Lassoed Love (Silver Saddle Ranch #2)

Chapter 1

Mugshots & Secret Obsessions

“Well, I’ll be damned if it isn’t my favorite repeat offender,” I drawl.

Birdie glares at me from the wooden bench inside the jail cell. Her pink overalls are rumpled, and the floral bandana she’s wearing has shifted, letting loose strands fall around her flushed face.

She points a finger in my direction. “If you’re responsible for this, I’m totally putting glitter in your body wash the next time I’m at the ranch, Deputy.”

Damn, she’s sexy as hell when she’s riled up.

I stifle a laugh as I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re awfully mouthy for someone behind bars.”

Birdie stands and crosses the small space, tipping her chin to peer up at me through the metal bars separating us. Her head barely reaches my chest, but her glare is downright lethal.

“And you’re awfully smelly for someone who just started their shift.”

I frown and subtly sniff the collar of my shirt, instantly wrinkling my nose.

I guess mucking stalls before coming in for my shift wasn’t the best idea.

But skipping it would’ve earned me a lecture from Heath, and after a busy week of filing disorderly conduct reports, chasing down old man Grady’s runaway pigs again, and breaking up bar fights fueled by cheap whiskey, I’ve run out of patience to deal with my brother.

“So… you playing good or bad cop this morning?” Birdie chirps.

The corner of my mouth quirks up. “That depends. You have anything you want to confess?”

I had nothing to do with her ending up in here, and I fully intend to let her go—but it’s one of the rare moments I get to be alone with her, and I’m not about to waste it.

“Nope,” Birdie replies, popping the P. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and break me out of this joint?” She lightly raps the lock with her knuckles.

I chuckle, adjusting the brim of my cowboy hat. “Now why would I do that when we’re having so much fun together?”

She shrugs. “Because friendship comes with built-in jailbreak privileges.”

Her use of the word “friendship” makes me wince.

“Even if they’re guilty as sin?” I walk over to the desk in the corner and grab Birdie’s file. “Trespassing and stealing farm animals aren’t exactly minor offenses. Who’s to say if I let you go that you wouldn’t nab an unsuspecting goat on your way home?”

She rolls her eyes. “As deputy sheriff, you should know that Montana doesn’t have many stray goats roaming the countryside. And for the record, it’s rescuing, not stealing,” she adds, raising a finger for emphasis. “Those animals were neglected, and someone had to step in before it was too late.”

I arch a brow. “That sounded an awful lot like a confession.”

One I’d reject even if she came clean, but Birdie’s too clever to jeopardize the animal sanctuary she runs out of her house.

“What? N-no,” she stammers. “I’m just saying that whoever did was probably trying to protect them.

Everyone at the fair could see how miserable they looked.

The baby cow had a limp, and the donkey had the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen…

uh, at least that’s what I heard,” she corrects herself.

“If that’s the case, it would have been cruel to split them up at auction—or worse, to let someone send them to the slaughterhouse.

” She blows out a long breath, briefly closing her eyes.

Birdie’s reaction isn’t surprising. She’s fiercely protective of vulnerable animals and has a reputation for going to great lengths to keep them safe. Even when it lands her in a cold jail cell overnight. Though since her dad’s the sheriff, she normally gets off with a slap on the wrist.

Mason really screwed up bringing her in.

It’s only his second week on the job, and he should have known better.

Lucky for him, Sheriff Matterson has been out of town all week—but unlucky for him, I’m just as protective of Birdie, and he’ll quickly learn what happens when he treats her like a common criminal.

My blood boils just thinking about him hauling her in here.

If he had used cuffs, I’d be sitting in a cell of my own for teaching him a hard lesson about touching what’s mine.

Okay, she’s technically not mine yet, but anyone who crosses her will have to answer to me.

I pull Birdie’s mugshot from her file, taken when Mason brought her in last night.

She stands straight, facing the camera with an unapologetic smile like she’s posing for a Christmas card instead of a booking photo.

Even now, with fatigue dulling her eyes and loose strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, she’s the kind of beautiful that makes my chest tighten.

I hold out the mugshot so Birdie can see it through the bars. “This little gem is prime blackmail material, don’t you think? I bet Charlie would give anything to get her hands on this.”

Charlie is one of her best friends. She’s a total firecracker and has a weakness for town gossip.

Birdie snorts. “Try it, and I’ll tell everyone about the time you got spooked by a mouse in the tack room and screamed like a girl.”

A smirk tugs at my lips as I fold the paper into fourths and tuck it into my shirt pocket. As fun as it is to tease her, I have no intention of letting anyone else see her mugshot.

“Can’t do that if I keep you locked up.”

I quickly shut down the intrusive thought, ignoring how tempting it would be to have unlimited access to her.

Birdie’s eyes twinkle, holding me pinned in place. “We both know Briar would never forgive you if you kept me in here.”

I scoff. “I’m not afraid of my sister.”

