Keep My Heart (Top Shelf Romance Book 7)

by Lex Martin

  “She does, worrywart,” my brother Logan grumbles.

  I rub the scruff on my jaw. “What’s Tori doing now? Why does she want the job?” I’m not about to let just anyone babysit my kids.

  “Christ, Ethan. Probably to pay her bills? How the hell should I know why she wants the job? Look, Kat raved about her sister, and you know how responsible Kat and Brady are. I can’t imagine they’d hook you up with a criminal.”

  “I’m not excited to hire someone through friends. What if it doesn’t work out? Brady is one of the few guys in the area I can tolerate. If I fire his sister-in-law, he’ll be pissed, and then who will we get to fill his spot on poker night?”

  “So don’t fire her, asshole. It’s only two or three months, not a lifelong commitment. If you don’t like her, just make sure she’s good with the kids and feeds them, doesn’t let them turn into hooligans, and then go do your own thing.” He laughs under his breath. “And everyone says you’re the smart one.”

  I smirk. “That’s ’cause I am, little brother.” I’m four years older than Logan, but we’ve always been close. Even if he is a pain in the ass.

  Sometimes I forget he doesn’t live with me since he’s always crawling up my ass about something. He and our mom live in a small house on the other side of our property, but they’re both here almost daily.

  Although my mom initially inherited Carter Cutting Horses when my dad died, she didn’t want the responsibility of the ranch, especially since Logan and I ended up overseeing the day-to-day operations, so she transferred it to us. Which was great until my wife decided to divorce me and untangle our assets.

  Logan cocks an eyebrow. “Think of it this way. With a live-in nanny, maybe you’ll leave the ranch for once. Go out and have a good time. Laugh again. Hell, maybe get laid. For real this time. Because we’re not counting your hand or the pocket pussy I gave you for Christmas.”

  “I threw that thing out. Like I really want to have a sex toy lying around so Mila or Cody could find it.” Besides, it was too narrow. “And I laugh plenty.”

  He snorts. “Bullshit. You used to be a fun guy. Now you only grunt at everyone.”

  Barely holding back a grunt, I shrug. I guess he has a point.

  Shuffling through another pile of mail, I finally spot the envelope I’m looking for. “You know what I really need? Another trainer. Bill hurt his back, and there’s no way we’ll be ready for the fall auction if I can’t get someone to work with the new colts. While we’re at it, I need someone to organize my desk before I miss something important. That’s what I really need. Not pussy.”

  Although I probably wouldn’t turn it away. Being a single dad and running this ranch is stressful as fuck. I could use a release. But dating? Relationships? Commitment? No, thanks. Been there, done that. I’m still recovering from that grenade. Every time I run across the divorce papers I got served this spring, it still fucking hurts. Doesn’t matter that we separated over a year ago. When you watch your dreams for your family go up in flames, it kills something inside you can’t get back.

  The door creeks open, and Mila pokes her head in and rubs her sleepy eyes. Shit, I hope she didn’t overhear me talking about a sex toy.

  “Hey, honeybunch. Whatcha doing up?”

  “Can’t sleep,” she whispers.

  I lean back in my leather chair and pat my lap while I tell my brother I gotta go.

  “Think about what I said,” he mumbles in my ear. “Because you can’t do the work of two trainers, take care of your kids, and deal with all the office paperwork. And if you meet Kat’s sister, try not to scare her off with your asshole ways.”

  That’s my brother, telling me shit I already know.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I hang up and reach for my daughter, who curls up against me and burrows against my neck. “Bad dream?” She nods, I tighten my arms around her. “Need some big hugs, huh?”

  I get another nod, and I kiss the top of her head. Mila is five and has been having nightmares on and off since her mother and I split up last year. The counselor says it’s natural for her to be experiencing anxiety from the dramatic shift in our family situation. Because she went from being with her mom all day, every day to only seeing her every other weekend, if she’s lucky.

