Cowboy Come Home

by Sinclair Jayne

  And he always took care of his own.

  That realization hit him like a fist.

  Piper was his the way his family was his.

  And he’d been too much of a coward to admit it to himself, but even worse, he hadn’t told her. Ever.

  And he couldn’t. Not now. He didn’t deserve her. Not yet. He might never. But he could do his damn best to become a man who would deserve Piper. And that had to start here. Now.

  “You’re on deck,” one of the chute hands shouted down at him.

  “Boone,” his father said tersely.

  Boone gripped his dad’s shoulder like his dad had done to him so many times. His dad was nearly fifty-three, yet he still had a wiry strength due to his daily work on the ranch that would be admirable in men half his age. It was a hard life, but a good one.

  “I’ve got this.”

  He didn’t back down from a challenge. Not ever. And he wasn’t going to start today. And he wasn’t going to run from his problems with Piper anymore.

  Boone pulled off his gloves and put them back on again. Stamped his right foot twice—then twice left. Jammed his hat down lower on his head. Then rolled his head right then left. Feeling the calm settle over him. The determination. He led Sundance to the chute. Clamored up and dropped down.

  He blocked out the roar of the crowd. Nothing mattered but twisting that steer to the ground and getting the hell out of the arena.

  Usually Will Reeves rode alongside to hem in the steer, but today his father had asked if he could partner up with Boone this round, and since his father was on the rodeo committee and he and Boone’s mother and a handful of other locals had spear-headed the rebuilding campaign, it wasn’t like anyone was going to say no.

  The crowd was loud. Boone barely noticed. He nodded. The bolt of the chute slid free and simultaneously, he and Sundance, a small steer and his father on a horse burst out of the chutes. Boone immediately jumped, dropped, grabbed the steer’s horns and twisted as he rolled: 3.2. Incredible time. Even Boone snapped out of his misery for a moment to stare in awe at the number. He’d have an impossible time matching it, much less beating it if he competed another five years.

  His dad was smiling. One fist pump in the air. Wild acclaim from his understated dad. Feeling like a robot Boone tipped his hat to the hometown audience. He spotted his mom, sister, sister-in-law and brother in the crowd holding signs. He briefly waved. Smiled on autopilot and then jumped the fence.

  Time to finally stop living his life moment by moment.

  Time to become a man with a plan.

  Chapter Ten

  Boone must be flying high, Piper thought Saturday night while she anxiously scanned the crowd starting to line up for the first steaks coming off the barbeque pits. He was in first place by a lot going into the steer wrestling and also was tied for second going into bareback bronc and bull riding short round tomorrow.

  Initially she had wanted to finalize their breakup in the trailer, but somehow having a crowd made her feel less emotionally exposed. And raw. The day had passed in a blur, and she still hadn’t completely sorted through her feelings. First the early drink with Tucker, who’d been so funny, friendly and wise even when she made outrageous statements. Piper rarely drank alcohol, especially during the day on an empty stomach. Luckily Shane had gone super light on the alcohol, heavier on the kindness and friendship.

  Neither of the women had pushed for details of the ‘cowboy problem,’ as Tucker had called it, which had surprised and pleased Piper. But she had felt comforted. And knew that no matter how much it hurt now, no matter how long, she would survive. Not close down and turn away from love like her mother had. And her father.

  Tucker had sat at the Graff’s beautiful dark wood bar and diagnosed the problem with minimal information as “Boone is head over heels but without a clue.” Tucker had popped open the pistachio nut shells from a bowl on the bar with her thumb and forefinger and tossed the nuts up into the air, and they’d fallen into her mouth with envying accuracy. Piper hadn’t been able to do much but nurse her drink and try to keep her mind on the conversation between the two women who were clearly good friends, even though Shane had said she was leaving town a week or so after the rodeo.

  “Typical cowboy,” Tucker said with authority. “Add in the fact that he just turned twenty-five. His frontal lobe is barely coalesced.”

