Cowboy Most Wanted (Copper Creek Book 1)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “I have no idea.” She didn’t exactly say the words while we were making love—and I had no intention of pushing her just to hear them. “But I’m done keeping how I feel about her a secret from you. You’re my best friend…although I’m guessing after this, you might not feel the same way.”

  He shoves his hand through his hair. The classic sign that he’s thinking. Too bad it’s not necessarily a sign that whatever he’s thinking about is in my favor. It could go either way.

  “If I wanted to,” he says. “I could hide your body, and no one would know where to find it.” He takes over my role of pacing.

  I lean back against the workbench. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “The last guy who she believed loved her ended up hurting her. What makes you so sure you won’t do the same?”

  “Because unlike the last guy, I do love her. I’d do anything to protect her and Deacon.”

  Austin stops pacing, his gaze a laser beam. “So you don’t care that they’re a package deal? Want one and you get them both. Together.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would love him like he’s my own flesh and blood. But you’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m just telling you that I love her. That’s all. In case you’ve forgotten, Violet doesn’t have a life here anymore. Her life is in LA.”

  “True. So what are you going to do about it? And what about the reality show? Are you going to tell them?”

  “If there was a way I could without losing the ranch and without costing Violet her job, I would. But there isn’t a way. So I just have to hope Natalie doesn’t pick me in the end.”

  “And if she does?”

  “If she does, well, there’s no way in hell I’m going through with the marriage. At least the contract gives me that as an out.” It’s the only good thing about the contract. Whoever wrote it wasn’t interested in doing the male contestants any favors.

  “And Violet?”

  “That’s up to her. I just want her to be happy.”

  Austin exhales a long hard breath. “That’s all I want, too. I wouldn’t complain, though, if you can convince her to move back to Copper Creek.” He smacks me on the back.

  I smirk. “Does this mean you’re not going to kill me?”

  He smirks back. “For now.”

  Asgard barks. The signal that someone’s coming.

  “Oh, there you are, TJ,” Natalie says a moment later from the doorway. Her tagalong crew is behind her. Unlike before, she doesn’t look like your run of the mill, genuine cowgirl. She looks like she stepped out a sexy cowgirl calendar. “Violet was taking photos of me for the show’s website, but now we need some of you and me together.”

  “It’s actually for a women’s fashion magazine,” Camilla explains.

  “Duty calls.” Austin grins—and just like that, I’m partially forgiven for falling in love with his sister. “I’ll let you get to work.”

  He nods at the two women and leaves, chuckling at the latest screwed up thing I have to do for the show.

  28

  Natalie and Camilla walk farther into the tack room. They aren’t alone. Camilla’s assistant and one of the cameramen enter behind them.

  “The fashion layouts are mostly of Natalie,” Camilla explains, “but they also want Violet to shoot photos of you and Natalie together. They sent the clothing they want you to wear for it.”

  It’s only then that I notice the pair of jeans in Camilla’s assistant’s arms.

  I eye the clothing like it’s a rattlesnake poised to strike. “I’m really busy right now. I need to fix the barn door before the storm hits.”

  “Can’t Noah or Jake do it?” Her tone is one I recognize. It’s her Do-I-need-to-show-you-the-contract? tone.

  “They’ve got their own jobs to do.” As it is, if I’m selected for the show’s final round, my brothers will have to pick up my slack for possibly up to four weeks.

  “The photo shoot won’t take long, and then you can fix the barn door.” She indicates for her assistant to hand me the clothing.

  “Fine.” My tone is several steps below polite. But the sooner I get this over with, the quicker I can get back to work.

  Violet tells me where to meet them since I have to return to the house first to change.

  I stalk to the corral where Violet and Natalie are waiting for me. The lighting equipment has already been set up. “Where do you want me?” I ask Violet. I have a few suggestions—dirty suggestions—all which involve Violet and me. Alone.