  I try to breathe through the anxiousness I feel for my kids. Breathe through the lingering sense of abandonment. If I feel it, I know they do. I still don’t understand how Allison could leave us. How did she go from being a wife and a mother to being single again and moving two goddamn hours away? If she doesn’t love me anymore, fine. Although it hurts, I understand needing some space. But what about the kids? They didn’t do anything wrong.

  Here’s the thing no one ever tells you about love. It turns to hate pretty fucking fast when the object of your affection hurts your kids.

  No one forced Allison to move to San Antonio. So those promises she made to Mila and Cody that she would be here at a moment’s notice if they needed her? Gone faster than the dust behind her car as it drove down our driveway.

  My mom’s been helping as much as she can, but between her arthritis and how the kids stress her out, I need to find another solution. I won’t let her cancel her plans to help her sister in Chicago this summer because I know she needs a break, which means shit’s getting real if I don’t find a babysitter in the next week.

  Kat’s a sweetheart. If her sister is as lovely and patient as she is, we’ll be golden.

  Here’s the problem—I’ve never left my kids with anyone but family, and I’m not thrilled to start. Especially when you hear about the horrible shit on the news. Whoever I hire is gonna get fingerprinted and background-checked. Hell, if I could, I’d ask to see her SAT scores, psychological profile, and college transcripts. I don’t think you can ever know too much about the folks you have around your children. The ranch hands on the property are bad enough, but at least they’ve been around for years, so I know them and their families. And they know that I know how to use a motherfucking shotgun.

  Mila’s breath steadies against me, and before long, she’s asleep. Careful not to jostle her, I head down the hall and gently set her down in bed. I’m reaching for the blanket when something shiny by her pillow catches my eye.

  An ache spreads through my chest when I realize it’s a framed photo from the mantel in the living room.

  In it, Allison and I are arm-in-arm. She’s holding a newborn Cody, and Mila is wrapped around my neck like a spider monkey. We look so damn happy. Hell, I was happy.

  I thought my wife was happy too. Turns out I was wrong.

  Because Allison said this was what she wanted—life on the ranch, kids, barbecues with our families on the weekend when we weren’t working. A simple life with love and laughter.

  Except she pawned off the kids to my mother or brother whenever she could, and she hated the horses. I don’t know how you hate horses, but she did.

  I’m not a bastard. I realize all that domestic stuff is hard. I did as much as I could while working twelve-hour days with the horses and trying to keep this place afloat. But I’m not wealthy like her family, so I couldn’t afford the luxuries she grew up with. Butlers? Maids? Drivers? Sorry, not happening. The best I could do was updating the house to make it more comfortable for her.

  Sadness washes over me as I look at our faces in the photo. At the hope in my eyes. I thought I could have it all.

  Stupid motherfucker.

  I’ll never make that mistake again.

  It happened so fast. One day we were sitting down to dinner and making plans for the weekend, and the next she was packing her bags and leveling me with those four deadly words: I want a divorce.

  Rubbing a hand over my face, I half wonder if she ever loved me and the life we built together, or if she was always full of shit.

  I’ll probably never know because that would require clear communication, and we’ve only been having screaming matches lately. I can’t decide if that’s better than when she gives me the silent treatment. Isn�
��t there a happy medium where we talk like adults?

  But the thing that keeps me up at night, the thorn I can’t quite dig out of my side? If I woke up tomorrow and found her on my front steps, admitting that she still loved me and begging to be a family again? I’d probably take her back.

  At least then I wouldn’t have to hear my kids cry at night while they clutch old photos because they miss their momma. I can live without love, but I’m not sure that they can.

  Ethan

  “Morning, gorgeous,” I whisper, my voice raspy since I’ve only been in the company of horses for the last several hours. “Keeping these boys in line?” The mare whinnies as I brush out her mane.

  The colts in the stalls on either side of her glare at me. I swear they know I’m busting their balls. Horses are smarter than people give them credit for.

  I yank back my baseball cap and wipe the sweat away. It’s not even seven in the morning, but the air is already thick and humid. It’ll be a scorcher.