  That had amused Shane to the point of snorting.

  “That’s sexist,” Piper had roused herself to protest. Besides, why had they assumed everything was Boone’s fault? It wasn’t. Piper had participated in her own crash and burn. She’d jumped all in. Hadn’t asked enough questions.

  Because, let’s face it, she’d told herself sternly, she’d been afraid of his answers.

  “Boohoo. Let’s start a new hashtag #DumbInLoveCowboy.”

  “Probably a million tweets for that one, judging from what I hear in my bar, and I don’t even work the cowboy bar, Grey’s,” Shane had said before waving them off with a smile and exchanging numbers.

  Tucker had to return to the rodeo to help her sister and their stock hands. Piper hadn’t quite felt ready for that, but she had, after some encouragement, agreed to sit with Tucker’s family during the steak dinner.

  “Unless you get a better offer.” Tucker had winked.

  “Not holding my breath,” Piper had breathed, deciding to walk Main Street, weigh her options, and ignore the texts she could feel buzzing in her pocket.

  She had checked the rodeo stats to make sure Boone hadn’t been injured.

  No. He was thriving. Scoring crazy high. Clearly not impacted by their breakup. He was probably relieved.

  “I’m going to be fine,” Piper had said as she’d walked unerringly toward the Copper Mountain Chocolate shop again where she would not, absolutely would not buy another box of cowboy boot chocolates. Until she did, so distracted by her own personal hurt, she’d practically snatched the last small box out of the hands of an adorable little boy. Mortified, Piper had tried to hand the box back, but the mother had politely refused. Piper asked if she could share the chocolate with them—something the little boy, Ricky, had loved. They’d walked a few blocks together. The mom, Kelly, had been nice, but thoughts of Boone kept dragging Piper out of the conversation.

  Piper forced herself back into the present. She’d managed to avoid Boone today—not easy as she hadn’t realized how dogged he could be when thwarted—but she’d felt the need to armor herself. Make a plan. So she’d agreed to meet him at the steak dinner, but still had no idea of what she would say.

  God, this was so hard.

  Excruciatingly painful.

  And she felt like the steak dinner, the town, the people jostling together greeting each other mocked the dreams she’d clung to all her life. Marietta was everything she’d ever hoped for in a hometown. Boone was everything she’d wanted in a man. And she stood here alone, empty-handed. Again.

  Piper balled her fists.

  She was not giving up. Who knew? If she decided to stay in Marietta, start her own business, put down roots, she might be here next year greeting friends—for once part of the small-town charm, absorbing the sweetness and magic. The lights strung through the trees in the park gave off a golden glow that seemed like it could only be created on a movie set. Around her conversations flowed. The opening band was tuning up; the smell of barbeque permeated the air all around them. And then she saw him.

  Boone.

  Her heart hitched and sped up just like it did the first time.

  He looked invincible. So strong and appealing and handsome. He moved through the crowd with a fluidity she’d always admired. And he was coming toward her. Piper could barely breathe. She had to stay strong. Not give in. Although maybe there was nothing to give in to. Oh, she knew he’d never throw her out. He’d help her find a place to stay or let her sleep in the trailer while he went to his family’s ranch.

  Her heart clenched.

  This was it.

  Only
it wasn’t. Boone was stopped. Again. And again. By a few families with older teens, by couples, by older men. And each time he listened, his face open, friendly, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, in the tightness of his back.

  He was coming to find her.

  But he was too polite to brush off the people who knew him, who wanted to congratulate him, who wanted to catch up because he hadn’t been home in four months because he’d been traveling with her—showing her the American west instead of his real life.

  Suddenly it was too much.

  She didn’t want to do this now.

  She didn’t think she’d ever be up to it.

  Who knew love could hurt like this?

