Win Me Over (Cowboys of Crested Butte Book 5)

by Heather Slade

“That doesn’t sound much different than what you’re already doing.”

  He was right; clothing was her business. But this was different. This was for her.

  “It’s a women’s line. Not necessarily for Lost Cowboy. I mean, maybe. I don’t know.” She looked away from him. “I haven’t had time to discuss it with my father,” she murmured.

  “Why not?”

  Well, she’d planned to, until he shuffled her off on a plane this morning.

  “It’s nothing, really. Just designs at this point. I rarely have time to work on it.”

  “Makes sense, then.”

  “What does?”

  “Maybe you’re here so you have more time to design stuff.”

  “But why here? My father could have put me on a plane to just about anywhere.”

  “Renie and Jace used to work this ranch. That’s where they met. Liv probably suggested it to your father as a good place to get away.”

  That made sense, although she doubted Liv was this manipulative.

  “She just wants you to be happy.”

  Tristan studied Bullet. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I just do.”

  “And what am I thinking right now?”

  Bullet covered her hand with his. “You’ll make me blush, Miss Tristan, askin’ me to say it out loud.”

  Tristan pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. She couldn’t hide her smile, or the heat she felt creeping into her cheeks. That hadn’t been what she was thinking about, but now it was.

  They had their own cabins, next door to each other. Bullet unloaded Tristan’s bags for her and waited while the female ranch manager explained the schedule to them.

  “You’re both experienced riders, so just call this number when you want to go for a ride.” She handed them each a business card. “I make breakfast and dinner for the ranch workers. It’s served in the dining hall, which you passed on your way in. You’re on your own for lunch, but there’s plenty you can grab and take with you, at breakfast. If there’s anything else you want, just leave me a note, and I’ll get it for you as soon as I can, usually it’s the same day.”

  She gave Bullet another card with a number on it, for his trainer. She told him to call him right away and let him know he’d arrived. They’d start work that afternoon.

  “There’s a steam room and sauna, workout equipment, and you can schedule massages or facials,” the woman said pointing to another building, south of the pond. “We have folks on staff year round for the spa.”

  A massage sounded really good to Tristan, especially after spending the better part of two days on an airplane.

  “Is there a hot tub?” Bullet asked, looking at Tristan when he did. He winked at her when her gaze met his.

  “Yes, there is. And a lap pool.”

  “This is quite a setup,” Tristan commented.

  “People pay big bucks to spend a week with us. They come over from Vail and Aspen, or fly in like you did. A few years ago, business started to fall off. Research told us we had to offer the spa services along with gourmet food, dancing, hot cowboys, easy and healthy horses, and loads of options for daily activities. The owners paid attention. Now we sell out just about every week we’re open.”

  “Do you know anything about a private line of clothing?” Tristan ventured.

  “Oh, I’m glad you mentioned that. Yes, I’m supposed to arrange a meeting with you, me, and Stewart. He’s the owner. I understand your company has a new woman’s line in the works. We’d love to be among the first to offer it.” She picked up a catalog that had been sitting on the coffee table in the cabin. “This is the majority of what we offer now. We sell to folks around the world through this and our website. Take a look through it, and see if you think your pieces would be a good fit, although from what we’ve heard from Liv Rice, they will be.”

  Tristan glanced at Bullet who had an “I told you so” look on his face. She looked at the card.

  “Thank you, Piper. That’s you, right?”

  “Oh, goodness, didn’t I introduce myself? Yes, I’m Piper.”

  Tristan and Bullet shook hands with her, and she left.

  “Guess I’ll see you around.” Bullet walked toward the cabin door.

  “Sure, see you.”

  “If you’re interested, I can let you know where I’ll be practicin’. When I know, that is.”

  Once again Tristan was reminded how different Bullet was from Harris. Seeing the lecher who had broken her heart really put their differences in perspective. Bullet was his own man, but she’d never given him a chance. Instead, she’d thought of him as Harris Jones’ clone.

