“I’m not firin’ you, Bullet. Although I should, considerin’ you can’t keep your damn mouth shut long enough to listen to me.”
Grey danced around Bill’s legs, singing at the top of his lungs, “Damn, damn, damn.”
Bullet saw an opportunity by the look on Bill’s face. “Now, see what you did. You’re teachin’ my kid to curse.”
“Well, shit. I’m sorry—”
Grey didn’t miss a beat, although it was harder for him to pronounce. “Sit, sit, sit,” he sang instead.
“For Christ’s sake,” Bill began again, quickly realizing his third error.
Bullet was laughing too hard to speak, but held up his hand.
“What’s so da—, I mean, funny?”
“Nothin’.” Bullet’s hand was still in the air, but he was bent over, holding his stomach, still laughing.
Bill folded his arms in front of him and waited for Bullet to stop while Grey continued to dance around him, “Sit, sit, damn. Sit, sit, damn,” he sang.
Bullet sat down on the porch, tears running down his cheeks from laughing so hard. “You shoulda seen the look on your face.” He pointed at Bill and started laughing again.
Bill sat down next to him and laughed too.
“Like he ain’t heard those words before.” Bullet wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Damn, it’s been a long, long time since I laughed that hard.”
“Me too,” admitted Bill. “Now, where did you get the idea I was gonna fire you?”
“I left the filly out, for starters.”
“You think that’s firin’ grounds?” Bill shook his head. “You’re mighty hard on yourself, son.”
Bullet hung his head and let out a deep breath. “I’m feelin’ like a screw-up lately. Wouldn’t blame you, is all I was sayin’.”
“Put that foolish notion outta your head. We have work to do, startin’ with loadin’ broncs into trailers. If I was gonna fire you, which I’m not, I’d sure as hell wait until after that job was done.”
“When we goin’ back?” Bullet no longer felt like laughing. Heading back to Black Forest meant he was running out of time to get Tristan into his bed, and out of his head.
“Not until tomorrow mornin’.”
Good. That meant he still had tonight.
“Livvie’s got another shindig planned for tonight. Just partners and crew this time. No new riders.”
Even better. He’d basically have Tristan all to himself.
“You can’t leave until tomorrow. Stay one more night, at least.”
“I don’t know; I really should get back.”
“If you stay until Tuesday, Ben can fly you back.”
Tristan couldn’t stay until Tuesday, and she couldn’t ask Ben to fly her across the country again so soon.
“I appreciate it, but—”
“Go home tomorrow instead.”
“Liv, you’re being silly.”
“There’s a party tonight, just for the partners. Billy and Jace are gonna be mad if you miss it.”
Tristan folded her arms in front of her. “Really?” she smirked. “They’re going to be mad at me?”
“As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew you wouldn’t buy it. How about this? I’m begging you to stay.”
“Liv—”
“Wait. I’ve got one better. If you stay, I’ll invest in your new clothing line.”
That got Tristan’s attention. The idea had been in the back of her mind, and was one of the reasons she hadn’t broached the subject with her father yet. She’d been contemplating producing the line on her own. Making it separate from Lost Cowboy.
“Aha! That got you thinking, didn’t it?” Liv reached around and patted herself on the back. “I knew I could get you to stay.”
“Are you serious, or do you just want me to stay?”
The expression on Liv’s face changed. She was no longer joking. “I’m very serious. And I’m not the only one interested.”
“Who else?”
“Lyric, Dottie, Bree, Renie. I’m sure Paige, who’s Bree and Blythe’s mother, would be interested too. She’s the real businesswoman of the bunch.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Are you kidding? There are a thousand reasons.”
“Name a couple.”
“You already know the first reason. We love your designs. Apart from that, it’s girly. We’re surrounded by cowboys and rough stock. Not that we don’t love our cowboys. But investing in your line would give us a feminine outlet.”
Tristan listened intently. Liv was serious. This wasn’t a ploy to get her to stay longer, and Liv wasn’t being polite. She believed enough to want to invest. And so did the others.
“Okay. I’ll stay.”
Liv let out a whoop and danced around the kitchen. “Call the lawyers, Dottie! We’re startin’ a clothing line.”
“Let’s finish making dinner first. Then we’ll call the lawyers,” Dottie answered.
“Spoilsport,” Liv teased.
“Can I help?” Tristan asked Dottie, who put her flour-covered hand on Tristan’s shoulder.
“Do you like to cook? I’d love to have more help.” Dottie glared at Liv when she said it, but it quickly turned into a smile.
“I’m a great cook,” answered Liv.
“You’re a great baker.”
“You’re right. Ben is a better cook than I am.”
“You got that right, darlin’.” Ben walked into the kitchen, put his arms around Liv’s waist, and kissed her cheek. “But I love you anyway.”
Liv turned around and gave Ben a kiss that made Tristan blush. When she looked over at Dottie, the woman was smiling at her. Tristan’s eyes filled with tears.
Dottie pulled her over. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”
“You remind me so much of my mother,” Tristan whispered. When Dottie hugged her tight, Tristan couldn’t stop her tears. “I miss her so much.”
