by Tessa Layne
But not so proud that he was good enough for her daughter. That stung.
“You headed over to see the newlyweds?” Dottie asked.
Colton nodded, still chewing on Dottie’s warning.
“Here.” Dottie reached down, pulled up a folded paper bag, and handed it through the window. “I know how it is at a wedding. You never get to eat your own food. I saved them a cream pie. Travis’s favorite. And make sure Dax doesn’t eat it all. I swear that little boy is a bottomless pit,” she complained with a twinkle in her eye.
“He’s not the only one,” Colton winked as he accepted the bag. He’d been a bottomless pit growing up, too. How often had Dottie saved a cookie or a slice of pie for the kids who’d stopped by the diner after school?
Fifteen minutes later Colton pulled onto the long drive that led to the farmhouse. No nerves today. It might not feel like home. Probably wouldn’t ever, but at least the anxiety was gone.
This time the door opened before his fist touched the wood. “IT’S UNCLE COLT,” Dax shouted, wrapping him in a kiddie bear-hug. Had the kid been waiting for him?
“Morning to you, too, kiddo.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, the tight, queasy sensation wrapping around his chest again.
Dax lifted his head, eyes like saucers. “I seen–”
“I saw,” corrected Elaine.
“The pictures in the bedroom. Was that really you riding a bucking bronco?”
He shot a look at Travis who stood pouring coffee. “You kept all those photos?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you disowned me?”
Travis arched a brow, as if to say, so you want to dive in right now?
Yeah, he did.
Travis let out a heavy sigh. “Why don’t you come in, have a cup of coffee and slice up some of that pie Dottie sent over. Not the first time she’s sent over pie,” he answered before Colton could ask how Travis knew what was in the bag.
“Can I take your coat, Colton?” Elaine asked from where she was curled up on the couch.
“I got it, thanks.” He shrugged out of his jacket, then exchanged the bag for a steaming mug of coffee.
“I never disowned you. I did tell you that you couldn’t stay here until you’d cleaned up your act.”
“Same difference,” he said stubbornly, not quite ready to admit his version of events might be a little skewed.
Travis regarded him soberly. “I’ll own that I was too high-handed and probably overbearing.”
“Probably?”
Travis narrowed his eyes a fraction. “You were hell-bent on self-destructing, and I wasn’t going to sit idly by and let you do it.” His face softened. “You were my kid brother.”
Colton’s gut clenched, he’d been dreading this conversation for years. Part of why he’d avoided returning to Prairie for so long. But it needed to happen. Both of them had held onto old hurts, let them fester and the boil needed to be lanced in order to heal. “I hated you.”
Travis flinched. “I know.”
“I kept expecting you to follow me.”
“I know.”
“And when you didn’t…” his voice trailed off. He’d never felt so alone as he had in those first few months. Nobody, not even Dottie, knew that he’d been kicked off the first two ranches he’d worked at. Let go for showing up stoned, doing shit work. He’d squatted in the woods, even woke up frost covered one morning. He’d have frozen to death that first winter if not for a crusty old hunter who made a deal with him after catching him trespassing. He’d worked his ass off for Thirsty Stevens. By spring he’d sobered up, and Thirsty had brought him along on a cattle drive. “I’d never felt so alone,” Colton uttered thickly, not liking the ache in his belly.
“You make it seem like I enjoyed kicking you off the ranch.”
“Didn’t you?” he accused, failing to keep the resentment from his voice.
“Of course not. Dottie’s never wasted an opportunity to let me know how disappointed she was in me. Who do you think pushed me to reach out?”
“So if not for Dottie we wouldn’t be talking now?” Grief sliced through him, fresh and sharp. Maybe he’d been a fool to come home.
“No. I’d been thinking about it.” Travis scraped a hand over his face. “Hell, Colt. I know I was an ass and I felt like shit about it. I kept tabs on you… after a while. I set up a Google alert with your name.” He looked shamefaced.
