Cowgirl Bride

“I had every right.” Kirk pointed at him. “You promised to love her forever. You promised to stand against your family and marry her. You let her dream. But in the end, you turned your back on her and how she felt about you. You married another woman and never gave Sierra a second thought. That damn well gives me the right. She’s my sister and I’m going to make sure you don’t get a second chance to destroy her.”

There were so many things he could tell the other man, Dylan thought to himself. But the truth wasn’t always as simple as one might like. A thousand thoughts flooded his brain, a thousand images from the past. A thousand second guesses. In the end, he didn’t even bother.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “About me, about why I did what I did, and about me not giving her a second thought. I never stopped loving your sister.”

Kirk’s angry stance never wavered. “That must have made you a poor excuse for a husband.”

“That’s what my wife said the day she left. Goodbye, Kirk. Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me because I’ll be around. I’m going to do my damnedest to explain everything to Sierra. I owe her that.”

“The only thing you owe her is to stay the hell out of her life.”

“You’re probably right. But I can’t.” Dylan headed for the car.

Kirk let him go without saying a word. As he turned the truck, he saw the other man still watching him. Would Kirk report the conversation to Sierra? What about the letters? Did he still have them? Would he ever tell his sister about them? Would Sierra believe Dylan if he told her about their existence?

Too many questions, he thought as they rolled onto the highway and headed back to their ranch.

“Dad?” Rory asked.

He glanced at his son. “What?”

“Is Sierra that lady? The one Mom always talked about?”

Dylan grimaced. Claire hadn’t cared who could hear her when she was in the mood to scream about something. He didn’t like to think about all the things his son had heard over the years.

“Yes,” he said. “She is.” Only Claire hadn’t referred to Sierra as a “lady.” Instead she’d been “that cowgirl bitch you can’t forget.”

“You still love her?” his son asked.

How like a child to cut to the heart of the matter. “I’m not sure,” he said, going for easy instead of honest.

“Well, I like her,” Rory announced and relaxed into his seat. “I think she’s cool.”

Dylan smiled, and for the first time since deciding to move to the ranch and look up Sierra, he thought there just might be hope for all of them.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_86dfce63-84b6-5454-b2a6-424c91e35a09)

Sierra kicked at the wooden fence post that was sunk deep in the ground, then tugged on the wires. The twisted metal was taut against her fingers. Although this portion of the fence was older, it was still in decent shape and wouldn’t need replacement for a few years. She pulled a small notebook from her jacket pocket, removed her right glove and made a notation.

Riding the line was a time-honored tradition on a ranch. The boring job was necessary to insure the cattle stayed where they were supposed to. Sierra was always willing to take her turn, but she never volunteered for the duty unless she needed to think. Which was why she’d been out checking fences for the past two days.

In the space of a heartbeat, everything had changed. Her world, while not perfect, had been comfortable and familiar. Now she couldn’t look around at the lush pastures and grazing cattle without another image superimposing itself on the scene. An image of a man’s face. Dylan.

She’d actually reached the point where she could go weeks without thinking about him. When he’d first left, she’d barely been able to take a breath without recalling him. Then she’d been able to forget him for minutes at a time. Going an entire day without wondering about him had happened after a year or so. Gradually, though, time had healed…or so she’d thought. Apparently the scar wasn’t more than a superficial covering. One look into his brown eyes and she’d felt herself ripped open again.

She put the notebook away, pulled back on her glove, then walked to the next fence post and kicked at it. As she tugged on the wire, she felt a twinge in her left arm. Neat stitches held skin together. The swelling had finally started to go down, but she was going to carry a bruise for a few weeks. In addition to giving her time to think, riding the fence lines also gave her time to heal. She would rather take light duty than use a sick day. Sick days implied a weakness she didn’t dare show around the ranch.

