Cowboy's Sweetheart (Sugar Coated Cowboys Book 3)

by Stephanie Berget

Vivi watched Willa tease her mom and felt the bitter tang of remorse. She couldn’t remember a time her mother had ever been playful. Her father wouldn’t have tolerated the children’s noisy banter.

  The sound of Cary’s voice brought her back to the present.

  “Willa Wild West, when you’re my age, you can say that word—maybe. Not before.” When Willa only grinned, Cary pulled the girl into a one-armed hug.

  “Tough day at the bakery?” Vivi leaned against the counter and handed the kids a cookie from the jar before taking one herself.

  “You could say that. I’d have just thrown in the towel, but I promised Micah’s guys fresh bread for dinner.” She grabbed an apple from the sack on the counter and began peeling. “And a pie.”

  Nonchalance was never Vivi’s greatest asset, but she gave it her best shot. “So I met one of your cowhands in the barn.” She grabbed another cookie. Sugar was her best friend when her nerves gave her fits. Another thing Mother wouldn’t approve of.

  Cary gave her a quick look. “Which one?” She’d rolled out the crust and fitted it into the pan.

  “Not sure of his name. Byron, maybe.”

  “Byron Garrett. He’s been here for almost four years. When Clinton retired last summer, Micah offered him the job of foreman, but he’s not much of a people person. He prefers to be alone. Nice guy though.” Heaping the chopped apples into the crust, Cary sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on top. “A real sweetheart.”

  “Must not have been the same guy. Have you got two Byrons working here?”

  “Nope, just the one. Why?” Cary finished making the pie and slipped it into the oven. Pouring two cups of coffee, she handed one to Vivi.

  Vivi put her cup on the table and dropped into a chair, smoothing her multi-colored skirt across her knees. “Cause this one doesn’t seem like a nice guy.”

  Cary burst out laughing. “Byron’s not at his best with strangers. I should have warned you.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Vivi unzipped her vest and hung it on the back of the chair. This was her favorite outfit. The flowing material and colors remind her to live life and enjoy each day. “Does he ever lighten up? He looks like he chews on barbed wire for fun.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Byron kicked off his covers, stretched and rolled slowly to a sitting position. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in three days, and it wasn’t the pain from being bucked off that was keeping him awake. Although he was plenty sore, he’d landed in the dirt many times through the years and survived.

  No, every time he’d closed his eyes, thoughts of the hippy woman and her damned dress sashayed into his brain and took up residence.

  During the day, he stayed away from the ranch house, choosing the steepest, rockiest fence lines to ride and the most unpredictable colts. The very real chance he’d get bucked off kept his mind on the job. But the vision of her curves encased in bright colors, her long silky hair blowing in the wind, crept into his mind just as he fell asleep, jarring him awake.

  As a man who prided himself on his self-control, it pissed him off that he couldn’t get her out of his brain. Peace of mind had been in short supply before he left Texas. Now, it was his most important objective, and he’d found it until Vivi waltzed into the barnyard.

  A glance at his phone and he saw he’d better get moving. He needed to get into the kitchen and grab something to eat before the rest of the house got up.

  He’d learned long ago, if the back door was opened quickly it gave out a high-pitched squeal. Byron managed to squeeze through without a sound. He was reaching reached into the refrigerator to snag the roast beef when he heard someone say his name.

  “Byron, you’re up early.” Cary stood behind him in a sweatshirt and jeans, her hair still mussed from sleep. “I have a favor to ask.”

  Byron didn’t smile often, but this woman could bring out a good mood where no one else could. Even though they were about the same age, she was more of a mother to him than his own had ever been. At times, he was even a bit jealous of Willa and Rodie.

  He knew, and he suspected Cary knew, he’d do anything she asked. He turned to face her.

  Cary poured and handed him a cup of coffee then grabbed one for herself. Sitting in one of the high backed oak chairs, she motioned for him to take a seat. “You’ve found all the strays, right?”