Okay, maybe just a little. Behind Briar’s brilliant smile is a force of nature when it comes to protecting her friends.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She grips the bars as she angles her face closer. “Still, I’d hate for you to have to explain to her and Charlie why I spent the night shivering and starving while you did nothing to intervene.”

Birdie knows full well my shift only started an hour ago, but she isn’t above using a little creative license to get a rise out of me—and she’s succeeding brilliantly.

I should’ve figured this could happen with Mason left alone on duty.

One of his many shortcomings is his inability to cover even the basics for someone in custody.

There’s not even a goddamn pillow or blanket in Birdie’s cell, and it’s a good thing I arrived when I did, or she might’ve been in far worse shape than just uncomfortable.

My hands twitch at my sides, fists tightening as guilt settles in my chest. I would’ve come sooner if I’d known, but I was caught up delivering a calf, and complications kept me busy until well past dawn.

I only work three shifts a week as a volunteer deputy.

The rest of my time goes to running Silver Saddle Ranch with Heath.

Still, I should’ve kept a closer eye on Birdie with Sheriff Matterson out of town.

She’s one of my sister’s best friends and as sweet as they come, yet she somehow manages to cause more trouble than anyone I’ve ever met.

“Let me guess—you spent the night at Blue Moon Tavern, and had to drag yourself out of some woman’s bed for this?

” Birdie chimes in when I don’t respond right away.

“You do have a knack for getting yourself into questionable positions…” My lips twitch into a crooked grin, and when she looks at me, a rosy blush spreads across her cheeks.

“Uh… I just mean that you’re popular with the ladies. ”

She’s so damn cute when she’s flustered.

I take a step closer to her cell. “Are you jealous, Birdie?”

“Me? Jealous? That’s absurd.” She scoffs, the flush on her cheeks deepening.

Admittedly, I had more than my fair share of flings back in high school and my early twenties.

In a town this small, gossip spreads like wildfire, and my past still precedes me.

Sure, there were perks, like women bringing me homemade pie to the station and constantly approaching me at the bar, but the thrill quickly faded.

These days, I prefer my nights low-key, and yes, sometimes that means keeping tabs on the one woman who doesn’t seem interested in anything more than friendship.

Birdie tips her head, rocking back on her heels.

“So are you planning to bust me out of here, or am I calling this cell my home until my dad’s back?

If I’m staying, you’re in charge of feeding my animals.

That means stopping by three times a day—Nugget expects her midday snack of cheese and mealworms at two, and Pickles won’t touch her slop unless there are apple slices mixed in.

Thin ones, not chunks. I made that mistake last month, and she flipped the trough.

She held a grudge until I apologized with a peace offering of warm, molasses-soaked oats.

” Birdie dramatically wipes her brow and then seems to remember something, adding quickly, “Just don’t go in the shed, okay? ”

I eye her suspiciously. “Why not?”

She avoids my gaze, suddenly fascinated by the concrete floor. “No reason.”

“Any chance I’d stumble across a limping cow or a donkey with sad eyes in there?”

She lets out a nervous giggle, waving me off. “No, nothing like that. It’s just a mess. That’s where I store all the animal supplies, and I can’t organize to save my life.”

“I see,” I say, tone deliberately neutral.

Even if she weren’t the worst liar in Bluebell, the surveillance footage Mason showed me earlier leaves no doubt that my little thief was behind the county fair animal heist everyone’s been gossiping about for almost a year.

Her face is obscured, but her signature pink overalls and the floral bandana tied at the top of her head might as well be a name tag—which is why that footage will never see the light of day.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I check to see that I have a text from my sister.

Briar: We’re here. You finished with your power trip yet? I’d like my friend released now.

Walker: She’ll be out soon.

When I found out Birdie was in custody, I called Briar so she and Charlie could come get her. Their loyalty runs deep, and they’d do anything for each other. On more than one occasion, Birdie has roped them into her rescue missions, and they’ve jumped in to help her, no questions asked.

I grab the key from the desk and unlock the cell, the hinges groaning as the door swings open.

“You’re free to go,” I tell Birdie.

She doesn’t move, like she’s unsure if I’m serious.

“Seriously, all of that suspense just to let me loose?”

I shove my hands into my pockets, and rock back on my heels. “Would you rather I scheduled a drop-off at the county jail? They’d be happy to hold you until the sheriff gets back.”

Her eyes widen a fraction before she saunters past, giving me a patronizing pat on the chest. “I take it back. Thanks for being so generous.”

“Mason’s on duty this weekend, so try not to stir up any more trouble unless you want a repeat performance of last night.”

“Bummer, I was really looking forward to an encore,” she quips, already halfway out the door.

“See you later, troublemaker.”

“Bye, Walker,” she calls over her shoulder in a singsong voice.

I should feel nothing but relief that she’s out of the cell and safe, yet I can’t deny I’m disappointed that our conversation was cut short. Most of the time, my sister or other people are around, or we cross paths when she visits her dad. But it’s never enough.

With Birdie gone, I remind myself that I’m here to work, not brood. First order of business: take care of some damning evidence.