Grumpy Cowboy: A Hot Single Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Max Monroe

  “I’ve been entrusted with Rhett’s recovery, and it’s going really well. I’m very happy with the progress his leg is making, and he should be back to a hundred percent in no time if we keep this up.”

  “Well, that’s good. I mean, as long as you can keep yourself from playin’ around on my broncs goin’ forward. Wouldn’t want this to happen again because of some need to prove somethin’ to all the boys who made a career out of it, you know?”

  Wow. That was definitely a jab if I’ve ever heard one, but Rhett keeps his cool and shakes his head. “I don’t plan to do any more bronc ridin’ anytime soon, sir. Yours or any others.”

  “Well, that’s good. Takes some of us longer to grow up than others, I guess, but eventually it happens.”

  Feeling antsy at the serious attack on Rhett’s character, I can’t help but speak up. Though, I’m careful to do it without any aggression. You catch a lot more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. Of that much, I’m certain. “I don’t think Rhett needs to grow up much more,” I say with a teasing smile. “I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone who takes all of his responsibilities so seriously. Any more stony-faced jaw ticks out of this guy, and his face just might freeze like that.”

  Clay laughs, thankfully, and for now, it seems like the bulk of the tension between the two of them is broken. As a person who’s not exactly prone to conflict of any kind, I’m tremendously proud of myself for not turning, running, and cowering in the corner while two tough cowboys duked it out.

  Evidently, I’m turning into a sturdy, strong-willed rancher girl after all.

  I look down out of an involuntary compulsion to hide my reddening cheeks and see that there’s a glob of horse poop stuck to the toe of my new boots, and it takes all the strength inside me not to scream out in hysteria.

  Okay, so maybe I’m not at full ranch girl status, but I’m getting there…

  Surreptitiously, I try to twist my leg down and around so I can wipe the offending substance in the grass.

  “Come on, Dr. Leah,” Clay invites. “Why don’t we find some seats? I think the exhibition’s about to start.”

  “Um, okay,” I hedge hesitantly. I really didn’t expect to be sitting with a complete stranger while I figured out how everything worked about rodeo. In fact, I planned on sitting next to Rhett and asking every ridiculous question I could think of, and now, that seems like it would be kind of embarrassing for me, to be honest.

  “Have you ever been to a rodeo before, hun?” Clay asks, and I shake my head in the negative.

  “Ooh, doggie,” he cries out, slapping his thigh for extra emphasis. “You’re in for a treat, then.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. Best entertainment there is, if you ask me. Though, I suppose I may be a bit biased since I make my livin’ from it.” He winks.

  I glance back at Rhett as Clay loops my arm in his without warning, and Rhett rolls his eyes—but he does it with a smile. Clearly, we’ve moved on from the portion of the interaction where Rhett’s manhood feels threatened and are now entering the these fucking old guys and their showboating portion of the afternoon.

  “See, doll, rodeo’s more than a show—it’s a lifestyle. It’s grit and nerve and a whole hell of a lotta work. Even me, with the livestock rearin’, it’s a science, ya know? Not quite as crude as all those city folks seem to think,” Clay explains as we walk.

  I suck my lips into my mouth as he adds, “No offense, of course.”

  I laugh. “Of course.”

  Clay leads us around one end of the arena toward the stands, and with a quick glance back at Rhett to see he’s still with us, I admit, “Since I’ve never actually seen a rodeo in person before, I don’t even know all the things that can be done. I mean, other than riding stuff, what actually happens?”

  “Well, there’s quite a few events today, and at an actual scored event, even more. But I imagine you’ll see some bull and bronc ridin’, steer wrestlin’, ropin’, mutton bustin’, and probably a barrel race exhibition or two. Anythin’ else, Rhett?”

  “Just some ranch sortin’ and a cuttin’ and reinin’ horse exhibition. And food and drinks and fireworks, of course.”

  Clay laughs and rubs his belly with his free hand. “Oh yeah, the food. My favorite part.”

  He turns toward me, rotating us both so he can look at Rhett directly as he asks, “Tell me you got that taco truck again, I beg ya.”

