Hope on the Range

by Cindi Madsen

  Aiden slid a rope around the calf’s head and urged it to its feet. Then he stood there as if he were simply taking his cow-puppy for a walk.

  When Maddox pushed to his feet, three pair of eyes were trained on him. Wide, surprised eyes. Harlow’s mouth also hung open a few inches.

  “What?” he snapped, despite telling himself he wasn’t going to lash out at her anymore. It was hard to do when people gaped at you like you had three heads. Was cow saliva like a zombie bite? Would he start mooing soon?

  Okay, that’s the stupidest thought I’ve ever had.

  But maybe there was a disease. Mad cow disease—he’d heard something about that before.

  “How in tarnation did you tackle that calf so fast?” Harlow asked.

  His first instinct was to mock her for saying how in tarnation, but he managed to bite the comment back. There had to be some middle ground between asshole and disengaged. “Was that impressive?”

  “I mean, throw up your hands to signal the judge”—Harlow flung up her arms to demonstrate—“and we’d have our competition in the bag, lickety-split.”

  Maddox blinked at her. “I don’t understand half of what you say.”

  “In the rodeo? Calf roping?” The tilt of her head conveyed how dense she thought he was being, so he ran with the smart-assness.

  “Okay, now I don’t understand any of what you say.”

  “I’ve only been doing this a short while,” the blond said, “but that was fast.” She looked to Aiden for confirmation, and he nodded.

  Harlow placed her hand on Maddox’s elbow, and in his determination not to think weird, pussy thoughts about fairies and her hair, he accidentally concentrated on her brown eyes. The rim around her iris was darker than the rest, and were her pupils dilating in time with his quickening pulse?

  “Were you a wrestler or somethin’?” she asked.

  “Or something.” Maddox wiped the back of his hand on his pants again. It still felt sticky. “My little br—” He quickly switched gears, because he’d just ruled against happy memories, and the foster placement he’d had during his freshman year, when there’d been that almost family definitely applied. It was too late to completely avoid the subject, but brother wasn’t the right word.

  Not anymore.

  A sharp pain radiated through his chest, the fissure that’d formed in his heart a few years ago shuddering. “This little dude at one of my foster homes used to sprint out the door and be halfway out the gate of the front yard if anyone ever turned their back on him. It was my job to catch the tiny fugitive before he reached the street.”

  Harlow bit her lower lip, and he focused on the soft, pink fullness of her mouth. “We could use that.”

  Brady rounded the corner. “You get him?”

  Aiden lifted the rope attached to the calf and then gestured toward Maddox. “Thanks to the new guy.”

  Brady almost seemed impressed, but his stern expression quickly fell back into place. “I think it’s time to switch stations.” He lifted a megaphone Maddox hadn’t even seen at first and bellowed into it. “Everyone rotate right.”

  People shuffled around, but Harlow put her hand out in front of Maddox, blocking him from moving and addressing Brady. “If I can train Maddox to be even half-decent at roping, I’d like to do the team event with him. I could use his extra strength, since that’s the part I suck at. If he can rope the head and slow the steer, I can manage the feet.”

  The narrowed-eyed stare Brady aimed at Maddox contained equal parts disbelief and suspicion.

  Bro, I’m surprised as you are. Maddox licked his lips, the dry air and dust suddenly getting to him. “Do I get a say in the matter?”

  “No,” Harlow and Brady both said.

  Maddox considered pointing out that he could simply refuse to compete, but he was going to have to get through his time here one way or another. In order to survive the awfulness, he could use some form of entertainment, and Harlow was the only person who’d sparked a single ounce of it.

  He’d try to be less of a dick, too.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Brady asked Harlow.

  She shook her head, her braid swinging back and forth. “No, but it’s my favorite event, one I need to compete in to have a chance at winnin’ All-Around Cowgirl. It’d also help me qualify for regionals.”

  Brady sighed. “In order for Maddox to get to an advanced-enough level, it’s gonna require a whole lot of roping training. More than I was planning on.”