  She was looking at the truth. Boone belonged. She’d seen it this afternoon when she’d caught a glimpse of Boone at the cowboy’s autograph booth. Fans and friends were happy to see him, and Boone seemed to know so many of them, seemed to enjoy spending an hour greeting people and signing programs and T-shirts and hats. Often he scooped up the smaller kids or bent to their level and greeted them personally. Marietta was his home even if he had been temporarily running away from it. He belonged to his marrow.

  She could belong too—in her own way, not his—make her own world day by day. And today was her day one.

  Piper turned away, texting Tucker to see if she’d arrived and if the invitation to sit with them was still open. Tucker’s text, and a picture of where she was, came through immediately. Piper gulped in a breath, cast one last, no doubt longing look at Boone and then turned away, walking quickly to join Tucker, her husband and the rest of her family and friends in line. They’d already reserved a table and there was plenty of room.

  One friend. That was all she needed to start. But she had something more.

  As she walked, she scrolled down to Amanda’s number. She paused. Was she really ready for this? Did she have a choice?

  Tears blinding her, she looked up from her phone as if seeking inspiration. She hadn’t realized she was so near the makeshift stage and dance floor until she heard a singer she’d heard performing yesterday tune up his guitar and greet the crowd. He was handsome and confident although he made self-deprecating remarks about how he knew he wasn’t the opening act, but he was “going to try to entertain y’all anyway. Keep this stage up here warm and welcoming,” he said into the mic.

  The crowd, most of them milling around and starting to make their way toward the lines for food, certainly seemed welcoming. People called out his name. Cheered. Made song suggestions.

  The music started. He was good. Piper didn’t recognize the song, but she hadn’t listened to much country before Boone. She wondered if the musician wrote it himself. A couple went up to the stage. The woman was beautiful—loads of dark, wavy hair and a beautiful red dress that hugged her figure. The cowboy, Flynn, she now realized, certainly seemed enamored. The way he held the woman and looked down at her, his face lit with intent and caring.

  Piper swallowed hard. She thought she had that with Boone.

  She’d been wrong.

  And she wasn’t going to make the same mistake over and over. She’d promised herself growing up that she’d find a place that felt like home. Have a family she loved and who loved her back. She’d vowed it when she went to college. Had realized she’d never have it if she stayed with her traveling dance company. And Boone had veered her off course again.

  Piper looked back at Amanda’s number and quickly typed out a simple sentence. She stared at it. So little to mean so much.

  Piper hit send.

  *

  Damn, where was Piper? She’d finally answered one of his ten thousand texts and said she’d meet him at the steak dinner. He’d busted ass after his bull ride. Of course he’d drawn late in the competition. Good for morale to watch cowboy after cowboy get tossed into the dirt, or bad depending on the cowboy’s confidence level.

  But Boone had felt fierce. Determined to ride to the bell. See Piper.

  He also had admitted to himself when he’d been so restless backstage that he’d been hoping like hell Piper would show, even though he knew he had no right.

  Still.

  But he’d showered in record time, changed into a shirt Piper had chosen for him in Telluride, Colorado, checked on Sundance and hurried to the steak dinner.

  She must be here. He tried to quell the unaccustomed anxiety. He’d checked her tent and their trailer. That pretty blue halter-style sundress she’d bought one afternoon when they were sight-seeing and kayaking in Cherry Lake a couple of weeks ago was gone from the closet.

  He admitted to himself he’d been relieved that was all that was missing.

  Boone squared his shoulders and palmed the two plates of food. She wasn’t in line. But he didn’t imagine she’d be sitting down. Piper didn’t like to eat alone. She’d confessed one night that she didn’t even like to sit in a coffee shop by herself.

  Boone had thought it so sweet. And sad. And then he’d stupidly pulled her close and said, “Now you don’t have to. You have me.”

  Dumb ass.

  He thought he’d been preparing to cut her loose.

  Instead he’d been pulling her close.

  While pushing her away, making her do his dirty work.

  He heard his name called yet again, but he kept walking determinedly toward an unfixed destination in the crowd. At this rate, dinner and dancing would be over before he found her because so many people wanted to stop and talk.

