3. Travis
TRAVIS
By Friday afternoon, the rodeo grounds looked like somebody had kicked over an anthill with the way everyone was scurrying around.
Stock trailers lined the back fence, volunteers hauled tables between vendor spaces, and horses shifted in the temporary pens along the arena.
Jace stood near the main gate with a radio clipped to his belt, pointing people in three directions at once.
Labor Day weekend hadn't even started yet, and I was already tired of people.
Then Kaycee stepped out of the office trailer with a folder tucked against her chest, her dark hair pulled back and the sun flashing across her glasses. My attention snapped to her before I could stop it, which had been happening often enough lately to piss me off.
So had thinking about the two words she'd texted after leaving my ranch.
Convince me.
I'd spent two days telling myself she meant steer wrestling and nothing else. That worked right up until I remembered the way she'd looked at me in the north pasture with her hand pressed against my chest.
I turned back to the bay by my side and checked the cinch even though it didn't need checking. If Kaycee wanted to find me, she could. I wasn't going to stand around waiting.
“Quick question,” she said behind me.
I turned, but she was talking to Jace.
“If this is about receipts, I deny everything,” he said.
Kaycee held out a sheet of paper. “That's very reassuring.”
His radio crackled. Jace spotted me and pointed. “Cole can show you.”
I straightened. “Show her what?”
“Apparently I need to learn about steer wrestling,” Kaycee said.
That was one job I didn't mind getting handed.
“She wants to know what the practice-stock charge covers,” Jace said. “You can explain it better than I can.”
Then his radio went off again, and he headed toward the arena without waiting for an answer.
Kaycee watched him go. “Does he usually abandon people in the middle of conversations?”
“He's busy.”
“So I get you instead.”
“You say that like it's a hardship.”
“I haven't decided yet.”
I secured my horse at the rail and headed toward the steer pens. Kaycee fell into step next to me while a pair of volunteers pushed a loaded cart past us, one of them swearing when a wheel caught in the dirt.
We hadn't made it far before I gave in. “Convince me.”
She stopped. When I turned around, she was staring at me over the top of her glasses.
“Are you planning to bring that up forever?”
“You sent it.”
“I sent two words.”
“Good ones.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I meant convince me steer wrestling was worth watching.”
“That's how I took it.”
“Liar.”
I grinned and kept walking.
The steer-wrestling setup occupied one end of the arena. Cody and another hand checked the gates while cattle shifted behind the fencing, their hooves scraping over packed dirt. Kaycee leaned against the top rail and studied the chutes like she expected them to explain themselves.
“Okay,” she said. “What exactly are you doing while you’re out there?”
I pointed toward the chute. “The steer breaks. Hazer keeps him running straight. I ride alongside, come off the horse, catch the horns, plant my feet, and turn him.”
Her eyebrows climbed a little higher with every step. “You're saying that like it's a reasonable thing for a grown man to do.”
“It is.”
“And how often do you get hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
“That isn't an answer.”
I should've known better than to give an accountant a vague one. “I’ve broken a couple fingers. Cracked a few ribs once. Jacked up my shoulder for a while.”
Her gaze dropped to my right shoulder before coming back to my face. “And you're doing this tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
She shook her head. “Accountants have better survival instincts.”
“Accountants don't win buckles.”
“We get retirement accounts,” she fired back. “And life insurance policies with much lower premiums.”
“Neither one of those are as shiny.”
Her laugh carried over the clang of a gate behind us. I liked the sound of it enough that I caught myself smiling before Cody walked up with a coil of rope over one shoulder.
The second he looked from Kaycee to me, I knew what was coming.
“Well, Kaycee, you're spending enough time with Cole that somebody ought to give you the warning label.”
There it was. I'd heard some version of that joke for years.
“Half the women in Mustang Mountain could probably give you references.”
My shoulders tightened, but I kept my expression easy. Cody wasn't saying anything I hadn't heard before, but Kaycee didn't laugh.
“I've met Travis,” she said. “I can decide what I think of him myself.”
Cody's grin slipped. He lifted both hands. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Then he headed toward the chutes.
I kept my attention on the arena. A steer shoved against another one behind the gate, and Cody yelled at somebody to move a panel before it got bent.
Kaycee bumped my arm lightly. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn't nothing.”
“I don't need you defending me.”
“I wasn't.”
The hurt in her tone made me look at her.
Her grip on the folder under her arm tightened. “I don't know enough about your past to defend it. I was saying I don't need somebody else deciding what I think.”
She said it like that should've been obvious. Maybe to her it was.
Mustang Mountain had made up its mind about me years ago, and I'd given people plenty to work with. Drinking. Fighting. Women. I couldn't blame anybody for remembering the shit I'd actually done.
It would've been nice if they noticed I hadn't done most of it in a long damn time.
Kaycee watched me for another second. “That surprised you.”
“No.”
Her mouth curved. “Liar.”