  “I’d like that,” she said after too long a time. She saw Bullet visibly exhale, as though he’d been waiting for her answer to breathe again. “Maybe we could check out the hot tub later, too,” she added.

  If only she had a camera to capture the stunned look on Bullet’s face. It was priceless.

  “Yeah? Did you bring your bathing suit?”

  Bullet stepped over the threshold of the door, onto the porch.

  “Nope, I sure didn’t.” She could only imagine the look on his face, now, was even more priceless as she closed the door behind him.

  She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, other than she felt like giving him back a little of what he gave her. It had been a long time since she let herself flirt so brazenly with a man. It felt good. Instead of feeling like a nun, she felt like a woman.

  Bullet could barely walk, let alone remember how his phone worked. The last thing, the very last thing, he’d expected from Tristan was for her to flirt with him, and so brazenly.

  How the hell was he supposed to focus on bulls now? Maybe he should go back, knock on her door, and wait a few hours to call his trainer. In fact, maybe he should wait until tomorrow to call him.

  “Hey, there, you Bullet?” a man shouted from down near the corral.

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “I’m Buck Bishop. I understand you’re quite the young bull rider.”

  The two met halfway on the path between the cabins and the corral. “Don’t know about that, but I sure want to be.”

  “Let’s get to work, then.”

  He’d heard of Buck; he was known as one of the best bull riders and trainers in the world. But Bullet had heard he’d retired.

  He’d taken Tristan’s bag to her cabin, but his was still in the truck. “I’ll stow my bag and grab my gear.”

  “I’ll be waitin’. Don’t dally.”

  Dallying would be the last thing he’d do. Having an opportunity like this happened once in a lifetime.

  As he walked back to his truck, he could hear music coming from Tristan’s cabin. Talk about the opportunity of a lifetime. He’d have two this week. And he intended to take full advantage of both.

  Tristan unpacked her clothes and put them in the rustic-looking wardrobe. Everything in the room was designed to look old-time western, but upon closer inspection, the fabrics used, the construction of the furniture, even the fixtures, were the best of the best. She was beginning to understand that while those vacationing at the ranch wanted an authentic experience, they also wanted high-end comfort.

  She ran her hand over the granite counters in the over-sized bathroom and was pleased to see a jetted soaking tub big enough for two.

  Back in the main room of the cabin, she found a docking station for her smartphone, and chose the playlist she listened to most often when she was designing.

  She heard the door of the cabin next door close, and peeked out the window. Bullet was on his way to the corral, carrying most of his gear. He’d already put on his chaps and vest, and in his hand, he carried his bull rope, leather glove, and protective helmet. She was happy to see it had a mask attached, similar to those worn by hockey players. It would be downright sinful for a face as perfectly rugged as his to be injured. His jeans hugged his butt as he swaggered more than walked down the pathway.

  The chaps
he wore were relatively plain compared to most she’d seen. They were made of black leather, with fringe along the sides and bottom. Tan leather accents dressed them up a bit, but Tristan knew for certain that Bullet would want flashier chaps for actual competitions.

  Perhaps she’d sketch a few designs for men’s chaps this afternoon too. She was sure her father expected her to be working on the Lost Cowboy line this week. She’d go home with some for him, along with more for her.

  First she’d spend a few minutes making notes for Bullet’s Lost Cowboy story. It was another thing that had come out of her run-in with Harris. Comparing the two had made it so clear. Bullet was a Lost Cowboy, and he was working damn hard to find his way back. He was a flirt, no question, but the more she got to know him, the more she realized he was a decent man. The story was a go, and soon, so would the sponsorship.

  There wasn’t anything Buck told Bullet that he hadn’t heard before from Bill. The difference was Buck was harder on him than Bill had ever been, and there wasn’t anyone or anything else to distract him from seeing every single mistake Bullet made. He was patient though, and while he pointed things out to him, Buck didn’t seem frustrated.

