Her Rebel Cowboy: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance

by Stephanie Rowe

  A hard, cold sensation settled in Wyatt’s gut, that same coldness that had gripped him since the day he’d learned of her betrayal a year ago. He couldn’t even hear her name without all the feelings of that moment crashing down upon him.

  Jesse raised his brows. “I thought it was an amicable breakup.”

  “No way,” Brody muttered. “She–”

  “Enough.” Wyatt cut off his friend. There was no way he was going there. She wasn’t worth it. Instead, he focused on what mattered to him. “What about the suspension? It’s cleared, then?”

  Brody swore. “Hell, Wyatt. Let go of the riding. That doesn’t matter right now.”

  “It matters.” Wyatt kept his gaze on Jesse. “Well?”

  Jesse nodded. “Yeah, you’re clear.”

  “Hell.” Relief rushed over Wyatt, so intense that he had to clench his fist. His name was cleared. “So, I can ride this weekend?”

  Brody swore again. “You’re not ready.”

  Jesse was shaking his head. “Someone tried to kill you. If you go back out there now, before we figure it out, they could get it right this time. Stay low. Keep recovering. Give me a few days to figure it out. I’ll need more information on the situation with Octavia, and any other names.” He assessed Wyatt carefully. “And how in the hell did you get medical clearance to ride, anyway? I saw that crash. You should be sidelined.”

  “I’m fine.” Had Octavia really tried to kill him? That made no sense. “I don’t think Octavia would try to kill me, but I don’t know of anyone else. I have no clue.” And he didn’t. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the fact that someone had tried to kill him. “If it was Octavia, she didn’t try to kill me. Jeopardize my ride? Yeah, sure. I could buy that, and there are a few other names I could list.” He dropped a few names of competitors who hadn’t liked Wyatt’s fast rise to the top. “But try murder? No way. No one.” But even as he said it, he flashed back to that night a year ago, when the woman he’d trusted, who he’d thought he’d loved, had ripped apart everything that had mattered to him, everything that he’d built up. Octavia had taught him never to trust a woman again, and it was a lesson he was never going to forget.

  Jesse met his gaze. “Someone tried to murder you, Wyatt. Accept it, and stay off the bulls this weekend, until I figure it out.”

  “Stay off the bulls?” Wyatt glanced back over his shoulder at the ring. At the dirt. He was supposed to walk away because some piece of shit tried to take him down? No. Never. He turned back “No chance. I need to ride.” He saw the resistance on the faces of both men, but it didn’t matter. He had to ride. He knew he had no choice. For reasons that no one but him would ever understand.

  Some choices weren’t really choices. Some choices were simply fate, burned into a man’s bones, a destiny from which there was no deviation, no reprieve, and no salvation.

  He was going to ride this weekend. If he died, well, he died. He accepted that possibility. Death had never scared him. It was failing to claim the life he was meant to live that haunted him.

  Chapter 3

  Noelle Wilder grimaced when she saw her best friend reach for the handle of her fridge. “I haven’t been grocery shopping for a while,” she warned, trying to preempt the lecture that would be coming as soon as Kate saw the contents.

  “Holy crap, girl.” Kate Jackson stared into the fridge, her upper lip curling in horror. “Expired eggs, curdled milk, and a plastic container full of something so old I can’t even tell what it once was? That’s it? That’s all you have in here? How do you survive on that? And more importantly, how on earth is that going to inspire a culinary mystery worthy of the hundred thousand copies your last one sold?”

  “As soon as the chocolate starts to melt on the stove, the scent will inspire me.” Ignoring her throbbing headache, Noelle stared at the computer screen, willing her brain to start working again, for those long-absent ideas to begin to flow.

  “No, it won’t.” Kate slammed the fridge shut. “Face it, girlfriend. Chocolate can’t help you this time.”

  “Of course it can. Chocolate can salvage anything– Hey!” Kate snatched the computer from her lap.

  Noelle sighed and glared at her friend. “Really, Kate? How’s that helpful?”

