Gone Country: Rough Riders, Book 14

by Lorelei James

  Hanging out with Quinn was very low-key. Almost peaceful. He didn’t fill the silence with meaningless chatter. Quinn was so different from Ben—yet, in some ways they were exactly alike, and strangely enough, Gavin had many of the same characteristics of his brothers. Gavin was starting to believe he had a place in this family besides being an object of curiosity and regret.

  They mounted up and skirted the inner section in favor of following the fence line that ran on flatter land.

  Once they returned to Gavin’s place and dealt with the horses, he handed Quinn a beer and sat next to him on the tailgate of Quinn’s truck.

  “So I have to ask you something a little random.”

  “That’s a scary start to a conversation, but go ahead.”

  “The first time I showed up here and we had the meeting? Vi got upset telling her story and Charlie told her to calm down because of her high blood pressure.”

  After lowering his beer bottle, Quinn looked at him curiously. “That is a random thing to remember. What’re you askin’?”

  “How bad is Vi’s blood pressure?”

  “Better than it was. Mom ain’t the type to talk about it. She don’t wanna be seen as anything less than Teflon-coated.”

  That did fit with Gavin’s impression of Vi.

  “Me’n Ben did get Dad to tell us that the doc had put her on high blood pressure meds and ordered a change in diet. But after a year, she lost weight, they switched meds and her health is a lot better.” He raised his bottle again and drank. “Why?”

  Gavin swung his feet. “I was diagnosed with high blood pressure a few months after that meeting.”

  “No shit?”

  “Surprised me too. I was a little overweight, but not bad. So I wondered if high blood pressure is hereditary, and on which side. The McKays or the Bennetts.”

  “It comes from the Bennett side. Mine has been steadily climbin’ in the last five years.” Quinn swiveled his head to look at him. “I take it you haven’t said anything to Mom?”

  “No reason to. It’s under control. I just wondered if that health issue might be a double whammy from both sides.”

  “Dad is healthy as an ox.” Quinn snorted. “Course, when Ma went on a diet, Dad did too, whether he wanted to or not. He ended up losing weight and that improved his overall health. I ain’t gonna claim all the McKays are a hale and hearty bunch—Grandpop had a heart attack, but it wasn’t early on. And the uncles seem to be fine. Aging well, if you ask me.” He frowned. “But there is one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “No one in the family talks much about it.” Quinn sent him a look. “Sierra didn’t find any mention of it in the family archives?”

  “No. What are you talking about?”

  “A…physical thing.”

  “What kind of physical thing?”

  “A physical anomaly.”

  “What the hell? Like a heart murmur or something?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you have this anomaly?”

  Quinn’s gaze dropped. “Not yet. This condition shows up at a specific age.”

  “What age?”

  “Forty-four.”

  Now Gavin was getting spooked. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know if it’s my place to say. Maybe you oughta ask Dad.”

  “Ask him what?”

  “If you can see it.”

  “See what?”

  “His third nipple.”

  Gavin turned toward Quinn and repeated, “He has a third nipple.”

  Quinn didn’t say anything.

  “Are you serious?”

  A pause, then, “Nope. Just pullin’ your leg.”

  “Really fucking funny.”

  “It was.” Quinn grinned. “I’da given anything to see the look on Dad’s face when you demanded to see his extra nipple.”

  “Fuck off, Quinn.”

  He laughed. “I almost said we McKays grew a third testicle. And since Dad is the McKay castration king, he’d just whack off your extra ball during branding.”

  “Like I said. Fuck. Off.” Gavin groaned. “Jesus. I’m not that green. Am I?”

  “Yep. But we’re workin’ on ya.”

  Marin’s Blazer ripped up the driveway, music blasting out the windows.

  Quinn muttered, “Amelia’s teen years are gonna kill me, huh?”

  “If Adam’s don’t do you in first. I hear boys are worse than girls.”

  “Thanks for the sympathy, bro,” he said dryly.

  Sierra hopped out of the car, holding her backpack on her left side.

