Wild Ride Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  “Yeah,” Alex said finally. “It’s probably kind of a drag for her that I came back in one piece. I would’ve been worth more in a box.”

  “To her maybe,” Liam said. “Not to me.”

  His brother rocked back on his heels and stared over at the cows, pretending to be engrossed in the milking. Which Alex knew he definitely was not.

  “Wow.” Alex cleared his throat. “That was borderline sensitive bullshit, man.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Liam grabbed hold of a rake and started clearing away stray bits of hay and cow crap. “So. Is that all that’s happening with Clara? Bison? Because she’s hot.”

  Alex scowled at the mention of his charge. “She’s twenty-one,” he said, as if that should put his thirty-three-year-old brother off the scent immediately.

  Liam looked unabashed. “So? Doesn’t bother me any. She’s my type.”

  “You talk a good game, Liam, but we both know you aren’t getting laid. We both know that the only time your head turns is when Sabrina Leighton walks by.”

  Sabrina Leighton was a topic that was off-limits, and Alex damn well knew it. Even if Liam had never said so, all the Donnellys knew it. They’d witnessed a few extremely awkward encounters between the two of them over the past few months, and though Liam had never admitted it, it was clear something had happened at some point.

  Alex knew he was being an asshole. But it was stress relieving. Stress relieving in a way that milking cows could never be.

  “Old news,” Liam said.

  “And yet, that old news seems to be the only news you want to read.”

  “She’s hot too,” Liam said, his expression blank, shuttered. But then, that was typical of his brother. “I’m not neutral to her.”

  “And let me guess, you hit that before.” Alex hated himself in that moment. He was such a dick.

  Liam’s expression turned to stone. It was rare that he saw his brother angry. He wasn’t effusive in his attempts at seeming normal like Alex was, but he had never given off quite the same angry vibe that Cain, their oldest brother, did. But in this moment, he was positively radiating with murderous intent.

  “I never touched her,” he said, his voice hard. “And you don’t get to talk about her like that. You don’t know anything about it, or about me.”

  “I don’t know anything about you because you’ve never told me anything,” Alex said.

  Because Liam had been distant since he’d left home at eighteen. And he seemed to like it that way.

  Keep smiling.

  That was the only advice he’d ever gotten from Liam. Even after their dad left.

  “Right. But you talk about your life, so clearly I should get on that sharing and caring stuff.”

  Alex shrugged. “My friend got shot to death. I inherited the responsibility of his ranch, albeit temporarily. I’m ordering bison. Good talk.”

  Liam shook his head. “Are all brothers this dysfunctional, you think? I mean, do all men have this much trouble communicating with each other?” The question caught Alex off-guard, since Liam had seemed opposed to any deep bonding only a moment earlier.

  “I don’t know a lot about your life from when you left home, Liam. Did you get a philosophy degree I wasn’t aware of?”

  “No. Just wondering.”

  “Clara is a nice girl,” Alex said finally. He looked over at the gauge on the milking machine and pretended to check it. “And she’s alone. I think that sucks. I want her to feel less alone. And I owe her brother. Believe me when I say that.”

  “What happened?”

  Alex was on the verge of telling him. He could. If anyone would get it, the whole story and how Alex felt about Jason’s death, he imagined it would be Liam. Because Liam’s roots had grown out of the same poison soil as Alex’s. His half brothers were his blood, there was no question about that. But they had grown up separately. They had grown up in different circumstances.

  Liam knew. He knew exactly where Alex had come from. He knew exactly why Alex was the way he was. And Alex knew the same about him.

  But Jason’s death, and the circumstances surrounding it, didn’t feel like something he was prepared to share. In large part because he felt like when he finally did talk about it, Clara was probably the first person he should tell.

  It wasn’t his tragedy. That was the thing. Regardless of how he felt about it, he was the one who was alive.

  “Not something I feel like talking about.”

  Liam nodded once. He didn’t press. Not because he was sensitive, Alex imagined, but because he didn’t want Alex treading on his own sacred ground.

  “Okay,” Liam said. “Is the Campbell ranch going to become your new project?”

  “What do you mean? I already told you, I’m committed to helping Clara out, just like her brother asked me to.”

  “I mean are you going to abandon the Laughing Irish and make the Campbell spread your focus?”

  Alex took a deep breath, looked out the open doors of the barn at the mountains and the thin band of gold that lined their edges as the sun began to rise.

  “Of course not,” he said. “This is ours. The only damn thing our family name ever gave us. I’m not going to abandon it. Ever.”

  He hadn’t stayed in one place too long since he’d been a kid. By design.

  “Good. You should stay here. You deserve it,” Liam said. “Our bastard father certainly never gave us anything.”

  A whole backlog of words got bottled up in Alex’s throat. He had a lot to say about what their father had given them. About what having him in their lives had done. To them. To their mother. But then, maybe their mother would have been the same, no matter what.