  “Hey, Boone,” he heard his sister-in-law, Miranda, call his name.

  “Hi,” he said automatically not really looking at her, still scanning for Piper.

  “Over here. We didn’t save you a seat because we thought you’d be with your parents, but you can have mine so you can eat your meal. That’s a lot of food. How are you going to eat all that?”

  “It’s not all for me.” He met Miranda’s amused pixie face tolerantly. “Obviously.”

  “Well, you and your invisible friend can have my seat. I’m going for another margarita or two so I can enjoy the show.”

  “What show?” He didn’t really think of eating dinner and country dancing as a show, but there was usually a bit of drama at the rodeo, especially at the steak dinner.

  She moved toward the alcohol tent, and he found himself staring at Piper. She was sitting at the table with the Wilders, Shane Knight—the bartender at the Graff—and a few other ranch friends. He jerked in surprise and only years of balancing on the back on an animal that was trying to hurl him off kept the plates steady in his hands. He suddenly felt totally nervous, like he had the first time he’d met her.

  Piper regarded him coolly, almost as if he were a stranger, and then she picked up her half corn on the cob and took a bite.

  A little butter smeared on her lips.

  Jesus, she looked beautiful.

  And unapproachable. She might as well be sitting on top of Copper Mountain.

  He just stood there probably looking stupid. With two plates of food.

  Everyone stopped eating and talking and looked up at him. He nodded stiffly to Kane and his wife, Sky. Then Kane’s brothers, Luke and Laird, and their wives Tanner and Tucker, who’d recently started working with his father’s ranch. Colt Wilder and his wife Talon, who had one more year of vet school left, sat on the other side of Piper, leaving a place next to her if he squeezed in on the end across from Shane, who looked about as impressed with him as he felt—lower than low.

  “Piper.” He stood awkward, not sure of his welcome, but determined not to leave.

  She hesitated. And then looked up. He saw a quick flash of anguish before she shut it down.

  “Congratulations,” she said, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her. “Great scores. Short round in each event.”

  He didn’t want to talk about the rodeo.

  But it was a start.

  “Did you watch?” he couldn’t help asking even though he knew he shouldn’t hope.

  Piper shook her head
quickly. “Online leader board,” she said looking at anyone but him.

  “Hey, cowboy,” Tucker called out, tossing her long auburn mane of hair over her shoulder like a taunt. “Pull up a saddle. Meet my new friend Piper, out of the closet and a shitload of fun.”

  Tucker toasted him with a glass of whiskey from a bottle that had the Wilder Whiskey label her husband had started as a lark one winter and was now building fast. Boone was pretty sure bringing a bottle of whiskey to a public park was not legal, but Tucker had never been one for following rules.

  Boone folded himself into a chair, willing Piper to look at him. He tried to puzzle out how she knew the Wilders, Shane and Miranda.

  And no one, including his sister-in-law, usually the sunniest of people, seemed particularly happy to see him.

  “Oh, Boone, hello. I didn’t know you knew Piper.” Laird joined in his wife’s fun proving that they were well matched.

  Boone tried to catch Piper’s eye, but she was slathering butter on a corn bread muffin. He’d never even seen her eat bread or butter so this was bad. Real bad. And he had to make sure she was okay, settled somewhere she wanted to be before he got too involved in the ranch or headed out to Great Falls to compete next weekend.

  “How was your day?” The minute he uttered the trite, everyday question, he winced.

  Piper shot him a look.

  Boone thought and re-thought what he should say. And his food grew cold. The steak, potato, corn and mixture of several salads he’d piled on looked unappealing, and his stomach swirled sickly, but he knew he needed fuel for tomorrow.

  And tonight was going to be long. Lonely.

  But then a shaft of hope shot through his dread when Piper’s knee brushed against his. She jumped in her seat, but didn’t move her leg. Boone tried not to read anything into it.

  The conversations turned to the rodeo, bulls, Tucker wanting to start breeding and training bucking broncos.