  “Got the last three yearlings a few days ago.” The coffee was rich and smooth. He hadn’t taken the time to get any the last few days. He’d missed it.

  “My friend is staying with us for a while, and she’d love to learn to ride.”

  The warm feeling he’d been wrapped in turned to ice. Cary couldn’t mean the hippy.

  “You’re so good with the horses, I think you’d be the best one to teach her.”

  “I’ve got more fence line to ride.” He stood and poured the rest of the coffee into the sink and rinsed his cup. He could do without coffee. Without breakfast and lunch for that matter.

  “Oh, I asked Micah, and he said that could wait a while. And it will only be for an hour or so in the afternoons. Come on.” Cary topped off her cup then began pulling breakfast fixings out of the refrigerator. “You met Vivi the other day, didn’t you?”

  He’d met her, and he’d been a world-class jerk. A few hours a week helping her wouldn’t hurt him, and it would give him a chance to apologize. “Send her out when she’s ready.” He turned and made his escape.

  He could do this. The woman, Vivi, would grow tired of the horses the first time her ass and leg muscles burned from the effort. His brain latched on to the vision of her butt as she’d walked away that first day. You’d think he’d landed on his head the way he’d lost control of his thoughts.

  Byron put one of Cary’s saddles on a chestnut gelding then caught Crater. By the time he was tugging the paint’s cinch snug, he heard shuffling footsteps behind him. He needed to apologize, but what would he say? Hi, I’m Byron, and I’m a natural born jackass.

  When he didn’t turn around, she cleared her throat. “Should I have called first to make an appointment?”

  Byron could hear the amusement in her voice. Pretty, kind and a sense of humor. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

  He finished with the horse then turned. When he caught sight of her, he almost swallowed his tongue. The hippy was dressed in Wranglers that molded to her hips like a second skin. Her fuzzy pink sweater hugged her breasts, and Byron had to force his gaze to her face.

  “Is this a bad time?” As she walked toward him, she shuffled her feet, her boot heels dragging in the dust. “Cary said you wanted to ride now, but I can come back.”

  “What’s wrong with your feet?” He’d made up his mind to make the best of this for Cary’s sake and was going for, if not an overly friendly vibe, at least not hostile. Seemed he hadn’t gotten a handle on the not hostile yet. “You hurt?”

  Her laugh rang out soft and sweet as a meadowlark’s song. “I’m fine. Cary loaned me her boots for my lesson, and they’re a bit too big.”

  Her smile was a sight to see, and Byron found himself wondering how he could get her to laugh again. Disgusted with himself, he turned back to the horse. “Go wait at the arena. I’ll bring your horse out.”

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  He didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. Just shook his head. The sight of her in that pretty pink sweater had his tongue tied up like a calf at a rodeo. He knew exactly why Cary wanted him to teach the hippy to ride. She was a matchmaker of the highest order.

  It was obvious to him that this woman came from money. She would leave the Circle W as soon as she got tired of pretending to be a cowgirl. She wasn’t ranch people. If she did stay around, she’d want him to change.

  Hell, his dad had made it perfectly clear that with this lifestyle, he wasn’t good enough.

  Better to keep his distance and wait for her to go.

  He led Crater and the sorrel to the arena then waved the hippy inside. “Get on.”

 
; Instead of doing what he’d ordered, she moved to the horse’s head and began stroking its face. “You are a pretty one. Yes you are. What’s your name, big guy? Huh, what’s your name?”

  “He can’t answer. You know that, right?” Byron talked to his animals all the time. Why was it so irritating when she did the same thing? “He’s just a horse.”

  Vivi turned to face him, her eyebrows pushed down and her full lush lips thinned by aggravation. She kept stroking the horse, but the tone of her voice changed. “You seem so angry with me. Have I done something to you? Is it because I scared your horse that first day? If so, I am sorry.”

  She had him there. She hadn’t done a thing except keep him up at night. He damned sure wasn’t going to tell her that embarrassing piece of information. “I’ve got a job to do, and we’re wasting time.” There, that ought to be enough of an explanation.

  “Really? Cary told me this was part of your job, but if you’re too busy, I’ll go back in the house.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on. Do your important man stuff.”

  She took another minute to run her fingers through the sorrel’s mane and stroke his neck, before shuffling toward the arena gate.

  The boots must be several sizes too big, and he caught himself smiling. He lifted the reins over the horse’s head. “Come on back.” He should apologize, again, but he couldn’t count the times he’d apologized to his parents, and it had never gotten him anywhere.

  She stopped then slowly turned, being careful to keep her feet balanced in the boots. After staring at him for a moment, she grinned. “If you really want me to.”

  ~-~

  So far, the cowboy had been demanding and closed minded. Maybe that was a big man thing. Father had been almost Byron’s size, but she had to admit, Byron didn’t seem to have the mean streak or the need to control that dominated her father’s disposition.

  Vivi’d promised herself she wouldn’t be intimidated ever again and now was as good a time as any for her to step up. “Thanks, I appreciate your taking the time. What do I do now?”

  “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” Byron checked the cinch then turned to her.

  “Are you kidding? My parents wouldn’t let us near an animal. They carry germs, you know.” Her laugh died, and she had to work to keep the regret from showing.

  “Everything has germs.” Byron lowered the stirrup then rested his hand on the horse’s neck.

  “Mother was a bit paranoid. Father didn’t like animals. They didn’t always do what he said.” Regret, relief and resolve pulsed through her. The past was staying in the past. She pulled in a deep breath and plastered the grin on her face again. “I love animals though.”

  For the first time, the big man looked at her and seemed to see her, not some insect to swat away. He stepped back a foot or so and motioned her to come closer to the horse. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he positioned her beside the saddle. “Put your left foot in the stirrup, and I’ll help you on.”

  She did as he asked. When his strong hands settled on her waist and lifted her into the saddle, she almost gasped out loud. The warmth of his hands disappeared as soon as she was settled. She looked down on him. “This is a tall horse.”

  “Not really.” He made some adjustments to the stirrups so they fit her short legs. “Hold the reins like this and bump him with your feet.”

  “Bump?”

  With a shake of his head, he took her ankle and tapped it softly against the horse’s ribs. At his touch, another tingle ran over her nerves.

  “Okay.” She adjusted her reins in her hand, trying to mimic the way he’d shown her. Then she looked down on him. “I need to know something before we go any farther.”

  When he just stared at her, she continued. “What’s his name?” She couldn’t possibly ask this beautiful animal to carry her around on his back and not know his name, but she knew without being told that Byron would think she was foolish if she voiced her thoughts.

  “Worry.” Byron stepped away. “Now bump him with your feet.”

  “Worry, why Worry? That seems like an odd name for such a pretty horse.” The copper color of his coat gleamed in the sun. The light blonde of his mane and tail were close to the color she’d chosen for her own hair.

  “Worry is short for No Worries. He’s the horse we put all the dudes on when they come to visit Cary and Micah.” Apparently tiring of her questions, he took hold of the reins and led her around the pen.

  “This is amazing. Lucky you. You get to do this every day.” The old Viola would never have had the opportunity to ride a horse. She couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face. Cross another item off Vivi’s bucket list. “What a great job.”

  Byron glanced over his shoulder. “The best.” His glare was gone, and she saw the barest start of a smile before he turned away.

  “Can I try by myself?” Her heartbeat sped up at the thought of controlling this huge animal. Riding a horse had been a lifelong dream.

  Byron left her and walked to the center of the arena.

  Vivi bit her lip and looked things over. She had to keep her feet in the stirrups to keep the boots from falling off. She wiggled the toes of the boots, but instead of moving, Worry dropped his head and relaxed. When she looked at Byron he had a smile on his face. It disappeared as soon as he caught her watching.

  Laughing at her was he? She lifted both legs and kicked hard. Worry’s head came up, and he started off across the pen at the most uncomfortable gait. The beast was trying to buck her off just like the other horse had done to Byron.

  Vivi tipped to one side, dropped the reins and hung on to the saddle horn with both hands. She pulled her knees up, clinging to the saddle like a tick. Her left boot dropped to the ground.

  Byron was at her side before she fell, steadying her with hands on her thigh and waist.

  She reached up and pushed her hair out of her face. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. “This animal is a bucking bronco. You did that on purpose.”

  His expression sobered. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” He pulled his hands away, bent and picked up her boot. “I said bump, you kicked. Worry thought you were asking him to trot.”

  She thought a minute, running what had happened through her mind. “Can you show me how to stay on when he does that?”

  He almost chuckled. “Why don’t we learn to walk first?” His hand was just as warm when it clasped her calf as it had been on her waist. He slid the boot on her foot and put it in the stirrup.

  This time when she asked, Worry walked away with a slow, gentle gait. She felt a rush of power when she turned the animal back toward Byron. They worked for most of an hour before Byron called the lesson to a halt. “This is enough for today. You’re going to be sore as it is.”

  As she swung her leg over Worry’s back, Byron helped her down. She turned and stood in the circle of his arms. Holy neutrons! The heat coming from his gaze nearly set her heart on fire, and she leaned toward him.

  He jerked away like she had Spotted Fever.

  To cover her embarrassment, she went on the offensive. “I’m a pretty good rider already, right? Maybe even a prodigy.”

  He only grunted, but his elusive smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  “One of these days, I might even win the Grand Prix like National Velvet. I’ll give you all the credit as my trainer.”

  “National Velvet rode in the Grand National. The Grand Prix is a dressage competition. I don’t do either of those.”

  “Don’t you ever look on the bright side, or the funny side or the happy side of anything?” Vivi poked him in the shoulder, trying to get him to lighten up.

  “Look lady. I’m only supposed to be a riding instructor, not your life coach. We’re done here.” He tried to take Worry’s reins out of her hands, but she held on.

  This lightening-him-up thing hadn’t work out like she’d planned. His sour attitude reminded her of Father. When he let go of the reins, she schooled
her features into a nondescript expression. “Would you mind if I helped you put Worry away?”

  With a wave of his hand indicating that she should follow, he headed for the barn.

  They worked in near silence. Byron’s words were clipped as he told her how to put the halter on Worry. She didn’t ask the questions bouncing around in her brain.

  By the time they had the horse back in his pen, the tension in Byron’s shoulders seemed to have eased.

  “Thank you for helping me today. That’s the most fun I’ve had since I went skydiving in New Mexico.” She giggled as his eyes rounded.

  His stoic expression morphed into horror. “You jumped out of a plane?”

  “Yes, and I went rock climbing in Arizona. You’ve got to take chances in life. If not, you miss all the fun.” She’d started with a smile on her face, but as she spoke, she thought of Sebastian. The skydiving, rock climbing and horseback riding had been partly for him, too.

  “The highest I want to get off the ground is the back of a horse. Don’t need any help dying by doing insane things.” Byron settled the saddle blanket on the rack in the tack room and hung up the bridle. “That’s just nuts.”

  “No, that’s living my life.” She wasn’t nuts, crazy or insane. “I don’t want to die without living first.” She paused. My parents were frightened of anything they couldn’t control and did their best to make me frightened too.”

  He looked at her for a moment, and she didn’t think she’d imagined his barely perceptible nod before walking away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cary dropped the last handful of potatoes and carrots on top of the second pork roast and slid the pan in the oven. It took a lot of food to fill up the ranch hands at the Circle W. A pastry chef by trade, she’d had to learn ranch cooking when she’d arrived at the Circle W a few years ago.

  She’d been running from her past and had run right into her future.

  “Mom, Rodie is touching me again.”

  As Willa came to stand beside her, an innocent look on her face, Cary reached out automatically and redid the girl’s ponytail. The eleven year old’s red curls seemed to escape at will. “And what did you do to him?”