“How long has it been, sweetheart?”
“She died when I was fifteen.”
Bullet turned around and went back downstairs, hoping no one saw him. Tristan lost her mama when she was a teenager? He remembered shutting her down the last time they were both in Crested Butte.
“You don’t understand anything about my life, or my son’s life,” he’d said to her that night. She was trying to tell him she understood, because she did. Grey was too young to feel the pain of losing his mama, but there would come a day when he’d feel the same way Tristan was. He may not remember Callie, but he’d feel the loss of not havin’ a mama.
His phone vibrated. Billy was calling him.
“Where the hell you at?”
“In the basement. Where are you?”
“I’ve been lookin’ for you all day.”
“You must not have been lookin’ very hard. I was talkin’ to your daddy just a bit ago.”
“Get your ass to the barn.” Billy ended the call.
Shit. What was up Billy’s ass? Just when he decided he wasn’t gonna get fired, now maybe he was.
When he walked in the barn door, he saw Billy and Jace talking to Renie. Bullet didn’t know whether he should wait until they finished.
“Get your ass over here,” Billy motioned at him.
“Billy!” Renie scolded her husband. “Don’t talk to Bullet like that.”
Bullet swore Billy looked embarrassed. “Like what? Jesus, Renie, this ain’t no pansy-assed business we’re runnin’ here.”
She reached up and kissed his cheek, “Play nice with the other cowboys, sweetheart.” She smiled at Bullet on her way out of the barn.
“What’ up?”
“Nothin’. Christ almighty. What’s everybody’s problem? I wanna talk to you about loadin’ horses in the mornin’.”
Instead of looking at Bullet, Billy looked at Jace. “What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Nothin’,” laughed Jace. “You aren’t acting any diffe
rent than you usually do.”
“You’re damn right,” Billy huffed and sat on a bale of hay. “If you can’t take it, you can go back inside, with the women.” This time Billy was looking at Bullet.
“What the hell did I do?”
“He’s just mad because Renie wants him to talk to you,” Jace explained.
“About what?”
“Your wife dyin’.”
“Why?”
“Exactly,” Billy groaned. “I told her it wasn’t any of our business.”
“I gotta get off this ride before I lose my lunch.”
Billy looked at Jace. “Now what’s he talkin’ about?”
Jace shrugged his shoulders.
“Never mind,” said Bullet. “I’ll tell her you talked to me. That it? Can I go now?”
“No, you can’t go. And you can’t lie to my wife. Now, sit your ass down.”
“How about me, can I go?” asked Jace.
“No, you can’t go either. If Renie wants to know if I really talked to Bullet, you can vouch for me.”
“Just get this over with, would ya?” Bullet was running out of patience. Either they were gonna fire him, or they weren’t. They needed to make up their minds.
“You know Willow isn’t Renie’s biological daughter, right?”
Huh? No, he didn’t. “What happened to her mama?”
“Car accident.”
“Damn.” Bullet put his head in his hand. “I’m sorry, Billy.”
“Yeah, it was sad, but don’t be sayin’ sorry to me. Truth is, I didn’t know she had a baby until after she died.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so, for the first few months of Willow’s life, I raised her by myself. Renie and I weren’t together then.”
“She was with me.”
Bullet was sure Jace was joking, but the look on Billy’s face told him it was no joke.
“You don’t have to bring that up ever again, you hear me?”
Jace just laughed. Bullet was confused. He thought Billy and Jace were best friends. But then, he’d also thought Willow was Renie’s daughter. “They look so much alike,” he said out loud without meaning to.
“I know they do, but I’m tellin’ you the truth.”
“Okay, so…”
“Renie wanted me to tell you, so you know that nobody is feelin’ sorry for you around here. It’s more that we understand, or I do anyway. I been through it.”
It explained a lot actually. Bill and Dottie acted as though it was perfectly natural for Bullet to be raising Grey on his own. They helped out, but they’d never done anything that made him feel uncomfortable about the situation.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” Billy looked at Jace. “Did I cover everything she wanted me to tell him?”
“Nope.”
“Shit. What did I leave out?”
“She wanted you to tell him that the right woman will love his baby too.”
“Yeah. That.” Billy stood and walked over to one of the stalls. “End of conversation.”
When Jace started laughing again, Billy threw a curry comb at him.
“Dinner bell. You’re both saved.” Jace stood and walked out of the barn. Billy followed him.
“You comin’ to dinner?”
Yeah, he was. All this deep conversation was making him hungry.
Lyric motioned at him when Bullet approached the table. She was standing behind the chair next to Tristan. When he got close, she stepped back and walked around to the other side of the table, next to Grey’s high chair.
“Needin’ a little auntie time,” she explained.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
Before Tristan realized what was happening, Bullet was seated in the chair next to her. He leaned in close. “Hey, darlin’, you don’t mind sittin’ next to me, do ya?”
His breath was warm on her skin. It made her want to lean closer still. “No, I don’t mind.” Why couldn’t she resist him? What was it about Bullet, or was she destined to keep falling for the exact kind of men she didn’t want to fall for?
“Good. I like bein’ next to you,” he smiled.
