The Last Real Cowboy

by Caitlin Crews

  “That is the real issue. Your family trusts me. And I betrayed them. I have to live with that.”

  “Which is it? First, it was that I’m the marrying kind, which is apparently a bad thing. Now, it’s something to do with my family’s trust. They can’t both be true. Here’s another possibility. You’re afraid.”

  “You’re not making this any easier.” He jerked away from the wall then, slashing a hand through the air, like that could keep her quiet. “I’m trying to give you options, Amanda. You’re a great—”

  “If you say anything even remotely like ‘you’re a great kid, Amanda,’ I won’t be held responsible for my actions. I’m serious, Brady.”

  That seemed to reach him. He readjusted his hat, then ran the same hand over his jaw. She liked the notion that she wasn’t the only unsteady one here.

  He tried again. “You know as well as I do that people have to make their own way in a town like this. It’s that or they leave. Because there are only so many jobs in this valley and most of them suck.” Brady wasn’t precisely frowning at her, but that sure wasn’t a smile either. “I want to help you, that’s all.”

  Amanda snorted. In a manner that would have horrified her mother. “Please. You want to buy me off. I guess you’re lucky I’m the kind of girl who likes barns instead of sports cars. That would give the whole thing away. A sports car has sugar daddy written all over it.”

  He muttered something, not entirely beneath his breath.

  She kept going. “But it’s going to be hard to explain this too. Don’t you think it’s going to look a little weird that of all the girls in Cold River, you decided to give me a big old barn?”

  “You’re a friend of the family.”

  “Brady. They’re all going to know.” She waved her finger in a lazy sort of loop to encompass everything from the beams up high to the weathered wood floorboards at their feet. “You might as well paint Brady Everett took Amanda Kittredge’s virginity on the side of the barn for the whole town to read.”

  His jaw was set hard enough to shatter. “That should never have happened.”

  “It did happen. It was a wonder. And you don’t get to pretend otherwise just because you’ve had an attack of your overactive guilty conscience.”

  “If my conscience was involved, none of this would ever have happened.”

  “That seems awfully convenient,” she threw at him. “Too bad you don’t get to wave your magic wand and make it all go away.”

  “This was never supposed to be a thing, Amanda. We agreed.”

  She hated to admit that he was right. “We did.”

  “So maybe you can tell me why you’re acting like I got you pregnant and tossed you out of a moving vehicle.”

  She knew better. She knew there was one thing he would want to hear even less than all of this. She’d been biting it back all month.

  But he was staying.

  He was staying, and he was ending things, and how was she supposed to handle that? Was she going to have to run away from him for the rest of her life? She had a vague memory of standing there at the homecoming game, talking blithely about walks of shame and awkward silences in grocery store lines.

  She’d imagined it would be fun. Like the aftermath of a game of Cards Against Humanity.

  Not the probability that she would watch Brady go out of his way to pretend he didn’t see her. Or act like he’d never touched her.

  Shame and awkwardness have never appealed to me, Kat had said then.

  Why hadn’t Amanda listened? Why didn’t Amanda ever listen?

  But imagining a hideously embarrassing grocery store line set something loose inside her in a terrible tidal wave. She was already losing everything. She was already going to have to live with that. He looked about as moveable as the mountains outside.

  Why not put all her cards on the table? If he was rejecting her, he should know exactly what he was rejecting. Not only her body, but her heart.

  “You’re a smart guy,” she managed to say, and part of her liked the way his scowl deepened at that. “You always have been. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that I’m completely in love with you.”

  It was so quiet then, so still. Amanda was sure she could hear the river outside. At least it was moving, unlike Brady, who she was pretty sure had turned to stone.

  “Head over heels in love,” she clarified. “With you, Brady.”

  He looked grim. “Maybe you think you are.”

  “I know I am.”

  She hated the way he sighed, then. Hated it.

  “This is part of the problem, Amanda,” he said, and he sounded much too calm. Too removed and distant. “This is what happens when you decide to get rid of your virginity with a guy you hardly know.”

  “You’re a friend of the family.”

  His dark green eyes narrowed at the echo of his own words, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he shook his head. Sadly. Pityingly, even, and she wanted to kill him.

  “You don’t know any better. I get that. Sex isn’t love.”

  “Of course I know better,” she retorted, stung. “It’s why I didn’t have sex with anyone else.”

  His jaw was a rock again. “You didn’t have sex with anybody else because your brothers would kill anyone dumb enough to go near you.”

  Amanda made a noise of pure frustration. “They would have to turn up at the house and ask me on a date in front of my entire family for my brothers to know they existed. And no high school kid is going to do something like that. But do you really think I couldn’t have snuck off into the woods and dealt with things in the back of a pickup truck like everyone else does around here? I didn’t want to. I chose not to.” She leaned in a little closer to emphasize her point. “I picked you, Brady. And do you want to know why?”

  “I absolutely do not.”

