Win Me Over (Cowboys of Crested Butte Book 5)

by Heather Slade

  “Thank you.”

  “Come on, now, give me one of your sweet smiles.”

  What choice did she have? When he talked to her that way, she was powerless to do anything but what he asked of her.

  He stood and came to her side of the booth. When she slid over to give him room, he smiled again.

  “Now, that’s much better.” Bullet reached around the back of the bench seat and put his arm around her shoulders. “I like you as close as I can get you.”

  Tristan looked at her phone; it was almost noon. She couldn’t believe she and Bullet had been talking for over two hours.

  “I have to get back. I’m sorry.”

  “You gotta stop sayin’ you’re sorry all the time. I know you have a meeting. It isn’t something you should be sorry for.”

  “I know. I can’t help it. I never realized how much I say it.”

  “Wasn’t there some old-time movie that had a line in it about love meaning you never say you’re sorry?”

  That took the smile off her face. “Bullet—”

  “Now, don’t go gettin’ all in a snit. I was just teasin’ you.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’m—”

  Bullet put his hand over her mouth. “Nope, I’m not lettin’ you say it. Every time I think you’re about to, I’m gonna do this.” He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his kiss.

  “And just so you know, I ain’t ever gonna say I’m sorry for kissin’ you. Even in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”

  Tristan looked around her. She hadn’t noticed the empty tables were all full, and there was a lunch crowd lined up, waiting.

  “If you didn’t have a meeting, I’d sit here with you all afternoon, maybe stay for dinner too.”

  “We close at three,” said the waitress as she dropped their check on the table.

  “I’m so embarrassed.” Tristan covered her face with her hands.

  “If that’s all it takes to embarrass you, darlin’, you’re in for quite an awakening.”

  Tristan didn’t doubt the truth of his words for a minute.

  “How’d the writing session go?” Bullet asked his dad.

  “So good that we’re getting together again tomorrow, and probably the day after too.”

  “That’s terrific, Dad.”

  “Mark Cochran is so damn funny. Ben and I spend as much time laughing as we do making music.”

  “I don’t really know him.” Bullet had only seen Mark and his wife, Paige, a couple of times, and even then, he hadn’t been introduced to them.

  “That’ll change later tonight. I invited everyone to dinner.”

  Bullet looked around his kitchen and wondered what his dad meant by “everyone.” More than six or seven people would overflow this room, and the dining room wasn’t much bigger. Did his dad give any thought to the size of the house Bullet was living in? It was about one-tenth of the size of his parents’ house in Los Angeles.

  “Not here, dumbass.” His dad gave him a playful punch and smiled. “I reserved a restaurant in town.”

  “The whole restaurant?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  Bullet shook his head. He’d forgotten how his dad was. If he wanted it, he got it. Yep, Bullet hadn’t fallen far from the tree after all.

  “I want you to invite the girl Lyric has been telling us so much about.”

  “Tristan?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Lyric says she might become the newest member of our family.”

  Bullet almost choked on the drink of beer he’d just taken. Jesus. He knew better than to trust Lyric not to blurt that out in front of Tristan. Nope, he wouldn’t be inviting her tonight. If he did, it might be the last time she agreed to go anywhere with him.

  “You don’t have any choice. Most of your investors will be at dinner tonight, and we want you there.”

  Lyric made Tristan laugh. She was as bad as Liv, who’d told her, the last time she was in Crested Butte, that Billy and Jace would be mad at her if she didn’t come to the partner dinner.

  “You don’t have to twist my arm; I’m happy to join you. I appreciate the invitation.”

  Tristan couldn’t be in a better mood. She and Bullet “made up” over breakfast, where they also “made out.”

  Not to mention, each of the women associated with Flying R Rough Stock invested more money in McCullough Cowgirl than she’d expected collectively. With their backing, the new line would be ready for a fall launch, which also meant a lot of press at the PBR finals, in October, and NFR in December.

  Lyric volunteered to handle the media through press releases and scheduled interviews. Tristan had a lot of experience with media herself, but her attention would be better focused on the clothing. Bree’s sister, Blythe, worked for Lyric at RodeoChat, and volunteered to start promoting the line in international markets. Her first push would be in Australia, where she predicted it would explode.

  Liv had been right about Paige Cochran. Mark’s wife, and Bree and Blythe’s mother, was the real businessperson in the bunch. They had a meeting scheduled the next day to hammer out the new brand’s business plan.

  Wait until her father heard all this. She knew he’d be proud, and as long as she continued to design for Lost Cowboy, he’d be happy too.

  When Tristan walked into the restaurant with Liv Rice, Bullet was surprised, happy, and anxious. He was happy she was here, but Lyric had gone too far in suggesting to their parents that she’d soon be their newest family member.

  He walked over and pulled his sister aside. “Keep your comments about Tristan to a minimum tonight. You hear?”

  “Let go of me.” Lyric pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Don’t worry. How dumb do you think I am? It’s a prediction that I know won’t come true if Miss McCullough thinks she’s being rushed. She’s not like the other women you’ve been involved with, Bullet. I hope you realize that.”

