Cowboy Come Home

by Sinclair Jayne

  “I know. I will.”

  Once he found Piper.

  Boone nearly crashed into Cody who sauntered toward him, scrolling through his phone.

  “Sorry,” Boone muttered, aware his dad was still staring. “Wasn’t paying attention,” he muttered the obvious. “You see Piper?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “She headed out just as your ride ended and chest beating started.” Cody didn’t look up.

  “Where?”

  Cody blew out a breath and looked Boone dead in the eye. “Leave it,” he advised. “Your head’s been all over the place since yesterday, and you got another event. Play kiss and make up later.”

  “Make up?” Boone repeated. They’d talked it out last night. Well, not the Marietta and family part.

  And then it hit him. He’d been so focused in on his ride, in his zone, that he hadn’t heart much of anything. Not even his dad’s terse directions when he saw how jacked the bronc was. But his name would have been announced and each rodeo always did a little extra for their hometown cowboys.

  Shit.

  “Which direction? Her tent?”

  Cody shook his head. Indecision warred on his face.

  “Tell me,” he said tersely.

  “Your funeral,” Cody said. “She headed toward the park or maybe downtown. She looked like she was trying to hold it together.” Cody shrugged, but his eyes held sympathy. “She was crying.”

  Boone hopped a fence and then another. His number from the bronc event was still pinned to his shirt. He took off at a run.

  He saw her almost immediately as she hadn’t gone very far. She was leaning against the Bozeman news station van that was parked toward the dressing room entrance to better take advantage of the competitors coming and going. Piper was bent over, arms wrapped around her stomach.

  “Piper,” he called out, only his voice sounded winded. He continued to close the space between them fast. “Piper,” he tried again louder and this time she heard him.

  She stood up. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but she also looked pissed. Really, really pissed.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you grew up here!” She balled her fists and walked toward him. “What kind of stupid game are you playing?”

  “I…”

  “What reason could you possibly have for not telling me?” She was in his face now, and Boone stared down at her feeling more at a loss for words than he ever had. Piper was more hurt than angry.

  Anger he could deal with. Maybe. The few times he’d screwed up as a kid, his parents had been firm, but never yellers. And Boone didn’t usually piss people off. He was the peacemaker. But when Piper’s voice cracked and her eyes welled, her hurt made him feel like a cooler of ice water had been dumped on him. His body felt frozen. His brain useless.

  “I told you all the places I grew up. How I grew. Moving every year or two. Sometimes every six months.”

  “I know.”

  “Why was growing up in Marietta a secret? Why did you feel like you had to keep your family a secret from me?”

  Shit.

  “I told you about my father. How he’s now a colonel. How we were never close. How the Army is his life. I told you about my twin brother who died inside my mother. I told you how my mother left me and my father when I was two. She could never get over losing a baby so she left me behind too to forget both of us. I told you I feel like subconsciously my father blames me for my twin’s death—how he never got the son he wanted because of me. I told you all of it.” She had tears coursing down her cheeks and she dashed them away.

  “It’s not like I was one of your weekend hookups and yes, I heard about those from a lot of the other cowboys trying to warn me early on.”

  Boone jerked like she’d shot him, and in a way he wished she had.

  “We’ve been together for four months, Boone. I deserve better than to be treated like a woman you just picked up for the night.”

  Where to start with all of that? So many words. He just wanted to soothe her, but when he moved toward her, Piper backed away.

  “Piper, I’m sorry,” he tried, and it was such a dumb beginning, even he winced in shame. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Not introducing you to my family…I didn’t want…” He grasped for words. He just wasn’t used to upsetting anyone. He’d often stepped into tense situations and defused the tension. But he had no idea what to say or what to do to make this right.

  And this was very public. Cowboys he rode with, competed against for the past few years were definitely stopping and staring before they’d shuffle off a little and pretend to ignore him and Piper.

