27. 27
27
Colton
I hadn’t seen Beau since he’d torn out of the carpark of Tailgates the night before. When my body clock had me shuffling down the hallway at sunrise, his bed had been slept in but empty. When I yawned making morning coffees, he hadn’t been at the kitchen table sipping his own while flicking through horse classifieds. His ute was here, and judging by the skid marks, it had been parked by an angry driver. I didn’t know what had happened between Beau and Honey last night. Honey’s tears had told me they’d had a doozy of a fight. Beau’s death glare and parting words told me it’d been about me .
Just as I’d put the milk back in the fridge, my eyes caught something on the table. I picked it up, a frown forming my features as I read Beau’s rushed handwriting.
‘Where’s your brother?’ Dad asked, his voice still gruff with sleep as he flopped into his usual chair at the table.
I sat next to him, placing our coffees in front of us. ‘Gone out camping for a couple nights, apparently.’
I knew exactly where he’d gone. His horse would be loaded with only the bare essentials for a couple of nights on the creek bed; swag, billy tea and his fishing rod. It was typical Beau. The creek had been his sanctuary ever since he was young. If the horses couldn’t resolve whatever turmoil he was going through, it was dipping a line into the slow-moving water.
‘Did you do something?’
I threw my hands up. ‘Not directly, no.’
Dad gave a tired sigh before slurping at his coffee. ‘There’s been more drama on this ranch since you’ve come home than on Farmer Wants A Wife .’
I cocked my head and a smirk grew on my lips. ‘How do you know that show?’
The way my dad spluttered for a response made my smirk stretch into a full-blown grin. ‘We’re not talking about me , but you , and the shit you’ve stirred up. Go and check on your brother.’
‘I would, but there’s a chance I might get drowned.’
Dad shook his head and I thought he was going to lecture me but instead he asked, ‘What are your plans for the day?’
I didn’t know if I preferred the lecture, because my response was only going to encourage a barrage of questions. ‘That author Honey got in for a book signing … well I’m giving her a tour of the place. Says she needs to do research for her next book.’
My dad blinked at me, mug halfway to his mouth. ‘Why the bloody hell would you agree to that?’
‘I don’t know.’ I threw my head back and looked at the ceiling. I wouldn’t let my dad know I’d done it to make Honey jealous like an immature little shit, although he knew me well enough to know that’s exactly why I’d done it. ‘You need to make yourself scarce while she’s here. This one is from Brooklyn. If you offend her, you’ll be sure to get a dressing down and a black eye to go with it.’
‘How would I offend her?’
I gave a bark of laughter. ‘With your jokes only you think are funny.’
‘But they are funny.’ Dad set his mug down and I groaned. ‘How many Americans does it take to change a lightbulb?’
‘This is why I’ve never asked you to visit me.’
***
‘This is the girth. It wraps around the horse’s belly to hold the saddle on.’ I gave a sideways glance to see if Kimberley was paying attention. She was. But not to what I was showing her, but more staring at me solely. I cleared my throat and let the fender slap down by the horse’s side. ‘Why don’t you hop on up and I’ll adjust your stirrups? You ever ridden a horse before?’
‘I’ve ridden lots of things, but never a horse.’ She gave me a flirty grin, one which may have had me bedding her a few weeks ago, but now I only gave a tight smile. If my rodeo mates could see me now, they’d be questioning my sexuality resisting a woman like Kimberley Sparks.
‘So you want to put your left foot in the stirrup.’ I tried to keep our touches as minimal as possible when I helped Kimberley put a sneaker, attached to long legs clad in tight leggings, into the stirrup. ‘Then you just want to pull yourself up. That’s it.’
I made my way over to my own horse and gathered the reins on its neck before vaulting into the saddle. I’d picked a mature horse to accompany the bombproof one I’d selected for Kimberley. I didn’t need to be fighting a green horse while worrying about her inadequate riding skills. I was grateful for Shooter, now turning grey with his old age, as he plodded casually behind Star. I already wanted to hurry up and get this “tour” over and done with.
A part of me wished that I could be like a normal hot-blooded male with Kimberley. There was no denying the woman was beautiful, with a mixture of power and mystery that would intimidate the weakest men and enthral the strongest. And she wanted me . It’d been months since I’d had sex. I should’ve been giddy with the prospect of getting lucky. Maybe throwing caution to the wind and committing myself to another woman was just what I needed to flush Honey from my system. But I knew that was bullshit. I could be living in a palace with twenty women at my feet and I would still crave the girl next door. Honey. Sweet and addictive. Curves that my hands itched to move over. A smile that held so many happy memories of us.