  But the fact that James Donnelly’s favorite pastime was having children and the fact that Mira Donnelly had given birth to two of them had made her feel like she had a claim on that man. And that Liam and Alex were her ultimate trump card.

  That was all they were. Pawns in the games their parents played.

  “Well, now we’re the ones with this place,” Alex said. “An apology from our grandfather for raising such an asshole of a son?”

  Liam’s mouth tipped upward into a smile. “I’d like to think so.”

  “Why are you here, Liam?”

  There was a long pause. “I might ask you the same question.”

  “Because I’m done with the military. Because I watched my friend die.” He looked up and met his brother’s gaze. “And I can’t do that again. Because I wanted to do something real. Save the world. And now I’m questioning whether or not I accomplished anything at all. But here...at least here you can see the results of your work. Helping Clara, well, it feels like something. I’m a man who doesn’t feel like he has a hell of a lot.”

  Liam nodded. “I’ve spent a lot of years making a lot of money, Alex,” he said slowly. “That felt good for a while. It felt like progress. It felt like it mattered. But then I just kind of came to the end of it. I can’t even describe it. I set out to make something of myself, and somewhere along the way I forgot why I was doing it.” He shook his head, laughing. “And then I realized there wasn’t a reason at all. There wasn’t anyone who gave a damn. Not even me.”

  “So you came here?”

  “I figured it was as good a time as any to try and find a damn to give.”

  “Have you found it yet?”

  “I found maybe half a damn. I figure eventually I’ll find the rest.”

  Alex looked at Liam. Really looked at him. He had deep grooves bracketing his mouth, new lines by his green eyes. His brother looked tired. Older. And for the first time, Alex thought maybe Liam was the one who’d had it hardest the past few years. Yeah, Alex had lived through war. And that wasn’t a small thing. But for a while, at least he’d felt like he mattered. He’d fel
t like what he was doing mattered. And there were plenty of people who reinforced that feeling. Who thanked him for his service. He was a veteran, part of something bigger than himself. A band of brothers and sisters, servants of their country.

  Liam had...well, he had to wonder if Liam had just felt alone all this time.

  “Well, we can always go shovel some cow shit and see if you can find the other half buried under there somewhere.”

  Liam laughed. “Sounds good. Well, not good, but...at this point, I guess it sounds like life.”

  Alex nodded. “I guess it is.”

  Right about now, this life seemed like a pretty good thing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE HAD NARROWED it down to three outfits. Which she thought, with a week’s notice, was pretty good.

  Clara growled and stared at her bed. There was option one, a pair of skinny jeans and a soft-looking gray shirt, which she thought might send the message she wasn’t trying too hard. And then there was a white maxi dress, which she was a little afraid made her look like she was applying for the position of bride. Finally, at the end of the row was a yellow sundress that was adorable and bright, but Clara had concerns about being chilly if the wind whipped up.

  It was sunny outside currently, but the forecast had promised rain would roll in eventually in the evening, and typically when rain was promised on the Oregon coast, rain eventuated. Oftentimes, even when rain wasn’t called for, it eventuated. Basically, one always had to be prepared for rain.

  She started to pace, feeling more than a little worked up. She was meeting Asher in the parking lot of Stim in just over an hour. She had put each outfit on approximately ten times over the course of the week. She had put them on at least three times today.

  Clara looked over at her phone, which was sitting on the bed, the screen dark. It wasn’t back in service yet. But her landline was. And she did have Sabrina’s number in it.

  She felt a little guilty about calling Sabrina to ask for advice when it wasn’t like she confided in Sabrina about much of anything. And she hadn’t taken her up on her offer to go and hang out after work yet.

  Maybe this would be the olive branch. Apparently, date panic spurred you out of isolation faster than just about anything else.

  Clara picked up the cell phone and opened her address book, scrolling until she found Sabrina’s number. Then she grabbed the landline and dialed.

  Sabrina answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Sabrina? It’s Clara.”

  “Clara! What number is this?”

  “My home number. My cell phone isn’t...working. I just had a question to ask you. I know it’s random. But I have a date tonight and I can’t choose what to wear.”

  “Your cell phone isn’t working?”

  She winced. “No.”

  “Darn. If it were, I’d have had you send me mirror selfies.”

  Well that would have been convenient. “Sorry.”

  “No. Don’t apologize. Where are you going?”

  “Actually, we’re going to the dinner at Grassroots tonight.”

  There was a small pause. “Do you actually...like anything on the menu?”

  Clara’s face heated. “Not really. But he wanted to go out, and that is definitely the kind of thing he’s into, so I figured I should aim for an activity he’ll enjoy. Sadly, kale salad is kind of in his wheelhouse.”

  There was another pause. “Really? I didn’t peg Alex for being a kale guy.”

  Clara’s heart slammed against her breastbone. “Alex? Who said anything about Alex? I have a date with Asher. Asher Martin, the barista at Stim.”

  “Oh.” Sabrina sounded legitimately surprised. “I just thought... I mean, after I saw you with Alex the other morning...”

