Nothing Sweeter (Sweet on a Cowboy)

by Drake, Laura

  Reaching for a blouse, she sobered. Yeah, but will he still be in my bed when he knows my past? The drive had given her time to think. She’d made up her mind. Tonight, at the first official board meeting of Total Bull, she was going to tell her partners everything: her former job, prison, and her conversation with Trey. All of it. Her stomach did a nosedive off a cliff, but beneath that, she felt bedrock of rightness. It was time.

  In the house, Wyatt paced the boards of his bedroom floor. “Juan, do you have a minute?”

  “Oh, that sounds ominous. Hang on a second, just let me shut my door.”

  Wyatt rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t called until now, because he didn’t know how to voice what he was feeling. He still didn’t, but he felt so lost, he needed the touchstone of his and Juan’s relationship to anchor him to the present.

  The past that he’d buried so long ago had risen like a zombie in a teen movie and was feasting on his brains.

  “I’m here, Wyatt. What’s up?” Juan’s calm voice flowed over him like a balm.

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “Well, no shit, Wyatt. Now can you come home?”

  “No, I found out I don’t belong here—literally. See, I’m not related to any of these people.”

  “Wyatt, you’re not making any sense. Stop, and take a deep breath.”

  “No, see—”

  “Stop.” Juan’s all-business voice was the dash of cold water he needed.

  He took a deep breath.

  “Okay, now, tell me.”

  “Max found a letter. From my mother to my—Angus.” He took another breath. “I’m not his son.” His own high-pitched laugh frightened him a bit. “My mother, the only person who I am related to by blood, apparently got around a bit. The only reason she married Angus was to have a safe haven. But when the haven turned out not to her liking, she bailed.”

  “You’re saying she left you with a guy you weren’t even a blood relation to?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” He stopped pacing and dropped onto the bed. “And of course, that means that Max and I aren’t related either.”

  Wyatt heard Juan’s sharp inhale. “Oh man, that blows.”

  “Like a blue norther off the mountains.”

  “One thing though, Wyatt. Although it may not make you feel better right now, you can choose your own family. Blood isn’t all that important. Look at all our friends. Could we be closer if we were blood related?”

  “You’re right, and I know it. But I can’t explain the feeling—it’s like you grew up knowing the world was flat, and one day, someone gives you undeniable proof that it’s triangular. Where do you fit in a world like that?”

  “Okay, so if there’s good news here, it’s that you can come home now and leave all that behind. You don’t owe Colorado anything, and it has no holds on you.” Wyatt heard computer keys tapping. “I’m checking the airline schedules now.”

  “I can’t leave yet, Juan. My fath—Angus still left me half the ranch and it’s still in trouble. Max and I may not be related by blood, but he hugged me the other day and told me that I’m his brother, no matter what a ‘Dear John’ letter said.” He sniffed. “He wants me as a brother.”

  There was silence on the line for so long he was afraid they’d lost connection. “Juan?”

  “Well, maybe there’s hope for his black heart yet.”

  There was a smile in Juan’s voice that warmed Wyatt’s freezer-burned soul.

  “If I came out, three would probably be a crowd, huh?”

  “I’m working on that. I promise. But, Juan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s so good to talk to you. I need you on the other end of the phone.”

  “I’m right here, Wyatt. Always.”

  That night, in lieu of cooking, the board of Total Bull paid a premium to have pizza delivered this far out of town.

  Wyatt inhaled. “Is there any better smell on earth than a hot, greasy pizza?”

  When Bree leaned over Max’s shoulder to pour the Chianti, he made a production of sniffing her. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say there’s nothing better than lemon soap and a sweet-smelling woman.”

  Wyatt laughed as Bree blushed and walked to the opposite side of the formal dining table to fill her own glass.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but right now, my stomach agrees with Wyatt.” Bree sat sipping wine while the guys dug in. They pulled slices out of the box, long strings of melted cheese stretching to their plates. She eyed the choices, but the concave discs of pepperoni each held a little puddle of grease. Her stomach rolled. Not a good choice. The mushroom and black olive slice she reached for looked better, but when she bit in, the grease coated the inside of her mouth and she swallowed with effort.