  “Because staring at blinking cursors on a blank screen for hours on end has been documented to rot the brain cells, and you need all the ones you can still salvage.” Kate set the computer on the kitchen counter. “Face it, Noelle. You’ve even killed chocolate.”

  Noelle raised her eyebrows. “No one can kill chocolate.” Although, if she was honest with herself, she had to acknowledge the truth that if anyone could kill chocolate, she had a feeling that it might be her.

  “No?” Kate leaned forward. “Then tell me, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind when I mention a very sharp dagger hidden in a molten chocolate lava cake?”

  The image of her bed and her favorite fuzzy blanket popped into her head…and that was just not a good thing for a culinary mystery writer. “Oh, God. I didn’t see any blood,” she said, staring at Kate in horror. “No dead bodies. It makes me want to crawl into my bed and take a nap instead of dealing with it.”

  Kate sighed and sat down next to her. “You didn’t have any visions of what kind of deranged villain would put a dagger in a dessert?”

  Noelle groaned. “No. My brain feels like it ran into hiding when I tried to picture the dagger.” She closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the couch, suddenly feeling too tired to cope. “That’s it then, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Kate said gently. “You’re dying inside Noelle. Can’t you feel it?”

  Weariness seemed to strip Noelle of the last vestiges of her enthusiasm, but she opened her eyes and made herself sit straighter. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what it’s like to die. The fact I’m tired isn’t the same thing at all–”

  “Don’t start that with me,” Kate snapped. “I know that you spent years trying to keep David from dying. I know you lived that, and I know how much it sucked to spend the first three years of your marriage watching your husband die. I get that. I was here, remember? However, I’m not talking about a physical death, and you know it. I’m talking about your soul, your heart, your spirit.”

  Noelle bit her lip at the sudden burn of tears in her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said stubbornly. “I really am–”

  “Sweetie, you’ve spent the year since David’s death trying to keep his dream alive, and it’s killing you. Just because he died doesn’t mean you have to, as well.”

  Noelle lifted her chin. “I made him a promise to help his brother and keep his restaurant going. I mean, our restaurant. We opened it together, and it was his dream, I mean, our dream. Don’t you remember that? Or did you forget that part?”

  “Oh, I remember when you guys decided to open it. I remember when you guys fell in love over the stove. But I also remember when you used to lose yourself in your stories and write until your face glowed with joy, while he pulled most of the weight in the kitchen. I don’t see any joy anymore. When was the last time you felt joy?”

  “I–” Noelle’s voice faded as she tried to remember. She couldn’t even remember what joy felt like. All she could feel, all she’d felt for ages, was a tightness in her chest, and a numbness that made every moment and every day the same, day after day after day. No joy. No pain. Just an empty numbness propelled by obligation.

  Kate sighed. “Sweetie, David loved the restaurant, but he loved you more. The last thing he would’ve wanted was for you to live like this, so broken and empty. That restaurant was his dream. You did it because you loved him, but when he was alive, you were able to spend a lot of time writing. Now you’re there all the time, fighting for a dream that isn’t yours. You can’t keep doing both.”

  “Of course I can.” Noelle shoved herself to her feet and padded across
her bare wood floor to the stove, where the chocolate was beginning to melt perfectly.

  “Can you?” Kate didn’t bother to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “This book you’re working on was due how long ago? How many extensions have you gotten?”

  Noelle grabbed a wooden spoon and began to stir the chocolate, watching the rich, creamy substance swirl in her pot. She used to love watching it swirl. Now? She felt nothing. God. When was the last time she felt anything? The day David died. She’d felt something then, but ever since? Nothing. Just endless numbness. “My editor understands.”

  “I’m sure she does, but she’s going to stick around for only so long if you don’t deliver. You’re a year late on your book, Noelle. A year.”

  “I know!” Noelle set the spoon down. “I’m trying!”

  “I know you are, babe, but it’s not working, is it?”