  Marin backed up and yelled, “Bye, McKay, don’t forget to call me later!” out the car window before she sped off.

  McKay? That was new. Wasn’t it?

  Sierra stopped a few feet from the tailgate. “Hey, Q.”

  Quinn smiled widely at her. “So, McKay, huh?”

  Sierra shot Gavin a quick glance before looking at Quinn. “Yeah. That’s what the kids at school call me.”

  Why hadn’t Sierra mentioned this?

  Because it’d gone over so well when you found out she called Vi Grams.

  “I guess that’s a better nickname than Trouble,” Quinn said. “Though to hear most folks around here talk, McKay and trouble mean the same thing.”

  Sierra grinned. “I’ve heard some of the stories about the wild McKay boys.”

  “All lies,” Quinn said with a straight face.

  “That’s what Grandpa Charlie says too.”

  “Find any proof of those wild ways as you’re doin’ your family research project?”

  “A few. I found out a lot of stuff about the McKays and Wests and I can’t wait to talk about it at the branding.” She made a face. “Grandpa Charlie and Grams are making me give an oral report to the entire McKay family.”

  Gavin could see Sierra’s excitement and pride, even when she tried to pass it off as a chore.

  “But most of the recent McKay dirt I’ve heard has come from Kyler or Keely.”

  “Speaking of Keely…” Gavin said. “Grab a snack and we’ll hit the road in about ten minutes for your physical therapy session.”

  She sighed. “Do I have to? My collarbone feels completely healed.” She rotated her arm forward and back. “See? It’s fine. The sessions are a waste of my time and Keely’s time and your money.”

  “Not according to Doc Monroe.”

  Sierra shifted her stance, acting as if she needed to talk but wasn’t comfortable doing so in front of Quinn.

  Quinn caught the vibe and slid off the tailgate. “I best be goin’.”

  “Thanks for bringing the horses over today.”

  “Not a problem. Just holler anytime you wanna ride.” Quinn tugged on Sierra’s hair. “You can ride any time you want after you get the doctor’s official all clear on your physical therapy.”

  “You’re gonna be so surprised when I just show up, demanding riding lessons, Q.”

  “I look forward to it.” Quinn drove off.

  Sierra dropped her backpack on the ground and moved in to hug him. “Hey Dad.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, enjoying this sweet spontaneous hug. She held onto him for the longest time. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “You okay?”

  “I just had a bad day. Nothing specific happened, I’m just feeling kind of sad. I miss my mom.”

  “I know you do, sweetheart.”

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. I’m low on Dad hugs and need some Dad time.”

  Gavin held her a little tighter. “So we should do something after your physical therapy appointment.”

  “Just you and me?”

  “Sure. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  She nodded against his chest and sighed.

  Moments like these were worth suffering through every slamming door and petty fight. “I’ll run in, grab my wallet and leave a note for Rielle.”

  “I hope it won’t hurt h
er feelings that we’re doing something without her.”

  That Sierra even mentioned it was a sign she’d accepted Rielle as a permanent part of their life—he refused to look at it any other way.

  May…

  “You know, I think it’s sucky that Boone isn’t taking you to prom this weekend.”

  Me too. “Prom is so not his type of thing.”

  “How would he know if he’s never been to one?”

  “You do have a point.” She couldn’t tell Marin that Boone couldn’t afford to take anyone to prom. What girl would ride on the back of his bike in a fancy dress?

  You would. In a freakin’ heartbeat.

  Marin sighed heavily. “I just don’t get you, McKay.”

  “What did I do now?”

  “You turned down Paxton Green’s invite to prom, which is just stupid because hello, he’s hot, sweet and…did I mention hot?”

  “Several times.”

  “So you should’ve said yes. We should be in Rapid right now trying on slutty prom dresses.”

  Sierra laughed. “You really think my dad would let me wear a slutty prom dress out of the house?”

  “Hell no.” Marin grinned. “I didn’t say we were gonna buy them, just try them on.”