  “I knew you saw that. But I promise, there’s nothing happening with Alex and me. I mean, not like that. He’s...he’s kind of old.”

  Sabrina snorted. “Um. He is not.”

  “He’s my...well, he was my brother’s age.”

  “He’s still hot,” Sabrina pointed out. “All the Donnellys are. Sadly. But had you been going out with Alex I would have issued you a pretty stern warning.” Clara heard Sabrina let out a long, slow sigh on the other end of the phone. “I know Alex isn’t his brother. But you have to figure that two guys who grew up together probably have quite a bit in common.”

  “And Liam hurt you,” Clara said, pushing a little further than she normally would have.

  “Yes,” Sabrina said. “I promise I’m not usually such a psycho about it. But, with him being back in town, and the town itself being so small...it’s been a little challenging. Just... I would hate for you to make any assumptions and end up getting hurt. That’s all.”

  “Alex isn’t like that,” Clara said. She wasn’t sure why she should feel defensive of Alex. Except, he had never done anything to her. He was here, trying to help her take care of the ranch, trying to do what Jason had asked of him. She didn’t know Liam at all, but she was sure that Alex didn’t deserve to be tarred with the same brush as his brother. Particularly not over something that had happened years ago.

  “Not that it matters,” Sabrina said. “Because you have a date with Asher?”

  “No. It doesn’t matter to me. Except that Alex is kind of...a friend. He’s been helping me, and I appreciate it.”

  “Well, that’s good. Now, what are your clothing choices?”

  Clara took a breath. “Okay. I have a white maxi dress...”

  “Too bridal. He won’t be able to handle it.”

  Clara laughed. “That was my concern. Then I have jeans and a T-shirt, which I thought maybe said I wasn’t trying very hard.”

  “Sure. And that is pretty good logic. But are you trying?”

  “I am trying so hard,” Clara said. “I want him to like me so much.”

  “Option three?”

  “A short yellow dress. Maybe with boots.”

  “Short dress. Go for it. I think that’ll send the right message.”

  Clara picked up the fluttery, yellow item of clothing. “Yes. Except, I’m afraid that it might be too cold for the dress. And, if I wear it in spite of the cold, it looks like I’m trying to show off my legs.”

  “Well...are you trying to show off your legs?”

  Clara made an exasperated sound. “Can you stop being so logical, please?”

  “There is nothing wrong with showing a little leg, Clara. No matter the weather.”

  “Fine. I’ll wear the yellow dress.”

  She held it up in front of her, and turned and looked in the mirror. Anticipation tightened her chest.

  “It’s sexy,” she said finally. Helplessly.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think of myself as sexy. I’ve never tried to be sexy.” That was potentially a little more revealing than she had intended it to be. But she had called Sabrina with date panic, so she was unloading all of the date panic.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being sexy,” Sabrina said. “Not that I have a lot of experience with that either. But, honestly, at least one of us should be going out and having a good time.”

  “Thanks,” Clara said, feeling increasingly nervous. “Okay. I have to go. I have to...get sexy, I guess.”

  She got off the phone and turned her efforts toward getting dressed, getting her hair in order—not that it ever did anything. It just kind of hung there, limp and pale—and doing some basic makeup.

  She grabbed a denim jacket—something that would look all right with the dress in case it got chilly—and took one last look in the mirror before she headed out of her bedroom and toward the living area.

  She took her purse off the peg and walked out onto the porch, jus
t as Alex’s truck pulled into the driveway. Her heart tripped and fell, all the way down into her stomach, seeming to hit every rib on the way down.

  She had not intended for Alex to see her in this dress. He got out of the truck and slammed the door, then just stopped.

  He looked at her, his eyes flickering for a moment, his jaw tight. She stood there, frozen. Like a deer caught in the headlights.

  Or just a woman, caught by Alex’s intense stare.

  “Where you headed?” he asked.

  “I have a date,” she responded, trying her best to keep her face blank.

  Alex’s dark brows locked together. “He’s not picking you up?”

  “No. I’m meeting him.”

  Alex huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Saying nothing.

  Clara scowled. “What, Alex? If you have a comment, go ahead and make it.”

  “When I go on a date, I pick a woman up,” he said. “That’s all.”

  “Great. Well, that’s not what we are doing. Sadly, I didn’t ask for your help coordinating the date. So I’m going to go. What are you doing here, anyway? It’s Sunday night.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “When I go on a date, I pick the woman up, and when I commit to taking care of a ranch, I commit to taking care of it, no matter what day of the week it is.”

  “Good to know.”

  He looked her up and down, his expression disapproving, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “You’re going to get cold.”

  Just like that, she released her hold on her denim jacket, dropping it into the chair on the porch. “No, I won’t. I’m going to be fine.”

  She walked toward her car, taking long steps, not caring that her dress was flaring up well past her knees.

  A large, warm hand wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. His whole hand was rough. She had wondered. And now she knew.