Bad News Cowboy

He’d stopped going to the amateur association meetings in Copper Ridge years ago. He’d turned pro when he was twenty, using the money that the man who was, according to genetics, his father had given him to keep his mouth shut about his existence.

Sometimes it felt like his attempt at being seen when he’d been paid to disappear. A way to demand attention without breaking that damned agreement. Other times it had all felt like an attempt to bleed that unwanted blood right out of his veins, let it soak into the arena dirt until the Wests weren’t a part of him anymore. But that feeling had faded as he turned that initial bit of money into yet more money through event wins and investments and sponsorship deals.

Though at thirty-three, he felt too damn old to get trampled on a regular basis. He’d felt too old five years ago when he’d quit. Not just too old for the getting-trampled part but the hard living that went with it. He knew there were plenty of guys still out there riding, but he didn’t need to and he felt lucky to have escaped with as little damage as he had.

“Sure, I’ll be there. I’ll do the hard sell and see if anyone else has more ideas.”

“Do you want to ride together?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, let’s do that. Do you want to drive?”

“I think your truck is a little bit cushier than mine, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Okay, then, I’ll pick you up... When?”

“Seven.”

He gripped the brim of his hat with his thumb and forefinger and tipped it slightly. “Okay, then, see you at seven.”

* * *

SHE HEARD A car engine and raced to the window, her heart pushing against the base of her throat. But she didn’t see anything. No truck. No Jack.

“Oh my gosh, calm down, me.”

It was probably just one of the ranch hands headed out to the barn, or maybe Eli getting home from work. There were three whole minutes before Jack was supposed to show up, after all. And she was being ridiculous about it. Completely overcome by the sense of hyperawareness that often assaulted her when dealing with Jack-related things. And she would picture him pulling up, and her stomach would turn over sharply, her breath catching, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The response was completely involuntary, and it was so strong it made her legs shake.

Anyone would think she was waiting for a date.

She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tight just as she heard another engine sound. Her eyes popped back open and she brushed the curtains aside again just in time to see Jack’s truck rumbling up the drive.

She put her hand on her stomach. “Stop it,” she scolded herself. It did nothing.

She grabbed a jacket and her bag and jerked open the front door, then walked out onto the front porch as she slung both over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to sit in her living room and wait for him to come to the door. She was not going to encourage her weird bodily reactions.

She scampered to the truck and flung open the passenger-side door, then braced her foot on the metal running board before climbing into the cab. She slammed the door shut and buckled. “Let’s go.”

“In a hurry, Katie?”

“I would like to be on time,” she said, battling against her urge to bristle.

She didn’t want to bristle. She wanted to be sleek. She wanted to have no reaction to him whatsoever. None at all.

“Is it still at the Grange Hall?”

“Yes, it is. And I hope you ate, because they still serve store-bought sugar cookies and watered-down punch.”

“Ah yes, the official small-town meeting food.”

“I don’t mind the cookies. I don’t even really mind the punch. I just don’t know why people think they go good together.”

He put the truck in Reverse, then turned around and drove back down the narrow driveway that fed into the wider main driveway that eventually curved onto the highway.

“It’s one of the great mysteries of our time,” Jack said. “Personally, I think overearnest meetings like this should come with whiskey.”

“I would have no problem with that. But somehow I don’t think the budget allows for alcohol.”

“Well, that’s an oversight. What has to be cut to make room in the budget for alcohol?”

“There really isn’t much to cut. We kind of pay for our own stuff. In addition to paying dues to be a part of Oregon’s Amateur Riders Association. But you know, support system. Training. And we do get to use the arenas of the fairgrounds a couple times a month at no extra charge.”

“I guess next time I’ll bring my own whiskey,” he said.

“There won’t really be a next time, though, will there?”

“I suppose that all depends on whether or not I’m creating a monster with this.”

“You feel pretty passionately about it, don’t you?” She so rarely asked him sincere questions that he seemed stumped by this one. Well, she was, too. She had no idea what she was doing. Why she wanted to know more. Why she wanted to dig deeper.

“I do,” he said finally. “It feels like half the time the odds are stacked pretty high against women.”

“Seeing as it was my mom that screwed everything up, I can’t say that’s been my experience,” Kate said.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose in your life it was different. Not just because of your mom, but because Connor and Eli would kill anyone who hurt you. You’re surrounded by people who love and protect you. There are a lot of people who aren’t. A lot of kids, a lot of women. They’re either abandoned and left to their own devices, or worse, they’re actively hurt by the people who are supposed to love them.”

Kate immediately felt stupid for her earlier comment. “Did your dad... Did he hurt your mom?”

“No. Thank God all he did was leave. But even that didn’t make it easy. It just... This kind of stuff gets me. I don’t want a wife. I don’t want kids. Because I know myself. It doesn’t make any sense to me, these men who have kids just to leave them. Who get married just to mistreat the women they made vows to. At least I know my limitations.”

“You wouldn’t hurt anyone, Jack.” Kate’s voice was small when she spoke the words.

“Not with my fist.” He tightened his grip on his steering wheel.

She studied his profile, the strength in his hands, the muscles in his forearms. He was tan from hours working out in the sun, strong from all the lifting and riding he did.

And regardless of how he treated her sometimes, regardless of the fact that he had been around since she was a little girl, he was most definitely not her brother.

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “I’m sure that you... I mean...if you wanted to...”

“I don’t. So it isn’t an issue.”

His response, so hard and sharp, definitive, made her feel stupid. Young.

He took a hard right just before Old Town, moving farther away from the ocean and into the less quaint part of Copper Ridge. The Grange was a tiny little building nestled between a modern grocery store and the edge of a residential neighborhood. It looked as if it was built out of Lincoln Logs, and Kate imagined it was supposed to be quaint, when really, years of repainting and foul weather had left it looking worse for wear.

An American flag and an Oregon flag flew high in the parking lot, which was already filled with pickup trucks. There was no place for Jack to park, so he pulled up to the curb, put the truck in Park and shut it off.

“Maybe we should have warned them?” she asked.