  “Because I’ve had a thing about you for as long as I can remember. Because you were always around. Because you were in my house, and not one of my brothers. Because you really are smart. Fascinating, even. And you didn’t settle down into the family business out of obligation like a lot of people would have. You went to college. Now you’re back and you still want to do things your own way. I like it.”

  He looked as if he wanted to say something, so she waited, but he didn’t speak. Storms moved over his face, but he stayed where he was.

  She’d already gone this far. Why not keep going?

  “You were different then and you’re different now,” she told him. “Because while you certainly didn’t notice me back then, you didn’t tease me or mock me either. And every time you were nice to me, I called it a Brady moment.”

  He muttered something again that she was glad she couldn’t hear.

  “A Brady moment,” he repeated, as if it hurt him. “Amanda—”

  “But then one day, you looked at me like I was a woman. An actual woman. Because I was wearing a skimpy tank top and serving drinks in a sketchy bar. And I didn’t want to go back from that.” She lifted her hands but let them drop again, because she couldn’t start begging. Not quite. Not yet. “So I chose you. And it was even better than I imagined.”

  “You have to stop.”

  “I’m not going to stop. You’re the one who came back, Brady. You’re the one who always came back. And not because you were broken, like Ty. Not because you didn’t want any other path, like Gray. You chose to come home. You chose to subject yourself to your father. And when Gray asked, you chose to stay here all year and do what he wanted rather than what you wanted. I could love you for that alone.”

  “Says the girl who left the family ranch herself,” Brady gritted out at her, as if he was fighting a mortal wound.

  She couldn’t help but hope he was. And that it matched hers.

  “I wanted a taste of independence, sure. But I was never going to leave this valley. And not because I can’t imagine a way out, because I can. I have. But because I love it here. And guess what, Brady? So do you.”

  He
started a little, like he was waking up and was surprised to find himself here. She flattered herself that he looked even more unsteady than he had before when he scowled at her again.

  “I knew you wouldn’t take this well,” he growled at her. “But I promised you when we started that I wouldn’t disappear when this was done. I promised I would have this conversation.”

  “You love this town, Brady,” Amanda said with a deep conviction she hadn’t realized was in there, but wasn’t surprised to hear come out of her like that. As if a part of her had always known. “You love your land, and you love your brothers, and you love my brothers too. And deep down, where you’re too afraid to look, I think you love me too.”

  He stared back at her, and it was funny how what swelled inside her then wasn’t insecurity. She didn’t wonder if he loved her. She knew.

  But it had never occurred to her that loving someone might not matter. That it might not be enough.

  “I don’t.” And his voice was as stark as his gaze was dark, and it made her want to cry. “I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Everything about you is bright, happy, new.” And he moved then, closing the distance between them and pulling her into his arms with a rough sort of urgency. “But I know the darkness that’s in me. I used to sit out there, all alone on that rock by the river, and wonder how it would come out in me. Would I beat my children? Would I lose myself in the bottle? Would I terrorize my wife? I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would avoid having to answer those questions.”

  “You drink all the time,” she pointed out, over the lump in her throat. “Somehow you’ve managed not to become a mean, bitter old drunk. Probably because you’re not one.”

  Brady shook his head. “You weren’t there when I tested that theory in college, Amanda. These days I don’t have to drink. I like it every now and again. As long as I’m in control.” His fingers pressed into her arms, and she liked it. She liked the connection. The heat. “But you’re already too much for me.”

  She wanted to touch him too, but was afraid that would make him let go of her. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I think about you all the time. I want to be with you all the time. You make me forget promises I made to myself. I can’t start down that road. I already know where it ends.”

  “Why are your brothers allowed to be happy, but you’re not?”

  “Don’t act like they didn’t pay the price. Gray’s first wife almost destroyed him. Ty is lucky he can walk, much less remember anything that happened before that bull took him out.” Brady’s gaze was nearly black as it searched her face. “I’m not willing to sacrifice you. I’m not willing to see how badly you can be hurt because I can’t bring myself to let you go the way I know I should.”

  “Why is that your decision? What about what I want?”

  “Amanda. Take the barn. Make all your dreams come true. You say you love me? Love me that way.”

  “I want your heart, Brady. Not a barn.”

  “A barn is all I can give you,” he said, and the darkness in his voice broke her heart all over again. “I didn’t expect to stay here, Amanda. I never thought that Gray and Ty would agree to let me do my own thing. I assumed it would be all or nothing, because that’s the way it always has been. I never would have started anything with you otherwise.”

  That was like a spike to the heart.

  Even if, way back, she might have told herself the same thing. That he was a man who wouldn’t stay and that made him an excellent set of training wheels.

  She’d really believed that, hard as it was to imagine now.

  “Is this you being noble?” she managed to ask, past the overwhelming urge to either break down into sobs or punch him. Preferably both. “I can have a farm stand, built on the ashes of this thing between us. Which for some reason can’t continue because of your father. Your dead father. Is that about it?”

  “I get that you’re tired of everybody telling you that you don’t know enough to make decisions about your own life,” Brady began.

  “You’re right. I am.”

  “But I know me better than you do. And chemistry like ours is never going to lead to anything good.”