  “I suppose I’d be wearing fuck me heels too, with this imaginary slutty prom gown?”

  “Naturally. And carrying a sparkly rhinestone purse big enough to fit a flask, condoms and a small handgun.”

  “You are so crazy-wrong.”

  “What is crazy-wrong is that you’re not goin’ to prom with pretty Paxton the bulldoggin’ stud, because you’re mooning over boring Boone.”

  “Mooning. As if. We’re friends. That’s it. Besides, prom wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t there, Marin, so that’s really why I’m not going.”

  “Bull. But next year we’re double dating no matter what.” A few minutes passed and Marin complained, “Why are we sitting out here? I can feel my white skin frying like bacon and more freckles popping up on my face.”

  Sierra knocked her foot into Marin’s. “It’s a gorgeous day. Warm air, blue skies. No snow. One thing I miss about Arizona is soaking up the sun. So suck it up, cupcake, and sit here with me until Rielle picks me up. I do all sorts of stuff with you that I don’t want to.”

  “Like what?” Marin challenged.

  “Like listening to country music.”

  She snorted. “I’ll admit that there are worse things we could be doin’ than watching the guys on the track team running around in shorts and tank tops.”

  “Have you ever thought about going out for track?”

  “Not until right this minute…omigod.” Marin peered over the tops of her sunglasses. “Who is that guy in the black shorts and white wife beater running sprints by the fence?”

  Sierra didn’t even hesitate to say, “Boone,” with a sigh.

  “Really? I didn’t recognize him without his thug hat and coat on. Is that why you made me come here? So we could drool over him from afar?”

  Yes. “No. I’m waiting for a ride, remember?”

  “Sierra—”

  “Fine. I want to talk to him, okay? I’ve texted him a couple times and I haven’t heard back. And I don’t wanna come across as”—desperate—“a pest, so I hoped I’d see him.”

  “What do you want to talk to him about?”

  “Whether he’s coming to the branding. I’m supposed to share my McKay family history report—the stuff that didn’t make it in the actual school report—and since he helped me so much, I hope he wants to be there.”

  “How’s he supposed to see you if you’re crouched down in the grass?”

  Sierra’s gaze slowly tracked over Boone’s body—obviously amazing even at this distance. His skin gleaming, his muscles straining as he performed a pivot and run body conditioning exercise. The last time she’d spoken to him, he’d talked about a new strength and stamina training regimen. She’d asked tons of questions until he’d offered to demonstrate his new moves, which made her feel a little pervy, but a victorious pervy.

  “Sierra?”

  She said, “What?” offhandedly, keeping her eyes on Boone as he bent forward. Nice buns. But she preferred them in jeans.

  “I said how is Boone supposed to notice you if you’re halfway across the damn football field?”

  “He knows I’m here.”

  “He does? How?” Marin demanded.

  It’d sound like a lie, or at least wishful thinking, if she told Marin she knew Boone had watched her walk the entire way from the gym exit. “He, ah, waved to me.”

  “Huh. I didn’t see that.” Marin stood and brushed the grass from her rear. “You sure you don’t need a ride? I could drop you off on my way home.”

  “Rielle is in town so she offered to pick me up. I’ll be fine hanging out here.”

  “Okay. Call me later.”

  Within three minutes of Marin leaving, Boone strolled over.

  Her belly did that flip, swoop, roll thing even when she acted bored.

  Boone flopped beside her, stretching out on his back and groaning, “Man, I’m so fucking whupped.”

  “No, Hi, Sierra, how are you today? No, I’ve been ditching your calls because I pulled a muscle in my phone dialing finger? Just, I’m so fucking whupped?”

  “Touchy today, aren’t we?” He showered her with a handful of grass.

  “Hey! That’s it. I’m leaving.” Sierra started to stand but Boone grabbed her around the waist and rolled her beside him in the grass, ignoring her yelps.