And with that, Tristan was toast. Putty. A heaping blob of hormones, all screaming at her to pull him away from the dinner table, take him downstairs, and into her bed.
He leaned in again. “Whatever you’re thinking, I couldn’t agree more.”
He couldn’t know what she was thinking, could he?
“Come with me,” he said after dessert.
“No, Bullet, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
Tristan looked around the table. Everyone was engaged in conversation, not paying attention to her or Bullet, and Lyric had Grey and Caden in a fit of giggles.
Bullet leaned in close again, as he had throughout dinner. “Come on, darlin’,” he whispered. She was powerless to deny him.
As the front door closed behind them, Bullet pushed her back against it and covered her mouth with his. And, oh, it felt good. Better than she’d imagined, and she’d spent more time than she’d ever admit, imagining it.
His hard body pressed against hers, keeping her pinned between him and the door. He slid one hand into her hair, keeping her lips where he wanted them. He leaned back and ran his eyes down her body. His hand tugged her hair, forcing her chin up, giving him open access to her neck, her throat, and down to where her v-neck shirt rested against her breasts. He ran his tongue back up and along her collarbone, stopping to kiss each of the freckles he found along the way.
“Wait,” she groaned, putting each hand on his strong biceps. “Bullet, stop.”
He couldn’t stop, not with the way she just ran her tongue over her bottom lip. He leaned up against her, feeling her body with every length of his. Heart to heart, he could feel hers thundering. He trailed kisses along her jawline, back up to her lips. Her lips parted, allowing her to draw in a deep breath. He covered her mouth again, following the breath, deepening the kiss. He smoothed his hand down her side, feeling the swell of her hip, the curve of her spine. When he slid his hand into the waistband of her jeans, Tristan froze.
“Wait,” she breathed. “I can’t do this. Not here.”
Not here. That’s what she said. Not that she couldn’t do this, but that she couldn’t do this here. He peeled himself away from her, his body feeling the chill of the night air after having her warmth seeping into his bones. He sunk back again.
“I have a place in town. We can be alone for a bit.” The hand that was still in her hair kept her from turning away. Thank goodness he hadn’t turned that key in yet.
No, no, no. What was she doing? One hand still in her hair, his free one moved to her waist, sliding back up under her shirt. He grazed the underside of her breast with the back of his hand before trailing back down, over her hip, where his fingers dug into the curve of her backside.
“God, you feel good. So good.”
His voice. His breath. His hands. She wasn’t imagining any of it. This time it was real. Tristan rested her head back against the door, taking another deep breath. Whenever she did, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue deep into her mouth. He kissed her hard, taking her breath into him. And then he groaned.
The sound made her head swim—dizzy with wanting him. She began to shake, and rested her hands on his biceps again to steady herself. He stopped.
“Tristan? Are you okay?”
She wasn’t okay. She was the farthest thing from okay. On the other side of the door she was up against were people who had welcomed her into the family, offered her their friendship, and here she was, no better than a buckle bunny, letting a cowboy get into her pants on their front porch.
“No,” she moaned, catching him off guard enough that she could push away from him. “I can’t do this, Bullet.”
He watched as the front door closed behind her. She was inside. He was out, an outsider, never to be welcomed into her bed, or her life. He’d done the very thi
ng he knew would push her the farthest away. Bullet lost control. He’d ran his hands over her body, the body he craved like a man dying of thirst craved water.
Instead of taking his time, seducing her, he’d attacked her. When Tristan’s passions met his, he lost all sense of thought. He was consumed by his desire to feel her next to him, under him.
This wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought. Tristan wasn’t just another girl he’d get between the sheets and then forget all about; she was a woman he wanted in his life as much as he wanted her in his bed. She’d crawled too far under his skin for him to be able to get her out of his head.
1968
Every time Bill looked into the stands and saw Dottie sitting there, watching him, he felt his chest pump up. He didn’t miss the way the other cowboys looked at her, or at him, when she’d wave and blow a kiss straight in his direction. They hadn’t had much time to talk but agreed to meet later, after today’s events were over. When he asked her if there was a place they could walk to, for dinner, she told him Main Street was only three blocks away and all the restaurants were staying open late during Cattlemen’s Days.
Bill covered his bronc, and his bull, which meant he’d be moving on to the semi-finals tomorrow. He had one more event tonight, tie-down roping.
Clancy had offered to let Bill borrow his roping saddle. It had a wide horn, leaving plenty of space for Bill’s rope. Clancy also offered to let him ride his Quarter Horse, Cisco. He’d helped Bill tape the horn for better grip, and then had presented him with another surprise—a new rope. It felt stiff in Bill’s hand, but flexible enough to bend around the head of the charging calf.
He sneaked a look into the stands, to make sure Dottie was still there. When his eye caught hers, she blew him another kiss.
Three cowboys before him had failed to keep their calf secure, which resulted in no points. There was one more before him, and then it would be Bill’s turn.
He watched as the calf was loaded into the chute and a small piece of breakaway rope was fastened around its neck. The cowboy entered the box and backed his horse into the corner as the chute workers stretched a rope barrier across the chute entrance.
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