  “Your family?” Her voice cracked. “You didn’t want me to meet your family?”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said hastily.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I’m pretty sure it is.” She backed away from him. Her eyes had gone squinty. “So I’m good enough to hang out with and…and…fuck for a few months but not meet your parents for lunch or something.”

  Boone winced at the crudity of her language. He’d never heard Piper swear. He tried to watch his language around her.

  “Jesus, that’s not it at all. Christ, Piper.” He looked around. Everyone in their vicinity—cowboys, stock hands—all were studiously busy and not looking at him. “Can we go somewhere more private?” he spit out between his teeth. He didn’t want anyone thinking that about Piper, especially Piper.

  And damn this whole disaster would get back to his father and mother and likely the whole town by this afternoon. His own fault totally. He’d let everything spiral out of control because he hadn’t wanted to lose her. Or hurt her. And now he’d done both.

  Selfish, he condemned himself, tasting the word like scorched earth in his mouth.

  He tried to take her hand, but she jerked it away.

  “Please, Piper.” He lowered his voice. “Let me explain.”

  “No.” Her voice held a sob, and she was shaking. “You should have told me when we were driving down the mountain into the town at the latest.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he said miserably.

  She just stared at him like he was a stranger.

  “That’s not good enough,” Piper said, drawing herself up straight. “You’re better than that, and I deserve so much better.”

  “I know. You do. I tried to tell you last night.”

  “Oh, with the champagne? And the view? And the ‘leave your dress on and touch yourself while I…’”

  “Jesus, Piper.” He winced and looked around. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. Not like this.” His voice sounded like it was leaching out of his bones.

  “That’s right. You don’t like to plan things out. Just go with the flow.”

  “Boone, what the hell?” Cody appeared at the door leading into the dressing room, some ten yards away. “Your event’s next. You’re tenth draw. Get your ass ready. Kissy later. Hey, Piper.”

  “Coming.” Boone didn’t break eye contact with Piper. “Piper, please. It’s not what you think. I know it was stupid. Totally stupid, but it’s all on me, not you.”

  She took another step back. Away from him. Boone closed the distance, but she held out her hand, palm out.

  “That tired breakup phrase. It’s me. Not you. Fine. You don’t want to say it or do it, I will. We’re through. You can have your hometown and your family and your friends all to yourself. Knock yourself out.”

  “Boone.” Cody was insistent, and Boone saw his father striding toward him.

  “Busy.”

  “Damn, Boone. You going to scratch? You need to check in. This is always your top event.” Cody took a few steps toward him, expression incredulous.

  Boone waved him away.

  “Go,” Piper said and dashed away the last of her tears.

  “Not like this. We have to talk this out.”

  “Nothing more to say, Boone, don’t sweat it,” she said. “You’re still the golden one, untarnished. You offered
me a summer and adventure. You delivered. It’s September. Go wrestle a steer. Make your hometown proud. Have dinner with your family.”

  She spun away.

  “Piper.” He hurried after her. She shook him off.

  “Don’t follow me. Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and he drew back from her as if she’d burned him. “Go. Leave. I need to think, and I want to be alone.”

  “I can’t leave you like this.”

  “I’m fine. I’m good at taking care of myself. I’ve had my whole life to practice.”

  Everything she said made him feel worse.

  “Piper, please, can we talk later?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to say to you, Boone. Just go. Stop drawing this out. Do your event. Make your mark. Just go.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  She crossed her arms tightly across her chest and drew an imaginary line in the withered brown grass of the field. “What I want?” she repeated hollowly. “I’m so far away from what I want I can’t even see it anymore. But I need you to go. Now.”

  *

  “You are over-reacting,” she told herself fiercely. “Absolutely over-reacting. This was a summer fling. Nothing more.”

  She forced herself to walk fast away from the rodeo grounds and the arena. If she said it enough she’d start to believe it.

  “I will be strong,” she vowed, wishing like she had so many times that she had her brother beside her, her twin, that fate had let him live and thrive and carve out a life with her in it. “Ufffff!” Blinded by her tears, Piper smacked into someone.

