Once a Champion

“What part?”

He looked surprised at her comment. “All of it. I mean obviously you had no idea of the truth, and I just kind of sprung it on you.”

“I know the truth, Matt. The truth is that I bought that horse fair and square. I’ve had him for over a year and I love him.”

“I happen to be fond of him myself.”

Yeah? Then why was he in the condition he was in?

But Liv wasn’t going there. It would only prolong the conversation. “You must have dozens of horses.”

“Practice horses. I only have one other rodeo horse and he’s not as good as Beckett.”

“That didn’t seem to slow you down when you won the World.”

“My times could have been better.”

“It’s all about the time?” Obviously it was all about time. And him. Not about the horse or his wife.

“Some of it is about Trena selling my horse behind my back and some of it is that I happen to like that horse—my horse—and I’d like him back.” He spoke calmly, reasonably. The picture of the charming cowboy who’d been done wrong and the fact that he could stand here and pretend he cared about the horse that he’d hurt through lack of care...well, it was all she could do not to walk down the three steps that separated them and smack him a good one. For Beckett.

Liv folded her arms over her chest. “There’s something you need to understand, Matt. You might be able to charm yourself out of a multitude of situations, but you aren’t charming me. Sometimes, despite charisma and good looks, the answer is no. And that’s what it’s going to stay. No.”

He bit down on one corner of his lip before saying, “Aren’t you going to threaten me with your father again?”

“Dad’s busy cutting hay.”

“About time.”

“He’s been sick.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He didn’t sound one bit sorry and he made his lack of sympathy clear when he said, “This isn’t over, Liv. I’ll hire a lawyer.”

“Andie’s dad already advised me and he said he’ll give me all the help I need to keep Beckett.”

“He’s my horse.”

“Not according to the State of Montana.” Liv lifted her chin. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation.”

“Or?”

“I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you’re trespassing.”

“Really.” He said the word flatly, telling her he wasn’t buying in to her bluff—which meant it may not be a bluff much longer. Liv no longer allowed people like him to walk over her.

“Yes. Really. Now please leave.” Before Beckett steps out from behind that barn.

Matt’s face became cold and blank. “This isn’t over, Liv.”

“Yeah, it is. Come back again and I will call the sheriff.”

Matt turned and walked back to his truck without another word. Liv held her breath until he fired up the engine and swung the truck in Reverse.

Round two to her. She truly hoped there wouldn’t be a third round.

CHAPTER FOUR

HE SHOULD HAVE waited longer before talking to Liv, because all he’d succeeded in doing was to put her on the defensive. Again. Now he was worse off than before, and the thing that killed him was that he wasn’t by nature impulsive. He’d simply thought that she’d had time to think about the situation, what was fair, what wasn’t. Liv had always been reasonable—until now.

Stupid move.

But, as he’d told her, this wasn’t over.

When he pulled into his driveway Matt realized that his jaw was aching because his teeth were clamped so tightly together, but he made no effort to relax the taut muscles. Let his jaw ache. Maybe it would distract him from the ever present pain in his knee.

He parked the truck next to the barn then crossed the driveway to the back door, his knee throbbing with each step. Through the clear glass storm door he could see Craig sitting on the sofa, reading.

It was so damned strange to come home to someone in the house after so many solitary months. He pulled the storm door open and took all of two steps inside before he slowed to a halt, noting the evenly spaced striations across his very clean carpet.

“Did you vacuum?”

Craig looked up from the book. “Yeah. The place needed it.”

No argument there. The cleaning lady had bailed on him last week and wasn’t due again until next Thursday.

Matt gave a small shrug. “Thanks.”

“No problem. The hardest part was finding the vacuum.”

“Where was it?” Matt asked as he pulled off his hat.

A look of surprise flitted across the kid’s face. “In the garage.”

“Ah.” Matt was about to toss the hat onto the nearest table when he noticed that the top had been dusted. The old ropes he’d been collecting in the far corner of the living room were coiled and stacked.

“I have a cleaning lady,” he said as he crossed to the rarely used hat rack and hooked his ball cap over the spurs hanging there. “She complained about too much stuff in the hall closet, so I told her to put the vacuum wherever she liked. I never asked her where she kept it.”

“You never use it?”

“Not if I can help it. I take it you do some of the cleaning at home?”

A quick shrug. “Someone has to. Mom works. A lot.”

“You don’t have to do this to earn your keep or anything.”

“My mom told me to help out where I could.” The kid spoke with a hint of challenge. Okay, he needed to make himself useful. Matt wouldn’t fight him.

“Well, I appreciate it.” Matt glanced again around his now-tidy living room, then walked down the hall to his room—right across from the extra bedroom. He paused, then nudged open the door. The bed was made, the blankets taut, and all of the kid’s clothing was folded and packed in his suitcase, which lay open against the far wall. Ready for a quick getaway?