip, holding her away with stiff arms.
“Are you okay? Cilla said—”
“It wasn’t me. It was my idiot brother.” The last part Easton muttered, but loud enough for probably half the waiting room to hear it.
Adele’s gaze moved to Elton for the first time. Her eyes widened as she took in the state of his face, then narrowed into slits. Pushing her shoulders back she stepped in front of him and poked his chest. “You.”
He couldn’t help it. He grinned.
Adele had that fiery redhead thing going on. She was also wearing fuzzy pink pajama pants with unicorns on them. Elton loved everything about her flushed cheeks and the adorable way she looked ready for a fight. Despite the fact that he had a good six inches on her. Not to mention the fact that he’d clearly already been beaten up once tonight.
Which apparently, she didn’t care about. Because she removed her finger and gave Elton a light shove. Normally, it wouldn’t have been enough to affect him. They tended to go at each other a little rough. Playful, but no holds barred.
Years ago, it had felt like a sibling thing. The arguing, the light push and pull they’d always had between them. Now, Elton craved her touch in any way he could get it, and he definitely didn’t think of her like a sister.
Tonight, though, even that light push sent Elton collapsing into a hard plastic waiting room chair. He laughed all the way down, even though every movement and noise hurt like heck.
“Simmer down, woman! Don’t you know I’ve got a head injury?”
“I know something is wrong with your head. Not just tonight. Are you sure they did a thorough examination?”
“They might need to do another one,” Easton muttered. “I’m going to get the car. Adele, I’m trusting you can walk him out?”
“I have a right mind to leave him here.”
Elton couldn’t stop his laughter. If this is what it took to get Adele’s attention, he would take it. Besides, when she lectured, it gave him an excuse to stare unapologetically at this woman he’d been half in love with since high school. Easton headed out the front doors, leaving Elton with Adele’s undivided attention.
“Lay it on me,” he said. “You’ve got something to say. Go on, then.”
“You are the most infuriating man. You’re too smart for this kind of behavior. Don’t you know people care about you? I was worried sick!”
Yeah, when she thought it was Easton who had been hurt. But Elton could pretend for a moment that she meant him. She certainly seemed fired up now, even if it was with anger, not concern.
“I didn’t mean to worry you, Adele. Heck, I didn’t know you cared.” Elton was fishing for compliments. And he didn’t even have an ounce of shame about it.
She threw her hands up. “Unbelievable! Of course I care! Why do you think I’m here!”
“Because you thought my brother was hurt.”
He hadn't meant to say the words out loud. Could he blame the head injury for that too?
Adele looked like she’d been slapped. Hurt, then guilt, then anger slid across her delicate features. Her cheeks grew redder, the color slipping down her neck. She looked volcanic.
Oh boy.
“Easton isn’t the one responsible for this mess. It’s all you, Elton. And I don’t want to hear about how Davis started it, or that this is some kind of family legacy. No. You are the one running an illegal fighting ring in your barn. You, Elton.”
Her voice rose to the point that the entire ER waiting room watched the conversation. Not just the patients either. Elton began to sweat as he saw the woman behind the desk calling over security.
No. That wasn’t security. That was a cop. Who was now looking this way, seeming very interested in what Adele was saying.
“Uh, Adele?”
She didn’t seem to hear him and kept on shouting. The cop approached, a half-smile on his face and one hand on his gun.
“Adele,” Elton hissed. Getting to his feet, he put a hand on her arm, but she shook him off.
“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me with that mouth, Elton! Ever since your parents died it’s like you’ve been on a mission to sink your life. First, you quit your job. Then you start hosting more fight nights. Gambling. Selling alcohol without a license. You got Pax in trouble! Now look at you!”
She was completely right, and he knew it. The words punched through his skull, both with their volume and their truth. The pain made nausea rise in his gut.
“Adele—”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice had dropped, and the softness matched the concern in her eyes. “I just care about you, El.”
She cares about me.
Elton’s joy burned bright but was quickly dampened by the officer who stepped up next to Adele. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“What?” Adele snapped, spinning to face the officer. Taking in the uniform, she gasped and took a big step back. “Oh! Officer! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“Clearly not,” he said, his eyes flicking from Adele to Elton.
This would not end well. Really, it was par for the course. The bad decisions of the last three—and then some—years had finally caught up to Elton.
Easton pulled up outside with his old blue truck. The automatic doors of the emergency room whirred open. Easton’s eyes settled on the scene inside and his eyes went wide. The doors closed, then opened again. Easton’s face hadn’t changed.
Maybe the cop would just tell Adele to settle down or ask them to take what probably looked and sounded like a lover’s quarrel outside. Elton knew better than to hope for that.
The officer grinned before speaking, a satisfied smirk. “Mr. Elton Boyd. Looks like we finally ha
ve a face and a name to go along with the illegal fights that have been taking place here in Katy. We’ve heard the rumors. This helps with confirmation. Thanks for the tip, ma’am.” He winked at Adele, whose hands flew to her face.
Elton swallowed. “I’m not sure what you heard, officer—”
“Oh, I heard enough. At least enough to get you down to the station to answer some questions.”
“This is hearsay,” Elton started, hoping he was using the right term. He’d heard Davis say that before, right? Or maybe in one of those lawyer dramas on Netflix.
“Save the legalese for a court of law. I’m just talking about a conversation. Will charges stick? We’ll see once we get there, now won’t we? You aren’t going to cause me trouble now, Mr. Boyd. Are you?”
“No sir,” Elton said. He glanced toward the doors and met Easton’s gaze from where he idled in his truck. Elton gave him a quick shake of his head. Nodding, Easton pulled away. Elton could only hope he would get home and take care of anything that needed to be taken care of before the cops got a warrant.
“Follow me, Mr. Boyd.”
Sighing, Elton shook his head, which only served to remind him of the headache still battering his skull.
“Elton!” Adele followed him to the door, twisting her hands together. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know you didn’t,” Elton said. But that didn’t take away from the fact that now he was likely going to be arrested. Though he wasn’t in cuffs. Yet. He wished he’d paid more attention to those true crime shows to know what he needed.
“A lawyer,” he said. “Tell Easton I need a lawyer. A good one. Davis will know of one.”
Winning the Cowboy Page 1
