Want Me, Cowboy

by Sinclair Jayne

  The unspoken words were like oil in his mouth. Yeah, no one wanted to be cut out, deemed less than they’d been, and all rodeo cowboys faced that especially young. It took all his will to not shift uncomfortably in his seat. Tanner was smart. Perceptive. Unlike any woman he’d dealt with.

  Luke looked at her more closely. A PhD. That was serious commitment, yet she made it sound like no big deal that her plans had been derailed by her father’s accident, forcing her to leave school, and probably a big city for ranch life again. Hard work. Long hours. Not much pay. Everything poured back into the ranch.

  “I just turned twenty-seven, but my dad still thinks that he and Jorge, who’s been with us for about twenty years, know more about breeding than I do.”

  “Experience is a great teacher,” Luke said neutrally.

  “Ugh. Not you, too. Enter the twenty-first century please. There are so many breakthroughs and new techniques. What I’ve been able to accomplish in the three years I’ve been back home has been astonishing. Our athletes are ranking higher than they ever have been. Triple T bulls are in high demand on the professional rodeo circuit. At this year’s rodeo in St. Paul, our bulls were saved for the finals and only three cowboys stuck the full eight. I know we are ready for the next level of bull riding. I want our top athletes to work with the top human athletes. Oh. Sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

  Luke looked out the window. It had come out the way it was supposed to come out. The way he’d heard it before. Over and over. ‘Why you lettin’ your little brother kick your ass on the IBR? When you jumpin’ to the tour?’

  Like his life should be about chasing after Kane. Hell, he’d done enough of that literally growing up. No way was he ever going to ride in the same circuit or tour. He wanted to be his own man. Not Kane’s big brother. Hearing the comparisons. He’d had enough of the shit from his mom, teachers, coaches.

  And now he might be someone else’s little brother.

  That sat like a lead ball in his gut.

  He uncapped the water and took a deep swallow. Gave himself time to think. Time to forget the burn of her words.

  “No problem,” he said.

  He didn’t add the rest. That he was doing what he loved. That he didn’t just want to ride bulls. He loved the saddleless broncs and the roping events, He also loved the smaller towns and the stock events and the family atmosphere. The whole Americaness of the rodeo, the history, the hard work, the fairgrounds, the charm, and uniqueness of each venue. And he liked sleeping in his own bed Monday through Thursdays, but with his new job that too would change.

  “I have a younger brother who rides on the IBR.”

  “The pretty one? Wait! Kane Wilder is your brother?”

  Inwardly he sighed. He’d enjoyed talking with her, but now it would always be about Kane.

  “His rep give you trouble?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I got a sister, a twin, nothing like me, who’s a burr in my side, too.”

  He laughed and tapped his water bottle to hers. “To family.”

  Not.

  His day continued to careen downhill the moment Tanner pulled into the Wilder ranch. She honked as she drove past the sprawling two-story log cabin style home. One man lived in there alone. Luke liked his solitude, but that pile pushed well beyond his limit. He couldn’t begin to imagine his sophisticated, intelligent, urban mother growing up on a ranch, but she had. Samara Wilder had been a top barrel racer, teen beauty queen, and straight A National Honor Society Presidential scholar before she’d run off with the son of a ranch hand. His father had abandoned his mother within months of his birth and had ended up in jail for accessory to murder somewhere near Tulsa. Luke didn’t remember him. Hadn’t googled him. Had never wanted to meet his grandfather. He just hoped he could keep it that way. The more he thought about his mother’s demand that he visit the Whispering Winds ranch on the pretense of IBR business, the more irritated he became. His professional life was his. Not hers to muck up.

  Who cared if Sam was in financial trouble? Luke had money saved but not enough to buy a massive ranch. And his mom hadn’t been home in thirty years or so. She couldn’t expect to inherit even if she’d growled at him that blood was blood.