For a short moment, I forgot about the bestselling author trailing behind me. I focused on the sounds of the horses’ gentle puffs, their hooves thumping across the hard ground. The air had a feel to it, something I couldn’t describe, but brought an inner peace to me. The early morning brought a coolness that allowed the humans and animals to enjoy the outdoors before it was blistering under a scorching sun.
On Double Q Ranch, there weren’t any bulls bellowing as they were unloaded from stock trucks. An announcer wasn’t blaring across the grounds. The atmosphere wasn’t charged with competitors’ nerves. When I first arrived in the US, these were the things I drank in. I thrived in the thrumming environment. I was a young boy from a small outback town looking at the new world he’d been thrust into with starry eyes. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the calmer lifestyle was calling for me more than ever. The aches and pains in my body were screaming at me to bow out, but I refused until I reached the goal I’d dreamt of since boarding the flight to Texas. I’d been pushing my body to the limit for so many years and I was constantly hovering in the middle. I was in the final years of my prime. I had to start climbing the ranks, if my time away hadn’t already jeopardised that.
Maybe this was the best it was going to get. Was it really time for me to give up the sport before I was a broken-down cowboy chasing a dream no longer within reach? I’d watched them. Crowds looked down from their seats with pity as they were flung into the dirt long before the eight seconds. They would go back to the trailer they’d only ever known as a home with only a bourbon to keep them company. Drawers full of buckles were reminders of the cowboys they no longer were. Sacrifices they’d made. Then once the buckles stopped coming in—instead going to the new, younger champions—they realised just how empty and lonely their lives were. But I had to keep fighting for the top. I’d hurt too many people to get there. How could I cause so much damage for nothing?
There was the sound of a camera click and I turned in my saddle to see Kimberley snapping photos on her phone.
‘Uh, you’re taking photos?’ I steadied Star for Shooter to catch up. I couldn’t help but notice the way Kimberley used her legs to move the gelding closer to the mare. Beginners always gripped the reins like they were driving an out-of-control car. It told me that Kimberley wasn’t as clueless with horses as she made out to be.
The New Yorker gave a mild shrug and snapped another. ‘It’s easier to go back to my computer and pull up photos for inspiration as I write.’ She gave me a bump with her leg. ‘You didn’t really think I’d be out here jotting down everything you said with a little notebook and pen did you, cowboy? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re not saying much.’
I knew she was right. Although I might be regretting it now, I was the idiot who’d suggested this thing in the first place. I had to do the right thing and come through with what I’d promised.
‘My great grandfather, who, funnily enough, came from the States, came to work on the cattle stations which populate the north of Australia. Eventually, he wanted to settle down with his own land, so he settled here with the intent to farm cattle like the Beauregard’s used to next door. He was quick to notice, though, that while the beef industry in these parts was thriving, they were struggling to get horses tough enough to work these parts. The horses had to have the drive to work long hours, stamina to last the hot days, hard feet to match the ground but also a gentleness to take the kids to school.’ I was glad to see Kimberley looking intrigued with our family’s history. ‘So, he bred the quarter horse stallion who’d come to Australia with him to a station-bred mare. Demand for his horses quickly grew and here we are four generations later.’
‘So you could almost say you returned to your roots when you went to the US to ride bulls?’ Kimberley was tapping away on her phone.
I shrugged. ‘I guess so. This will always be home though.’
Kimberley nodded, her sharp features softening. ‘I haven’t always been from Brooklyn, but since that’s where my books are based, my publishing agent makes out I’m born and bred. Makes the reader feel they’re more authentic apparently.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m actually from a ranch in Montana but we lost it all when cattle prices crashed. My father wanted a fresh start, somewhere he wouldn’t be reminded of losing the ranch owned by our family for generations. We moved to Brooklyn when I was five. At first, I hated it. The city had a smell to it, smothered with pollution, and it was always so busy. But I got used to it.’
‘Is that when you discovered writing?’
‘I always had a story in my head, often getting myself into trouble because I was constantly daydreaming. I almost burnt our apartment down once because I left dinner cooking on the stove when inspiration struck. I just had to get the words out of my head. By the time I’d finished, it was an hour later and the stir fry I’d been cooking was no longer edible.’
‘I knew a girl like that.’ I smiled, thinking of Honey jotting down her story ideas in a notebook she carted around. ‘Then she decided writing professionally wasn’t for her but wanted to help other authors get noticed instead.’
‘Huh.’ There was curiosity in Kimberley’s eyes. ‘Anyway, I always used to write about cowboys and city girls falling in love. Apparently that soft romance just doesn’t sell anymore. So I started writing erotica based in the Big Apple. Seems to be working for me. Although my parents are far from impressed. They don’t see me much different than a prostitute working a corner.’