  Noelle leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at her friend. Suddenly, the weight of the last four years seemed to overwhelm her, and she felt exhausted. “So, maybe I shouldn’t write anymore. Maybe I should just go full-time at the restaurant.”

  Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s your plan? Give up on the one thing that makes you happy, so you can work at a restaurant that’s draining your energy and savings? Because that sounds like a fulfilling and brilliant way to spend the rest of your life.”

  Noelle gritted her teeth, her fingers digging into the counter. “What am I supposed to do? Walk away? Then what happens to Joel? He’s the only family David has left, and I promised I’d make sure he was okay. If I close the restaurant, what will happen to him? We both know the only reason he’s been sober the last two years is because the restaurant gives him purpose.”

  Kate shrugged. “So give it to him, then. He’s a great chef. He’d be thrilled.”

  “Give it to Joel? Just walk away from it completely?” Guilt tore through her, a deep, anguished guilt because, for a split second, she’d wanted to cry with relief at the idea of doing that. But how could she? She couldn’t. “He needs me to run it. He’s a chef, not a business person.”

  “Let him hire a business manager.”

  “There’s not enough money for that–”

  “For heaven’s sake, Noelle! Do you hear yourself? You’re doing the job for free and putting your own money into it, just because you’ve convinced yourself that Joel, who’s a great chef and has been sober for two years, can’t manage without you. Does he really need you? Maybe he needs you to get the hell out of his life so he can stop being David’s little brother and find his own strength. Did that ever occur to you?”

  Noelle felt like her head was going to explode. She was suddenly too exhausted to cope. “David was the only safe space I ever had in my life, Kate. I won’t betray that, or him, or his brother, regardless of the cost to me. This is what I was meant to do. It matters to me. David would’ve done the same for me.”

  Kate’s face softened. “I know he would have, but would you have ever asked him to give up his dreams until he had no spirit left?”

  Noelle stared at her friend. “Of course not. Never.”

  “So, why is it okay for you to sacrifice yourself that way?”

  “I…” Noelle didn’t have an answer. Suddenly, it was just too difficult to understand. “I don’t know. It just is.”

  Kate sighed. “Okay, let me present this another way. Maybe you want to sacrifice yourself. That’s your choice. But if your goal is to always have a place for Joel to work, you’re going to fail there as well. The way it’s going now, the restaurant will fail without your supplemental income, but if you don’t write a great book soon, you won’t have the money to fund it. At the very least, admit that.”

  Noelle tensed, her stomach clenched with sharp pains as Kate voiced the fear that haunted her day and night. “I know,” she whispered. It was very possible that she was going to run out of money. She was already living on savings, and without another book in the pipeline, she was going to be in deep trouble, and then she could do nothing for Joel or David. “I can’t fix that, Kate. I can’t write anymore. I’ve tried. I really have.” The admission burned as she voiced the fear that had been haunting her constantly for so long. “I can’t write anymore.” God. It was out there. Acknowledged. I can’t write anymore.

  Kate held up her hand. “No. You can write. It’s just that your soul is withering, and you can’t write without it. You have to find your muse again, and it has to be now. Or there’s going to be nothing left of your soul to call upon.”

  “My soul?” She wanted to protest, to claim Kate was being melodramatic, but there were some times, in the middle of the night, when she couldn’t sleep, that it did feel like her soul was withering. The aching, empty void inside her seemed to be growing deeper with every passing day, no matter how hard she tried.

  “Yes. You’ve shut down your soul, and that’s just not going to work for a woman whose career depends on baring her rawest emotions on the page. Something has to change.”

  “I know.” Noelle couldn’t deny it anymore. “You’re right. But what? I don’t know what to do.”

  “I know you don’t, but lucky for you, I do.” Kate smiled, but there was a fire in her eyes, a gleam of excitement that made Noelle stiffen.

  She knew Kate too well not to be afraid of that gleam, and she realized suddenly that the entire conversation had been a clever, well-orchestrated manipulation to back her into the exact corner she was in. She set down the spoon and stared at her friend. “Oh, God, Kate. What have you done?”