  “We did.” Rhett grins. “Plus, another. Two taco trucks for you to eat your heart out.”

  Clay chuckles. “Okay, okay, I’m starting to like you a little again.”

  My cheeks feel like helium balloons, they shoot upward so easily. I’ve never spent a lot of time around people like this—people who tease and taunt and give one another shit, but at the end of the day would do anything for that very same person.

  My life has walked a much more distinct line—people were either nice or mean, and there wasn’t any crossover between the two in the name of playfulness. I’m not sure how to reconcile the two, other than I feel a lot happier knowing there’s at least some good in everyone around me rather than having to try to decipher from the jump if someone is good or evil.

  Clay releases my arm to climb up the bleachers a few rows and then reaches back down with a hand to help me up. I’m about to take it—because holy hell, that’s pretty chivalrous—but Rhett’s hands settle on my hips and take me by surprise.

  I’m not offended by his touch—to be honest, it feels too good.

  But I am seriously shocked at how easy it is for him to lift me from one row of bleachers to the next without even moving from his spot on the ground. I don’t weigh a ton, but I am a full-grown woman, and he does have a bum knee. Apparently, though, his superhuman, rancher-god type of strength trumps all of the above.

  A smidge self-conscious over the sudden heat I feel flooding my face, I look down to double-check my footing—and hide my face—and spin around to take the seat next to Clay. Rhett follows behind, carefully climbing up the rungs with his braced knee, and takes the seat on the other side of me, effectively blocking me in between two huge cowboys.

  If I would have attempted to predict where I’d spend my time celebrating the Fourth of July a couple months ago, I can tell you for sure, it wouldn’t have been here. If Taylor and Carla could see me, looking like this, sitting where I am, they would flip.

  Rhett leans toward me, whispering, “The first thing that’ll happen is the opening ceremonies. Usually, all the barrel racers and steer wrestlers and ropers’ll ride their horses around the arena a few times, carryin’ the flag as ‘God Bless America’ plays, and then they’ll all come to a stop in the center for the national anthem. Then we’ll get into the mutton bustin’ first.”

  “Right. Of course.” I pause and chew on my lips silently for a few seconds before asking, “And mutton bustin’ is…”

  Rhett chuckles softly. “Mutton bustin’ is a kids thing. They’ll ride sheep kinda like they’re bulls. It’s all just for fun, though.” He pauses. “Well, technically, all of today is just for fun, but you know what I mean. Mutton bustin’ is usually the first step in a young cowboy’s career.”

  I hum. Huh. Kids on sheep. Sounds pretty cute, to be honest.

  Clay elbows me suddenly, pulling my attention to the other side as several cowgirls and cowboys come riding into the arena, all of them with huge poles and flags tucked into a pouch on their stirrups. Their horses are sleek and shiny, and their outfits are decked out ornately. The women are in full hair and makeup, rhinestones on their chaps and shirts and boots and, quite frankly, everything.

  I’ve never worn an outfit like that before—people would look at me like I had two heads in Salt Lake City—but I’ve got to admit, I’m pretty into it.

  All that sparkle looks like a whole lot of fun.

  The last woman to enter the arena is one I recognize immediately as Anna—the birthgiver. She looks beautiful, I can’t deny that, but there’s lead in m
y gut every time I look at her and think about the callous way she’s abandoned her daughter.

  She’s glitz and glam on the surface—a real rodeo supermodel—but underneath, I don’t even know if there’s real flesh and bone.

  I mean, there couldn’t be…

  Not with the way she ignores Joey’s existence entirely.

  I glance up at Rhett to find him staring at her. His jaw is relaxed and his eyes contemplative. I’m not sure what any of it means.

  My mind, obviously, has several narratives of jealousy it’d like to push on me—he’s still in love with her, he misses her, he wishes things were different—but the rational part of me knows better.

  I definitely didn’t miss the speed and apathy with which he left Anna standing by his truck to greet Joey and me when we arrived.

  The crowd goes crazy as she does a fancy quick spin, her horse’s hind hooves planted in the sand of the arena as the flag whirls gracefully. She smiles huge, does a semi-bow, curtsy thing from the top of her horse and then winks to the crowd as she presents the flag and the National Anthem starts.

