Bad Boy, Big Heart (Heart of the Boy #1)

by Andrea Downing

  Chay stood for a second and grimaced as Jamie followed him toward their saddles resting on the far fence. Their horses sauntered over, ready for a ride. “I’m not afraid of competition, Jamie; I’d win hands down. I’ll just wait for her to throw you over first, I think.”

  Jamie heaved his saddle onto his chestnut mare. “Seems to me she already threw you over, Chay. Said it had ended before it had begun.”

  Chay pulled the cinch tight on his palomino, Dusty, his pride and joy, and gave Jamie a smug smile. “That was before I gave her flowers. And before she sees me in the rodeo tonight.”

  * * *

  K.C. inspected herself once more in the bathroom mirror and ran the brush though her hair for the umpteenth time. “What do you think ‘Let’s hang out’ means in Wyoming-speak?”

  Dakota pulled a tissue from a box near the basin and dabbed at a lipstick smudge. “Probably same thing it means in Idaho or New York.” She shot K.C. a look. “Or don’t you say that?”

  “Yes, but…. Where do you ‘hang’ in the Tetons? Other than from a tree, of course.”

  This struck Dakota as funny, and the result was her infectious laughter, which set off K.C. She pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

  “They stopped lynching rustlers some time ago,” Dakota responded at last, her giggles subsiding. “And I have no idea what Jamie Forrest means by ‘hanging.’ He’s supposedly incredibly rich so, for all I know, he’s going to whisk you away to The Snake River Grill or even The Four Seasons or something.”

  “Well, that would win my parents approval if nothing else.” K.C.’s answer was a mumble more to herself than Dakota.

  Dakota glanced across at her friend. “That’s a lovely ring you’ve got there, K.C. I bet that’s worth a bit.”

  K.C. glanced down at the ring on her right hand. A small opal surrounded by tiny garnets caught the light from above. “Just…a family heirloom. Nothing particularly special.”

  Dakota straightened up from the mirror. “Your parents rich, then? Or just snobs?”

  K.C. let out a breath. “Probably both.” She grimaced. “Not outrageously wealthy, but well off enough to want me to marry well and live in New York, have the same kind of life they have.” She played with the ring for a second, considered taking it off, then left it.

  “And you don’t want that?”

  “I’m not even thinking about that. I have a place at NYU to do a Master’s degree, and that’s about as far as I’m thinking. I came out here to get a taste for what it’s like to live out west. I want to write my thesis on American expansion after the Louisiana Purchase. All my life I’ve been fascinated by the west; it’s something my parents don’t understand.”

  “So why didn’t you come out west to do your Master’s?”

  “The particular professor I wanted to study with is at NYU.”

  “I see. Well, out here, loads of people want to go to the cities to make a life, make it big in New York or Chicago or something.”

  “But out here kids our age also take over their parents’ ranches, continue with homesteaded land, try to keep a way of life going.” Then it struck her. “What’s Chay’s background? Why didn’t he finish high school?”

  Dakota was busy looking for something in her make-up bag. “Oh, there are various rumors, and I don’t really want to gossip, K.C. Breezy is the fountain of knowledge on Chay; you might ask her, or just ask Chay himself—”

  “I don’t think we’re on speaking terms any more after last night.”

  “Then why be curious?” She arched her brow with the question. “Unless, of course, you do have the hots for him?”

  K.C. swallowed. “The flowers were nice.” She was pensive. “Why didn’t you go out with him? Or did you?”

  Dakota sat carefully on the edge of the sink and eyed K.C. “We’ve never gone out; we’ve always just been friendly, jokey, but definitely friendly. Anyway, he was going out with some gal from California last summer when I arrived and then broke it off when she had to go home. He had the whole winter to make a play but never did. From what I understand of Chay, let’s just say I live a little too close for comfort.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just what I said. He likes to know his women are going to leave and go home. Home being farther than Idaho across the border and a few hours’ drive.”

  “I see. I guess that was what last night was all about then. No real attraction for me, just someone to bed who’ll then leave. Well. That’s good to know. So I take it that’s what happened with Miss California?”