  On days like today, I try to get to the stables along the back of my property as early as possible, usually around four in the morning, because around ten or eleven, it’ll be too hot to go riding. I’ll have to wait until early evening to attempt it, but that’s Texas in the summer for you.

  All morning, I think about that conversation with my brother last night and wonder how I’m supposed to find someone who’ll love and nurture my kids half as much as my mom. It feels like an insurmountable task.

  By the time my nine o’clock lesson shows up, I’m a grumpy fuck.

  Eyeing the BMW that pulls up the drive, I groan. Mallory Mathers is richer than God and pays an obscene amount of money for me to board and train her filly and give her lessons, but it’s a tradeoff in my sanity for several reasons. One, she’s my wife’s friend and our families go way back. Two, she always hits on me. I can only convey my disinterest so many ways before I lose my patience. Three, I need the business right now, so I can’t be a dick.

  “How’s my girl doing, Ethan?” she coos when she enters the barn, flicking her red hair over her shoulder.

  I don’t have to force the smile since we’re talking horses. “Doing awesome. She’s a natural.” Baby Got Back is young, so we’re still taking it easy, but between her pedigree and her own natural athleticism and cow sense, I’d say Mallory has herself a winner.

  There’s a lot of money to be won in cutting events. Even though I could use some of those winnings now, it’s the competition I’ve always loved. But the thought of getting back in the arena is bittersweet, so I push it out of my mind and focus on the sorrel filly in front of me.

  It takes a special kind of animal to go toe-to-toe with a six-hundred-pound cow and “cut it” from the herd. A cutting horse has to be agile and lightning-fast to stop, turn, and juke the cow, keeping it away from the herd. Not only will Baby be excellent in the ring, she’d make an incredible work horse if that was what her owner needed.

  Judging by my client’s designer duds, though, work is not what Mallory has in mind. While she knows her horses, Mallory’s probably better suited for an equestrian ring than cutting, but who am I to judge?

  “You bring a change of clothes? Gonna get those nice threads dirty if you go riding.”

  A smile tilts her over-painted lips. “These old things?” She laughs, and Baby jerks in her stall, startled. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty when I ride.” Her hand drifts across my shoulder, and I roll my eyes, grateful she can’t see my face.

  I should probably appreciate that an attractive woman is paying attention to me. Looking down at the mud on my boots and the grime on my hands, all I see is a filthy rancher who trains other people to win.

  What’s the old adage—those who can’t do, teach? That’s me.

  But no amount of self-pity will get me interested in someone from Allison’s circle of friends.

  Mallory scratches Baby’s ear. “Think I can ride her soon?”

  “Nope.” The woman whines like my five-year-old, and it’s all I can do to not throw her out of my facility. “You wanna teach her some bad habits? Maybe get thrown off ’cause neither of you are ready? Then be my guest. Otherwise you’ll be learning on one of my horses until Baby can handle you.”

  After a staredown, she huffs, “Your daddy was nicer.”

  No shit. “Well, he ain’t here, so buck up, buttercup.”

  The mention of my father darkens my mood. Pops was a champion cutting horse rider and loved by everyone who trained here. He would’ve charmed Mallory into thinking it was her idea to ride one of our other horses.

  I don’t have time for charm.

  “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  Mallory rolls her eyes, but gathers her equipment so we can get started.

  Once her lesson’s done and she’s out of my hair, I hurry to ride one more horse before it gets too hot. By the time I’m finished, my face is burning from the searing heat. Stomping over to the faucet on the side of the barn, I bend over to splash some cold water on my face, but it comes out warm.

  “Damn it.” I wipe my face again and tell my two ranch hands that I’m headed to the house for a few minutes and they should take their lunch. I wish I could say we’re calling it a day, that I can pick up the rest of my workload this evening when it’s cooler, but that’s not an option if I want to get my kids fed, bathed, and tucked into bed before a potential buyer swings by tonight to look at one of our yearlings.