  Tanner continued driving toward a long, low white barn where another trailer, similar to the one Tanner pulled, was parked. Tanner had barely stopped the truck before she was out and striding toward a knot of men. Luke climbed out more reluctantly, but he admired the quick, confident way she ate up the ground despite her limp. He wondered if the injury was new or old and if it still hurt. So far he’d been lucky on his bronco and bull rides. A broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder twice, and more groin pulls than he cared to remember. And yeah, busted ribs. And a wrist. Nothing major.

  He’d just reached the group, and Tanner looked up from her intense conversation with a small, wiry cowboy, with a creased face that displayed the years, the sun, and the smiles. They stood in front of a corral where an amazing specimen of a bull eyed the group warily. Tanner’s eyes sparkled with intelligence and interest, and her lips curved in a smile.

  “Hey, Luke, I’d like you to meet—”

  “You’ve got a helluva nerve showing up here.” The voice was gravely and angry and, as far as opening lines, this one pretty much epitomized his day. “You look just like your bastard, drunk, deadbeat, criminal of a daddy.”

  Luke had heard a lot of insults in his life. And crap about his dad. He turned and looked at his grandfather, who looked like he sounded. Angry. Bitter. Tall. Lean. Work-hardened. Thick, black hair, coarse with grey. Pale blue eyes, almost grey, sparkling with barely restrained emotion. Expression granite, pissed off.

  “Not him.” Luke said.

  Sam Wilder swore and spat on the ground. “I heard about your brawl at Grey’s with a soldier. A man who’s served our country while you’ve just served yourself. Blood’s blood.”

  Just like his daughter. Luke wondered what Sam Wilder’s retort would be if he knew the so called honorable soldier was also the possible spawn of the bastard drunk, deadbeat, criminal daddy.

  “Yes. It is.”

  He held his ground. He was fifty percent Wilder. Even a man who hadn’t made a name breeding champion broncos and bulls could figure that out, but, no, Sam Wilder lived alone. No daughter. No grandchildren. No future. Only his past nursed by his bitter anger and resentment.

  “No De Silva will ever be welcome here.” Sam took another step forward.

  For what? Did he think he could taunt his grandson by blood into taking a wild swing at him?

  “De Silvas are thieving, womanizing, disgusting savages.”

  “Name’s Wilder,” he said calmly ignoring the shuffling gaze of the ranch hands.

  Tanner stood beside him, and he didn’t risk a look.

  “You don’t know me.” Luke had never once been accused of ever being even slightly out of control, much less savage. “You never will.”

  “There’s nothing for you here. Get. Off. My. Land. And tell my slut of a daughter that I’ll burn this place down before I let her step on Wilder dirt again.”

  Tanner’s breath caught in her throat.

  A pale blue gaze burned into his golden brown one.

  Luke stared at the man his mother had run away from as a teenager. Twice. No stretch of imagination necessary to see what had caused that rift. Unforgiving. Judging. Hateful.

  “Guess the IBR is just interested in contracting with your bulls and no others in the Marietta area, Ms. McTavish,” he said to the entire group and heard several harsh inhales. “Thanks for the lift though. I’ll wait in your truck.”

  Luke settled into the truck and ignored his phone as it buzzed with message after message. He was not talking to his mother. If he’d ignored the first call he’d received in months from her, he wouldn’t be in Marietta now. He wouldn’t be silently burning from the public slap down from a grandfather he’d just met. His head wouldn’t be throbbing fr
om a well-placed punch from a maybe brother he’d stumbled into, who also might have cracked a couple of Luke’s ribs while he was at it.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Tanner swung herself into the truck and started the engine.

  “Just another day.” Luke tipped his hat to her. “But I was sittin’ here thinkin’”—he went all country to hide the emotions that raced through him so fast he didn’t recognize himself—“I need to learn to duck fists and phone calls.”

  “And family,” Tanner said. “Let’s load up. Can’t say I’m too surprised Sam’s dug his hole deeper, but your well-placed verbal slap at the end shut him up good.”

