The Wild Cowboy's Secret

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lila Grayson could remember, vividly, the first time her eyes had ever offended her.

During her life she hadn’t spent very much time in church.

But she could recall one time when she had been dragged there by a friend.

In hindsight, she didn’t think the girl had actually been a friend.

Rather, she was pretty sure the girl’s parents had forced her to befriend Lila on account of they were worried about her eternal soul because she was a child who was too skinny, too mean, and swore too much.

Regardless of the circumstances, though, Lila could remember the sermon. The pastor had gripped the pulpit and leaned forward, and proclaimed that the Bible said, if your eye offends you, you ought to pluck it out.

At the time she hadn’t been able to think of a single reason her eyes could offend her. She’d imagined them turning inward, pupils facing her brain, telling her she was stupid.

It had made her laugh in the pew, and she’d never been invited back by that friend’s family, and she hadn’t thought of it again.

Until, one day years later when she’d suddenly remembered the sermon and had understood exactly what it actually meant.

She had been roughly twelve years old and had seen a seventeen-year-old Nolan without a shirt at the swimming hole. It was not the first time she had seen Nolan without a shirt. She had grown up with him. So, seeing him in a state of partial undress was a relatively common occurrence.

But she didn’t know if it was something about the light, the way the water had gleamed and glistened on muscles that were getting more and more defined as the years progressed, or if it was just that unfortunately for her, that day, her hormones had come online.

She would never really know.

But for whatever reason, that day, seeing him without a shirt had done something to her. Shifted something inside of her.

She had never felt more offended by her eyes in her life.

The second time her eyes had offended her — well and truly — she had caught Nolan making out with a girl in his truck in the parking lot of the apartment complex that they shared. Truly one of the least subtle moves a man could have ever made.

Why a girl would have lost her head so much to make out with him in the broad light of day in a place that was that unromantic, in his beater of a truck, she swore she couldn’t say.

She had never told anyone she’d seen that, least of all Nolan, partly because she couldn’t face anyone knowing that it would mean a single thing to her.

He was like her brothers. For the streets.

There was no point angsting about that sort of behavior. It just was what it was.

And yet, much like that day at the river, it was a moment burned into her memory. The way that his hand had skimmed along that girl’s face. The way that his mouth had moved. The way he moved his body.

It was a side of him she had never seen before, and a side she hoped to never see again.

It had haunted her. Kept her awake at night.

Made her ache for things that she had never before considered.

And every time he treated her like a child, she thought of that, and it made her painfully aware of how much she just hated him.

Because she had seen him. And he had never once seen her. Not that she wanted him to.

It had grown into an ache that she had just learned to live with, honestly.

Lila wasn’t a person lacking in courage or conviction, and so absolutely would have plucked her own eyes out if she hadn’t also found it utterly impractical.

Because she was practical above all else.

You had to be when you grew up in a state of relative poverty, figuring out how to make your own way.

She had the best older brothers in the world, which more than made up for a mother who had been disappointingly obsessed with a man who would never want her back, and a father who hadn’t given a single shit about his own children.

That being said, she felt that she needed her eyes, offensive, though they may be. And they had continued to offend.

Nolan irritated the ever-living hell out of her.

Their relationship was a complicated one, and had only gotten more tangled up after she’d made a real ass of herself one night after a rodeo event, though Nolan always acted like he didn’t remember it.

He’d been pretty hammered too, so maybe he didn’t.

But what had always been a volatile relationship had become a lot more explosive after that – again, that was her fault.

But for the last four years, she hadn’t been able to say if he was offensive and irritating simply because he was, or if it was her own solution to not being able to pluck out her eyes.

Hold him at a distance. That was the only thing for it.

She didn’t hate Nolan. In fact in spite of how much they clashed he remained one of the people she spent the most time with. He remained one of the most important people in her life even when she wanted to punch him, and herself.

But he picked on her too in his own way. He treated her like she was an annoying younger sister – when he wasn’t treating her like she was a prop to move around. And that was mostly fine. Truly.