  My shoes kick up dirt as I trudge across our expansive yard, but I love this walk. A deep pride wells up in me as I approach my home through the field of dandelions and thistle. I inherited this house from my parents, and I’ve worked my ass off to take care of it. Some day, I hope to give it to my kids so they can have the same leg up in this world that my folks gave me and Logan.

  My brother also inherited a house on the other side of the property, which we share for the sake of the business. Since Allison left, I’ve wondered if it would be easier to have my mom move back in with me and the kids instead of having her live with Logan, but I’m afraid that would make my dependence on her worse. The woman needs a break, which she won’t get here.

  Mila comes tearing by me when I open the back door, and Cody toddles after her. “No running in the house.”

  Mila slows to a halt until Cody plows into her legs, and then she starts power-walking around the corner. My mom lumbers about ten paces behind.

  “You doing okay, Ma?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m okay, but those little punks are getting faster.”

  “Don’t you dare run after them.”

  “Their mischief and mayhem know no bounds, so until you find that babysitter, don’t tell me what to do.”

  I snicker at her snippy attitude. “I’m on it. I’m on it. Soon, you’ll be sipping mimosas with Aunt Hazel, missing your rugrats.”

  “Ain’t it the truth.” She pats my cheek like I’m a boy and shuffles off to track down my children.

  Turning, I make my way to the kitchen, my least favorite part of the house. Everything about this room reminds me of my wife. The track lighting and the professional range oven. The dark marble counters and fancy cookware. All shit she wanted but never used or appreciated.

  At least now I can bathe in the enormous double sink without her bitching about it.

  Stripping off my sweat-soaked t-shirt, I duck under the cold faucet in the kitchen, get my head and neck wet, and hope to God the sudden change in temperature doesn’t make me stroke out.

  This is when Allison would complain I was raised in a barn, which isn’t far from the truth.

  I’m twisting the faucet when I hear a familiar voice.

  “E, you back here?” my brother calls out.

  “Yeah. Kitchen.”

  Footsteps sound down the hall as I reach out for a dry dishtowel. My eyes are stinging with sweat, so it takes me a few tries to find the right drawer.

  Finally, I wrap my hands around a towel and bring it to my face
just as a throat clears behind me.

  By the time I dry my face and open my eyes, I come face to face with Logan, who looks like a cat prowling a cage of canaries. Then I see why.

  He’s not alone.

  “Thought I’d bring Kat and her sister so you could chat.”

  He smirks as I take in the two women by his side.

  “Hey, Kat.” I motion with my head.

  “Hi, neighbor.” She gives me a sweet smile as she rubs her swollen stomach. Then she nudges the woman next to her. “This is my younger sister Tori.”

  That’s when I finally get a good look at the sister. Fucking Logan.

  My eyes dart back to my brother, who’s grinning so wide, I can count his molars. I glare at him, knowing full well what he’s doing right now. My brother is worse than my mother when it comes to matchmaking. Because if his expression is any indication, this is about more than finding a babysitter.

  Some men are all about tits. Others like a girl’s ass. Me, I’m a hair man. So it sucked when Allison chopped hers off right after we got married and kept it short.

  With a resigned sigh, I finally turn my full attention to Tori, whose long, dark mane tumbles over her shoulders like she’s some kind of mermaid. Dressed in a white tank top, cutoffs, and some weathered shitkickers, she looks ready to star in a dirty cowboy fantasy. Long legs. Curves for miles. So much bare skin. I barely hold in a groan.

  Big, luminous hazel eyes blink back at me as she unabashedly studies my face, my chest, my tats… I look down, realizing I’m standing here only sporting jeans and dripping water and barn funk all over the kitchen floor.

  I clear my throat. “Ladies, excuse me. Was out with the horses this morning. Had I known you were coming by…”

  My brother laughs. “The horses are the only ones around here who can tolerate Ethan, since hospitality isn’t his strong suit, but he can make a damn fine barbecue.”

  Kat frowns and turns to Logan. “I thought you said you scheduled this with him.”

  Yeah, right. I would’ve told him to do this another day.