  Violet directs Natalie on how she wants her to pose. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that modeling is no doubt listed on Natalie’s résumé. She moves effortlessly into position.

  Me? Not so effortlessly. It was one thing to pose when it was just Violet and me. All I had to do was glance at her, and it was enough for me to come off as swoony—Violet’s word, not mine. It’s a different story when you’re posing with a woman who doesn’t set your heart galloping, but you’re expected to look like she does.

  “Okay, I think I have enough photos to make the magazine happy,” Violet says as a gust of wind picks up, whipping Natalie’s hair in my face.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I say to Camilla and Natalie, “I have a barn door to fix.”

  I don’t wait for a response. I jog back to the house, change into my work clothes, and head to the barn. Inside the tack room, I grab the toolbox from the workbench and the stepladder from against the wall.

  I take them outside. The wind is now stronger and heavy with the promise of rain.

  I open the ladder, locate the correct screwdriver head, and climb the steps. A few random raindrops splash against my sleeves.

  With one hand, I push the door into the overhead track. The door is heavy and awkward and my muscles sing “Fuck you” as I work. I tighten the screw, one hand holding the door steady, the other gripping the cordless screwdriver.

  I strain to focus on the task. Focus on the task and not on the image in my head of Violet. Bent over. Holding on to the ladder. Her fine ass in the air. And wearing nothing but my tool belt.

  The raindrops start coming down heavier than before, soaking through my shirt. But since I’ve yet to witness a flash of lightning or rumble of thunder, I keep working.

  “Do you need help?” Natalie asks. I look down to find her standing next to the ladder.

  “No, I’m good.” I keep working, my muscles threatening a revolt if I pause for even a second. The longer it takes to finish this, the longer I have to hold the door in place. “Why aren’t you back at the house?”

  Or wearing a rain jacket.

  She still has on the same tank top from the fashion shoot.

  “I thought you might need help. Then we can both get inside and stay warm until the storm passes.” She nods at the barn and flashes me the same look from the other day at the river. The look she had right before going topless.

  I return to tightening the screw. “That’s all right. I think I have it now.”

  “You don’t mind if I stay and watch, do you? I can keep you company.”

  “Wouldn’t you prefer to be back at the house?”

  “No, I’m fine. I enjoy watching you work.” Her final words come out breathlessly.

  “I’m returning to the house as soon as I’m done here.”

  Where the inspiration behind my dirty thoughts is waiting. I might not be able to hold Violet or kiss her, but at least I can be in the same room as her.

  “I’ll walk back with you,” a persistent Natalie says over the rain.

  “Your choice,” I halfheartedly say and squeeze the screwdriver’s trigger for the final time. Perfect. I release my grip on the door and shake out my hand to get the circulation moving again.

  I push the door to the side several inches, testing it. It slides smoothly in the track.

  I return the screwdriver to my tool belt and begin climbing down the ladder. A sudden gust of wind, stronger than before, catches me off guard.

  That’s not the
only thing it catches.

  I reach out, grabbing for my hat. Yes, I know—stupid, stupid idea. The steps are wet, and I’m not holding on as tightly as I should be—thanks to the fantasy of Violet in my tool belt and only my tool belt.

  My foot slips on a rung. I loosen my grip on the ladder, prepared to jump the remaining distance. But I misjudge it and fall down, down, down. I attempt to land on my feet, but my bad knee has other ideas. It buckles, causing me to twist awkwardly, and I land on my outstretched arm.

  And because my life isn’t screwed up enough, my clavicle surrenders to its new fate. Pain cuts through my shoulder.

  Fuck-fuckity-fuck.

  I’m not sure which is more pissed at me right now: my shoulder or my knee.

  Stand in line, guys. I’m not too impressed with myself either right now.

  Groaning, I clutch my injured arm to my body with my left arm.

  Natalie drops next to me on the wet ground. “Oh God, TJ. Where do you hurt?”

  Where don’t I hurt is more the question.