  Somehow, of all the blows today, that was the worst.

  “Because you’ve had this kind of off-the-chart chemistry before? Is this always how it is for you?”

  She could tell, as he stared down at her, that he wanted to tell her that it was normal. That it was everyday. But a muscle flexed in his jaw. And his eyes burned.

  “I go out of my way to make sure I don’t let anything get this intense.” He sounded furious. Oddly, that made her feel a little bit better. “It’s too much, Amanda. It has to stop. Because you know what happens if it doesn’t? Broken bottles. Broken furniture. Kids with black eyes. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “I don’t think it’s a disaster at all,” she whispered. “But even if it is … why can’t we be a disaster together?”

  “No.”

  That was when she really did cry, terrible, silent tears tracing down her cheeks, because he wasn’t looking at her as if he didn’t love her. As cruel as that might have been, it would have been easier. Instead, he looked tortured, and they were both hurting, and there was nothing she could do about any of it.

  “I love you,” she told him helplessly.

  “You’ll get over it.” But he smoothed her hair back from her face as he said it. And he tried to wipe away her tears, but they kept coming. “You’re going to meet a good guy. You’re going to settle down, have a few kids, here in town or out on Bar K land somewhere. He’s going to treat you right. You’re going to have a nice life, I promise.”

  “You’re making that sound about as appealing as ending up alone, with cats, like Harriet Barnett. Who will sooner or later turn into Miss Patrick, and you know it.”

  “Then I’m telling it wrong. You’re going to be happy. That’s what I’m trying to say. You and me? Sneaking around? Lying to your brothers? How’s that going to end?” His thumbs moved beneath her eyes again and came away wet. And he might have sounded gentle, but there was steel in it. “I’ll tell you how. Badly.”

  “Then we’ll stop sneaking around. We’ll tell them; they’ll scream and yell the way they always do, and then it will be fine. Because it’s always fine. Because they don’t actually hate you, and they’re going to have to accept that I’m a grown woman sooner or later—”

  “But they don’t have to accept that it’s me.” There was an awful finality in his voice. “It’s never going to be me.”

  “It’s only you,” she retorted, desperate. “Only and ever you.”

  “I’m going to dance at your wedding, Amanda,” he said, like he was making a vow. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  That was so ridiculous, so hurtful and hilarious at once, that she let out a sound that was as much a laugh as it was a sob. Or maybe it was a scream. And she couldn’t help herself. She surged forward, kissing him like it was the last time.

  Because he kept saying that it was.

  And it was all that wild heat, and sweet too. It was all the promises he’d made her, and the sound of his laughter, and how stunned he always looked when she smiled at him.

  It was his talented hands all over her body, and the things he did with his mouth.

  He kissed her back, and it was a vow and it was a farewell, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to survive it—

  Brady pulled away and scowled down at her. Again.

  “That’s it.” He sounded like he was telling himself. “We’re done.”

  “You keep saying that,” Amanda whispered. “But I don’t think it’s going to change anything.”

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Amanda blinked, then half turned to the familiar voice—though it was louder and angrier than she’d heard it in a long time. Brady started to turn as well.

  Because it was Riley.

  Right ther
e in the barn with them.

  With murder all over his face.

  “Why is my sister crying, Brady?” he demanded. “Why are you touching my sister?”

  Brady dropped his hands. “I can explain—”

  “Riley, wait—” Amanda began.

  But it was too late.

  Riley moved closer, and Amanda had never really paid attention to how big he was. She did now.

  “Riley—” she tried again.

  But it was happening too fast. Riley shoved Brady back away from Amanda, with a hard hand to his shoulder.

  Then he slammed his other fist directly into Brady’s face.

  18

  It was every bit as bad as Brady had anticipated.

  Worse.

  He’d never seen a look like that on his best friend’s face. And certainly not aimed at him. Riley stood there, disgust and betrayal all over him as he scowled down at Brady. At Brady sprawled out on the floor, laid out but good.

  It didn’t occur to him to put up a fight.

  All Brady could muster the energy to do was check to see if his nose was broken. It wasn’t, though it hurt. And he could feel his eye getting puffy. He figured he’d have a shiner for the foreseeable future.

  He couldn’t help thinking he was getting off easy.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Amanda yelled. She shoved at Riley’s arm. “You just punched your best friend in the face!”

  “Why were you kissing him?” Riley shouted right back. “How long have you been sneaking around with him? Is that why you moved out of Mom and Dad’s house?”

  The look he threw at Brady then was homicidal.

  “No,” Brady said, and took a moment to make sure none of his teeth were loose. Brady hadn’t expected he’d ever find himself in a position to confirm that yes, his possibly former best friend had a punch like a sledgehammer, as rumored. “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “You don’t have the right to ask either one of us those questions,” Amanda snapped. She shoved at her brother again. Riley didn’t move, but that didn’t stop her. If anything, she went harder. “None of this is your business, Riley. When I want your advice about my romantic life, you’ll know. Because I’ll ask. Which will never happen, because it’s not like you are in any position to be handing out advice, are you?”