  Deciding she’d eat something later, she quickly washed it down with more wine. She noticed a tremor in her fingers as she reached for her glass. I just want to get this over with.

  Max tasted the wine and smacked his lips.

  “You like it?” Wyatt asked, swirling the almost purple Chianti before sipping.

  “I can choke it down,” Max said, picking up another slice. “Goes good with the pizza.” He took a bite and added, “Not as good as beer, though.”

  “We’ll turn you into a wine snob yet, Maxie.”

  Too soon, the boxes held nothing but grease stains and the table was littered with discarded napkins and tomato-smeared plates. Wyatt gathered the mess and pushed it to the unoccupied end of the table.

  Bree replaced her plate of cold pizza with her laptop and waited for it to boot. “Okay. The first board meeting of Total Bull is officially called to order.” She pulled up a spreadsheet.

  Max cleared his throat. “I have something to say first, Bree.” His glance skittered away. “I’ve given it some thought, and I’m now in favor of selling some common stock to Juan if—it’s okay with you, that is.”

  Wyatt’s beaming smile brought a cautious one from Max.

  Obviously the brothers had been talking. Max slouched in his chair, seeming more relaxed around Wyatt. Funny, they seemed closer since they’d found out they weren’t related. This was good for the business, but even better for the two men. She beamed across the table at them. “I’ll work out a price per share.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll let Juan know,” Wyatt said.

  She scanned the spreadsheet on the screen before her. “I don’t know how much he has in mind to invest, but combined with the money from selling the stock that didn’t buck and the fact that we’re going into the winter with a smaller herd, we should be in okay shape come spring.”

  She bounced a leg under the table. It was now or never. Come on, Madison. Ten minutes to spill your guts and then you can get on with the rest of your life. “Okay, that’s settled.” She picked up an income statement, then dropped it. “I could go over the numbers, but you’ve both seen them. I do have something else to talk to you about.”

  Wyatt froze. His eyes cut to Max, then nodded almost imperceptibly at Bree.

  Her leg bounced faster. “I ran into Trey Colburn in town the other day. I asked him to stop lobbying Denver to close the BLM lands.”

  Max jumped to his feet, “You did what?” he roared. “You had no right!”

  She jerked as his fist hit the table. It might as well have slammed into her gut. “Why don’t you just put my cojones on a stump and hand him a hammer?” He sputtered to a stop, clearly so angry he couldn’t speak.

  Wyatt’s voice was calmer. “I think what Max is trying to say is that wasn’t the wisest move, Bree. It makes Max look like a wimp.” He frowned, looking almost as peeved as his brother. He’d obviously expected her to divulge a different secret.

  She took a gulp of wine to avoid their eyes before setting her glass aside and squaring her shoulders. “I really don’t think he’s the villain you paint him to be, Max. He’s just kind of lost and—”

  “Your little lost boy punched Max out at the fireworks,” Wyatt said.


  “He did what?”

  Max spat out, “Horse crap. I put that weasel’s dick in the dirt!”

  As Max thundered on, Bree tuned out his words. Her partners were obviously together on this. Even Wyatt thought she was an idiot. Max’s eyes were so cold.

  Maybe they were right. Maybe she was still the oblivious fool, bumbling into trouble, too naive to know better. Her heart sank. Hadn’t prison taught her not to trust her own judgment?

  Max turned on her. “You had no right to talk to that sonofabitch. The Heather isn’t part of Total Bull. The land is none of your business.”

  Wyatt said, “That’s enough, Max. I’m sure she was only trying to—”

  “No, Wyatt. This is about loyalty.” He glared at Bree. “You’ve got to admit, we’ve got more to lose here than you do.”

  More to lose? What about her heart? Didn’t Max know that he owned that, too? She imagined packing her few belongings in the Jeep and leaving. Her blood pounded as adrenaline and hot rage coursed into her bloodstream. How can you lose more than everything?