It helped to make interaction with him routine.

She was on the offense, not the defense. The one setting off sparks between them, and deciding exactly what kinds of sparks they would be.

But then there were days like today. When she wished that she had gone and plucked her eyes out back when she had been twelve years old.

Because it was a hot day, and she and Nolan were doing trailblazing that had required him to get out more than a machete to clear some logs out of the way. And then, the work of cutting wood with an axe had gotten so hot he had removed his shirt.

Twelve-year-old Lila had been deeply impressed by the lean muscle and hairless chest on seventeen-year-old Nolan.

Twenty-five-year-old Lila was about to spontaneously combust over the well-developed, broad chest covered with dark hair on thirty-one-year-old Nolan and she hated it.

Yep. Should have just plucked those eyes straight out.

“My God,” she said. “Can you move fucking faster?”

He straightened up and looked at her, dark eyes indulgent but irritated. Then he grabbed his T-shirt and dragged it across the beaded sweat on his chest, and her stomach swooped. She gritted her teeth to try and minimize the feeling.

“This isn’t a photoshoot, princess,” she said. “We’re trailblazing.”

“Didn’t know I was picture perfect to you,” he said.

Her teeth were still gritted, but she felt something radiate through them like a shockwave.

“I just recognize a pose when I see one,” she said. “Now, can we keep things moving?”

“How much do you intend to get done for the day?”

“How far have we gone?”

He lifted his wrist and looked down at his watch. “Oh, half a mile.”

“I think we can get half a mile more, don’t you?”

He nodded once. She knew that even if he didn’t think that he would never admit it, because, of course, he would need to match her competitive spirit.

That was the thing about her and Nolan. They were always doing that. Butting heads and somehow turning those head-butting sessions into something productive.

They were like oil and vinegar. They stayed separate, they clashed, but they made a damn good salad dressing.

“I’m going to have to take a chainsaw to the stuff up ahead. There’s no way around it.”

She squinted and looked ahead at the solid wall of trees and foliage.

They had made an arrangement with the neighboring ranches to take the trail they were blazing across their land. They had agreed to give those ranchers a percentage of the revenue from the endurance rides.

All in all, it would be a fifty-mile round trip, twenty-five miles from the Painted Ridge Ranch, across some of the most beautiful, scenic countryside in Mustang River.

Of course, that was a great idea, and even going through the trail and marking it had been fun and exciting. But now here they were, several weeks into blazing said trail, and it was starting to feel a little less exciting and a little bit more grueling.

They were five miles in, just about.

Once they got any further than that, they were going to start camping out and working for several days without going back home, something she wasn’t looking forward to. Yes, they could hire people to help. They could get a bigger crew, but then that would require putting more money out.

Her older brother Cody was definitely testing her with this.

He didn’t have to do that. He could have pitched some of his own money in, but he hadn’t.

And she was excited about it. Really, she was.

But the money that she had earned barrel racing wasn’t the same as the money that her brothers had earned in bull riding and calf roping.

And certainly not the same as the money that Nolan had earned riding saddle bronc.

Not that she needed a whole lot of money to live.

She had a house on the Painted Ridge Ranch, she had a great job, the family tended to share food, and when she needed a new outfit, she went down to the farm and garden and picked up a pair of jeans, a sensible tank top or a button-up flannel, and she was good to go.

The only thing she spent serious money on—and she did have a problem—was boots and hats.

She had an array of western-style boots, hiking boots, and hats.

And if you wanted nice hats and boots, you had to invest some cash.

Still, given her other expenses, it just wasn’t all that much.

But she felt a hint of risk associated with this project, and it made it feel almost exciting.

The rest of it was wearisome, and scary, a little bit.

Because if the more extreme events didn’t bring people like they hoped, then she and Nolan would just have failed with their contribution to the ranch.

Walker was a silent investor, meaning he had paid money, but he wasn’t putting in any sweat equity.

Unsurprising when it came to Walker, who was about the smoothest motherfucker that Lila had ever known.

It was a gift that he had.