  Kate didn’t even try to look innocent. “Do you know what a house swap is?”

  Noelle narrowed her eyes. “You mean, when one person trades two weeks in their New York City condo with someone who has a ski chalet in Colorado? So they live in each other’s houses for two weeks?”

  “Exactly,” Kate pulled a thick, manila envelope out of her purse and slapped it onto the counter. “Girl, you’re going to cowboy country. One month on the Sleeping Bull Ranch in Eastern Oregon.”

  “A ranch?” For one fraction of a millisecond, an image of a sexy, seductive cowboy flashed in Noelle’s mind, the same image that she’d fantasized about since she’d been sixteen years old, and read her first cowboy Harlequin romance novel on a sleepover with Kate. Excitement rushed through her, but it was chased away instantly by the reality of her situation. She shook her head. “A month? There’s no way. I have to run the restaurant, and I have this deadline. And—”

  “You don’t have a choice. Remember that whole ‘house swap’ concept? Well, the owner of Sleeping Bull Ranch, Bunny Hickerson, is going to be living in your lovely Boston abode for the next month. She arrives tomorrow at noon. You don’t have anywhere else to live.”

  Noelle’s jaw dropped open. “What? You rented my apartment? Are you crazy? You don’t have the right to do that—”

  “Oh, but I do. Remember how you and I lived here before you got married? Well, guess who did the automatic renewal every year without bothering to update the name on it? Yes, that would be you, my absent-minded creative friend. I’m still on the lease, so yeah, I can. I did. You don’t have a home for four weeks starting tomorrow at noon.”

  Shock numbed Noelle at Kate’s announcement. She didn’t know how to respond. A part of her wanted to argue and shut down the entire idea immediately. But at the same time, a deeper part of her that wanted to grab the envelope and run, away from her deadline, away from the restaurant, away from the memories that wouldn’t let her go. But she didn’t move. How could she take off and go to Oregon? She had obligations. Deadlines. People counting on her.

  There was no way she could accept the offer, no matter how badly a part of her burned to do just that.

  So, instead of grabbing it, she bit her lip and went back to stirring. “Thanks for trying, but I can’t leave. The restaurant and my deadline–”

  “Wrong.” Kate grinned and pushed the envelope closer, sliding it across the counter toward Noelle. “You aren�
��t accomplishing anything here, my friend, and it’s not getting better. Take a few weeks off. Find your spirit. Awaken your muse, and find your own space again.”

  “But–”

  “I’ll pop in on Joel every few days just to check on everything, so there’s nothing at the restaurant for you to worry about. So, go.”

  Noelle stared at the envelope, sudden longing surging inside her. How amazing did it sound to get away for a month? To just walk away from all the weight that had been getting so heavy? She bit her lip, guilt rushing through her. “I can’t—”

  “You can.” Kate leaned forward. “And you have to. You’re wrecking your career, and the restaurant. You have to step back, Noelle. You have to find you again. It’s time.” Kate picked up the envelope and held it out. “Just take it, girl. Go find yourself again.”

  Longing coursed through Noelle, but she didn’t move. “I can’t just walk away from my life, Kate–”

  “Do you want to stay here? Or do you want to get the hell out of here and breathe again?”

  Noelle looked around the tiny apartment that she’d been trapped in for the last four years. Three years, taking care of David, and then this last year, fighting with the computer, trying desperately to write. Suddenly, it felt so small and oppressive, a prison crushing her. She thought of the restaurant, of walking in there night after night, knowing that it was sliding into failure, and she couldn’t stop it. “Yes,” she whispered, barely able to acknowledge the truth even to herself. “I can’t keep living like this.”

  “I know, babe.” Kate held out the envelope. “Take it. It’s time.”

  Noelle stared at the envelope, then silently, her hand shaking, she held out her palm. Kate set it in her hand. The moment her fingers closed around the smooth envelope, the hugest sense of relief flooded her, and she knew it was exactly what she needed. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Kate winked. “And just so you know, Bunny said the foreman on the ranch is super hot. Single, too.”