  “Yup. That’s what happened with Miss California. It makes for a clean break. She got a little summer romance and then went home. As for Chay, no uncomfortable reminders, no nasty scenes of bumping into your ex.”

  K.C. pushed in her earrings and examined herself one last time. “Well, I better keep that in mind.”

  Dakota fixed her Stetson on her head and gave herself one last look. “’Course, watching Chay on a bareback bronc does stir the heart some….”

  * * *

  The parking area was already filling up as Dakota pulled in, one of the so-called valets guiding her to a spot. K.C. looked around the lot, mostly pickup trucks and Suburbans with a smattering of other vehicles. One fancy sports car caught her eye. She tugged down her jacket and followed Dakota to the ticket booth.

  The wrangler looked across at the food counter. “Want to grab a hot dog or something to eat?”

  “Oh, no, I’m good. Let’s eat later.”

  “Then follow me.”

  Daylight was fading as they climbed the stands and found seats, stepping over the feet of other people to reach the middle. The announcer’s voice blared over the loudspeaker system with a stream of advertisements for local businesses, including the guest ranches. There was an air of excitement, and envy washed through K.C. thinking of the riders who participated and the sense of belonging to this community in which so many of the spectators lived and worked. She spotted a few of the ranch kitchen staff sitting a short distance away, just arrived today—her summer family.

  And then came the national anthem, and the rodeo queen and her court rode out, American flags flying proudly. This was what America used to be, she thought. Or maybe it still is…in certain parts of the country.

  “A penny for them,” Dakota said. “I can’t believe it’s your first rodeo?”

  “Yeah.” K.C. laughed at herself. How had she missed this? Living in New York, of course.

  “Well, I hope you’ll enjoy it. There’s some fun things, like when they get the kids out for mutton busting—”

  “Mutton busting?” K.C. laughed. “What in heaven’s name is that?”

  “Oh, you’ll see, you’ll see.”

  But K.C. found the one thing she was looking forward to was Chay Ridgway on a bareback bronc.

  * * *

  He had to concentrate on what he was doing. Eight seconds was the longest time imaginable on the back of a bronco. He got his rigging in order and looked out through the corral fence, trying to spot K.C., but that was idiotic. How could he possibly see her across the stands? Think man, think. His mind went blank. Concentrate. What was she to him? In the chute. Next. His thoughts went like a speeded up film. He settled on the horse, who kicked back while others held him, Chay’s mind reeling through his picture of the next eight seconds. K.C. No. Yes. Clear it, damnit. He nodded his ‘Okay’ and the chute gate opened, arm up, spin to the left, spin to the right, flank strap, spur, move with him, lay back, hat’s off, high buck, round off, buzzer, where’s the freaking…? Ooof.

  He’d made eight seconds and was seized off the bronc by the pick-up men and back on the ground as others distracted the horse. Someone handed him his hat, and he realized his shoulder was aching. Waved with his other hand, silly bow, chap fringe flying, and off to the medics. Damnit, damnit. Damn!

  * * *

  K.C. spread her hot dog with a line of mustard while Dakota piled on the relish. Iced diet cokes sat on a ledg
e near the stand, while other customers milled around—men hidden behind several helpings of food piled high and trays of drinks, ladies tugging children along to the rest rooms, tourists looking over the souvenir stalls that lined the walkway back to the parking lot, giggling girls waiting in their sparkly jeans and shirts to get autographs or just chat up the cowboys.

  K.C. took a sip from her coke and placed it back on the ledge. She stuffed the dog and roll into her mouth. She felt this was about as close as she would get to belonging here. A dribble of mustard made its way to her chin when a hand reached out with a napkin and dabbed it.

  “Pretty sloppy eater for a city girl, aren’t you?” Chay had his left arm in a sling, but it didn’t seem to bind his mouth. He leaned on the ledge.

  “I didn’t know where you come from dictates how you eat.” She held out the hot dog and he took a bite.

  He smiled at the share while trying to chew.

  “So what happened?” She nodded toward his sling.