  “For being so small you pack a whack. Oh hey, bad day huh?”

  Piper blinked and found herself staring into the face of one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Her expression went from amusement to concern. “Let me guess: fight with the boyfriend?”

  Normally Piper was more reticent. But she was trying to change, right? Remake her life. Belong somewhere? And she felt so scraped raw inside, she didn’t even recognize herself.

  She nodded. More miserable than before.

  “Cowboy?”

  “Not a shocker there considering where we are,” Piper said determined to pull herself together.

  “Cowboys have lumps of lead for brains, but mercy.” The vibrant redhead with the laughing eyes did a little dance move that verged on scandalous. “They make up for it in other areas.”

  Piper stared at her. It was just so bizarre, her appearing like an angel. She’d always loved how tight-knit the rodeo community was. But this woman seemed instantly like she could be a friend, like Piper could count on her to understand.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Boone’s “other areas” of expertise had definitely made her lose all sense of her goals. The woman looked at her phone. Then she sent a quick text.

  “OK, I have twenty minutes. Let’s have a drink at the Graff—we’ll have more P and Q and Shane.”

  Piper stared—not really sure what P or Q was, and she’d never met a Shane, except one of the cowboys was named Shane Marvell—a marvelous name, Piper punned but didn’t want to confide in one of Boone’s friends.

  “P and Q?” she asked faintly.

  “Privacy and quiet. I’m Tucker Wilder, and we can compare notes because, girl, I have done my share of heartbreaks on cowboys and they’ve done a number on me, but I can testify.” She held up her hand like she was taking an oath. “Some cowboys are worth the grief and others just aren’t.”

  “Are you related to Kane Wilder?” Piper asked.

  “God, help us all that I am. He’s my brother-in-law.” Tucker shook her head. “I have no idea why Sky, his wife, doesn’t brain him with a frying pan most days for trying to tell us all what we should do and constantly flaunting his perfection and discipline in our faces. He caused his share of heartbreak in the day, but duller than a dead-headed daisy now. I got the best Wilder brother. He makes whiskey and thinks I walk on water, which I do just to keep him in line.”

  Piper blinked at her, and Tucker smiled. “No worries. I’m an acquired taste. Now tell me about your cowboy. How did he F-bomb up this time?”

  Piper sighed. “It’s not Boone’s fault exactly,” Piper said without thinking but something about the young woman who just snap, crackled and oozed confidence had Piper confessing.

  “Boone Telford?”

  Of course she knew him. For all Piper knew this beautiful woman was an ex-cheerleader or rodeo queen girlfriend or his junior year prom date or…

  Tucker texted again. “Okay, I’ve told Shane to expect us and she’s concocting her magic. My sister Tanner is a stock contractor with the rodeo, and she’s going to cover for me for a few and you are going to dish.”

  “I really don’t think…” Piper broke off when Tucker tucked her wiry arm through hers and began to speed-walk across the bridge toward Crawford Park and Main Street.

  “Don’t think, just spew dirt because if Boone Telford has made a girl cry, Mercury must be seriously in retrograde or Orion’s taking off his belt or Uranus and Mars are spatting… Maybe we should all buy lottery tickets.”

  “I’m not…” Piper continued to walk with Tucker because she was curious and no longer felt like sobbing her heart out onto the pavement, but she had no intention of airing her problems to a stranger. “It’s not fair to Boone if I…”

  “All’s fair in love and war or so I’ve heard,” Tucker said. “And Boone is golden. He’s actually called that. The golden one because he’s so sweet and perfect. He’s the sun, and I was the black cloud of the town growing up.”

  “Oh, you grew up in Marietta too?” This was going to be bad, but Tucker was a force of nature, and Piper just felt sadly in need of a friend to provide some female perspective.

  “Born and bred and couldn’t wait to leave—only now I’m back to stay,” Tucker said as they mounted the graceful, half-circle staircase leading up to the Graff Hotel that Piper had noticed yesterday. “Nothing like a lot of distance to make your heart grow fonder.”

