Prairie Devil: Cowboys of the Flint Hills

by Tessa Layne

  He smirked and shrugged, studying the ceiling. “Payback,” he mouthed.

  “Oh, you devil.” She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Fine. I’ll wear it. But you have to promise to take it back when this is all over.”

  Something fierce flashed in his eyes, and his face went taut. He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  “Colt,” she insisted, glancing down at it again. “You can’t keep this. I don’t even want to know how much it cost.” She shook her head. “Please tell me you insured it.”

  “Don’t you worry about it. Just enjoy it.”

  “What happened to being discreet?”

  “This is more fun.”

  Maybe. She felt like she’d borrowed a piece for the Met Gala. “I hope you know what you’re doing. If mama finds out–”

  “We’ll handle it,” he said, the cocky note returning to his voice. “Now give me a kiss. There’s a crowd watching.”

  CHAPTER 19

  He could get used to this, demanding kisses of her in public. She kissed him with the same intensity she had at Thanksgiving, and again the night they’d made love. He had to pinch himself to remind himself this was for show, and that if they’d been standing here in any other circumstances, her hands would not currently be twined around his neck. Nor would she be wearing that gaudy, God-awful ring. As soon as he’d laid eyes on it in the jewelry store, he’d had to have it, knowing it would provoke a response from Lydia. What surprised him, shocked him even, was the possessive instinct that rose up from a deep place inside him when he slipped the ring on her finger for the world to see. It might only be temporary, but for the time being, she belonged to him, and he liked it.

  When they pulled apart, the cheers and whistles registered. Lydia looked around, wide-eyed at the crowd that had amassed, shooting him a fear-filled look when she saw the number of phones outstretched to take a picture. He pulled her close, ducking his head. “Don’t worry sweetheart, they’re just fans. No press. You don’t have to worry about anyone at home finding out.”

  She nodded, sagging against him.

  “Hey,” he tipped her chin up, allowing himself another quick taste of her sweet mouth, to the delight of the crowd. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Think of your boots.” He turned, keeping his arm around her, and raised an arm to the small group gathered. “Thanks, y’all. In case you haven’t figured out here, this lovely lady has agreed to marry me. And she makes a mean pair of boots, too.”

  Lydia smiled, dipping her head bashfully, clearly unused to the attention.

  “Took you long enough,” a voice that grated on his very last nerve called out. “Daddy and I thought you were gonna keep your lady hidden until we flushed her out.”

  Beside him, Lydia stiffened. It took effort, but he kept his voice relaxed. “Nice to see you, Sammy Jo. I was just about to bring Lydia by to say hello.”

  The look on Sammy’s face said she didn’t believe him for a second. But she didn’t have to, it was God’s truth. He’d needed to pick up a ring before he showed up at Vanguard Chaps & Leather with Lydia in tow.

  “Lyds, meet Samantha Jo Carter, Hal’s niece. You’ll meet her daddy, Harrison this evening at the rodeo. Sammy Jo is one of the smartest businesswomen I know, and head of Vanguard Chaps and Leather.” Sammy Jo had an ego the size of Texas, and as long as she believed she was the best in the room, she’d be easier to handle. The second she felt threatened, the claws were likely to come out. The challenge over the next few weeks would be to keep Sammy from cornering Lydia. She didn’t play by the same rules Lydia did, and even though he and Sammy Jo were old news, years-old news, he wouldn’t put it past her to exact some kind of revenge if she thought she could get away with it. Hell, she’d once threatened to put cayenne in his briefs in a fit of rage, and he’d hidden his drawers for weeks because of it.

  Instead of stepping out of his embrace and extending her right hand, Lydia offered her left hand, angling her hand so Sammy couldn’t help but see the ring. He suppressed a chuckle, entertained and pleasantly surprised by Lydia’s claws coming out.

  “So nice to finally meet you. Colt’s told me so much about you. I’d love to take you to coffee and learn more about your experience running Vanguard. Colt speaks so highly of the job you’ve done, and since I’m just starting out,” she gestured around the space, “I’d love any advice you could share.”

