Prairie Devil: Cowboys of the Flint Hills

by Tessa Layne

  “Hmmmph.” Hal made a suspicious noise. “And when do we get to meet this lucky lady?”

  “I’ll bring her around this spring. No need to get your chaps in a twist.”

  “See that you do that, son.” Hal’s meaning was clear. He’d believe it when he saw it.

  Colton disconnected and threw his phone across the cab. He was well and truly fucked. Where in the hell was he going to find a fiancée?

  CHAPTER 12

  Colt stewed the entire drive to Prairie. The sun hovered just above the horizon as he hit the familiar hills surrounding Prairie, casting the clouds in colors of gold and orange. Travis had insisted he was welcome at the ranch, but even after enjoying Christmas with his brother, Colt still felt like an interloper, so he’d called over to Brodie and Jamey Sinclaire’s and reserved a room at their hunting lodge. He’d head over to the ranch first thing tomorrow to help Elaine with anything she needed.

  Pausing at Prairie’s lone stoplight, Colton debated his next steps. If Lydia was in town, she’d be one of three places. She’d be home at the Grace ranch or hanging out at her sister Cassie’s. If he was really lucky, she’d be at the Trading Post. He weighed those options as he waited for the light to change. His safest bet was checking out the Trading Post first. For starters, it was less likely to raise eyebrows.

  Gunning the truck a little too hard once the light changed, he made his way toward the outskirts of town where the Trading Post had been a landmark since before he’d been born. Typical for a Saturday night, the parking lot was full, and he had to content himself with creating his own space in the field behind the bar. He cut the engine and contemplated the boots still sitting on the passenger seat. It would be muddy outside the truck, and he hated the thought of Lydia’s artwork getting dirty and scuffed. On the other hand, if she was inside, she’d assume he didn’t like the boots if he wasn’t wearing them. With a sigh, he pushed back his seat and tugged off his ropers, tossing them on the floor. He needed all the good will from Lydia he could get tonight, even if it meant dirtying up her boots. Once he’d pulled on the boots, he reached into the glove box and grabbed a couple of Altoids, then he checked his reflection in the rearview before jamming on his Stetson and hopping out.

  Even from behind the lot, the jukebox music leaked out into the coming darkness. Colt shook his hands to dispel his excess energy as he trudged through the grass and gravel to the door. It felt more like a big ride and less like he was dropping into a familiar watering hole. With any luck, a familiar face would invite him to take a seat. Slowly, he was reconnecting with old faces. But it wasn’t easy. Some still judged him through the same lens they had when he’d been an out of control teenager. Others viewed him with suspicion, but adopted a wait-and-see attitude. He’d place Lydia in that category. Still others, like Tony Cruz who waved at him from the bar, gave no shits. He gave an answering smile as he threaded his way through the crowd to where Tony stood sharing a pitcher with a couple other guys. No sign of Lydia yet, but it was early, and the place was already crowded.

  Tony held out a hand. “Nice to see you, man. Heard you did well in Denver.”

  “Not according to my sponsors.” Colt shook his hand. “They’re only happy when I win.”

  Tony shook his head. “Everyone knows it’s a statistical impossibility to win a hundred percent of the time in rodeo.” He signaled the bartender for another glass, then poured a pint, handing it to Colt.

  “Have you ever thought about sponsoring a rider?”

  Tony’s head fell back in a belly laugh. “Hey Parker,” he called. “Kincaid thinks we should sponsor him.”

  Parker turned around and gave Colt a wave. “Sure thing, if you want to drive to the next rodeo in an ancient broke down firetruck. Be my guest.”

  Colt raised his glass, glad to see Parker. “Deal.” If Parker was here, chances were his wife Cassidy was, too. And by extension, Lydia.

  Colt braced an elbow on the bar and scanned the crowd. “Why so crowded tonight?”

  “First warm day in a month. Makes everyone stir crazy.”