  She grinned and held out her fist. He bumped it halfheartedly and then smiled a little as she waved her fingers and made an exploding sound.

  “You just guaranteed no one else will back Sam and give you the shoved shoulder with you being the IBR rep and also with your rodeo roots. He really needs to learn to Google.”

  Luke felt a little better. She’d managed to lighten his mood and he didn’t feel like she was going to grill him. He didn’t share that he was only the temporary Montana rep. Leverage was a tool and he needed something in his toolbox after this unwieldy beast of a day. Besides, technically, the Montana territory was up for grabs, but who the hell would want it?

  “You know what you need cowboy?”

  “A beer and a different family?”

  “I ain’t proposing.” She grinned. “Let’s start with a sandwich, iced tea, and a couple of Ibuprofen for you.”

  “Best proposal ever.”

  “You get many?”

  “Nah. But even if I did, that would still be the best.”

  Chapter Four

  “That’s Airborn,” Tanner said, indicating the black and white bull, “and that little man is one of my favorites, Hang Time.”

  Luke looked at the two bulls chewing their grain mixture that Tanner had measured out with the same care and precision she’d exercised while making him two club sandwiches on toasted hoagie rolls. The sandwiches had been delicious, but sitting in Tanner’s bright, clean, slightly austere kitchen and looking at the handblown glass pendant lights that had hung down over the massive island giving the kitchen a modern, artistic flare, had made the quick meal one of the most enjoyable he could remember. He hadn’t been able to help himself from snagging a few more pickles before they toured one of her barns.

  “Little man, my ass. He’s huge.”

  “Gorgeous lines.” Tanner defended. “Wait ’til you see him out of the chute! He launches. So do the cowboys. Should have called him rocket.”

  “There you go with your challenges,” Luke said. “I hope I draw him first.”

  “Nah.” Her brownish green eyes sparkled. “I’m all set for you to make it to Sunday’s championship round. Then you can draw Hang Time.”

  “I’ll be there, hand in the air, ridin’ my eight seconds like I’m on a float in the parade.”

  She laughed. “Oh, so now you’re king of the rodeo, reclining on your golden throne,” she said. “If you draw this bad boy, the only reclining you’ll be doin’ is on the dirt.”

  “Ouch.” Luke laughed. “Your mama never teach you to stroke a man’s ego?”

  He immediately winced at the implication. He hadn’t meant it sexually, but the way Tanner sucked in a quick breath made him want to kick himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Oh.” She looked a bit startled and then smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No offense taken, cowboy.”

  But he wondered about the look, and a trickle of dread pooled low in his stomach as he realized she hadn’t mentioned her mama nor had he met her when he’d met her dad. Luke’s heart rate kicked up as he watched the magnificent beast, who no longer seemed interested in its feed, as it stared back at him.

  His brother Kane could and would outstare any bull. He swore he could read their minds, feel what they were going to do before they did it. It was what made him a champion, one of the top riders in the world and the cocky bastard was not yet twenty-six. For Kane, the ride was a partnership. “You don’t want to dominate.” Kane noted one day when he wasn’t even eighteen and he’d watched Luke score his first first place. “You want to participate.”

  That about summed up Kane’s approach to life. Not one bit sorry. But today, looking at these bulls, one-on-one, in their pens, no other cowboys around bragging or analyzing, no distractions of the back stage area of the rodeo or the hum of the crowd anticipating a show of man versus beast, the announcer ginning up the spectators, cowboys getting in their zone, he found himself really looking.

  The IBR was a whole different show from the rodeo. And they would want the best bulls. He was confident in his abilities to spot the traits. To smell BS when it was being flung in his direction, but what did Kane really see when he watched a bull?