  I have to actively work to keep myself from laughing aloud. Instead, I lean toward Rhett and whisper, “She sure likes the attention, huh?”

  He scoffs but doesn’t say anything else. I’m pretty sure, however, the sound is meant to convey his agreement.

  After standing for the National Anthem, all of the cowboys return their hats to their heads, and the group of flag-wielding riders clears the arena. A chatter starts up in the crowd again, and then an announcer comes on over the PA system.

  “Welcome, boys and girls, to Shaw Springs Ranch Fourth of July Extravaganza! How about we give a huge round of applause to the Jameson family for all their hard work on today’s events before we get started!”

  A roar comes over the crowd, and several men all around us lean forward to slap Rhett on the back. My eyes are like ping-pong balls as they bounce around, trying to figure out where all the hands and arms are coming from.

  Rhett takes his hat off briefly and waves it above his head, and I see Tex, a few bleacher sets away, do the same thing. Jenny stands up and waves too, and it’s only then that I notice Joey isn’t sitting with her anymore.

  The panic is immediate and intense.

  “Rhett!” I say sharply—much more sharply than intended. “Where’s Joey? I thought she was with Jenny, but I don’t see her anymore.”

  He glances that direction but pretty quickly turns back, shakes his head, and even pats my leg right above the knee. “Relax. She’s probably in the back, all suited up for her turn on the sheep.”

  “Wait…Joey is muffin bustin’?” I nearly yell. Both Clay and Rhett laugh, Clay even more so than Rhett. Honestly, he’s too uproarious for my taste, and I don’t even know what he’s laughing about.

  “It’s mutton bustin’,” Rhett corrects. “Not muffin.”

  “Who cares!” I whisper-yell. “I don’t care if it’s blueberry or corn or freaking cranberry muttons. I care that Joey is doing it!”

  He laughs again, and it’s a good thing his brace is there because I get too violent with his leg when I slam down my fist. But he’s fine; I know he is since I got all plastic with my blow, so I ignore my mistake and focus on what’s important. Joey.

  “How are you so calm right now? Couldn’t she get hurt?”

  Rhett shrugs. “In theory? Sure. But she could get hurt doin’ anything, darlin’. And she’s been doin’ these events at local rodeos for goin’ on two years now. You don’t have to worry about her. These other kids do—she’s pretty stiff competition.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and watch her get thrown to the dirt?”

  Rhett reaches over and grabs my leg, but unlike my volatile reaction, he leaves it there to give me a rub of comfort. “It’s sweet that you’re worried, Leah. Really. But I promise you, she’ll be all right. I wouldn’t let her do it if it was as big’a deal as you’re makin’ it seem. She’s gotta hold on for six seconds, and I can almost guarantee ya she will. She’s good. Focus on that, maybe, instead of all your doom and gloom, and get excited. She’s gonna give ya somethin’ to cheer for.”

  My nerves battle stoutly against Rhett’s words and the common sense they attempt to elude. I’m used to caring for the well-being of my patients and my brother and my friends, but none of those feel like this does.

  This is more extreme—almost instinctive in nature. After just a month of time here at Shaw Springs, I care about that little girl more than I’ve probably cared about anything before.

  Scooting to the edge of my bleacher seat, I lean forward to make sure I can see the whole arena clearly and lick at my lips. My feet bounce and my fingernails dig into the flesh of my palms.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” the MC announces proudly from the center of the arena, swinging an arm toward the metal gates at the end. “If you’ll all turn your attention to the chutes, our first mutton buster is none other than Josephine Jameson herself, and she’s ready to give us a show.”

  The crowd cheers and I whoop, my nerves so alive I actually bound upward with the sound. “Come on, Joey!” I yell like a woman possessed.

  Rhett chuckles and leans forward to look around me as the first gate on the left opens and a sheep with a little girl decked out in pink gear atop it shoots out like a rocket.

  “Wooo! Joeyyyy!” I scream as the sheep runs full steam toward us, its body rocking Josephine around like she’s a doll. Thankfully, her hold looks secure, her feet locked to the back and her hands entwined thickly in the sheep’s shoulder wool.