  Her brows slashed together as she frowned briefly. “Yeah, sure. I… yes. I’d be happy to.”

  It wasn’t often Sammy Jo didn’t know what to say. Pride surged through him. Lydia handled her like a pro. Maybe he’d underestimated her. A knot of tension across his shoulders began to release. This whole thing would go much more smoothly with Sammy Jo in check. Placing a kiss on the top of Lydia’s head, he made their excuses. “If you’ll excuse us, I wanna make sure Lydia gets some food. We’ll catch you later.” Before Sammy Jo could reply, he steered Lydia down the aisle and toward the food court at the center of the exhibition hall.

  When they were out of earshot, Lydia glared up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me your ex was a Carter?”

  A twinge of guilt poked at Colt. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not a dummy, Colt. Anyone with half a brain could see she was fit to be tied. Only an ex would be that catty.”

  “You handled her perfectly.”

  She made a face. “I worked with a lot of temperamental types in New York. But that’s beside the point. I would have appreciated some warning.”

  Colt rubbed his jaw. “Sammy and I were more off than on, and honestly, I figured I’d have more time.”

  She stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to him, eyes flashing. “Really? Like before tonight? You’ve been leading the Carters on for what, four, six weeks? And I’m guessing you probably let it drop that I was coming to town… so you didn’t think to lay all your cards on the table and give me fair warning?”

  Shame licked at him, heating his neck. The way she framed it, ate at him. “All I’m doing is re-vamping my image to their liking. Which I was already planning on doing.”

  She cocked her head in disbelief. “Umm-hmm.” She waggled her left hand at him. “And that’s why you went to all this trouble?”

  He flashed her a disarming smile. “Of course. And,” he said stepping up to her and tilting her chin. “I get to spend more time with you. Which I like.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  She shut her eyes briefly, shaking her head and screwing her mouth up into a little bow. “You are something else, Colton Kincaid. Something else.”

  He got the feeling she didn’t mean that in a good way, which ate at him too. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?” he said low enough that only she could hear.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she speared him with a look that arrowed into the deepest reaches of his heart. “I’d be honest.”

  That got his hackles up. “I may have been a lying, cheating sonofagun before Travis gave me the boot, but I learned.” He grimaced as the memories flashed through his mind in picture form. “You have no idea how I learned. In fact, it was my very honesty about my life choices that got me into this mess in the first place.”

  He stared at the ceiling and counted to ten. Hell, he knew plenty of cowboys that had a woman at home and one on the road, and their sponsors knew it and looked the other way. He’d never been anything but up front that he wasn’t looking for more than a good time from the women he was with.

  “Listen up, sweetheart,” he said tersely and bent close to her ear. “You like that nice sized investment check I sent you? I have the luxury of being able to do that because, in addition to my hard-won earnings, I have sponsors. So before you get all high and mighty over fifty shades of the truth, you’d best remember we’re both in this together.”

  Lydia’s face remained carefully neutral, but her eyes told him he’d hit his mark. She nodded once. “I see.” She nodded again, staring at the ground. When she raised her eyes, her jaw was set. “Thank you for cle
aring that up.”

  Oh, hell. “Lydia, I–”

  She held up a hand. “Save it for later. You’re competing tonight, and I think I need to get back to my booth.” She brushed past him, hurrying back the way they’d come.

  Colt bit back a groan of frustration. Damn straight they’d talk about this later. Of course, it was his fault they were in this mess at all.

  CHAPTER 20

  Colton hopped off the treadmill, winded, sweaty, and just as cranky as he’d been when he’d stepped on twenty minutes earlier. Screw him for ever thinking a pretend fiancée was a good idea. He guzzled the remainder of his sports drink and tossed it with extra force. It bounced off the rim of the trash can, landed and rolled halfway across the tiny hotel gym before coming to rest against the lat machine.

  Nine days.