  Colt nodded in acknowledgment. January in the Flint Hills could be dreary. On days when the wind blew from the south, and the sun came out, even the cattle got frisky. His eyes lit on Lydia. Out on the dance floor, she stomped her way through the movements of the latest line dance to make its way through the clubs, happy and flushed from exertion. His breath stalled. Seeing her like that sent a shot of hot lust straight to his cock. And made him think of all the other ways he could make her happy and flushed. Hell, he hadn’t been in town twenty minutes, and all he could think about was whether or not Lydia was wearing a red lace thong, and how much he’d like to remove it from her. Slowly. With his teeth.

  Tearing his eyes from her, he turned toward the bar and signaled the bartender. “Whiskey. Neat. Two.”

  By the time the bartender had served up the drinks, Lydia was sitting with a group of ladies just off the dance floor. Leaving a ten on the bar, he snagged the drinks and made a beeline for the table. She was even prettier up close, her color high and a ready smile curving her full mouth. “Mind if I join you?” He asked when she looked up.

  The right corner of her mouth pulled higher as she slowly looked him over. He stood proudly, warming under her perusal. Let her look. As far as he was concerned, she could undress him with her eyes all night. Her eyes settled on his boots before snapping back up to his face, a satisfied expression on her face. “Nice boots.”

  “My new favorites.”

  She gestured to an empty chair. “Have a seat. I think you know Emmaline Andersson, she made your sister-in-law’s wedding dress. And I’m sure you know Luci, Tony’s sister.”

  He nodded, and set the drinks down. “You ladies need anything? I’m happy to buy a round.” He’d learned early in life that often the best way to a woman was by charming her friends. Lydia might try to friendzone him, but he’d bide his time.

  Emmaline flashed him a smile of appreciation. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Me, too,” echoed Luci.

  “In fact,” Emmaline said, reaching for Luci’s arm. “We were just going to hit the dance floor again. C’mon, Luce,” she said, giving Luci a significant look.

  With a giggle, the women slipped out of the booth and disappeared into the crowd. Colton slid in, pushing the whiskey in front of Lydia.

  Lydia looked from the glass to him, then back to the glass, then back at him.

  “You taste like whiskey when I kiss you,” he explained boldly.

  Pink exploded across her cheeks, and raw lust flashed in her eyes. His body responded in kind. Had she lain awake at night thinking about their kisses too?

  “Oh.” She lifted the glass. “Thanks.”

  He clinked her glass, then took a sip, letting the burn flow down his throat, using it as a means to slake the fire building elsewhere. “How’s your sister?”

  Her face clouded. “Heartbroken, but she won’t come home. And she sent us home after two weeks.”

  “Think you’ll visit her?”

  “Depends. She inherited mama’s stubborn streak.”

  He nearly choked on his drink. They all did. The Grace sisters were a force unto themselves, and everyone in town knew it.

  Lydia leaned in, eyes lit with curiosity. “How are the boots working out?”

  “I meant it when I said they’re my new favorites.”

  “Really?” she practically squealed.

  He nodded, unable to stop from grinning. “For real. And they get good attention. You nailed the design.”

  She puffed up like a prairie hen at his compliment. He liked seeing her that way, in spite of the funny things it did to his insides. “And the fit is perfect. I don’t know how you managed it right off. Sometimes it takes a couple of tries for a boot maker to get the vamp right.”

  “You have a high instep, so I bet most boots feel tight across the top, yes?”

  He nodded. “How’d you know?”

  She preened unde
r his gaze, eyes twinkling. “I’m magic.”

  Right then, he’d believe it. The light in her eyes pulled at him like a magnet. He’d do anything for her to keep looking at him that way. “Care to dance?” he uttered, surprising himself. Anything to get close to her.

  She cocked her head suspiciously.

