Stay with Me (Cowboys of Crested Butte Book 4)

by Heather Slade

  “I don’t want to pull away, Jace. I want this.”

  “For how long? This isn’t you, living on a ranch. When you decide to leave, I’ll be left here, with no choice but to board up that damn stained glass window all over again.”

  “Stained glass window? What are you talking about?”

  “The one in the stairwell. When Beiman’s wife left him, he couldn’t stand to look at it, so he boarded it up. I know, now, why he did.”

  Bree stood in front of him, unable to speak, unable to do anything but cry. He said he wanted her, that he loved her, but he was convinced she either didn’t love him enough, or wasn’t strong enough to be what he needed. He’d already decided she couldn’t do it. He was so sure of it, he wouldn’t consider even trying.

  “We’re good to go,” shouted Ben from the other side of the hangar. “Let’s get on our way before the weather turns bad again.”

  Jace grabbed her bag and his. “Come on, let’s do this.”

  The flight was short. It took them less than two hours to fly into the Centennial airport, south of Denver, but it felt as though it took them forever to get there. There was so much she wanted to say, but not in front of Ben. She needed to wait until they were alone.

  She wished, now, that she’d read more of Zack’s journals. Maybe if she had, they would’ve offered some clue as to what Zack was thinking about their marriage during his deployment. Had he decided, in the same way Jace had, that she wasn’t cut out for their life together? Had he assumed she’d be unwilling to compromise so they could be together? Did he see her as being so selfish, she’d be unwilling, like Jace did?

  They pulled into her parents’ driveway less than an hour after Ben landed the plane. Jace brought her bags to the front door.

  “Aren’t you coming in?”

  “Nah, I’m goin’ straight to Tuck’s. My family is stayin’ there.”

  “Jace, we need to talk.”

  “Actually, we don’t. I’ve heard those words often enough before to know what they mean.”

  He walked away and got in Ben’s car.

  “Well, hello,” her father greeted her at the door. “I wasn’t sure whether we’d see you for Christmas this year.”

  “Hi, Daddy. I wasn’t sure either, but here I am, delivered safe and sound.”

  He looked behind her.

  “They’re gone already. Jace and Ben dropped me off.”

  “Nice of Ben to fly up to get you.”

  “I know. Very nice.” She snuggled into her father’s arms. “I missed you. I’m so glad to be home.”

  Bree’s mom came around the corner. “There she is!” she shouted. “I’ve been so worried about you. When you didn’t answer your cell, I didn’t know what to think.”

  Bree hugged her mom, and then slipped off her coat, taking her cell phone out of her pocket. There were several missed calls from her mom, Blythe, and even Red.

  “I’ll take your bag up to your old room,” her dad offered.

  “I’ll follow. I’d like to change,” she said to her mom.

  “Go ahead. I’ll heat up some soup. Come back down when you’re ready, and we’ll catch up, baby.”

  Bree hugged her mother again before following her dad upstairs.

  “I need to make a phone call, and then I’ll be down.”

  “Take your time,” he answered, closing her bedroom door behind him.

  She hit the call-back button and listened while the phone rang. The call went to voicemail.

  “Hi, Red, it’s Bree. I’m sorry to bother you, but something’s happened with Jace, and I need to talk to you. Can you, please, call me back?”

  As soon as she hung up, she regretted leaving a message. Red had his own life to live, she shouldn’t keep going to him for answers to her problems. She didn’t need to wait to hear back from Red. She knew what she had to do.

  “Hey, Tuck. Hi, Blythe,” Jace said when they greeted him at the back door.

  “We sure are happy to see you,” said his mama, from behind them.

  “I’m happy to see you too.” He hugged her, and then his father. “Merry Christmas.”

  “I expected Bree to be with you,” said Blythe.

  “I dropped her at your parents’ place.”

  “Okay. Well, I’m sure she’ll be here later, with them.”

  “Uh, yeah. Not sure.”

  Blythe looked at him with a puzzled expression. He wasn’t sure, because he hadn’t asked. She probably would be, but that didn’t have anything to do with him. She’d be here because that’s where her family would be.

  Tucker rubbed his chest and grimaced.

  “What’s wrong? Got indigestion from my cooking?” she teased.

  “Not this time,” he answered right before she slugged him.

  “Got a minute?” he said to Jace.

  “Got nothin’ but,” Jace answered.

  “Good. Follow me, I need your help with something. Don’t take your jacket off.”

  Jace followed Tucker out the back door, to the barn he’d heard Tuck had built, but hadn’t seen yet.

  “That was quick.”

  “Doesn’t take long to raise a barn,” Tucker answered. “Especially when Billy Patterson is involved.” They walked inside where almost every stall was full. “Gotta get some of these buckers to Crested Butte after the holidays.”

  They were still working out the best way to organize how many bulls and broncs they would keep at each ranch.