  Distance had never made anyone grow fonder of her, Piper thought, feeling despair creep back through the protective walls she was trying to build.

  They entered the hotel, but Piper didn’t notice the décor. She needed something, anything to distract herself.

  “Were you and Boone a…you know?”

  Tucker laughed. “That would have been something. The former town bad girl and the golden one, but no. I was out of here before he hit high school. My family and I are working with his family’s ranch. Expanding operations.”

  The reality of the breakup was beginning to hit, and Piper was starting to think a drink, even though it was barely noon, might be a good idea. She didn’t think she had any clients booked until later, but screw it if she did. She’d never been irresponsible in her life. Maybe today was the day.

  “It’s ironic, that I was once such a heartbreaker because now I am a heart-healer. It’s my gift to the world.”

  Piper found herself smiling. Tucker was pretty outrageous, but Piper thought if she were alone with everything howling around inside of her, she’d never stop crying. And she was not a crier. She was a pick-myself-up-and-get-on-with-it woman.

  She followed Tucker across the airy lobby to a pub-style bar tucked toward the back. A tall, gorgeous blonde woman was shaking two silver shakers. She looked confident and sexy behind the beautiful, long, dark wood bar.

  “Have a seat.” She smiled at them both. Her expression was warm and her light blue eyes seemed to glow. “New recipe I’m trying out at Tucker’s request. Guaranteed to soothe even the achiest heartbreak.”

  The bartender, who must be Shane, flipped two cocktail napkins toward them and then poured out a golden concoction into their glasses. She then added a squirt of something red, and a slice of candied ginger and a fresh cherry.

  “I don’t know about that,” Piper said. “You’re making me feel melodramatic.” She took a deep breath and looked around the small bar. She caught a glimpse of
a gift store that looked a little like an art gallery beyond the bar and then she looked back at the two smiling women. Clearly they were friends. Clearly they belonged. She just had to keep looking. Have faith.

  She took up the cocktail. “To the journey,” she said, really wishing she meant it.

  *

  Boone stood outside the chute waiting for his turn. Usually he loved this feeling—the adrenaline coursing through his body. The focus. The way his vision tunneled and calm descended almost like he was underwater. And he’d picture his ride. Each step planned out.

  Now all he saw was Piper. Green eyes brilliant, slashing away her tears.

  He’d hurt her.

  Focus.

  Unacceptable.

  He sucked in a breath. Three cowboys ahead.

  Focus on the goddamn ride. Slip in the zone.

  Piper.

  Usually it was effortless, this part. Every cowboy had their ritual. Boone was a million miles away from his, and that could spell disaster. And he didn’t give a shit. But he had to because he had to survive this, he had to kill it, so he could find Piper, and find the words that would make his actions, and all these dumbass feelings he’d been swatting away make sense.

  His dad was there. Silent. Worried. He knew he was fucking up. Hell, the whole town would know it in another minute.

  No.

  Focus.

  He could do this. He’d done it again and again. Total concentration, head nod, scream out of the chute, leap grab, twist, roll. A few seconds where nothing—doubt, self-recrimination, goals—would interfere.

  His dad’s presence barely registered, but he squeezed Boone’s shoulder.

  “Want me to talk to them about moving you later?” his dad asked.

  Boone shook his head. “I’m good,” he lied.

  “You could scratch.”

  “No.” Boone drew himself up. “Not scratching. Never scratching.”

  He was going to drop that steer then man the fuck up and find Piper. He needed to know she was okay. She deserved so much better than what he’d given her.

  “Boone, I can see it in your eyes, your body, you’re not ready. I think…”

  “Dad.” Boone stared his father straight in the eye. His dad had been the most important person in his life. His inspiration. His role model. But he couldn’t fix this. And even if he could, Boone wouldn’t let him. Piper was his. She would always be his even if she’d never talk to him again.