  He lifted his hands. “I swear, no funny business.” At least not right now. He scooted out of the booth and extended his hand, lacing his fingers with hers as he led her to the crowded floor, thrilled for the perfect excuse to hold her close. She softened against him as his hand splayed across her lower back, and they moved to the strains of Brad Paisley. Colt loved dancing. Loved the way a woman felt in his arms, loved the physical communication. The body never lied. And Lydia’s body was telling him a different story than her words. Paisley’s voice wound around them like a lasso, tightening, and pulling them closer together. He shut his eyes and let the music direct his steps, trying his best to ignore the sudden ache in his chest. As the final strains of Then faded, and the cacophony of the bar came crashing into their little bubble, he stepped back, shocked at the emotion coursing through him. He didn’t get emotional. He didn’t do feelings. Ever.

  The tension in his shoulders released in relief when Lydia tugged on his hand. “Can we find someplace to talk? Have you given more thought to my proposal?”

  The short answer was yes, but after his conversation with Hal Carter this morning, he’d thought of nothing else the whole drive. “We can go sit in my truck where it’s quiet, but someone’s sure to see you leaving with me. You okay with that?”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “Fine. You leave first. I’ll follow.”

  “I’m parked out behind the lot.” He tipped his hat and spun, hurrying to the exit. The cold evening air blasted his face as he stepped outside and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. But not because he was nervous. He was entirely in control of this show.

  Hot air blew from the vents in the cab by the time Lydia knocked on the window, and hopped inside, cheeks bright from the cold. “I forgot to ask you,” she started as soon as she’d settled herself. “How was your first Christmas back in Prairie?”

  “Dax is a trip.”

  “And what about Travis?”

  Lydia never beat around the bush. He simultaneously loved and hated that about her. He shrugged, tense again. “We’re… finding our way.”

  She reached for his arm, giving an encouraging pat. “That’s a start.” But as quick as she’d reached for him, she pulled back. “So…”

  The word hung between them, full of expectation. Colt’s heart tripped at the hope reflected in her eyes. There was no way she would agree to his proposition. He cleared his throat. “I have a counterproposal.”

  Instantly her guard was up. “Oh?” Suspicion laced her voice.

  “For starters, the most interest I’ll agree to is forty percent. It wouldn’t be fair to take more. Your plan is solid, and I think you’ll be solvent ahead of your timeline.” His financial advisor had agreed with him on that.

  With a squeal, she launched herself his direction, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. “I promise, you won’t regret it. I can start paying dividends when I get my first orders.”

  He had half a mind to return her kisses. If only his back weren’t up against a wall.

  “That’s not all.”

  She pulled back, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. Ah, hell. It suddenly felt too warm in the cab, the space, too close.

  “Colt? What is it?”

  “So I have need of a wife.” Subtlety had never been his strong suit. “And you were the first person I thought of.”

  “You have need of a wife.” She repeated flatly, mouth turning down and eyes flashing.

  Ooh, she was pissed.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice going shrill at the end. “And I suppose if I tell you to go to hell that you won’t invest?”

  “No, no.” He held up a placating hand. “Not at all. I don’t want to sleep with you.”

  “You don’t.” Her voice dripped with incredulity. She reached for the door handle, shaking her head. “You’re a special kind of Crazy, Colt. I’m outta here. I’ll find another investor.”

  Damnshitmotherfucker. He was totally bungling this. Seeing the door crack spurred him to action. He captured her wrist as desperation filled him. “Wait, please? I’m doing a shit job of explaining. Of course, I want you. So bad, my balls ache. Any man would be lucky to spend the night with you. But that’s not what this is about.”

  She glared at him. “You have exactly 27.6 seconds to explain yourself before I get out of this truck.”

  “One of my biggest sponsors is going to drop me if I don’t settle down.”

  “So you’re suggesting–”

  “I haven’t exactly, ah… been a model citizen.” Heat raced up his spine.

  “No foolin’,” she scoffed. “Fifteen seconds, cowboy.”

  Oh shit. He had to explain himself. Never in his life had he wanted to run as badly as he did right now. Facing Lydia’s wrath might possibly be worse than facing her mother. “I might have told them I’m already engaged.”

  “Colton Kincaid, you dirty-dog liar. How could you?”

  She was pissed alright. Her voice gone dead quiet, just like Dottie’s when she was about to unleash a can of whup-ass.