“Stalking me?” Colton laughed bitterly.
“Honestly? I was afraid you’d end up dead in a ditch someplace, and I was still in and out of missions and dealing with my own shit.” Travis grimaced. “But then you started winning, and I didn’t want to fuck it up.”
Colton speared a fork into the cream pie and took a bite, not really tasting it. He’d nursed a grudge against his brother for so many years, he wasn’t sure how to fill that void, now that they were attempting to patch things up. He felt like he was swinging in the wind, helpless.
Travis braced his hands on the counter and stared hard at him. “I’m not proud of how I behaved. All I can offer is that I didn’t have the coping skills to manage myself, let alone parent you and try and run a ranch from the other side of the world when I was gone. I fucked up, and I’ll always regret not being a better example to you.”
“You think that would have made me a better man?”
Travis flashed him a wry grin. “You’ve always had a touch of the crazy in you. Still do, according to the rodeo blogs. I’m just glad you never got arrested.”
Heat prickled up his neck. “What’s wrong with wanting to have a little fun so long as no one gets hurt?”
Travis gave him a fatherly glower. “Fun is good. Lord knows, Elaine has helped me have more of it. But at some point, you have to grow up. Take responsibility. What have you done with all your endorsement money?”
Pissed more of it away than he should have. “I’ve saved some.”
“How much?”
“I bought a small ranch outside of Steamboat Springs, Colorado.”
Travis’s eyes widened. “No joke?”
“I’m not a dumb-ass. And in case you were wondering, I was serious last night. About helping you.”
He waved a hand. “Calm down, calm down. I never said you were stupid. Glad to hear someone’s talked some sense into you.”
Colton had gotten lucky. Rodeo champ Ty Sloane had seen him lurking around the chutes when the rodeo had come to Steamboat, and had taken him under his wing. When he’d started winning, Ty hadn’t been stingy with his advice. “This is a finite career, son. Your body can only take so much. Wooing the ladies is nice, but them that’s got is them that gets. Put your money in land, and make sure you have plenty to pay the bills when you’re too old or broken to work.”
Colton had seen too many old cowboys barely making it and spending their entire earnings on booze. And now that he was looking at his winningest year ever, it was time to diversify. And beyond the money, if helping Travis would mend things between them, it was money well spent.
Travis crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “What I want to know though, is whether or not you’re going to stick around, or if this is a one and done visit.” He tilted his chin to where Elaine and Dax were sprawled on the couch reading. “I’ve got a family now. I’d love for you to be a part of it.”
The air whooshed out of Colton’s lungs and his stomach filled with unease. “I…” he took a deep breath. “I can’t move back to Prairie, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I’m asking, although I hope you come ’round more than once in a blue moon. What I mean is, there’s a kid over there who’s pretty interested in you, and maybe more someday soon, can you visit? Stay in touch?”
Colton let out the breath he’d been holding. “Of course. If you don’t get sick of me. I-I’d like that.” He smiled genuinely at his older brother, heart skipping erratically.
“I won’t get sick of you, Uncle Colt,” pi
ped up Dax. “Will you teach me how to bust a bronc?”
Both men chuckled. “You’ve been watching too many old cowboy movies, kiddo. Learn how to ride a horse first.”
“I’m gettin’ good,” Dax answered proudly. “Dad lets me go on rides with him.”
Colton snuck a glance at his brother, marveling at how happy Travis looked.
Travis held his gaze, a teasing glint in his eye. “So. Were you planning on telling me about you and Lydia Grace?”
CHAPTER 7
Sunlight streamed brightly through the window as Lydia’s eyes fluttered open and a demon took an icepick to her forehead. Groaning, she rolled to her side and pulled the pillow over her head. The motion only increased the relentless pounding.
The inside of her mouth felt like sawdust. Stomach? A little queasy. All the reasons why Lydia rarely drank came crashing back with vicious force. How much had she drunk last night? She groaned as the throbbing in her head surged. Even with the pillow covering her, it was too bright in here. She slipped a hand underneath and covered her eyes, sighing with relief.
