Chapter 22
Nash
It’s been a week since I brought Betty to my cabin. A week since we started this journey together.
We’ve kept it between us, stealing moments and sharing kisses every chance we got. Neither of us has taken it further than some heavy groping. It makes me feel like we’re teenagers again, but I want her to know I’m serious about this. I heard her, and I thought this through. I want her.
The rodeo crowd seems louder than ever, as if they know what the Garrisons planned for tonight.
It’s a night to honor Gary and Rhonda Miller.
It was the Miller family who started this ranch generations ago, and until Tate bought it, it had always been in their family.
Though if you ask them, it still is. The Garrison brothers made Boulder Ranch their home, and they will continue carrying on the legacy. A legacy I am honored to be part of.
Placing my cowboy hat on my head, I step out onto the track bordering the arena. I told Betty I would continue to stay in the cabins so as not to draw attention to us, but I want nothing more than for people to know she’s the woman on my arm. Yet, she hasn’t pushed for us to be out in the open.
There’s no room for me to blame her. I’ve come and gone so many times that the woman might have whiplash. I can understand her wanting to be sure I will hold to my word and not push her away at the first sign of my discomfort.
I hope she’s seen my effort this past week.
Despite our kisses being little more than stolen moments most days, we’ve talked every spare minute.
Sometimes during walks around the land or by the lake.
Other times, on the phone or if I can sneak into her room at the ranch without being seen.
Learning everything about that woman might be the single best thing I’ve done in a long time.
“Hey, Nash!” I spin to the sound of my name, Old Man Wilber gimping his way toward me.
“Hey, Wilber. Great to see you.” I pull the guy into a hug, his hand clapping my back harder than necessary.
“You too, son. I hear you got your nastiest bulls out here tonight,” Wilber grins like the fool he is, showcasing a glint of mischief in his eyes.
It seems as if he has been around forever.
The guy does everything someone his age shouldn’t, and his damn dog is always getting into something, yet I don’t see the mutt at his heels.
Flashing him a quick grin, I nod. “Those men are here to compete. Might as well compete with the best.”
The old man grunts, nodding absently as he waves at someone behind me. He’s always been a celebrity in our fair county. If you don’t know the Crawleys, you definitely don’t belong here. “Save the nastiest one for me.”
“Wilber, you are not riding tonight?” My words are a groan. I’d been warned he’d wanted to put on a show this weekend, but I figured it would be some ridiculous speech.
“Damn straight. I entered to compete like everyone else.” His thick brow furrows as if challenging me to tell him otherwise.
I can only shake my head with a huffing laugh. He does what he wants to do. He’s never cared about what anyone thought of him. It was that piece of his personality that helped propel me forward in my younger years. Take chances. Go for what you want. Enjoy life while you’re at it.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot that last part.
I’ve worked myself to the bone at my company, at the gym, and on my family’s ranch.
The past week with Betty has been the most I’ve laughed in a long time.
The most I’ve relaxed and not counted the minutes or worried about the schedule. It was me, her, and whatever was ahead.
“Why you look like you’re daydreamin’ or something?” Wilber grunts, his weathered eyes crinkling heavily as they narrow my way. “You got yourself a new lady finally?”
“Finally?” I cock my head back, surprised he knew I was married in the first place.
I rarely brought Katherine here. She didn’t want to drive, and I preferred not to fly if I was going to be here for longer than a few days.
There was a difference in travel styles, but it was never a point of contention.
Looking back, much of our lives were like that, but our friendship stayed solid.
It’s probably also why our marriage was really never anything other than friends having sex and a guaranteed date to weddings.
“It’s been what?” He cups his chin as if in deep thought. “Six years?”
“Uh, almost eight.”
Wilber claps me on the shoulder in that fatherly way he always has. “Well then, time to hop back in the saddle, although it looks like you already have. Just stay away from those young things. You ain’t no spring chicken no more.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I groan.
I’m ready for this awkward encounter to continue when a group of calf ropers turns the corner, each greeting Wilber like the king of Cole County he is. Ward catches my stare, his glare a reminder that any chance we had at a friendship disappeared when I claimed Betty for myself. I don’t even care.
She should have been mine from the beginning. Really, I should thank him for keeping her off the market for me.
What the hell, Nash? Who thinks like that?
Betty brings out my possessive side to the nth degree. She makes me jealous and obsessive. There’s nothing I crave more than her eyes on me, her laugh, and her taste.
“Nash.” Ward shakes my hand, ever the gentleman.
“Hey, Ward. You ready for tonight?”
“I’m always ready,” he nods before falling back into conversation with the group.
I take that as my cue to slip away. I need to do one more check of the roughstock before the ceremony begins. It was something my father taught me from the beginning. “Never trust someone else to do what you should do yourself,” he’d told me time and time again.
Shouldering my way through the crowd, I can’t control the grin that pulls at the corners of my mouth. Just five hours and then I’ll have her back in my arms.
Stalking my way to the barn where the bulls and calves are held, I’m lost in my thoughts of her. She’ll stay here tonight while all the rooms are being rented out, but hopefully I’ll be able to convince her to come back to the cabin once they all check out.
It was our one and only night together. There are these prickling devil thoughts in the back of my mind that I hadn’t even deserved that.
That it might have been my one chance to have her.
That dominant monster within that comes out in the bedroom growls in my chest, pissed we haven’t gotten to sink into her core yet.
We haven’t felt her walls flutter around us or heard her moan our name as she comes all over my cock.
Yet the gentleman my father raised me as praises me for doing this right.
For respecting her and just allowing myself to revel in the feel of her in my arms. Reminding myself that if I do this right, there will be plenty of time for it all, even if there are a million reasons I should let someone give her a better life.
Running through my roster of competitors for the weekend, my phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket.
It’s rare anyone reaches out on rodeo nights. The close circle of people I keep in my life knows I’m focused. When I’m in work mode, I’m not one to be disturbed.
My brow scrunches low seeing my lawyer’s name on the caller ID. “Hello?” I answer, confused by the call at six on a Saturday evening. I’m sure the man works day and night, but I’m likely one of his easier clients.
“Hi, Nash. Sorry to bother you, but we have a huge problem.”
“With what?” My heart rate skyrockets, wondering which deal has gone so far off the rails that my lawyer needs to get involved.
It’s happened a few times throughout the years.
Usually, some long-lost family member or offspring crawls out of the woodwork claiming rights to the land or property.
My guy hasn’t lost a battle yet, but that’s because I’m pretty sure he’s a mob lawyer.
From the slicked-back hair and the custom suits and thousand-dollar shoes, he walks, talks, and fights like criminals are his highest clientele, and he’s determined to make you believe they’re not.
“It’s the Kaufman deal.”
“What about it?”
“You’re going to want to get back to Montana. Now.”
Fuck.