Sierra sighed softly. It was time to move on. She knew that now. She’d proved herself in a man’s world and she was tired of it. Tired of having to be smarter, faster and better than everyone else, simply because she was a woman. She was tired of the teasing, the not-so-subtle joking, the occasional resentment. She wanted more.

Dylan had offered her a job as foreman. If anyone else had dangled that carrot in front of her, she would have snatched it up in a heartbeat. She had the skills and the experience. But working for him wasn’t an option. So where did that leave her? The rodeo circuit had lost its appeal. She didn’t want to travel anymore, she wanted roots. A place to call home. Someone to love.

Love. She pulled her borrowed hat off her head and turned it over in her hands. Except for Dylan, the emotion had always eluded her. There had been a few men she’d cared about. Good men, strong and caring. She’d tried to fall in love with them, to feel the same bone-stirring heat, the same fluttering breathlessness, the same passion. It hadn’t happened. Love didn’t occur on demand. A voice deep inside whispered it might be because she was a one-man-woman. And Dylan was that man.

What if he was the only one she could love? Where did that leave her? She grimaced. She was so damn tough on the outside, but so scared on the inside.

A faint sound caught her attention. As she recognized the rumble of a truck engine, she glanced at her horse to make sure the animal was secure. She settled her hat back on her head and wondered what her boss wanted with her that couldn’t wait until she returned to the barn. And then she knew. With a sureness that defied explanation, she knew the man driving to see her was Dylan.

The fence line was set at the top of a small rise. She wasn’t that far from her horse. She could easily mount up and be halfway across the field before he cleared the hill. But instead of running, she stood her ground, telling herself that eventually seeing him would get easier. It would have to. It sure as hell couldn’t get harder.

He was in the same four-wheel-drive truck he’d had a couple of days ago. As he stepped from the driver’s side, she tried not to notice how his jeans emphasized his long legs. The denim was soft and worn, settling around his lower half with easy familiarity. A navy down vest hung open, exposing the gray-and-cream plaid flannel shirt below. All he needed was a hat and he could pass for a cowboy. At least on the outside.

“Hello, Sierra.”

His voice was low and raked against her skin like fine sand. She shivered involuntarily. Her mouth went dry. “What do you want?” she asked, knowing she sounded rude and not caring.

One dark eyebrow raised slightly. “You haven’t called Rory. Did you change your mind about giving him riding lessons?”

She turned her attention to the fence post she’d already checked. Moving deliberately, she squatted down and examined the base. “I’ve been busy. But I haven’t forgotten. I’ll call tonight.”

“He’s really looking forward to it. If you’d rather not—”

She raised her head to glare at him. “I said I would teach him and I will. I don’t break my word.”

He didn’t even have the courtesy to flinch at her not-so-subtle accusation. “Good. He’s had enough disappointment recently.”

“I won’t add to that.” She slowly rose to her feet. A thousand questions circled through her mind. But more important than any of them was the idea that if she thought she could leave without looking as if she were running away, she would be on her horse in a hot second.

“He likes you,” Dylan told her, and took a step closer.

Sierra had to consciously not back up an equal amount. “He seems like a good kid.” She paused. “Are you and Claire really divorced?” She hated herself for asking, but she had to know.

He nodded.

Why? What had happened? But she only thought the questions.

He read her mind. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

She shrugged, trying to convince both of them she didn’t care. Dylan obviously took that as permission to speak.

“Claire and I never cared enough about each other,” he said and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I was willing to try and make the marriage work, but she got tired of me being in love with someone else.”

Sierra’s stomach convulsed once as the words sank in. The still-broken pieces of her heart quivered and she had to force herself to relax. It would be so easy to believe him, but she’d already been lied to once. “Not very original,” she said. “I would have thought you’d have a better line.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Lawyers are supposed to be more polished with their words. If you really want to make it in politics, you’d better get yourself a good speechwriter.”

The second the words left her lips, she knew she’d made a mistake. Dylan’s expression was triumphant. “You’ve been checking up on me,” he said.