  “I can handle that part, too,” Harlow said, firing a You owe me glare in Maddox’s direction. For what, he couldn’t figure out, but he kept his trap shut all the same.

  “We can see how it goes, I guess.” Brady squared off in front of Maddox and crossed his arms. “I didn’t hire Harlow to come help us so some punk could let her down during an event she’s trained years for.” The line of his jaw tightened into a long, unyielding line. “So don’t be that punk.”

  While Maddox had heard plenty of growled threats in his day, this one managed to stir a pinch of fear, although he’d never admit it aloud. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Brady continued to sneer, as if he couldn’t tell if Maddox was being sarcastic or not—honestly, sometimes he couldn’t even tell.

  Harlow clamped on to his arm. “Let’s get you on a horse, Mr. Too Cool for School. And if you even think about runnin’ away, just know I can toss a lasso around you and yank you right off the back of that horse in a flash.” She grinned extra wide, making it clear she’d enjoy it, too.

  Apparently, he’d underestimated the sass.

  Chapter 5

  “You no-good, spying scoundrel,” Tanya said to Brady when she caught him poking his head around the stables. As she stormed in his direction, he had the audacity to conjure up an innocently confused expression.

  “I told you I was gonna drop by.”

  Tanya stuck a fist on her hip. “You’re early. And don’t even act like you didn’t do it so you could check out the competition.”

  The ragtag group she’d recruited was gathered around the circular corral where Tanya had set up three barrels. Winona, the petite woman from the diner, proclaimed she wanted to take up a new hobby while her son was in town to help run her establishment; the seventeen-year-old who worked at Horsefeathers Western Store part-time clamored for the chance to ride a horse under any circumstances; and then there was a handful of others who’d turned up eager to learn and have a shot at competing in the local rodeo.

  They’d about finished their first training meeting, but once Tanya caught sight of the familiar tan cowboy hat, she’d left Miguel to wrap things up for her.

  “I got out early for good behavior.” Brady strode closer, and the beating of Tanya’s heart went wonky on her. In her exasperation at catching him spying, she’d momentarily forgotten about flirty lines and leaving a lasting impression. Honestly, she should still smack him. She would, too, if the way he filled out his lightweight checkered shirt and worn Wranglers didn’t cause every nerve ending in her body to misfire.

  “Doesn’t sound like you,” she said with a huff, resisting the urge to smooth her curls. After demonstrating barrel racing for the past hour, her hair had grown frizzy and wild. There was a reason she mostly wore her locks in a ponytail prior to this whole put-in-effort bullshit. The plan had been to freshen up between meetups, and how dare Brady stroll into her day forty minutes before scheduled! “Besides, I thought you were playing the hard-ass while Wade was giving good cop a whirl.”

  “He’s struggling to let go of control.”

  “Big surprise there.” The Dawsons had been like Tanya’s second family going on forever. Brady was her age, but she’d grown up alongside Wade and Trace as well. Then, when she was fourteen and Nash arrived at Turn Around Ranch, he and Brady just clicked. Upon hearing the Dawsons were going to adopt Nash,
along with his younger brother, Tanya had experienced a whorl of jealousy and worry that she might be replaced. Instead they’d become the three musketeers. Sometimes they purposely didn’t ask Wade to go along, on account of him being the voice of reason, which didn’t particularly sit well with musketeering.

  Idly, she wondered if Brady had heard from Nash in a while, but it could be a sensitive subject, depending on the day. Best to keep focused for now.

  “How’d you manage to sneak over without—”

  On cue, Dundee barked, directing her gaze to the truck parked in front of the main cabin. The Australian shepherd did his best to behave, mostly because otherwise he’d be left behind, but he usually announced their arrivals with plenty of barking.

  “Bribery.” Brady patted his thigh, and Dundee leaped out of the bed of the pickup and rushed over to prance around their ankles. His owner rewarded his silence with a dog treat, and Dundee peered up at Tanya with his one blue eye and one brown eye. She never could resist his furry face, so she bent to rub his mottled ears the way he liked.