  Bullet wanted to make a joke about Lyric not already knowing what he thought, but now wasn’t the time for joking.

  “Of course I do. She’s a whole different caliber of woman.”

  “You’re good enough for her. I hope you realize that too.”

  Bullet wasn’t so sure, but he’d never completely win her over if he wasn’t confident in himself. He sensed that the only type of man Tristan would ever fall for would be self-assured.

  He walked over to the table where she and Liv were being seated.

  “Well, damn. I didn’t expect to see you tonight, Tristan. I sure am glad you’re here.”

  Her cheeks turned their usual shade of pink. “I hope I’m not intruding. Lyric invited me.”

  He held out his hand to her. “Intruding? Heck, no. Come on, there’s some folks I want you to meet.”

  Tristan put her jacket on the back of the chair in front of her and was about to leave her bag on the seat.

  “Bring it.” Bullet pointed to the jacket.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you’re sittin’ with me,” he grinned.

  “Whether I want to or not?” she teased.

  “Yep. I told you I get what I want.”

  “No, you didn’t. You told me you take what you want.”

  “Same difference.”

  Bullet introduced Tristan to his parents, who, thankfully, didn’t mention Lyric’s prediction about her joining their family. He saw Gram with Lyric, putting Grey in his high chair and Pearl in a booster seat. He hoped Tristan wouldn’t mind sitting with his kids. As busy as he knew he’d be, he didn’t want to miss a night with them, or with her.

  “This is my Pearl,” Bullet said, walking over to his little girl whose face lit up when she saw her daddy. She held out her arms, and Bullet unfastened the clip keeping her in her seat. He picked her up and brought her closer to Tristan. When Grey saw what was going on, he raised his hands too. Lyric went to distract him, but Tristan, much to Bullet’s surprise, walked over to his little boy and took him out of the high chair.

  “How’s your noggin’?” Trista
n rubbed her fingers over Grey’s head.

  Grey pouted a little, but then smiled at her. “Hurt,” he said clearly, followed by a sentence even Bullet couldn’t follow.

  “He said it’s okay,” Pearl told them.

  Tristan smiled. “He did? I’m so glad.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” Pearl said again.

  Tristan motioned to two empty seats at the table. “Can we sit here?” she asked Bullet.

  He nodded and smiled, his heart too full to speak.

  1968

  There was something important Bill wanted to take care of before he and Dottie were married. He talked to his mama about it, but he hadn’t talked to Clancy yet, or Dottie.

  His mother assured him that Clancy would be honored by his request, after she also assured him his daddy would understand. “He’s been watchin’ from the heavens, and he would approve,” she told him.

  Dottie’s eyes filled with tears when he told her his idea. “Oh, Bill, you are just the finest man alive,” she’d said.

  He had a meeting the next day with a lawyer, and then tomorrow night, he’d asked Clancy to have dinner with him. Bill hoped he was doing the right thing and Clancy would go along with his proposition.

  “Fancy,” Clancy said when Bill pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

  “Don’t worry, they serve beer,” Bill laughed. He knew Clancy really didn’t care whether they did or not.

  Bill gave his name to the hostess and thought about the irony of it.

  “I have something I want to ask you,” Bill said after they’d ordered their dinner. “There are two things actually.”

  “Well, get on with it, son,” Clancy smiled at him.

  “About that. You call me son a lot, and I want you to know how much it means to me when you do.” At first Clancy’s grin faded, but his smile returned as Bill finished his sentence.

  “Here’s the thing. My mama told me a story the other day. She confessed that she sent you out lookin’ for me that night that I was walkin’ on the side of the road.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “She also told me that you didn’t have to partner up with your brother, or take me in, but you did it because you cared about our family.”

  Clancy was quiet, and his eyes clouded over. Bill knew the man well enough to ascertain he was doing his best to tap down his emotions.

  “Before Dottie and I get married, I want to ask your permission to change my name.”

  Clancy looked up, startled. Bill held up his hand.

  “Let me explain. About the same time Dottie and I get married, you’ll be marryin’ my mama. After you’re married, her legal name will be Jane Patterson.” Bill’s eyes filled with tears, and it took him a minute to continue. “When Dottie and I marry, I’d like to be Mister and Missus William Flynn Patterson. And I hope you understand why.”

  Clancy put his hand over his eyes, but Bill caught a glimpse of the tears that filled them before he did.

  “You told me once that the thing you regretted most about never marryin’ was that you didn’t have any youngens. Well, you raised a son, Clancy. The man you see before you today had two men raise him. My daddy took care of the first half of my upbringing, and you’ve been responsible for the second half.”

  It took Clancy a minute to answer, but Bill understood why. He was feeling just as emotional.

  “I’d be honored,” he said solemnly. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, son.”

  “I have somethin’ else to ask you.”

  Clancy nodded and smiled. “You need to borrow some money?”

  Bill laughed. “Nah, you’ve made sure I start my new life as a married man with a significant bank account.”

  “You earned every penny.” Bill could see the pride on Clancy’s face. “Now, what’s the second thing? I’m stumped.”

  “I want you to be my best man.”

  Clancy clamped Bill’s shoulder. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

  “Of course, I’d be honored.”