  “Bullet’s got a spreadsheet, organized by rank. I don’t know how he ranks ’em, or what it all means.”

  Once again, Bullet’s organizational skills and what appeared to be inherent insight into rough stock amazed Jace. Same with Billy. He had a knack for reading animals like Jace had never seen in another human being.

  “So tell me, brother, what’s with the heartache?”

  “Nothin’. It’ll pass.”

  Tucker put his hand on Jace’s arm. “No, it won’t. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Hi,” Blythe said when Bree walked in the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you so soon, but I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “Hi,” Bree answered, returning Blythe’s hug. “Have you seen Jace?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll catch up with you later. I really need to talk to Jace. He’s here, isn’t he?”

  “He and Tucker walked out to the new barn—”

  Bree was out the back door before Blythe finished her sentence.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said when she walked in the side door of the barn. “Actually, that isn’t true. I’m not sorry at all. Jace, can I talk to you?”

  Tucker stopped and hugged her on his way out. “He’s all yours,” he smirked.

  “I don’t know what the hell all that was about, earlier, but I have a few things to say to you, Jace Rice.”

  He sat down on a bale of hay, pulling out a piece to chew on. She hated the smug look on his face, as though he knew what she was about to say and was simply tolerating her saying it.

  “You’re such an asshole,” she began.

  “I am that,” he smirked.

  “Stop it. Do you understand me? You don’t get to trample over me and talk to me as if you know what I’m thinking, or how I’m feeling, or what I want in life.”

  “Okay.”

  “In fact, I think it would be best if you just didn’t say anything for a few minutes.”

  He nodded his head when she glared at him.

  “I love you, Jace Rice. Do you hear me? I love you. And I don’t care if you live in Montana, or Crested Butte, or Monument, or if you don’t live in any of those places. I don’t care if you’re on the road all the time. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.

  “If you’re in Montana, I will be too. If you’re shoveling shit, so will I. If you’re unloading bulls from the back of a trailer at two in the morning, I will be too. You aren’t shutting me out. You aren’t leaving me behind, or
making decisions for me, or telling me what I can and can’t do. Or what I want or don’t want. You don’t get to decide for me, Jace.”

  He nodded his head again. Bree could swear he was fighting the urge to smile.

  “If you want to know how I feel, or what I think, ask me. Don’t decide for me. Okay?”

  He nodded his head again.

  “You can talk now.” She folded her arms in front of her and waited for him to say something.

  “Well? I said you can talk now. Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  He stood instead, walked over, and grabbed her folded arms. He pulled them apart and brought her close to him. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, snaking his tongue inside. The kiss felt like a continuation of their conversation. Instead of answering her with words, his tongue battled with hers. She kissed him back harder than he kissed her.

  He ran his hands down her sides and lifted her so her legs went around his waist. He walked, with her that way, over to the side of the barn, and held her up against it.

  “You love me?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Jace.”

  “What about the rest of it? You shoveling horse droppings. You sure about that?”

  “I’ve never been more sure.”

  “It isn’t easy.”

  “What is?”

  “There are times you won’t know what day it is, or one town from the next. You’ll get damn tired of riding in the cab of a big rig.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You say that now—”

  She kissed him again, to shut him up. Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it. The only person she needed to talk to now was right in front of her.

  Epilogue

  “What do you think is up there?”

  “I don’t know, but Vi assured me I wouldn’t find any dead bodies.”

  Jace broke through the drywall in the ceiling and saw that it opened into the attic. “Old Man Beiman sure didn’t make this easy.”

  “Do you see anything?”

  Jace shined the flashlight around the dark room. “Not so far. Wait.” He saw something over on the right. He focused the flashlight in that direction. “Looks like an old steamer trunk.”

  “Big enough for a body?”

  Jace laughed. “Uh, yep.”

  “Then you’re on your own, cowboy. I’ll be waiting down here.”

  Jace pulled himself up into the attic. Once he stood, he shone the flashlight around the big, open space. He drew back the heavy tarps that blocked the light from coming in the windows. There were three windows in the attic, and once uncovered, it was light enough to see. The only thing up there was that big steamer trunk.

  “Here goes,” he shouted in Bree’s direction.

  “Good luck.”

  He unfastened the latches and pried the top open.

  “No bodies.”

  “Glad to hear it. What’s in it?”

  “I’m not sure. It looks like a bunch of old books. And some clothes.”

  “I’m coming up.”

  “Wait for me—”

  She pulled herself up into the attic before he could walk back over to the opening. “I’m fine, Jace,” she said when he put his arms around her.

  “Not just you I’m worried about, stubborn woman.”

  “You don’t have to coddle me.”

  “Ha! As if that would ever happen,” he rubbed her belly. “Precious cargo in here, darlin’. How ’bout if I just coddle her.”

  Bree smiled and rested her hand on top of his. “Or him.”