  Nine days of ‘don’t even think of speaking to me until I’ve had a cup of coffee’ Lydia. Nine days of her sweet ass in yoga pants joining him for sun salutations. Nine days of her perky tits taunting him through the tank top she slept in. Worst of all? Nine days of enjoying her kisses and public displays of affection, then lying awake sleepless as she snored quietly on the couch. He fucking loved those little snores, wanted to hear them in his ear as she lay nestled in his arms, not across the room.

  He stalked across the room and snatched up the empty container, beating it against his palm as he returned to the trash can. She’d played her role to perfection after they’d ironed out their little disagreement the day he’d given her the ring. He’d laid everything on the table that night – his ups and downs with Sammy Jo until he’d called it quits, and the way she’d acted since then. The way Harrison had pressured him more than once to make an honest woman of Sammy Jo, all of it.

  Surprisingly, it had felt good to get all that off his chest. Between his late father and his older brother, he’d learned at a young age to not talk about anything that bothered him, hence many of his poor choices as a young man. What surprised him the most, was how Lydia listened, really listened, to all of it.

  Crushing the plastic, he jammed it in the trashcan and headed for the elevator mentally preparing himself for the vision of Lydia still damp from her shower. Maybe he should get out of town for a few days before the semi-finals. Take a breather. He had three days off after tonight’s performance. There was a rodeo in Laredo he could hit, make some easy money, clear his head. But as soon as the thought entered his head, he discarded it. He’d never leave while Lydia was around. Who was he kidding? He’d take Lydia any way he could get her, platonic kisses, snoring and all. Even if it meant his balls would explode from frustration. He stepped out of the elevator and marched down the hall praying she was already dressed.

  She stepped out of the bathroom, toweling her hair as he shut the door behind him. “Oh, you startled me,” she squeaked, flashing him a smile as he stood staring unabashedly, heat lighting up her eyes. “You okay?” She cocked her head after a moment, sizing him up.

  “Fine.” He brushed past her. “Get dressed,” he growled. “Gotta big day.”

  “The run didn’t help your mood any.”

  Neither did her state of undress.

  “Want to meet me for lunch today? I have a client coming at eleven to make a deposit and get his feet measured.”

  “Great news,” he said, mentally rearranging his morning so he could stop by her booth around then. “How many is this?”

  “Five.”

  “You gonna be able to keep up?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” She caught his eye in the mirror.

  “Because I know how tired you got making two pair in two weeks,” he said gruffly.

  “Worry about yourself, grumpy. I’ll be fine.”

  Grumpy, indeed. How could he not be, when all he wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless? Then treat her to a fancy dinner, maybe some dancing, and then make sweet love to her all night long? He should be a candidate for fucking sainthood. “I was thinking about heading down to Laredo tomorrow,” he said as he dug into his suitcase. “There’s a rodeo down there, and I could use a change of scenery for a few days.”

  She turned, eyes full of concern, clutching her clothing to her chest. “Don’t you need to rest?”

  “Time to rest when you’re dead,” he grumbled, pissed that he’d brought it up. Now he’d have to go to save face. “I’m not going to lose best All-Around cowboy by ten-thousand, this year, either.”

  “But you’ve ridden hard for nine straight days.”

  He shrugged, frowning. “That’s the way of it. Hell, I know some guys who’ll hit three performances in a day.” God, he was an ass. She looked downright disappointed.

  “Suit yourself,” she said quietly. “But be careful, okay?” She retreated to the bathroom, returning two minutes later, fully dressed. “I’m gonna head over to the exhibition hall. Catch up with you later?”

  “Yep,” he said, staring out the window. Hell, maybe he needed another run. He needed to work this bad mood out of his system before the night’s performance. He’d been in the money the previous two nights, but he’d drawn a good mount for tonight and was riding last. Tonight, he owned the arena.