  “Wait. Miguel isn’t competing on your team, is he?” With her ducked down, her crew was in full view. “That hardly seems fair.”

  “Sorta like hiring Harlow Griffith to help you? That kind of fair?” Last night when Tanya had gone to the Silver Saddle Diner to grab dinner and discuss joining the team with Winona, Mrs. Griffith mentioned Harlow was doing the pre-rodeo show as well. “Miguel knows horses and cows but has never competed in a rodeo. Whereas Harlow is not only a local favorite but one of the best ropers and riders in the county.”

  “So are you,” Brady said.

  “I was. Not anymore.” At one point, she’d lived for the buzzer that signaled it was time for her and Diesel to charge into the arena and demonstrate what they could do. College courses had left scant time for training, so Tanya hadn’t slept much during those two years as she attempted to juggle everything, including a long-distance friendship with Brady. Her last big win was eight years ago, when she’d snagged the All-Around Cowgirl title for breakaway roping and barrel racing at the Colorado state finals in Montrose. Then her parents had needed her, and she’d decided it’d never get better than that anyway. Now she only competed at smaller local rodeos, much like Brady had done the last few years, for many of the same reasons.

  “Guess that makes us even, then.”

  Tanya pursed her lips, neither confirming nor denying. She stood and waved goodbye to the various townsfolk climbing into their vehicles, and Brady lifted a hand as well. Telling the cowboy across from her that his idea about allowing the townsfolk to see the teens in a new light while also getting them more involved was brilliant would only feed his ego. She’d mention it, though.

  Eventually. Say, after she’d beat him at his own game.

  “And since we’re even,” Brady said, as if there hadn’t been a break in the conversation, “I need a favor.”

  “Seriously?” she asked with a shake of her head.

  Brady flashed her a puppy-dog expression that she used to be much better at resisting before she’d gone and fallen in love with him. “I need to borrow some of your Smallfry kid ropes.”

  “What’s wrong? You took off the training wheels, only to find you weren’t ready for an adult rope?”

  He lunged forward and pinched her side, and a squeal accidentally escaped. Since she’d made noise, Dundee took that as his cue to let out a bark, and he circled them, ready to play along.

  Tanya expected to have to block or for Brady to lunge again. Instead, he took a large step back and slid his thumbs in the pockets of his Wranglers. Of course it made the mouthwatering line of his forearms stand out. “Actually, some of the teens are struggling with the bigger ropes. They’re the ones who need training wheels on their ropes.”

  Tanya fought the urge to bite her lip, and her voice came out breathier than she meant it to. “Likely story.”

  “Did you put on sunscreen today?” Brady asked, tilting his head and studying her face with a whole heap of concern. “You’re looking a little pink, and I know how easily you burn.” He gestured over his shoulder. “I have some SPF 50 in my truck if you’re running low.”

  It was the curse of a redhead—turning pink within two seconds flat, whether due to sun, passion, or embarrassment. Here she was ogling and having lusty thoughts about him, and he was taking care of her like she was a little kid who would end up sunburned and peeling. “I, uh, put on the heavy-duty stuff today already.”

  “Good, good. Anyway, can I borrow a few?”

  The haze in her brain cleared, allowing her to connect the dots and fill in the blank. The Smallfry ropes—right. “Sure. Follow me into the tack room, and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “I’d be happy to.” His voice dipped low when he added, “You’ve got that whip in there, too, right?”

  Luckily, she’d already pivoted toward the open door of the stables, since she had no desire to be asked about her sunscreen usage. But he’d hinted at the whip, and what the hell did it all mean? Were any of her efforts working? Or was she setting herself up for a future crash?

  So far, she’d only made it halfway through the dating book. The last chapter she’d read delved into throwing out flirty lines like bait. Between the corporate retreat activities, the countless questions from Eric about ranching, and forming a team of novices, she’d fallen into bed completely exhausted the past few days.