  “We’re gonna have one hell of a bachelor party,” chuckled Clancy.

  “Not if Dottie and my mama get wind of it.”

  17

  “Who’s that?” Lyric asked Bullet.

  “That there fella is Kingston West,” he answered. “New hire, and soon to be my travelin’ companion.”

  “What’s he do?”

  “He’s a hand. Like me.”

  Tristan smiled. Bullet often referred to himself that way, but he was hardly a “hand.” He was an integral part of the rough stock business. The partners were also convinced he was on the road to a bull riding championship. If not this year, next year for certain.

  “What else does he do? A man doesn’t get a body like his from ranchin’ alone.”

  Tristan looked over at the man they were discussing. He was a big guy. Taller than Bullet, who had to be at least six foot four. Kingston had broad shoulders and a build that could be described as husky.

  “Bulldoggin’,” Bullet finally answered. “I hear he’s also a country singer of sorts.”

  “I knew it!” exclaimed Lyric. “You can’t have power like his and not do somethin’ with it. Damn, that man is hot as a branding iron. I bet he can ride a woman even better than he can a horse.”

  Tristan laughed out loud, and Bullet looked embarrassed. “She’s done this my whole life,” he explained. “Doesn’t care what she says or who hears it.”

  “Get over it.” Lyric looked between her and Bullet. “As if the two of you aren’t doin’ the nasty every chance you get.”

  It was Tristan’s turn to be embarrassed. And she hadn’t needed an explanation of Lyric’s lack of filter.

  “Jesus, Lyric, people are always sayin’ how I’m so irresponsible. Your mouth is irresponsible. You can’t keep sayin’ everything you think, whenever the hell you think it. Ever hear of keepin’ some of your thoughts to yourself?”

  Lyric was still studying the cowboy standing across the room. Tristan thought he looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. He’d be even more so if he could overhear what Lyric was saying.

  “I gotta meet him.” Lyric was out of her chair and halfway across the room.

  Heaven help him, thought Tristan.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Lyric? Don’t be. It didn’t take me long to get used to her. I’d be disappointed if she didn’t say something embarrassing every time I see her.”

  “Yeah, you might think it’s funny now, but wait until you’re part of our family. You’ll get sick of her right quick.”

  Tristan was sure Bullet misspoke. And she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to change the subject. By the look on Bullet’s face, he couldn’t either.

  “I don’t know why I said that,” he shook his head. “Gettin’ a little bit ahead of myself.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Is it?”

  Tristan hated how hopeful the words he spoke made her feel. Didn’t he know how devastated she’d be once he lost interest in her? And he would. It was inevitable.

  “Tristan…” He leaned in close. She thought he’d kiss her, but he stopped short of doing so. “Do you know how damn much I want you to be a part of my life?”

  “Bullet,” Tristan scooted back and put her hand on his. “We hardly know each other.” She tried to make her voice sound light, as though his words weren’t setting her heart on fire.

  But it didn’t work. Bullet’s eyes grew dark, and his nostrils flared. He pulled her chair back, closer to him. “You’re wrong about that, darlin’. We know each other very well. When I close my eyes, there isn’t a single part of your body I can’t picture. I memorized the look you get on your face when I take you over the edge. I know every freckle on your nose.” He ran his finger over her collarbone, and then downward. “And the ones that are sprinkled here, and here.” His finger dipped inside her v-neck to touch the lacy edge of her bra.

  “There are other things I know about you too.” He le
aned forward and put his lips against her temple. “I know how damn smart you are.” He kissed across her forehead. “And how creative.” Bullet put his fingers on her chin and tilted her head up. He looked straight into her eyes. “I also know that you haven’t figured out how to let go and let this thing happen between us. You don’t wanna care what other people think, but you can’t help yourself.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Bullet put his finger on her lips. “And you know me,” he continued. “You know you can trust me, and you know exactly how I feel about you. You’re just not ready to hear it.”

  He was right. She wasn’t ready to hear it. Every word he said terrified her. She’d experienced the gut-wrenching pain of a cowboy breaking her heart one too many times already.

  “Just wait,” she warned. “Wait until you’re on the road. Night after night, pretty cowgirls will invite you into their bed, and you—”

  “No, Tristan, I won’t. I’m not him. I’m Bullet. I’m not the asshole who put this fear of trust in you.”

  “Can you honestly tell me you don’t have a trail of broken hearts in your wake? Honestly?”

  She knew, by the way his expression changed, that she was right.

  “What’ll it take for you to trust me, Tristan?”

  “I don’t know.” She was being honest, too. She didn’t know. Time, she supposed. But even with time, how could she know for sure? There were times she couldn’t be on the road with him, and then she’d wonder if he was with other women. That’s how it had been with Harris, and it tore her up.

  Bullet lifted her hand and rested her palm against his chest. “Feel that? It’s my heart, and it belongs to you.”

  Those words. She’d heard them before, almost verbatim. Harris told her the same thing, and she’d been stupid enough to believe him. She’d vowed never to make that mistake again. Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to turn away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.

  “What? Tell me what just happened. Is it so wrong that I want to give you my heart?”

  “It isn’t that—”