The relief was short-lived, as someone began to knock insistently on her bedroom door. “Lyds?”
Cassie.
“I’m still sleeping,” she groaned, a new round of pounding right behind her eyeballs taking her breath away.
The door creaked. “It’s eleven. Are you gonna sleep the day away?”
Ugh. “Yes,” she whined, rolling over and turning her back to the door. She could do whatever she wanted. After all, she was on vacation. Permanent vacation. “Go ’way.”
Cassie’s chuckles filled the room. “Somebody’s hungover,” she called out in a sing-song voice, moving through the room and yanking open the curtains.
Even through the pillow, Lydia could sense light flooding the room. “Hey, stop that.”
Her sister laughed mercilessly. “Ohmygod. You really were drunk last night.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She just wanted her head to stop screaming at her.
Cassie yanked off the covers, still laughing. “Nope, nope, nope. You’re gonna hear it. Sit up.”
There was no winning this battle. Once Cassie got it in her head to do something, that was it. With a heavy sigh, she removed the pillow and sat up, squeezing her eyes against the blazing sunlight and the accompanying wave of nausea that roiled through her.
“Here. This will help.” Cassie held out a glass of fizzy water and two pills.
Lydia accepted the offering, grimacing at the flavor, but grateful for the water. And the ibuprofen.
Cassie sat on the bed, smirking. “They’ll kick in shortly. Chores are done, and Pops is checking on livestock. He said don’t wait lunch for him.”
“I never want to eat again.”
“That bad, huh?” Cassie shook her head sympathetically, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “Why don’t you take a hot shower, and I’ll meet you downstairs with some strong coffee and pancakes. It won’t be mama’s breakfast, but it should help.” She stood and paused at the door. “And then I want to hear about last night.”
Shit.
She pressed her temples trying to piece together last night. Old Fashioneds. Bonfire. Colton. Kissing. Lots of kissing. Clothes off? Heat flooded her. Oh no. She hadn’t… had she? Maybe the shower would help. She dragged in a breath. “Sure. I’ll be right down.”
Once she heard her sister on the stairs, Lydia rose and stepped gingerly down the hall, only relaxing when she stepped into the hot water. She braced a hand on the wall, letting the hot jets sluice over her. They’d danced and kissed. Her body came alive thinking about the kiss they’d shared. He might be a devil, but lordy, could the man kiss. An ache bloomed between her thighs at the thought of his mouth on her. Sure. Strong. Possessive.
No wonder they’d ended up in the barn. But she couldn’t remember what happened after she’d ripped her dress off. How had she gotten home? Had she slept with Colton? Panic momentarily sliced through her. What if? Her stomach dropped. No. She always carried condoms with her. Not that she’d ever relied on them once. But she’d been shameless about handing them out to her girlfriends. Surely, she would have…
She turned her face into the stream, breathing through her mouth as the water hit her face. No more red thongs for her. No more whiskey. Ever.
No more Colton.
How could she face him again after last night? How could she face anyone?
She sighed heavily. Hiding out in the shower wouldn’t change last night’s events, or the week leading up to last night. What did Cassie always say? Time to put on her big girl panties? Squaring her shoulders, she turned off the water and stepped out of the tub. At least she could arm herself with her favorite terrycloth robe and fuzzy slippers. She’d never have worn anything like this in New York, but here, she was in her comfort zone. And there was something so reassuring about being at home amongst family who loved her. Even when they discovered she’d made a real mess of her life.
She toweled her hair to damp and gave a last glance in the mirror. The shower hadn’t done a thing for her bleary eyes, but at least she no longer felt like the bottom of a wastebasket. The heavenly aroma of coffee greeted her as she lightly stepped down the stairs. Her head still hurt, but now it was more of a persistent throb instead of the icepick brigade taking up residence behind her eyes. She could manage this. And after a cup of coffee, she could face what remained of the day.