  “Good first out.” He patted him on the back. “That’s enough for today. I have a good idea what we’ll focus on this week.” Buck handed Bullet a folder. “Here’s your workout schedule.” He pointed toward the same building Piper had. “You’ll find a workout room in there. When you finish your sets, I want you to hit either the steam or the sauna, but not both. Then get yourself into the hot tub.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bullet said, perusing the sheets of paper in the folder. He’d never worked out this hard in his life, not even when he was in high school and played football and baseball.

  “You swim?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “In the back, you’ll see some workouts you can do in the lap pool. That’ll be less hard on your joints on days you’re feelin’ sore.”

  Bullet saw Buck had a schedule for each day he would be at the ranch. It started right after breakfast and ended right before dinner. It looked as though he’d have time to himself in the evening, if he wasn’t too exhausted to move.

  “Thank you, sir,” Bullet shook Buck’s hand. “I don’t know who set all this up, but I sure do appreciate your time. I guess I should ask what I’m gonna owe you.”

  “That’s all taken care of. Don’t give it another thought.”

  Bullet figured as much, which is why he hadn’t asked earlier. Could be that Flying R covered it as part of his sponsorship. Bill could’ve too, in which case, he’d pay him back every penny, either in cash or in damn hard work. There was a possibility it was his parents, but that was the least likely option.

  Both he and Lyric had been raised to make their own way in the world. His gram’s house was nice, and they never wanted for anything they needed, but they were expected to earn their keep. As far as he was concerned, learning the value of a dollar and the importance of having a good work ethic were the best things his family had taught his sister and him.

  He knew, if he ever really needed financial help, his parents would give it to him. So far, he hadn’t. Even with paying child support to Pearl’s mother and providing for Callie and Grey while they were still in Oklahoma and he was in Colorado, he’d made it work.

  He did it by living simply, not extravagantly. And always working. He’d gotten his first ranch job while he was still in high school. While his buddies were still in bed, he was at the ranch, helping with morning chores. If he didn’t have sports practice after school, he’d be over there again. They paid him a good wage, but he earned it. Along with it, he’d earned a reputation that had ranches competing over him when it came time to hire for calving season or branding.

  It was his off-hours that got him into trouble. When he’d go out after work, he and his buddies would dare each other to do just about anything. They’d have drinking dares, who could pick up certain women dares, who could come up with the best pickup line that actually worked dares.

  He’d won that one hands down one night, with three different women. All he’d done was walk up, look’em up and down, and say, “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?” It said something about the caliber of women they ran into at the bars in his hometown. Looking back on it, Bullet was ashamed of the way he acted.

  If he ran into one of those buddies now, they’d have a hard time believing it had been over two months since he’d been with a woman. There had been a time when he couldn’t go two days.

  Maybe he was finally growing up. And maybe he wasn’t quite as irresponsible as everyone else believed.

  “See ya in the mornin’,” Buck waved. Bullet had forgotten he was there.

  “Yeah, see ya. And thanks,” he waved back. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t have a signal way out here, but he saw he had about an hour before dinner. Time enough for a shower and sprucing himself up for what he hoped would be a dinner date with the lovely Tristan McCullough.

  She was already there when Bullet walked into the dining hall. She sat at the bar, talking with the cowboy behind it pouring her a drink. She looked mighty fine in her sleeveless blouse and flowery short skirt. It had been warm today, unseasonably so, and it looked as though she’d spent some time in the sun. Her long legs were tucked into her calf-high boots, and her toe tapped to the beat of the music.

  She turned then, and looked at him. Once again her cheeks pinkened, as they often did when she smiled at him. Behind her ear, tucked into her flowing, long blonde hair, was a daisy. He remembered seeing the vase full of them, sitting on the desk in her cabin. He didn’t remember seeing flowers in his.