  Max went on. “After all, we still know nothing of your past.” He didn’t look down his nose. He didn’t use a condescending tone. He just sat back, crossed his legs, and tapped his fingers on the table, which was really the same thing.

  She jumped to her feet. “Oh, yes. I’m so eager to spill my guts in such a warm, accepting environment!” Acid bit deep in her stomach. “Shame on me for wanting to help. I didn’t see a downside. The worst the man could do was say no.” She glared at them both. “Of course, it might have helped if I’d known that you two went at it on the Fourth.”

  Max jutted his chin. “That’s man business.”

  “Well, screw you both and your puffed-up male egos. I am so sick of caveman attitudes.” Her jaw locked so tight, the roots of her teeth ached. She was pissed that she had to fight tears, and even more pissed because she couldn’t stop them. Bolts of emotions cracked like lightning in her mind: anger, guilt, failure. Disappointment. Another lost opportunity.

  “I didn’t do it for me.” Her damn voice cracked. “Or for Total Bull. Or the money.” She stabbed a finger at Max. “I did it for you. You sure wouldn’t do it.” She pointed at Wyatt. “And neither would you.” She raked a sleeve across her running nose.

  “You belong on this land, and if you lost it because of dumb pride…” Her shoulders slumped. The hole kept getting bigger, so she stopped digging. “Oh, fuck it.”

  She took a shaky breath. “Congratulations, boys. You made me cry in a business meeting.” Her voice broke as a sob escaped. “Even Vic never managed that.” She stood and pushed her chair back.

  Max stared at the swinging door, then turned to Wyatt. “Who’s Vic?”

  Wyatt shrugged.

  Bree turned, slammed the heels of her hands against the kitchen door and barreled through. She didn’t slow until she was safely behind her locked door. Leaning against it, she took a ragged breath. She’d had every intention of throwing herself on the bed for a good cry. But the new bed taunted her, bringing Max into the room so strongly that it almost choked her.

  Whirling, she jerked the door open. Snatching a hackamore from a peg on her way through the tack room, she jogged to Smooth’s stall. She put it on him, led him to the aisle, and vaulted onto his back. Sensing her emotion, he threw his head up, and when she dug her heels in, he was off like a shot. As they cleared the barn door, she reined him right and they galloped out of the lighted yard, into the comforting arms of the dark.

  Once Max and Wyatt got over their shock, they tore out after her. In the light of the spotlight on the barn, they saw Bree streak past like a wraith, riding bareback, her hair flying and her feet drumming the gelding’s sides.

  Max jumped from the porch, but Wyatt grabbed his arm.

  Max tried to shrug him off. “What’re you doing? I’ve got to go after her.”

  Wyatt dug his fingers in and hung on.

  “Ouch! Let go, dammit.”

  “She needs some time, Max. Leave her alone.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t leave a woman out there alone!” Max couldn’t think through the panic. He’d only reacted like any red-blooded male would have. He didn’t need his woman running around, trying to fix things for him. But seeing it through her eyes, he was touched. Misguided though her attempt was, no one had ever cared enough, or risked his wrath, by trying.

  Seeing the light die in her eyes made something die inside him. What kind of man could do that to a person only trying to help?

  He turned to Wyatt. “Don’t you see? I think I ruined—”

  Wyatt lowered his voice and spoke calmly, as one would to a spooked horse. “She’s full grown, she knows the land, and she’s a good horsewoman.” Max tugged, until Wyatt dug his nails in the soft underside of his arm. That got his attention. “We were just chastised for that exact attitude. Let’s make an effort to evolve a bit, shall we?”

  Everything in Max screamed for him to go after her.

  And say what, exactly? There’s no undoing that kind of damage.

  Maybe Wyatt was right.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Max leaned on the paddock fence and pretended to watch Fire Ant doze in the midday sun. Inside, he flogged himself. Two days gone, and they still hadn’t spoken. He missed her like crazy.

  A movement caught his eye and he noticed Janet leading her gray gelding out of the barn. He slapped a smile on his face and meandered over. “Hello, Janet. Are we taking good care of Peanut?”