  She walked over to the trunk and pulled out a book. She blew the dust off the cover and opened it.

  “It’s someone’s journal,” she said and closed it.

  “Whose?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care.” Bree set the book back in the trunk where it had been before and closed the lid.

  “Not even curious?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “What should we do with it?”

  “Leave it where it is.”

  Bree hadn’t asked Red what he did with Zack’s journals. She flew into Idaho the day before she and Jace were getting married, but the ranch staff already had everything set up, so she and Red went fishing. Just like the first time, they didn’t talk about Zack, and they never would again.

  About the Author

  Dear Readers,

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  Also by Heather Slade

  COWBOYS OF CRESTED BUTTE

  Available Now!

  Book One

  Fall for Me

  Book Two

  Dance with Me

  and

  Book Three

  Kiss Me Cowboy

  Coming in February

  Book Five

  Win Me Over

  BUTLER RANCH

  Available Now!

  Book One

  The Promise

  Book Two

  The Truce

  Book Three

  The Secret

  and

  Book Four

  The Gift

  Coming Soon!

  Book Five

  The Truth

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next

  heart-poundingly sexy novel in Heather Slade’s

  Cowboys of Crested Butte Series,

  available in February,

  Win Me Over

  Want more from Heather Slade?

  Keep reading for a short excerpt from

  The Promise,

  the first book in

  the Butler Ranch series.

  Win Me Over

  Present Day

  The bull he’d gotten on the night before wasn’t just a rank bucker, he was mean as all get out. There wasn’t anywhere on his body that Bullet didn’t hurt.

  His ribs still ached from getting under one a few months ago, and if the weather was cold, it hurt to breathe. His twenty-five-year-old body felt more as though it was forty, or sixty.

  It didn’t help that he was back in Oklahoma, or that he’d gotten drunk the night before simply because he didn’t want to face the shitstorm his life was becoming. Maybe that’s why his body hurt so badly, because it was being pulled in so many directions.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in Colorado, living his dream. Instead, he’d gotten another call from his mother-in-law, telling him to get “home” because his baby needed him. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the same message from her, and each time, he felt worse than the time before, because it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

  They were supposed to be a family. Every few weeks, he and his wife would try to work things out between them. Each time, it ended worse than the previous.

  The last one had been so bad he knew there wouldn’t be a next time. As he held his baby boy in his arms, the child’s mother had attacked him. And she’d done it in front of her entire family.

  She was sick—bipolar disorder. If she’d just take her medicine, none of this would happen. But she refused. The slightest thing could set her off, and he never knew what, or when, it would be.

  Last night, when he heard the local stock contractor was bucking bulls, he knew he had to get on one. Had to. Riding bulls was in his blood. He thought about it all the time, even dreamed about it.

  His sister called it “adrenaline addiction,” but it wasn’t criticism. She was the only one in his family who understood. Even though Lyric had never tried to ride a bull, or a bronc, or even barrel-raced, no one understood rodeo better.

  She was the founder of RodeoChat, a social-media-based outlet for rodeo news. Lyric managed to keep her fi
nger on the pulse of rodeo around the world. She knew the schedules, statistics, and habits of the cowboys and cowgirls who competed across the field in every event. Since its founding, Lyric had interviewed hundreds of them for her weekly Twitterviews and YouTube videos.

  That’s why she understood. When he’d tried to explain how he felt to their parents, Lyric had backed him up. In fact, she’d compared it to their dad’s life.

  “You know how it feels,” she’d told him, “to be on stage, in front of thousands of people. It’s the same thing for Bullet, just a different thing drivin’ it.”

  As the lead singer of Satin, one of the most successful international heavy-metal rock bands, Nate Simmons was no stranger to adrenaline addiction.

  “Thousands of people aren’t threatening to kill me when I’m on stage, that’s the difference,” his dad had countered Lyric’s argument.

  His father wasn’t wrong. Every time Bullet got on the back of a bull, he knew he could die. It was that simple. Eight seconds. That’s what it took. If he could stay on the back of the bull for eight seconds, he’d conquer both the beast and himself.

  His mother shook her head, that day, and looked between him and his father. “Neither of you will ever grow up.”

  “It’s why you love me so much, isn’t it, Guinevere?”

  Bullet envied his parents’ relationship. It was as if they were still dating, even though they’d been married for over thirty years, a rarity in the music industry.

  It hurt to roll over, but he needed to charge his phone and see how many messages his soon-to-be-ex-wife left him. It was early; maybe there wouldn’t be any yet this morning.

  Oh, Jesus, it was worse than he thought. There were ten calls from his mother-in-law. What the hell? The woman was becoming a pain in his ass.

  He checked his texts without listening to her voice messages, and saw there were at least twice as many of those. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus enough to read, but his head was pounding like a damn jackhammer. How much had he had to drink last night?