  He laughed self-consciously. “It was pretty damn easy, actually. Just kind of popped out.”

  “Just popped out,” she repeated incredulously.

  “Would you help me? You’re nice, Lyds. The nicest person I know.”

  She sighed heavily and stared out the window. “And you want me to clean up your image.” The disdain dripped from her voice. But something else too. She sounded… disappointed.

  He hated that. He didn’t want her to be disappointed in him. Not anymore. “Okay, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Thanksgiving, but that’s beside the point. I need help, you need help. Maybe we can help each other?”

  CHAPTER 13

  “So you want me to be your fake wife.” Lydia didn’t know whether to feel flattered, disappointed that the only reason he asked her was because she was a ‘nice-girl’, or angry that Colton would think she’d ever go along with a scheme like this.

  “At least fiancée. Only for a little while, until the sponsors cool down.”

  She crossed her arms. “How long is a little while?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He looked fit to be tied. Agitated and ill at ease. If she wasn’t so discombobulated, she’d find his discomfort amusing. She’d never had the upper hand where Colt was concerned. Even as a teenager, he’d been cocky and confident, always in control. In fact, the only time she’d seen him scared and unsure of himself was the night he’d shown up on their front porch asking for help. And even though he made her crazy, her heart had gone out to him. She couldn’t help it. But posing as his fiancée? That was asking a lot. And what would it mean for her boot company?

  He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Look, can we go somewhere quiet and talk about this?”

  She should hop out of the truck, go back inside and ask Luci Cruz or Emmaline to take her home. But her inner voice chided her. What would wild Lydia do? If she was truly done being Librarian Lydia, she should hear Colton out. Besides, there might be… perks to this arrangement.

  “Fine. You know how to get to the fire station?”

  He nodded and jammed the truck into gear.

  Lydia pulled on her seatbelt. “Two blocks down and one block behind it.

  “Got it.”

  Neither of them spoke on the short drive over. About seven minutes later, Colt pulled into the driveway of the bungalow she shared with Luci and Emmaline.

  Colt let out a low whistle. “Nice place. How’d you score this with the housing shortage?”

  “
I didn’t. I’m just renting a room. Luci’s parents own it. The worst of the tornado went a few blocks north. It needed a new roof, but that was from the hail. Emmaline’s staying here until Main Street reopens later this spring.”

  Colton set the brake. “Wait here.” He hopped out and hurried around the front of the truck, reaching her door in time to offer his hand.

  She took it, then instantly regretted it as a zap of awareness shot straight to her chest. Colt didn’t let go once her feet touched the ground. She glanced up at him, heart kicking, but couldn’t bring herself to remove her hand. Would he always have this effect on her? Lately, it felt like every touch was an effort in self-control. Against her better judgment, she held his hand up the walk and across the porch to the front door.

  “My answer really has nothing to do with whether you’ll invest in my boots?” she asked when they stepped inside.

  “Scouts honor.”

  She waved him to the couch. “Coming from you, that’s not much.”

  Colt removed his Stetson and sat at one end, hat in hand. “I’ve changed Lydia. Give me some credit?”

  She toed off her boots and sank into the opposite corner, tucking her feet underneath her. “Have you? Really? Then why ask me to be your pretend fiancée?”

  She could see him struggling as he chewed on that. With a sigh, he set down his hat on the coffee table in front of them. Then he leaned back, throwing an arm across the back of the couch. “I would never lie to you Lyds. I might have been less than… honorable when we were young–”

  She made a disbelieving sound in her throat.

  “Okay, okay, I was a total jackass. I deserved everything Travis dished out. But I swear, I’ve changed.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “There were three women in your hot tub in Vegas.”

  At least he looked discomfited. “Nothing happened.”

  “But would it have? If I hadn’t interrupted?”

  Two pink streaks erupted across his cheekbones as he shook his head. “Nope.”

  Lydia couldn’t control the laugh that erupted from her throat. “I don’t believe that.”