  Janet glanced at her charge’s gleaming coat and lustrous tack. “I can’t complain.”

  High praise, considering. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

  She raised the skirt of the English saddle to check the girth. “Thank me for what?”

  “I’m assuming you’re the one who’s been talking up the High Heather. We’ve gotten quite a few new boarders, and one of them mentioned that she was a friend of yours.”

  Janet lifted her perfect nose. “My friends and I have better things to talk about than your stable.”

  Fire Ant bawled in the paddock, gazing with longing at the heifers in the pasture.

  Janet looked over and let out a delicate snort. “I believe that is the ugliest little bull I’ve ever seen. Surely you’re not planning on breeding him.”

  Max tipped his hat back. “Are you kidding? That’s arguably the most valuable piece of cowhide on the ranch.”

  A wicked smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “No wonder this place is going downhill.”

  Max laughed. “Looks don’t count on the pro bull-riding circuit.”

  “So that’s what you all are doing out here.” She narrowed her eyes. “Harrison was telling me the other day of an article in the Wall Street Journal about the PBR. Lots of businessmen are investing. Tell me more.”

  “Well, it was Bree’s idea. We’ve even incorporated.”

  “Really?” Janet pulled a business card out of her jodhpurs. “Maybe Harrison can help you. He’s a CPA, you know.”

  Max held up a hand. “No, thanks. Bree’s got that covered.”

  Janet’s sable eyebrows lifted. “Your groom is your accountant?”

  “As well as our partner.” Max stared her down. “And a damned fine one, too. She’s working out a stock offering for us now.”

  “Wow. That’s some groom you hired.”

  “You don’t know the half of it, lady.” He tipped his hat and walked away, wishing he could kick his own ass.

  Bree wheeled the Jeep into the Walmart Saturday-morning crush and trolled for a parking spot. Tia rode shotgun.

  “Quick, take that one there.” Tia waved at a space four cars away. Bree eyed the white pickup bearing down on her and shot into the space. When the driver blatted his horn, she only shrugged. She’d arrived first by at least two feet. As she shut off the engine, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tia button her cardigan and was glad she’d put the top up. Alone, she’d have braved the precursor nip of fall, b
ut Tia was precious cargo.

  When Tia didn’t move, Bree turned to see bright black sparrow eyes watching as if she were a crust of bread.

  “You’re not sleeping again, mija. Why?”

  “I guess my new bed isn’t as comfortable as the old one.” Mostly because I’m the only one in it.

  Wyatt had come to apologize the day following the disastrous business meeting. She’d mumbled one as well, then found something urgent that needed doing elsewhere. She’d hardly seen Max. He was gone before dawn and was taking his meals at the big house. The mule-headed jerk.

  Bree reached in her woven Navajo purse, but stopped with her hand on the bottle of Tagamet. If Tia saw it, she’d get a real lecture. Instead, she resigned herself to the burn in her gut, slipped the strap on her shoulder, and opened the car door.

  “He’s afraid of you, you know.”

  “Who?” Bree closed the door and shifted to face her friend.

  “Maxie. He’s afraid.”

  “Max? Afraid of me?” Tia didn’t look delusional, but would Bree recognize a break from reality when she saw one?

  Tia’s wrinkles collapsed into a grin. “About time, I say.” She settled against the door for a chat. “Max always looked up to Angus—wanted to be like him. Angus was a good man, but being alone on the land so long made him hard, cold, quiet. That’s not my Maxie.” She looked out the windshield, her face fallen to somber lines. “After that girl threw him over for that Colburn fella, it got worse. I watched him dig a hole inside himself where he’d go to brood. He was more like his father every day. I was afraid my Maxie was gone.” Her voice trailed to a whisper.

  She turned her head, and Bree felt her watchfulness. It made her want to run.

  “You scare him like the red hawk scares a rabbit.”

  Bree cracked the door once more. She was tired. Tired of beating herself up. Tired of trying only to end up on the outside again, looking in. And more than anything, tired of feeling sorry for herself. “Okay, Tia, if you say so.”