I coughed. ‘Oh, uh, I’m sorry to hear that.’
That sultry look came into Kimberley’s eyes again and I knew I was in trouble.
‘Whoa, hey—’ I struggled to process what was happening as Kimberley somehow managed to slide from her saddle to sit in my lap. Star automatically halted, as did Shooter. ‘Kimberley, I don—’
Her body pressed against me, her lips trailing down my neck while her pelvis ground against mine. ‘Want me to show you what I make the characters in my books do?’ Her red fingernails raked down my torso until they were moving dangerously south. ‘This book hasn’t been released yet, but I’m willing to give you an exclusive sneak peek.’
‘Kimberley, stop!’ I gripped her wrists just as she reached my belt, holding them away from my body like they were weapons. ‘I’m sorry if I led you on, but—’
‘Oh my god.’ Humiliation, something I believed was rare for her, crumpled her features. She slid from Star like a rat down a drainpipe and moved to stand a short distance away with her fingers through her hair.
I threw my head back, sent a prayer to the clouds, and dismounted to approach her cautiously. ‘I’m real sorry. It’s not you! I mean, you’re stunning. Any guy would be thrilled to have you … uh, do that.’
She gave a huff. ‘Not any guy, apparently.’
‘It’s just that my heart was taken a long time ago and I haven’t managed to get it back yet.’ I swallowed at the ache my words brought.
Kimberley’s eyes narrowed, like a cat with a paw on a mouse. ‘It’s that bookshop girl, isn’t it?’
‘What? Uh—’
‘You’re in love with your brother’s girlfriend?’ she shrieked.
Something in me flared. Protectiveness not only for Honey but my brother too. ‘Look, there’s a long history there. You don’t know enough to judge anyone involved.’
Kimberley gave a snort, which didn’t match her polished appearance. ‘I know that even after the embarrassing show she put on last night, she manages to have two brothers desperate to fuck her and I can’t even get one!’
‘Hey!’ My teeth were gritted. ‘ Don’t speak about her like that!’
Kimberley stared me down, and I wondered if she was going to rise up or back down. The way her chin jutted told me she wasn’t going to admit wrongfulness. ‘I think I’ve got enough inspiration.’
I could tell the horses sensed the tense vibes rebounding between Kimberley and myself by their jerky movements. Even Shooter, usually so calm and collected, looked nervous to have the fiery American on his back. When the homestead came into view and we were steps away from the barn, I almost flopped onto Star’s neck and sobbed with relief. That was karma for acting like a jealous idiot.
‘No need to drive me back to town. I’ll catch an Uber,’ snapped Kimberley, tapping away on her phone once the horses were tied in the barn.
‘There ain’t no Ubers out here, sweetheart.’ I set to work with unsaddling the horses.
‘Well, there has to be some other solution to get me out of here!’
‘Better start walking then.’ I threw the heavy saddle onto a stable door.
‘Ugh! You are such an arsehole! I can’t believe I wanted to fuck you!’ Kimberley marched up to me, jabbing her terrifyingly sharp nail into my chest.
‘Yeah, well, you’re not my most favourite person either!’ I returned her glare, flicking her finger away from me like a bug on my shirt. ‘So unless you want to be dying of heatstroke along a country road, I suggest you apologise for what you said.’
‘What the hell is going on here?’
Both of us broke free from our glowering match to look at Beau standing in the doorway, curiosity and worry forming on his features.
‘I thought you were camping?’ The young colt he’d taken out was back in its stall, the gear dumped in a pile to the side of the aisle.
‘Changed my mind.’ His gaze was ice, almost glowing blue in the shade of his hat.
I rolled my eyes when Kimberley trotted over to him like a child dobbing on their sibling.
‘Your brother is the rudest person I have ever met!’
‘Careful, darlin’. Remember, Beau is dating the woman you insulted,’ I muttered dryly.
‘Honey isn’t my girlfriend.’
I almost dropped the tack I was carrying on the floor. Beau only looked at me calmly—too calmly. ‘What? You broke up? Shit. Are you alright?’
My brother gave a bitter scoff. ‘Save the sympathy, Colton. You’re practically chomping at the bit to run next door.’ He shook his head and turned away from me. ‘Come on, Kimberley, I’ll give you a lift.’
I had the urge to give the author a flip of my middle finger when she gave a sarcastic grin before sashaying after Beau. The bridles and saddles continued to weigh my arms down from where I remained rooted to the spot. Beau’s ute was now tearing down the driveway, clouds of thick dust in its wake, leaving me dumbfounded to process this new revelation.