  *

  Razzle Dazzle bucked and kicked in the chute while the flankman struggled to secure the flank strap. The horse’s mood matched his own. Difference was, he was gonna come out on top tonight. Colt had studied up on Razzle Dazzle, just like he did with all his draws. The horse would pull left as soon as he was out of the chute, and would give a first strong kick with his rear legs. Then, it was fifty-fifty whether or not the horse would twist. The ‘twist and kick’ as Colt referred to it, was the horse’s signature move, and the reason not one cowboy had kept his seat this rodeo. Only three men this season had. Colt aimed to be the fourth. All he needed was a score of eighty-two to come out on top tonight.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only thirty seconds, the flankman gave him the signal, and he climbed over the rail. A guttural noise came from Razzle Dazzle as he jammed his gloved hand into the rigging and settled his grip. Warning bells sounded in Colt’s head. The last time he’d drawn a horse this feisty, he’d ended up with three broken ribs. But not tonight. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, sharpening his focus to a laser point. Lydia was in the stands, and he wasn’t some wet behind the ears greenhorn with more ego than sense. He’d studied the footage, gone over the ride in his mind and was ready.

  “Tear it up, Kincaid,” hollered one of his buddies.

  “Show ’em who’s boss,” added another.

  A chorus of encouragement rose up, and Colton smiled tightly. This was it. He set his spurs above the horse’s shoulders, raised his arm, and nodded.

  The chute swung open.

  Razzle Dazzle shot out like a rocket, rebelling against the sensation of Colt’s spurs. Colt’s spine jerked at the impact of Razzle Dazzle’s front hooves, and he braced his core, throwing his right arm back, ready for the rear kick. The kick came with a twist, but he was ready, countering the movement with his body, arm high, spurs marking across the shoulder break.

  Another kick and twist, but to the inside.

  This time Colt nearly lost his purchase. He struggled to right himself as he met the back kick, but he was losing ground with each buck. The horn sounded, and he dimly registered the cheers from the arena, but Razzle Dazzle wasn’t done. He kicked and twisted, and Colt flipped ass over heels to the side. His training kicked in, and he went limp, consciously relaxing his muscles as he tried to pull his glove from the rigging. The horse bucked again, yanking him like a rag doll. Dammit, his glove was stuck. He caught the flash of a pickup man out of the corner of his eye, but he was in no position to get away, not with his shoulder being yanked out of its socket with each kick. One of the pickup men yelled something, but he couldn’t hear it over the din.

  The horse twisted and bucked into him, and Colt tripped, losing his footing as the horse dragged and bucked. His arm was on f
ire, and now he was completely at the mercy of the horse. With the next buck, he turned his body into the horse, praying he wouldn’t earn a kick to his ribs. It was enough for him to pull out his hand and he crashed to the ground in a heap as Razzle Dazzle bucked away. He lay in the dirt, ears ringing loudly as he scanned his body. He wiggled his toes in his boots, tensed his leg muscles. His left hamstring answered back angrily. Slowly he drew in his belly and shifted his hips. No screaming pain there. He curled his spine as he came to his knees. Spine okay, shoulder not so much. He spread his fingers wide, then gingerly stretched his left arm. His left elbow popped loudly, shooting fiery barbs of electricity up to his shoulder. He clenched against the pain. It hurt like a motherfucker, but nothing felt broken.

  “Can you stand up?” A pair of boots asked.

  He shook his head, clearing his vision. “Just shook up.”

  A hand came to his elbow. “Let’s go.”

  With the help of the judges, he got to his feet. A roar went up from the crowd. He gave a wave and a smile, and spotted his hat in the dirt. He walked over, grateful that his legs worked, and grabbed his hat, jamming it on his head before turning and heading out the gate to the cheers of the crowd. Seventy-nine point five. Disappointment crashed through him, but he couldn’t argue with his score. Razzle Dazzle had won that round, he was grateful he’d stayed on long enough to earn a score. He’d finish in the money and move onto the semis, and that was good enough.

  Lydia rushed up, eyes wide with fear. “Colt, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  Her concern triggered a sweet ache in his chest. So did the fact that she was wearing the shirt he’d purchased for her. He’d noticed her admiring it the other day and he’d given it to her in the morning. “Nothin’ that some aspirin and an ice-pack won’t fix.” He’d be sore tomorrow, for sure. But he didn’t feel like he’d seriously injured himself. “I’ll schedule a couple of massages and take it easy. I’ll be good as new by the semis.”