Cassie turned as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, and waved her to the table. God bless her sister. Her favorite mug waited, already doctored with cream. With a grateful sigh, she slid into a chair and wrapped her hands around the steaming mug. Coffee always tasted better when someone else prepared it. Of course, she had been banned from making coffee at her office. But why learn the art of coffee making when there was always someone to hand her a cup like this? She took a sip. “You and mama always make the best coffee.”
At the stove, Cassie barked out a laugh. “You’re such a princess. That’s just because we were always first up. You never did learn how, did you?” Her tone of voice implied she already knew the answer.
“No need to mess with perfection.”
Cassie brought two plates piled with pancakes and covered in syrup and set one down in front of her before seating herself across the table. “So. How long do we get to enjoy you for this time? I feel so lucky I’ve seen you twice this year.”
Cassie was right. It was unusual for her to be home, let alone twice. But there was no way she’d have missed Cassie’s wedding the month before. Even if Christian LaSarte had thrown a manbaby tantrum over it. Come to think of it. That’s when her troubles with him had started. Egocentric prima donna. Women might wait hours in line for the chance to buy his shoes, but the man chewed people up and spit them out. Her mistake? She’d been arrogant enough to think it would never happen to her. She let out a bitter laugh and shook her head, spearing her pancakes with vehemence.
“Lyds? What’s up?” Cassie’s voice instantly grew concerned.
Lydia slowly chewed, drawing courage from the salty sweet of buttermilk pancakes cooked in salted butter and drenched in maple syrup. “Turns out you’ll get to enjoy me indefinitely,” she answered quietly, cheeks flaming at the admission.
“What? What do you mean?”
Lydia let out a ragged breath. “I mean I won’t be going home to New York.”
Cassie set down her mug with a bang. “What? What happened?”
Lydia winced at the sudden noise, but nodded. “The short story is that I fell out of Christian LaSarte’s graces and somehow, my shoe designs ended up in the hands of another assistant, who he deemed more worthy.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew as wide as the pancakes on her plate. “Noo. He can’t do that. Surely you could take him to court. Have you called Lex? Lex’ll know how to handle this.”
Good old Cassie. Lydia’d chafed against her sister’s protective streak when they’d been young. But now, she wa
s touched. And grateful.
“Lex is an environmental lobbyist. She doesn’t deal with intellectual property.”
“But she’s a lawyer.” Cassie waved a hand. “She could send a lawyerish letter, right?”
“And do what, Cass? Give me back my job? My designs?” Lydia shook her head. “Intellectual cases are hard to prove. It’s not considered stealing. It’s considered inspired.” Lydia quoted the air. “I know that somehow, my colleague saw my designs, but she was clever enough to change them just enough that they were now hers.” Lydia grimaced. All that hard work, all that passion, down the toilet. “If it makes you feel better, I did talk to Lex.” In one of those typical twin moments, Lexi had called Lydia the afternoon she’d walked out of her job, and the whole story had come pouring out as she walked down 5th Avenue. “But to pursue a case like this would take years and tens of thousands of dollars I don’t have. It was better to cut my losses.”
Cassie’s eyebrows drew together. “But your designs–”
“I have no shortage of ideas. I’ll always have other designs. I just have to figure out what to do with them.” That was the crux of it. She laughed, shaking her head. “What’s an unemployed shoe designer going to do in Prairie?”
Cassidy smiled slyly and dug into her pocket. “So is that what this is about?” She pushed a piece of paper across the table. “Colton Kincaid, huh? I always thought he was too much cowboy for you, sis.”
Lydia’s face flamed as the memory of their kiss came roaring back, making her mouth tingle. She shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your blush says you do. Something happen between the two of you at the wedding?”
Could the floor swallow her up right now? Lydia stirred her pancake pieces in the syrup. If she even peeped at Cassie, her sister would put two and two together. She could never hide anything from her sisters. She scooped up a bite and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly.