No Accounting for Cowboys

by Leah Braemel

  Her aunt’s words playing through her head, Paige left the K&T offices. Reba was right. She’d been seven when her mother was arrested; she had no control over anything back then. Why would anyone hold her responsible now?

  Chapter Seven

  Her plants watered, and bags packed with clean clothes, including her favorite bustier and matching panties, Paige wandered her place. If she stuck around there her father might see her bike in the driveway and ambush her. Even though Jake had said he wouldn’t be done with whatever chores he had for another couple of hours, she could go sit on his porch, maybe study the latest lesson from her Marketing Research course. She dialed his cell to give him a heads up. No answer. Eh, no worries, he was probably in a dead zone and once he got back to the yard he’d check his messages and head home.

  After a quick stop at Slick’s and a saddlebag filled with ribs and sweet potato fries, she was back on the road. The late afternoon sun beat down on her, glistening off the water in the ditch at her side. A single fluff of cloud hovered off in the distance to the south, the only cloud marring the sky other than a long contrail directly overhead. Keeping a careful eye for state troopers with radar guns, she cranked up her bike’s speed, loving the feel of the wind against her body. She had to slow down once she reached the side road to Jake’s place, but she could still go fast enough that she zipped around the giant hay-laden truck crawling along at a snail’s pace. These were the days she loved owning a bike instead of a car.

  She smiled to find both Jake’s truck and his quad parked out front. Yay, he was already back. Didn’t that prove there was nothing like a promise of hot sex as an incentive to get a guy running at your beck and call?

  Jake’s beagle, Pebbles, jumped up as Paige swung off the bike and retrieved her tote from her saddle bag and slung it over her shoulder. The beagle yapped and jumped harder when Paige removed the food from the other saddle bag. The shepherd—Brewskie—meandered over and butted the bag holding the ribs. “Stop it, both of you. This is human food.”

  Balancing the ribs and the bottle of wine, she knocked on the wood frame of the screen door. No answer. She peered through the screen but couldn’t see anything.

  Where the hell are you, Jake?

  From the way he’d left the front door wide open, he couldn’t have gone far.

  She opened the screen door and, using her legs to block the dogs from following her, yelled, “Jake?”

  “Be right out.”

  She dumped her stuff on the counter and began unpacking the food. The bathroom door opened and Jake appeared wearing no shirt, only his jeans, and a washcloth pressed to the side of his mouth. She might have been distracted by the thin line of darker hair disappearing beneath the button left open at his fly if it hadn’t been for his swollen nose, black rings beneath his eyes and the bruise forming on his ribs on his left side.

  “Oh my God. What happened? Did you fall off your ATV? Or a horse or something?”

  “No.” He hissed when she took the cloth from him and dabbed at his split lip.

  “Did you have a run in with an ornery bull?”

  “Yeah, a real pissed off bison who decided he didn’t like my momma’s voice.”

  She blinked. “Is that a metaphor? Or do you mean an actual bison?”

  “I mean a real live two-thousand-pound hairy beast—you know, with the hump on the back, big beard. Horns. Momma had phoned me while I was fixing a fence. I’d dropped my phone and it fell on the wrong side. I made the mistake of figuring I could hop in and out without disturbing the bulls. I guess when I stopped talking, Momma decided to use the radio. Right as I was bending down to pick up my phone. The bull decided he didn’t like Momma’s voice I guess. Next thing I knew he was using my ass as a piñata.”

  Holy crap. And he worried about her driving her motorcycle? “Do you need to go to the hospital? Get x-rays or anything?”

  “Nah, I think I’m good. I just need to chill for a while.”

  Chill—that’s what would help him. She rummaged through his freezer and found a bag of frozen peas that looked like it had probably been there from the last century and held it out. “Hold these up against your eye. It’ll stop the swelling.”

  “Thanks.” He gingerly pressed it to his face and hissed.

  “Go on, sit down.”

  He hobbled to the couch and sat down with a bone-deep sigh. She rummaged around in his bathroom until she found a tube of antibiotic. Once she’d cleaned the dried blood off his knuckles she gooped some of the antibiotic on them and smoothed it over the open spots. “There, all done.”

  He groaned, but one of pleasure not pain. “You’re an angel.”

  “Nope, just worried about you. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m fine. Sore, yes, but I’ve had broken ribs before and I don’t think anything’s busted this time.”

  He probably wouldn’t admit how badly hurt he was, stupid man. Which meant she was going to be plastered to his side until she was convinced he wasn’t badly hurt. “Are you hungry? I brought some ribs from Slick’s.”

  “I’m starved.”

  Paige found two plates in the cupboard and divided up the ribs beside the sweet potato fries, then picked up both plates and headed back to the couch.

  He chewed, and winced. Touched his lip. When he caught her watching, he ducked his head. She stroked the back of his hand, avoiding the sore spots. “Are you sure it was a bull who tossed you? Not you and Gabe getting into a knock-down-drag-out?”

  “Jesus, what is it with everyone thinking that’s how I solve things?” He hitched a shoulder then winced. “Okay, yes, so Gabe and I got into a pissing match right before this and that’s why he took off and left me to do the fencing alone, but we only cussed each other out. We didn’t beat on each other, okay?”

  “Sorry. I just wondered. Your momma said you and Gabe used to fight a lot when he first arrived.”

  He slumped against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “Yeah, we did. You should have seen him back then. Swaggering around like he was hot shit.” He closed his eyes. “I guess I was jealous because Gramps paid a lot more attention to him than he did me.” He snorted. “Guess we know why Gramps paid him all that attention now, don’t we?

  “Anyway, after a couple months, Pop got fed up with us fightin’ all the time and made us do everything together. He said we’d only be free when he’d not had to break us up once in a month. He made us sleep in the same room, do our chores together, eat side by side, like we were twins. Gotta tell you, it chaffed the hide off both of us at first. Then we started talking, and Gabe told me about how his father had left—his adoptive father—but hadn’t fought for custody. Hadn’t even seen him in a couple years. I mean, this was a guy who actively sought out Gabe as his kid and yet he just walked away from him. It really screwed with his head, you know? And he started seeing how Gramps treated me and we sort of bonded, I guess.”

  “How long did you get stuck together?”

  “Close to a year? But it’s not how it sounds. We got along after the first couple of weeks or so, but then we started egging each other on, for fun you know. Darin’ each other to do stupid stunts and we’d end up getting into more trouble. So Pop kept extending our punishment until he realized we were working as a team.” His eyes opened, exhaustion and defeat muting the humor that had filled them earlier in the week. “We’ve been best friends ever since. I always felt like I could tell him things I couldn’t tell Ben.”

  “What’s with you and Ben?” Sometimes they got along great and other times the sibling rivalry was so thick it would take a machete to cut through it.

  “It’s like he hasn’t realized I’ve grown up. And yeah, I’ve done some things that were pretty stupid but they were my mistakes to make.” He took a deep breath only to hiss and grab his ribs. “It’s
exactly how Gramps treated me. It doesn’t make it right. Ben was a golden boy in Gramps’s eyes. If Ben was playing in a football game at school, Gramps and Gram went to it, but they didn’t go to any of mine. There was always something else that was more important.”

  “But you’re their grandson too. Why wouldn’t they be there for you too?”

  He blew out a breath and limped to the window. “It’s because of Bull Fucking Grady’s legacy.”

  “I’ve heard you guys talk about this legacy, but what is it?”

  “It goes back to the very first Grady, Bull Grady, after he’d first claimed the land and wrote up his will. Ol’ Bull set it out that no matter how many sons there were, only the eldest son would inherit the spread, no matter what. Gram once told me she’d heard that either his youngest son was gay or he was involved with some woman who was after his money, she didn’t know which. Either way Bull wasn’t happy with him and wanted him cut from his will.” He huffed. “Bull wrote it in the family bible and made his kids swear that they’d follow it. Gramps too. When his father died, he inherited everything, and his sister didn’t get a cent. She moved out west and never talked with any of us again.”

  “That’s not fair.” Though she didn’t expect to inherit anything from her own father either. He’d made sure that she’d known that from the first day she walked into his house. Though considering the number of marriages he’d been through, she doubted there was much left to inherit anyway.

  “It’s just the way it was. I guess since Ben was supposed to inherit the whole spread, Gramps figured it was a waste of time to put any energy into spending time with me. Oh, he expected me to work like a dog though. It used to piss me off because he’d give me all the shit jobs while he took Ben riding around, telling the hands what to do, discussing what needed to be done like he was hot shit. But me? Nah. I was just a ranch hand. Not worthy of taking a couple hours out to go to any of my school events. Hell, he didn’t even attend my graduation. It was like I was invisible most times, you know?”

  Her heart aching for him, Paige joined him at the window, resting her head on his shoulder. She knew how it felt to be invisible. Unwanted. “But obviously your father didn’t feel the same way.”

  “Pop was the best.” His voice softened as he blinked rapidly. “I heard Pop and Gramps fighting about me right before Gramps died. Gramps said I was a flake because I played the guitar and liked music, that I was a sissy boy and I wouldn’t amount to anything, and that Pop shouldn’t waste any more time on me, especially since I wasn’t going to be running Bull’s Hollow.”

  Had George not seen the little boy camping out by the lake, entranced by the land? What a blind fool Jake’s grandfather had been. “But your father broke the legacy.”

  “Yeah. The week after Gramps’ estate was settled, Pop set up the ranch as an LLC. He said at the time that it would make it a lot easier to transfer his own share when he died. None of us figured he’d... He didn’t have to do it, you know?”

  “I think I would have liked your father.”

  “He would have liked you. I wish you could have met him. Now it’s your turn to tell me about your family.”

  “There’s really nothing to tell.”

  “Aw come on. You know everything about me. Hell, you know exactly what I have in my bank account and what I owe on my credit cards while I don’t know anything about your family. I don’t even know if you have any brothers or sisters.”

  Shoot, he was right. Damn it. “I lived with my mother until I was seven when they took me away from her. I have an older half brother, Forrest, and a younger half sister, Autumn. Same mother, different fathers, but I haven’t seen either of them since I was seven. Forrest’s father’s family took him. He lives up in Seattle now, and Autumn—well, last I heard she was adopted. But neither of them—or maybe it’s their families—want any contact with me. So I’ve lived with my father and his succession of girlfriends and wives under his very strict supervision ever since. I graduated UT with honors and here I am.”

  “You got taken from your momma? Custody battle or...”

  “By the cops. She’d been dealing drugs.” The long-suppressed panic of that night rose up in the back of her throat and sweat beaded at her hairline at the back of her neck until she reminded herself she was safe. “She’s been in prison since they took us away. Probably will be for the rest of her life. She got a tough judge and since she was already a felon,” and according to her aunt, the judge had been livid that she’d let her kids live in a meth lab, “he gave her the maximum sentences.”

  “Oh, baby, that sucks.” He pulled her against him, rubbing his hand up and down her spine. She soaked up the comfort. “Do you miss her?”

  “I think I miss the idea of having a mother most. But my aunt’s pretty good about stepping up when I need her.”

  “Good. And you’ve got your father too.”

  And there was her opening.

  Her heart pounding against her ribs, she took a deep breath and pulled herself away from the safety of his arms. Despite her aunt’s cautions, she hated lying to him. “Do you remember you telling me about the developer trying to buy your grandfather’s friend’s land out from under him?”

  “Double R Developers, yeah. What of it?”

  “My grandfather owned Double R. The Little Lake development was my father’s project. We told your lawyer about it when he first approached us. He said it wasn’t an issue.” She held up her hand. “As far as we knew, he’d made you aware of it and you didn’t have a problem with working with us. But when you mentioned it, and didn’t realize that it was my family you were talking about... I just thought I needed to be upfront with you.”

  She explained how Reba had forewarned Ben’s grandfather, and how they’d told Logan when he first approached them. “I think she sees taking your contract as an atonement or a hands-across-the-water type of gesture. Or maybe she took it to piss off my father. I don’t know, but Kligman and Tuckett are a reputable firm—you don’t have to worry about them screwing anything up, deliberately or unintentionally.”

  “Darlin’, I am not about to hold you responsible for something that happened before you were born.” He tilted his head, his gray eyes fathomless. “You were concerned I would blame you, weren’t you?”

  It wouldn’t have been the first time. Doubt reared up inside her; she raised her head and met his gaze. “Did you really want to know about me? Or were you just trying to divert my attention away from my questions about you and Gabe?”

  He shook his head as if it weighed a ton. “It wasn’t a diversion. I mean, we’ve seen each other every day and I realized how little I know about you.” He caught the tip of her hair and toyed with it. “And I want to know all about you, Paige.”

  “There’s not much to know.”

  “Oh yes, there is. Like why an accountant—a bean counter who are stereotypically the most cautious people I know—rides a motorcycle, or dyes her hair in a way that she feels she has to hide when she’s working—which I totally dig, by the way. It’s like a secret to you, that no one else knows unless you show them. I want to know why you got your nipples pierced—if it was for a guy. Someone special maybe?”

  “No. I got them done on a whim.” After a fight with her father about how people with piercings were ugly. “Then I realized how much I really like them.”

  Satisfaction filled his expression. “Good. I know you’ve been with other guys, same as I can’t claim to be a virgin either, but it bugs the shit out of me to imagine you with someone else.” He shook his head. “Okay that sounds like I’m going to turn into some creepy stalker, which I promise I won’t. But yeah, I want to be the only one with you.”

  “Are you asking me to not date anyone else?” She’d never had a guy expect her to be exclusive. Mainly because she usually hooked up with guys who didn’t want a long term relations
hip. Which up until now had been fine by her.

  A grin lit up his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  Warmth flowed through her starting in her chest and spreading to the tips of her fingers and toes. Unable to stop her grin, she pressed her index finger into his sternum. “Okay, as long as you agree to the same terms.”

  “Hey, I have no problem with it.” Despite the way he skated his palms up her side, he had a forlorn expression.

  “Something’s bothering you still, though. And not just the pain in your ribs.”

  He took a deep breath and winced. “I’m that easy to read, huh?”

  “No. I’ve just seen a similar expression in the mirror before. Now spill.”

  “Gabe said that he feels like I’m rubbing his face in it whenever we talk about him being a partner. But I’m not. I’m not trying to anyway.” He sounded so lost. “I don’t know what else to do to make it right.”

  “All I can say is give him time, and be honest with him about everything in the future.” She held up a hand at his grimace. “I know, not what you wanted to hear, but there’s no quick fix on this.”

  Though if Jake was lucky, it wouldn’t take Gabe as long to move past the pain that still lingered for her.

  Chapter Eight

  Jake awoke to a serenade of Lone Star’s “Tequila Talking.” The ringtone he’d assigned to Cam. His head ached as if he’d downed an entire tequila bottle the night before. What the hell? Oh yeah, the damned bison. No wonder he felt like ten pounds of shit in a five pound sack. He settled back, enjoying the weight of Paige’s head on his shoulder. Though he couldn’t feel his arm, he was loath to shift her. Damn, she felt good snuggled up against him.

  The phone stopped ringing only to immediately start up again.

  Paige shifted, snuggling closer, her hair dragging across his chest like silk. “Aren’t you going to answer your phone?”

  “It’s Cam. I’ll call him back in a bit.” He checked the alarm clock. “Holy shit, it’s eight o’clock.”