Excerpt from The Wrong Cowboy
Emma studied the dusty black Charger and shook her head, resisting the urge to stroke the sleek metal. She would not ask for a ride in that machine, would not ask how fast it could go or if it roared like thunder when it raced down the highway. A Charger wasn’t a sensible car for Montana winters, especially not for a rural area or a rancher, no matter how much you lusted over the power that resided under the hood. This was a frivolous waste of money, when everyone knew any spare funds were reinvested into the ranch infrastructure or into cattle to make the herd stronger, for more profits.
It had to belong to the city guy. Gabe Buchanan. He was the only one who would be able to drive a car that was purely for pleasure. She sighed and let her hand rest on the hood for a brief moment. But what a ride it would be.
“He’s a handsome devil, isn’t he?”
A low voice drawled from the back end of the car and she yanked her hand away as if it’d been scorched. She scowled at Gabe, who leaned against the bed of her truck, one ankle crossed in front of the other, arms folded across his chest as he smirked at her. Cam must have put him to work today, since it appeared he had just showered. His sandy brown hair was damp where it curled around the nape of his neck and up under his hat. His plaid shirt was clean, his jeans, worn and comfortable-looking, frayed along the seams, as if they were old. And damn if he didn’t look even better than he had in his fancy city clothes that morning.
She folded her arms and glared. “I thought all cars are women. Temperamental and something to be taken care of.”
He pushed off the end of the truck and sauntered toward her. “That’s a very old-fashioned view of women, Emma. First off, women don’t need to be taken care of. My momma taught me that they can handle most anything thrown at them, possibly better than men, and I listen to my momma. Second, I believe in equality. A car can be male or female, and trust me. This beast is all male.”
She sucked in a breath and narrowed her gaze. He was going to school her on feminism? “I don’t need a lecture on women’s rights, Gabe Buchanan. Because this car is tough, it must be male?”
Gabe’s smile never wavered. He leaned forward as if imparting a secret, his breath teasing her ear. She shivered. “Nope. I checked under the chassis. He’s male.”
He stepped back, his laughter ringing out around them. Her eyes widened and she was about to give him a blistering reply when she paused, realized he was teasing her. She relaxed and laughed with him. “Do you take anything seriously?”
He cocked his head, considering her words for a moment. “My momma, because she scares me. The IRS, for the same reason. God, because I’m hedging my bets there. And my family. Other than that, probably not.”
She shook her head and turned to the cab of her truck. “I don’t think I’d better take anything you say seriously.”
He rested a hand on the frame of the truck, right above her head. “You want to go for a spin? He handles real nice. If you’re good, I might even let you drive him.”
“And how do you define nice?” She tensed, waiting for a smarmy come-on.
He must have correctly interpreted her body language because he straightened and his tone, when he spoke, was serious for once. “It’s simple. Kind words, respect, maybe a little flirting. Nothing else. Anyone who asks for anything else is an asshole.”
He turned and started to walk stiffly toward the house, the moment clearly broken, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just expected you to say something else.”
He stopped but didn’t turn back. “Obviously.”
She sighed. “Can you help me carry these bags to the house?” she called after him. “I brought you both dinner. I know Cam sucks at cooking and you probably didn’t want to go back out for food.”
He whirled around, all smiles and affability again, and returned, taking the large paper bag she offered and holding it from the bottom. He inhaled deeply and sighed. “Fried chicken?”
“Earl makes a good chicken.”
As they walked toward the house she asked the question that had been bugging her since that morning. “Why did you defend Cam to those guys?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t like bullies. How long has that been going on?”
She looked up at the porch and let out a breath. “A long time. Probably since his father died.”
Gabe cursed under his breath. “Stubborn fool. He had family who would have helped him. He kept us all at arm’s length for years. We would have been here a long time ago if he would have let us.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have waited for an invitation.”
He nodded after a long moment. “Maybe we shouldn’t have.”
* * *
Emma made her way up the walk to the front porch, Gabe following like a pack mule, carrying the extra sack of food from the diner. She had rehearsed what she was going to say the whole way over and knew exactly how she was going to persuade Cam to stay. She would not resort to emotional pleas, heartfelt cajoling, or anything like that. She’d rely on reasonable arguments, calm discussions, and logic. Cam could hardly argue with that, right?
But when she saw Cam standing on the porch of his house, all she could think about was the For Sale sign by the road and a future someone else standing on that porch.
She shoved the bag she was holding into Gabe’s arms and stalked up the porch to the bottom step, planting her fists on her hips. “When the hell were you going to tell me that you were selling out?”