One of the guys at the chute yelled my name before I had to answer.
Kaycee looked toward the arena. “Are you practicing?”
“Yeah.”
“So this is my demonstration.”
“I thought you wanted convincing.”
“I want to understand the invoice.”
“Sure.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling when I reached for my gloves.
I took a few steps toward my horse before looking back. “So, are you staying?”
The question came out more serious than I'd meant it. Kaycee glanced toward the office, where somebody was standing on the steps waving a clipboard at Jace, then looked back at me.
“I'll watch.”
I'd ridden in front of packed grandstands without caring who sat in them. Now I wanted to know exactly where one woman was standing before a practice run nobody else would remember tomorrow.
I climbed into the saddle before I could waste much time on that.
Once my horse settled under me, the rest of the grounds fell away. I shortened the reins, set my feet, and felt him come up under me as the steer shifted behind the gate.
Then it opened.
The steer broke hard. My horse came alongside while the hazer held the opposite side, and I leaned out, dropped from the saddle, and hit the dirt moving. My hands caught the horns. The steer dragged me another step before I planted my heels and turned him.
He went down clean.
Someone called the time, but I was already looking toward the rail. Kaycee stood exactly where I'd left her, one hand hooked over the top board. Watching me.
I handed my horse off and headed toward her while my breathing settled. Dust coated my boots and stuck to the sweat along my forearms. Kaycee's gaze started there, moved over my jeans and chest, then finally made it to my face.
“Are you convinced yet?”
She blinked. “I'm convinced you have questionable judgment.”
“The look on your face says something else.”
“My face isn't part of this conversation.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “It was impressive.”
I grinned.
“And incredibly stupid.” She reached up.
Her fingertips brushed my cheek, wiping away a streak of arena dirt.
She looked at the brown smear she'd left across the pad of her thumb, then back at me.
Her glasses had slipped slightly down her nose, and her hand stayed between us like she'd forgotten what she'd meant to do with it.
I caught her wrist before she could lower her hand, my fingers closing lightly around it. Her pulse jumped beneath my thumb.
“Careful, Harper.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “You say that a lot.”
“Only when I mean it.”
A few minutes ago she'd been making jokes about my survival instincts. Now she stood close enough that the toe of her boot nearly touched mine, with arena dust on her fingers from my face and her breathing a little quicker than it had been before.
I looked at her mouth.
She didn't move.
Neither did I, for another second. Then I started to lean in.
Someone laughed near the chute. Cody and two volunteers stood twenty feet away doing a piss-poor job of pretending they weren't watching us.
Kaycee followed my gaze and spotted them.
I loosened my hold on her wrist. “If I kiss you right here, half this town will know it before it’s over.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Is that a global small-town problem?”
“It’s a Mustang Mountain problem.” I let her go.
She stepped back, though not far enough to make it much easier. “Probably a good call.”
“That doesn’t mean I like it.”
Her eyes met mine for a second before she picked up the folder she'd set on the rail. Whatever I'd seen there was enough to make stopping feel like an even worse idea.
“For the record, I understand the charge now,” she said.
“I’m glad nearly breaking my neck helped with your audit.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
She gave me a look and started toward the office. I fell into step next her.
A stock trailer rolled through the back gate, forcing us to wait while a volunteer waved it into place. Once it passed, Kaycee glanced at the folder in her hands.
“I confirmed something about Parcel 17-B. That designation hasn't been used in the current Kincaid lease records for years.”
I frowned. “So whoever put it on the transfer knew the old records.”
“That's what it looks like.”
“And knew where to send the money.”
She nodded.
Every answer made the deposit look less like a mistake.
“Are you still tracing the account?”
“I am.”
“And you'll tell me when you know more?”
“When I have something I can prove.”
That was probably why I trusted her answer. Kaycee hadn't promised to clear me, and she wasn't looking for a reason to blame me either. She looked at what was in front of her and went from there.
We reached the office steps, but she stopped instead of going inside.
“Travis.”
“Yeah?”
“You didn't need me to say anything to Cody. I know that.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Okay.”
“But I'm still going to decide what I think of you for myself.”
I looked past her toward the arena. I'd spent enough years hearing other people's version of me that I usually tuned it out before they got far. “People around here usually like doing that part for you.”
Her expression softened, but there wasn't any pity in it. “Then they're going to have to get used to being disappointed.”
She didn’t launch into a speech about everyone deserving a second chance or try to convince me I wasn't the man everybody said I was. She just wasn't handing anybody else the decision.
Kaycee nodded toward the arena. “For the record, that wasn't terrible.”
“My run?”
“Your attempt to convince me.”
My gaze dropped to her mouth again. “Good.”
She climbed the first step. “Don't get cocky.”
“Too late for that.”
Her hand closed around the office door.
“Saturday, Harper.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Watch the whole run.”
Her smile widened. “I’m not making any promises.”