  He kept his hand on her stomach, holding her in place. “Hey. If it isn’t sexy Sierra McKay. You’re looking damn fine today. Is that a new shirt? It does amazing things for your…eyes.” He aimed a quick grin her direction. “Did you do something different with your hair? The chocolate-colored tresses are so silky and shiny in the sunlight.”

  “You’re a dickhead. And I’m still mad at you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then how come you’re still here?”

  Sierra pointedly looked at his palm that seemed to be burning a hole through her shirt, right to her skin.

  Boone removed his hand. Those striking brown eyes met hers and he lifted his eyebrow in challenge.

  She didn’t move. She stayed right there, gazing into his handsome face, understanding what Marin had meant by mooning over him—wanting what she couldn’t have. Somehow she forced herself to sit up. “You suck at returning text messages, West.”

  “I’ve been studying for finals and covering Alan’s shift since he’s on vacation. Or I’ve been working out.”

  “I can tell. You’ve got some beefy biceps going on.”

  Boone flexed. “Check ’em out.”

  Yes please. She bumped him with her shoulder. “No. It might compromise your virtue if people saw me feeling you up.”

  “Might be worth it.” His intense focus traveled from her eyes to her hair. “Sorry for throwing grass at you.” He leaned close enough she could see his pulse pounding in his throat. “I’ll get it.”

  “Boone—”

  “Relax.”

  She stayed frozen as his fingers started at her scalp and drifted down the strands of her hair with such deliberation she’d swear he was dragging it out.

  You know better.

  “So what did you need to talk to me about?” he asked.

  Sierra’s gaze roved over his face. From his dark eyes, so intent on his task, to his full mouth, his lips parted to release shallow breaths, to his angular jaw. Such a beautiful man. She could just look at him all day.

  “Sierra?” he murmured.

  “Oh. Right. I wanted to see if you were coming to the branding next Saturday. You don’t have to help with the actual work part, just come to the after party.”

  “Why the invite? The McKays need a West whipping boy? Or are your dad, psycho uncles and cousins gonna castrate me?”

  She turned her head and sank her
teeth into his wrist. Hard.

  “Jesus, McKay! Let go.”

  She slid her mouth free and licked her lips. “Yep. As salty as I expected.”

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “Because you’re being a dick.”

  “Remind me not to really piss you off,” he muttered.

  “Too late. I’m already mad at you. Anyway, I’m filling in the blanks on the McKay/West feud for the entire McKay family. I wondered if you wanted to be there since you helped with the research.”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I can’t. I’m working a twelve that day.”

  Disappointment flooded her.

  “But I heard there’s a pre-graduation party at Phil Nickels’ parents’ cabin at the lake that night.”

  “Are you going?”

  “I wouldn’t have told you to come if I wasn’t.”

  Close enough to an invite for her. “I’ll show up. Think Angie, Kara and Tyler will be there?”

  His eyes turned cold. “I’ll flatten that fucker Tyler if he comes anywhere near you.”

  “So we’ll have to pretend we’re together again?” Stop acting like that’s what you want. “You have to be tired of that.”

  “Never.” Boone gave her a light head butt that shouldn’t have been sweet, but was. “I gotta get back on track.”

  Sierra groaned.

  “See you around, McKay.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Rielle stayed in the greenhouse long past dark. She’d finished her work hours ago, but she couldn’t force herself to be in the house with happy Gavin and his equally happy sidekick Sierra.

  She was in a mood. This type of surly, sulking mood was rare, but once she became infected with it, look out. Which was why she’d hidden herself away from the people she cared about.

  Gavin wouldn’t track her down. He understood the demands of her business. So with any luck, and with the help of isolation and booze, she’d shake this mood and return to normal tomorrow.

  For the next hour she accomplished exactly nothing except pacing and fretting. Running calculations in her head caused a headache and she threw in the towel. She slipped on her jacket and shut the lights off, her trusty pal Sadie trotting alongside her on the road to the house. On the porch she crouched and hugged her dog. “You’re a good girl, Sadie. Sorry I’ve been lousy company.”