  Luke had seen his brother do it. More than once. It had started when Kane was still a young teen. His complete absorption. No longer his cocky, smiling brother full of confidence and good-humored teasing. His posture would change. His pale blue, almost grey-silver eyes, so like their mother’s, would seem to shimmer in concentration. His focus looked mystic. His arms would move up from his sides a little like they were lighter than air, and his fingers fluttered almost like he was trying to caress the cottonwood puffs that drifted through the air each May. And Kane, always so physical and restless and talkative, singing and dancing and laughing his way through life would be absolutely still, just the rhythmic finger twitch.

  “Beautiful,” Luke said, no longer eyeing the bulls, but instead looking at Tanner, her pale, freckled face shining with pride.

  Her gaze intelligently assessed the animals. Then she pushed her cute, green cowboy hat a bit further back on her head and as she faced him, her gaze had a hint of shyness mingled with her pride. Luke caught his breath. Tanner was so natural, so easy to talk to. She smiled at him easily, and the fact she hadn’t pushed for information about his confrontation with Sam elevated her just that much higher. His life and now his drama were his own, but he wasn’t used to women who didn’t demand or pry.

  “What now, cowboy?”

  “I want to see more.”

  A lot more.

  *

  “Dex, that you?” Luke walked back to his trailer at the fairgrounds, intending to take a quick shower after he had helped Tanner and her crew load up ten bulls for the rodeo.

  She was now getting them settled into their temporary homes during the event and he’d promised her a latte after she’d finished.

  The suggestion had been spontaneous. He still couldn’t believe he’d made it. Tanner had been surprised as much by the offer as by the fact he had an espresso machine in his trailer, but he was addicted to good coffee and his brother Kane had bought him one for Christmas, after spending a week’s holiday with him fly fishing and bitching about how Luke would drive into the small town twice a day to buy a vanilla latte. He’d taken to calling him Starbuck, but Luke didn’t give a shit. Every man could have a vice and coffee drinks were his.

  “Thought this was your rig.” Dex, a wiry cowboy with curly blonde hair all the ladies loved, came over and shook his hand. “Couldn’t believe you were coming to Montana to ride with the real men. You being a mountain boy and all.”

  “Gotta spank your ego sometime.” Luke said easily, bodychecking the younger cowboy good-naturedly.

  “You’re goin’ down this weekend, Wilder.”

  “Not without a fight.”

  Dex laughed and pulled on some leather work gloves as he approached the hitch of his trailer.

  “You need some help making camp?” Luke asked, pleased to see a familiar face. “You’re early. Thought most the cowboys would be arriving tomorrow.”

  Dex shrugged. “I’m between jobs so stayin’ at my sisters. She’s got three kids under five so an early escaped seemed best.”

  Luke had met Dex’s sister at
a few rodeos over the years. She’d always been a vocal Dex fan, which was so sweet. They’d lost their parents young, and Sarah had married at eighteen and started having kids right away. Dex was two years older and had worked hard on different ranches and competed just as hard, hoping she’d go to college since she was so smart, but she’d fallen in love with a sheriff’s deputy her first semester at community college and that was that.

  He helped Dex get his trailer set up.

  “Thanks,” Dex said. “Surprised you’re in Montana. Looked up your rankings. You’re having your best year on the Mountain,” he said, referring to the Mountain circuit.

  Luke shrugged, not enjoying discussing rankings when he was doing well or poorly, which thankfully hadn’t happened yet. When it did and his reflexes began to slow, he hoped he’d have the balls to get out while he could still walk and hopefully do a whole helluva lot of other things, which was why he’d started angling to be a stock rep. At twenty-eight, he was starting to see thirty, and that was always the time he thought he’d want to settle a bit more. Buy a house with some land. Breed bulls and horses.

  The whole package.

  Except marriage. He couldn’t see himself in a long-term relationship. Watching his mother date man after man, jumping in and jumping out, always looking for something that didn’t exist, railing against God that her true love had betrayed her, abandoned her. It was like she’d been broken at eighteen and he didn’t want to deal with anything that volatile.

  Keep it fun and casual was his motto.

  “Best of luck.” Dex pulled off his gloves and shook Luke’s hand.