  With Brady at her back as she riffled through drawers, muttering and shuffling around bridles and other odds and ends, the urgency to pore over the knowledge from the book increased. “I swear they were right here,” she said, merely for something to say.

  Brady jerked up his head, and for one glorious moment, she assumed it was because he’d been checking out her butt. Then she realized she’d skidded in the corral during a demonstration and had mud and manure on the seat of her jeans.

  Well, shit. Literally.

  The man had seen her dirty more times than clean, so it shouldn’t matter. Then again, that might mean she would have to work that much harder to get him to see her as a sexy woman instead of his childhood friend.

  Not that she’d ever felt super sexy, per se, but when she made effort, she liked what she saw in the mirror well enough. The real question was if perfectly styled hair, a face full of makeup, and some flirty lines would cause Brady to suddenly think: There’s my dream woman. She was under my nose the whole time.

  Tanya opened a cabinet, her mood deflating a bit. There was optimism and then there was delusion, and she wasn’t rightly sure which side of the fence she’d landed herself on. “Ope, there they are.” As Brady’s fingers brushed the multicolored coils she’d extended his way, she wrenched them behind her back. “Wait. If I let you borrow these so your team can try to beat mine, what are you gonna give me in return?”

  There. That was flirty yet not over the top. Cheeky without leaving her cheeks flaming red.

  The toes of Brady’s boots hit hers. “Tanya.” His voice dipped low, igniting a riot of emotions that left her lungs straining for air. “We said we were even. Now, hand over the ropes, and no one will get hurt.”

  She tightened her grip, her stubborn nature and need to win making it impossible to simply hand over the ropes. “You said we were square, not me. Even so, I still haven’t heard a good reason to let you borrow my training equipment.”

  He reached around her, his chest bumping into hers. “How about because you love me?”

  Too true, although she worked to keep those feelings from creeping into her expression. She glanced at the ceiling, as if she had to do some serious pondering on the matter. “There’s love, and then there’s shooting yourself in the foot.”

  “Fair enough.” Brady’s chest rose and fell against hers, and warmth pooled low in her belly. For one courageous second, she imagined leaning in and pressing her mouth to his to see what he�
�d do. Just go all in and be done with it. “How about because you love a challenge? The better my team is, the higher the stakes.”

  Excitement surged, his words playing her like the sucker she was whenever it came to their friendly rivalry. While she hated the chicken insult and how often he used it against her in their younger days, she was far too much of one to go for a kiss quite yet. Honestly, she’d hoped she’d dangle the bait and he’d do the biting. “You got me there.”

  “Then there’s my last point—and it’s my personal favorite: I’m stronger than you.” He snaked an arm around her waist, securing both of her arms down at her sides.

  “Don’t you dare.” She grunted and squirmed, but it only made him tighten his hold. Then he lifted her clear off her feet, which was amazing and torturous at the same time. He pried the rope from her fist one finger at a time, his touch and the friction of their smooshed bodies intoxicating. If she focused on that, she’d melt instead of resist. “Brady, I swear. If you don’t put me down right now, I’m gonna—”

  “Oh. Sorry to interrupt.” The figure was merely a dark profile against the bright light streaming in through the stables, but she could tell by the shape and his voice that it was Eric Richmond.

  Dundee placed himself between the CEO and her and Brady, glancing toward them to see if Eric was a welcome guess or not.

  Brady loosened his grip, slowly lowered her until her boots hit the ground, and fully turned toward the guy. The arm he’d lifted her with remained around her waist, and he hooked his hand on her hip, the heat of his touch slowly spreading throughout her entire torso.

  “Hey, Eric,” she said, and her stupid voice betrayed her breathlessness yet again. “This is Brady Dawson. He and his family run the at-risk youth ranch next door.”

  Eric extended his hand, and Brady stared at it for a beat. She was about to jab him in the ribs with her elbow for being rude when he finally reciprocated the gesture.

  They shook, and Tanya said, “This is Eric Richmond, CEO of RichTech. He’s recently inherited some land and is thinking about getting into the ranching business.”