  “I won the battle but lost the war,” he said with a full mouth. Then, waiting to swallow, “I got today’s crummy prize money but now can’t compete the rest of the summer most likely.”

  “You break it?” She was surprised.

  “Naw. Sprained, dislocated, or some crap like that. You’ll now have to keep me company the next few months. Every Saturday. So I don’t try and get in.”

  “Hmmm. Well, I’m afraid that’s not likely, I—”

  “She’s going out with me next Saturday, remember?” Jamie came up.

  “How could she forget?” Dakota’s tone had a note of revulsion. “You two boys are like Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, you know. I don’t know which one is worse.”

  K.C. laughed. “When does the sling come off?” Her gaze was steady on Chay.

  “Probably a week but another six or so weeks to heal, the doctor said. You gonna kiss it and make it better?”

  “I’m going to wish you well,” she said offering him the remains of the hotdog, which had suddenly become distasteful. “And Jamie, I’ll see you next Saturday, I guess.”

  Jamie gave Chay a smug look. “Chay can ride home with Dakota, and you can ride back with me, K.C. How’s that?”

  K.C. hesitated.

  “I don’t think so,” Dakota butted in. “Unless you want to?” Her eyes questioned the wisdom of such a decision.

  “I’ll go back with Dakota, if you don’t mind, Jamie. I don’t want to…put you out of your way.”

  “It’s not—”

  Chay put up his hand. “The lady’s spoken, Jamie. Let her go back with Dakota. I guess you’ll get your chance next week.”

  Chapter Four

  Chay stood on the porch of the men’s bunkhouse and observed Jamie as he held open the door to his shiny little vintage sports car. K.C. paused to remove a small purse strung around her wrist in order to hold it as she slipped into the passenger seat, and Jamie clunked the door closed. A finger of jealousy crept up Chay’s spine as the car growled to life, Jamie no doubt showing off its high powered engine before he pulled the gears and the car shot down the road. He would have to have words with him about speeding on the premises, he thought with some satisfaction—give him a stern warning about that, stupid bastard.

  He took a deep breath and thought about K.C.—her face ignited something in him as if he had to grab her and care for her the rest of his life. What the heck was that? Where did that come from? And, more importantly, what could he offer her? Nothing, that’s what. He settled himself in a rocking chair, waiting—give them a few minutes to start down the road before leaving in his old truck. Minutes for them to be alone, of course—that ate at him. K.C. and Jamie. That sucked.

  He drew his cellphone out of his jacket pocket, went through his missed messages and scanned the Wyoming sky. Even at eight o’clock, as the sun was just starting to go down on this early June evening, the view was remarkable: a sky streaked with amethyst and garnet and citrine, a jeweled, blue silk cloth, a scene that enriched his life.

  And then his cellphone rang.

  “Yeah, Dad,” he said without ceremony. “I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  K.C. looked out the side window, hardly big enough to see anything, then turned to Jamie’s profile. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going? We don’t seem to be headed into town, from what I can recall.”

  “Nope. Not town.”

  “I see. Then…?”

  “A surprise.”

  “A surprise. I see.” Streaks of color lined the sky, as if a painter had been wielding his brushes across a cerulean canvas, and the peaks raised it triumphantly. There was no sunset to rival this; even the most glorious “Manhattanhenge,” as it was called, was nothing to compare with this setting sun over the Wyoming mountains. “Rather fabulous, isn’t it?” she thought out loud.

  “I laid it on just for you.”

  She felt his gaze, his smile, but said nothing. There was a tension, as if the information he withheld was a riddle she needed to unravel. And then suddenly, as if from nowhere, glaring headlights shone into the car, and a truck sped past leaving a tempest of dust in its wake.

  “Jackass,” Jamie muttered.

  “Who was that?” K.C.’s face scrunched into the question but suddenly she knew the answer before the response was out.

  “Who do you think?” Jamie’s annoyance was marked.

  K.C. stared at him in the darkening car. “Chay?”

  “Who else?”