  Strands of her hair fell forward and curled around her cheeks. She moistened her lips, and he remembered how soft they’d felt when he kissed her on Liv and Ben’s front porch.

  Her gaze fell when he got close, and her lips curved into a sweet smile. “You looked good out there.”

  “You were watchin’?” Once again her cheeks gradually turned a faint pink.

  “For a little while.” She looked up at him. “Would you like to join me for a drink?”

  He sat on the stool next to hers. Her body was close enough that he could smell her natural scent—sunshine and the outdoors mingled with something else, roses maybe. Or daisies. When she moistened her lips again, something passed between them. He felt it, and knew she did too.

  “You smell good,” he said, leaning in close.

  “So do you.” Tristan rested her hand on the bar. He longed to cover it with his, but he’d wait. He’d be in no hurry tonight, instead, savoring every minute he could be alone with her.

  “I was afraid I’d smell like horses, or bulls,” he laughed.

  “No, it’s more leather and freshly cut hay. I like it.” When she reached up and touched his hair an electric current surged through his body. He breathed in slowly as her fingers toyed with the curls that formed around his face when his hair was wet. He reached over and touched her hair too.

  “We both have curls.” He could feel the heat spreading through him. He’d barely touched her, yet his heart thundered. He wanted to kiss her so badly. He hoped he could make it through dinner.

  “Bullet, I’ve judged you unfairly…”

  “What’s this about?” he soothed.

  She shook her head. “I had a bad experience with a bull rider—”

  “Shh, now, we don’t need to talk about that.” He longed to draw her close and make her forget any other bull riders existed.

  “No, I do need to talk about it. I haven’t been fair to you, because of it. I saw him a couple of days ago, and I realized then, you’re nothing like him.”

  Bullet felt his stomach muscles tighten. It wasn’t what she was saying, it was the idea that she’d just spent time with someone she’d had a bad experience with.

  “What did he do?” His heart tightened. Why was the idea of her with another man, any other man, painful?

  “When? I mean, or
iginally, or a couple of days ago?”

  “Either one.”

  “I met him when I was competing. He was a bull rider; I was a barrel racer. He swept me off my feet, and then broke my heart. It didn’t happen that quickly. It was long and drawn out and miserable.”

  Bullet leaned forward. He couldn’t bear to hear another word. Before he could think better of it, he kissed her. He waited to see if she’d pull away, but she didn’t, so he kissed her again, this time more deeply.

  “Bullet—”

  “Shh,” he soothed again. “Don’t pull away from me.”

  He put his hand on the nape of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t resist you. No matter how hard I try to go slow, I get close to you and I can’t help but kiss you.”

  “I know.” Tristan rested her hands on his chest. “I feel the same way.”

  Bullet didn’t know if anyone else was in the dining hall, and didn’t care.

  “Do you want this, Tristan? I mean, really want it? You’ve been sendin’ me some mixed signals, girl.”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you. It was never you, Bullet. It was my past, haunting me. I let an experience I had with someone else cloud my judgment of you. It was unfair, and I’m sorry.”

  “So, does that mean yes?”

  She smiled. “Yes, I do want this. Right now, more than anything.”

  He groaned at her admission, tightened his grip on her nape, and kissed her again.

  Bullet’s lips on hers felt so good. He alternated between ravaging her and kissing her softly and slowly. His mouth moved against hers with warmth. He was tender with her, and loving.

  She opened her mouth to him, but her hands remained on his chest. His muscles were hard beneath her fingers, and she longed to slide inside his pearl snaps and feel his skin.

  “Oh, sorry. Oops.”

  Tristan moved away from Bullet when she heard Piper’s voice. “Wait,” she said, pulling farther away from Bullet.

  Piper turned around, and Tristan saw a tray in her hand.

  “Is that dinner?”

  “The first course anyway. I can keep it in the back if you’re not ready to eat yet.” She looked between them and smiled.