Cam stared at her, his mouth slightly opened in shock. Then he closed his mouth, jaw locking tight so that she could see the muscles jumping in his cheek. His gaze remained on her, stoic and resolute, and he made no move to take the few steps down to her, or to make any reply. He shot a glance at Gabe, who was standing just to the side of Emma. Well, Gabe was his family and apparently aware of his plans. He could witness this discussion too.
Apparently, Gabe disagreed. He brushed by her, shuffling the bags so he had a free hand to run down her back in an oddly comforting gesture that she was surprised to find she liked, and headed up the few steps to the porch.
“I’ll get some plates and stuff for this. No one kill each other before I get back. I don’t know where the best spots are to hide a body yet.” The joke fell flat. After a long moment he headed inside, the screen door banging behind him.
Cam sighed and walked down the steps, past her, and she fell into step beside him. “Is it true? Are you really selling and leaving Granite Junction?”
He flinched, as if her words stabbed him on a visceral level. She steeled herself against the automatic response to apologize, to make everything better. Because nothing was better if he was going to leave her. She refused to let him off the hook, not this time. She’d made excuses for years for him, for them, saying it wasn’t the right time. She had school. He had the ranch, his sister. Her brother would have killed them, with her being younger. Now that she was ready for the next step in her plan, the critical player in the whole thing hadn’t gotten the memo and was preparing to take off for parts unknown. How the hell could this have happened?
He paused by the small rail fence that defined the front yard, the paint flecked and peeling on the old wood. He clenched the top rail so hard she worried he would get splinters but he didn’t seem to mind.
Cam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, I’ve put the ranch on the market. How did you find out?”
“Does it really matter?” She replied, bitterness tinging her words. “I notice Mallory and Brett raced over here to get the sign out front so it must be a done deal. Is the beef market that bad? I thought you were doing well. Why now? Does this have anything to do with Amy Jo leaving for college?”
He shook his head. “We’re doing fine but it’s time to explore my options.”
His words were cautious, cool, not really sharing any information, and she wanted to shake him, demand more details. But she also knew Cam Miller, had known him most of her life, and had to tread carefully around him or he would shut down tighter than a lasso on a runaway calf.
Keeping her voice steady and even, she replied, “What options? Do you need the money for Amy Jo’s school? I could help you with more financial aid and scholarships. We looked into those things and got some, but there are smaller scholarships and grants that we could look closer at. There are ways, Cam. You don’t need to sell your home.”
He gave a wry smile. “We appreciate everything you did to help my sister find her way to the college she wanted. She called this weekend and is loving culinary school. No, we have enough to pay her tuition, though selling the ranch would ease the burden a little further.” He took a deep breath and looked out at the fields and she wondered what he was seeing. “I have an opportunity of my own that I hadn’t expected and, with my sister gone, now is a good time to make that change.”
“What kind of opportunity? What could take you away from your home?”
He flinched as if she had struck him and she cursed her choice of words. Especially given that confrontation that morning, maybe she could have chosen a better word. She knew as well as anyone else how much he’d struggled since his father died. How difficult, and often unfair, life had been in Granite Junction for Cam.
He only shrugged, ignoring the elephant on the range. “It’s not a done deal yet so I’d prefer not to talk about it. Plenty of people leave the towns where they grew up and move somewhere else. Amy Jo has no intention of coming back here. There’s nothing for her here. So now is the perfect time for me to go.”
“But what about the ranch? Your family has been here since the town was settled. How can you possibly think about leaving? What will you do?”
He heaved a sigh. “Ranching is hard work, Emma. You have to love it and I don’t. I did it because it was a way to support my sister and me, but I’m tired.”
Emma moved until she stood right in front of him. “You never answered my question. You can tell me anything. We’ve been friends for years.”
His voice hardened along with a glint in his eye that surprised her. “No, I didn’t answer your question. I don’t have to justify my decision to anyone, Emma. It’s time that I choose how to spend my own life, not do what’s expected or what someone else tells me to do. I’m thirty-two years old and I can finally live my own damn life.”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her, the words shocking. He’d never spoken so harshly or bluntly to her. Before she could put on her counselor hat and delve into his words, a throat was cleared behind them.
“I think it might be best if we have something to eat before it gets cold. Emma was kind enough to bring us some delicious fried chicken from town and I’m thrilled I don’t have to cook or eat Cam’s cooking. And I’m bone tired from the agony my cousin put me through today on the ranch. I thought I was going to starve before we hunted down food in town.”
For once, Gabe’s lighthearted attitude had the desired effect and broke the tension between Cam and Emma. Cam whirled on his heel and strode back to the house, stiff and rigid. Emma started to follow and Gabe grabbed her arm, halting her for a moment.
“Go easy on him. Despite what he’s saying, this isn’t an easy decision. Let it go for now.”
She stared up at him, sensing Gabe’s concern, and she nodded. They followed Cam to the house without another word.
* * *