  “Chay? I thought he’d be in Jackson tonight.” The idea Chay had someone to see, somewhere to go, down this road now scattered with large homes and dotted with larger ranches puzzled her. What a conundrum he was! A man who hadn’t finished high school?

  Jamie swung the car down a paved road that wound through high grass and eventually turned to gravel. After he pulled under a crossbar sign pronouncing ‘Double F Ranch,’ he brought the car to a stop in front of a magnificent ‘log cabin’—if it could be called that. K.C. knew such houses existed, but to see this log mansion in person was quite another thing. It was huge. And as the sun set, it was obvious its many decks and balconies took advantage of every glorious view. She couldn’t help but be impressed.

  Jamie came around to open the door for her, to her surprise. “Ever the gentleman,” she laughed.

  “I try to be.”

  “So this is my surprise. Are your parents expecting us? I take it this is your family home?”

  “It is, and my parents are away in Europe.”

  K.C. stopped in her tracks, several worries oozing through her brain. “I see.” She tried to make light of the situation. “And…?”

  “And I’m going to cook your dinner.” His smile seemed easy enough. “Don’t worry: I won’t burn the house down, won’t force-feed you, and won’t expose you to snakes.”

  “Okay, but…that’s not quite what I had in mind.”

  “It’s not what I had in mind, either.”

  K.C. froze. So much ran through her head, she couldn’t decide on anything. Should she ask to go back now? Should she see where this went? Here in the middle of nowhere? Surely he wouldn’t…on a first date…it was all so unnerving and there was something…just…what was it about Jamie? The self-assuredness. The certainty. Supreme confidence. The realization she didn’t really like this guy hit her between the eyes, and she took a deep breath. Then, managing to smile, she let him guide her into the house.

  The interior was no less impressive than the setting. A sprawling living room with high cathedral ceiling greeted her. Decorated in tasteful western style, its comfortable sofas were set to take advantage of the maximum height windows and the view. Native American rugs were strategically scattered about the floor and similar blankets lay on the arms of side chairs. Paintings of western scenes and horse bronzes provided the artwork. Moose and elk glared glassy-eyed from the walls, and two great antler chandeliers hung from the lofty beams. As Jamie flicked the lights on, K.C. could see along the corridor to the ope
n kitchen door.

  “Come on.” He lay his hand on her back to guide her. “This way to keep the master chef company while he prepares your feast.”

  K.C. made her way down the hall as Jamie flicked on a few more lights. She stole glances into two side rooms; one seemed to be a laundry room, and the other, opposite and interior, was a large media room. Impressive. Very impressive.

  But actually, it was the kitchen, which ran the full width of the house, that took her breath away. After a New York apartment where, despite the grand size of her parents’ home, space was at a premium, this kitchen could have easily accommodated a professional chef and his entire team. Long granite worktops held about every gadget she could think of, and a huge fridge and range gleamed in stainless steel. Two sinks and two dishwashers completed the appliances, while a large island, obviously used as a breakfast bar as well as workspace, finished the arrangement. K.C. stood there in awe.

  “We sometimes have to cook for the hands,” Jamie explained.

  “Oh!” K.C. lightened up for a moment. “Where are they now?”

  “They’re down at the old ranch, way the other end of the property. Mom and Dad had this built some years back as the original ranch house was…not quite up to their…well, not quite what they wanted anymore. The hands are still down there with a cookhouse and so on, so they won’t be bothering us. Don’t worry.”

  That was about the last worry on K.C.’s mind. “Ah. So, can I help you cook?”

  “Nope. Set your pretty little butt on that barstool and let a master chef show you how to make the perfect omelet. After I open a bottle of wine, of course.”

  K.C. sat on the barstool as directed and lay her purse on the counter, watching as Jamie got a bottle from the wine cooler. He slid open a drawer, riffled inside to find the corkscrew, and proceeded to make a display of opening the bottle in front of her. Reaching into a cupboard for two glasses, his glance held something she couldn’t fathom, and which was gone as soon as it was there. The cryptic look made her nervous again. She stayed silent as he poured two good measures and handed her one.