  The buzzer sounds loudly, and I lose all semblance of control, jumping straight up in the air and shouting like a banshee. “Woo-Hoo! You go, girl! You killed it! Hell yeah, Jo-Jo!”

  The crowd of people around me laughs and claps, Rhett included, but as she dislodges herself, tucks and rolls, and comes to a standing position in the dusty arena right in front of us, he climbs down and gives her a high five through the fence. Seeing her face beaming inside the cage of her helmet, I’m suddenly ready to drive her around town, looking for all the sheep we can find.

  “See, darlin’,” Rhett says as he takes his seat beside me again. “I told you she’d be fine.”

  “She’s more than fine,” I say automatically, looking at her pigtail braids that she had me redo this morning. “She’s magnificent.”

  July 3rd, Saturday Late Night

  Rhett

  She’s magnificent.

  Along with three full hours of an unexpectedly bloodthirsty spectator approach from Leah throughout the events of the exhibition rodeo, those two words have been all I can think about since the moment they came out of the good doctor’s mouth.

  Both in the context she used them—to describe my reason for living and the center of my world, my daughter—and for a different one entirely. I, as it happens, can’t seem to stop myself from applying those same words to her.

  It’s been a month since she showed up on my doorstep with more makeup and attitude than I was prepared to handle, but it might as well have been a year for all the things that have changed.

  When she got here, we were enemies, pitted against each other as we both fought to win in the war of I’ve got something to prove. But now, Leah’s relaxed and open and, as she showed this afternoon with Clay, ready and willing to defend me when my character is attacked.

  She’s fun to be around and a stable, dependable influence in my daughter’s life, and the more time I spend with her, the more I start to feel like I don’t know how it’s going to be without her when she leaves.

  With the fireworks getting ready to start, Leah, Joey, and I set up on the grassy knoll just on the south side of the arena. It’s one of the best spots for watching the fireworks in that it’s got a good view, but it’s also decidedly distant from the bulk of the crowd down by the pond.

  I had thought we’d be watching the show as a threesome, until Tiny showed up and offered to take Joey to th
e best viewing spot in the place.

  Joey looks up at me with her big blue eyes and pleads, “Please, Daddy? Please can I go up on the roof with Tiny?”

  Tiny smiles his goofy, crooked-toothed smile. “Promise to watch her every second, Rhett. Ain’t got anything to worry about.”

  I sigh heavily, but eventually, I nod. I remember the wonder of this fireworks show I used to feel as a kid and know all too well that Joey could use a little more of that feeling in her life. Between her mother wantin’ nothin’ to do with her and my well-intentioned shortcomings, she’s not exactly won the damn lottery when it comes to her upbringing. I just hope one day she’ll be able to see how much I tried, even when I failed.

  Plus, I don’t actually hate the idea of being alone with Leah, as strange as that thought sounds even to my own mind.

  “All right, darlin’. Go ahead. But you be careful, and I want you back here right after they’re over, okay?”

  She nods excitedly, reaching up and putting her hand in Tiny’s with a smile.

  “Mind Mr. Harry, you hear me?”

  She giggles and nods. “I will, Daddy.”

  “Have fun, chica,” Leah says with a thumbs-up, to which Joey returns the gesture enthusiastically.

  We both watch as Joey skip-walks her way back over toward the main building, while Tiny looks down at her with a goofy smile and listens to god knows what she’s probably chattering on about.

  “Looks like it’s just the two of us,” Leah remarks, her voice a touch shakier than normal. I smile at that because it makes the whole situation feel more human.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I won’t bite.” She starts to laugh, but I talk over her seriously to add, “Unless you ask me to.”

  Sudden silence descends between us, and she drops to the blanket we have spread out almost violently. I can’t say for a fact that her knees gave out, but it sure as hell seems like it.

  And I’m supposed to be the one with the bum leg.

  I get down much more gently, swinging my legs out in front of us and crossing them at the ankles before leaning back into my hands. She mimics my posture, and our shoulders rub infinitesimally.