  I fill her in on the injuries. My teeth chatter, and nothing I do will stop them. But it’s the shudder rolling through me, stoking the pain, that has me gasping. My knee and my shoulder continue their argument as to who hurts worse.

  “I need to get you out of the rain,” Natalie says. “Can you make it to the barn with my help?”

  I nod, then grimace as the pain in my shoulder intensifies.

  She helps me into the barn and onto the cold concrete floor, so I’m partially leaning against the wall. Our soaked clothing clings to our bodies. The smell of horses and pine shavings and rain sits heavy in the air, grounding me against the intense pain.

  As I focus on that, I hear Natalie talking to someone on the phone. I have no idea what she’s saying. I’m preoccupied with thoughts of Violet…naked. Pounding into her. Kissing her. Telling her I love her.

  Anything to distract me.

  Another shudder wracks my body, making a seven-point-five earthquake seem like nothing more than a tiny tremble.

  Violet’s name pushes past my lips—a chatty parrot wanting to reveal all my secrets. Fortunately, it’s not as loud as Tilly’s parrot. There’s a chance Natalie didn’t hear it.

  “Jake’s on his way,” she says. “Just hold on a little bit longer, TJ. Then we’ll be able to warm you up. That should help lessen the pain for now.”

  “Tell him to bring me a bottle of Jack. That will help too.” I’m joking, not joking.

  “Nice try, but right now that’s the worst thing you can have. You don’t want to be drunk when we arrive at the hospital, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t complain.” Except I might say something I shouldn’t. On camera.

  Like declaring my love for Violet.

  Or better yet…I’ll start singing cheesy country songs—karaoke-style—about how much I love her.

  If the producers need more drama, I’ve just handed it to them. I can guarantee Camilla and the TV crew will show up at the hospital, eager to film me there.

  Natalie keeps talking to me while we wait for Jake to arrive. Don’t quiz me on what she says. I’m back to my dirty thoughts about Violet—all to keep me from focusing on the pain.

  After what feels like several days, Jake finally enters the stable. But it’s not him I notice. It’s the dark-haired angel with him wearing a flirty floral dress, cowboy boots, and a denim jacket who snares my attention.

  “Violet,” I murmur as she rushes over.

  She drops to her knees and gently cups my cheek with her hand. I lean into the warmth. “It’s going to be okay. Jake’s taking you to the hospital.”

  “Come with me.” The words slip out through the haze seeping into my mind. “I want you there with me.”

  I hear voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It’s like my head is underwater, pulse thundering in my ears.

  “Okay, big guy,” Jake says, “let’s get you into the truck. Can you walk on your leg at all?”

  I nod, the movement small.

  He helps me to my feet. My knee yells out a victorious “I win!” in the game of who hurts worse. My shoulder grumbles, “I don’t think so” and sets out to prove it.

  An agonized groan stumbles from between my lips.

  “Are you sure you can walk?” Jake asks.

  “I’m a cowboy. I laugh at pain.” I think I do a pretty good job proving that…even if my laugh is slightly off-kilter.

  The progress to his truck doesn’t have me hitting any Guinness Book records. And climbing into his vehicle is all kinds of hell.

  I attempt to hoist myself up with my free arm. “You couldn’t own a car that’s easy to get in and out of, could you? Like a mini coupe?”

  Jake gives me a boost from behind, helping me into the back seat. “We could have driven in Violet’s car, but I doubt you’d fit in the back.”

  He might have a point.

  I carefully shift onto the seat, doing my best to avoid igniting a new round of pain in my knee and shoulder.

  “Violet,” he says, “ride in the back with TJ. Natalie, you can ride up front with me.”

  I expect Natalie to protest, but she doesn’t. She jogs around to the front passenger side and climbs in. She glances behind her and watches as Violet joins me in the back.

  Her brow twists into a mask of confusion. “I’ll let Camilla know that we’re taking you to the hospital. She’ll want the guys to get down there and videotape as much as they can…including me with you if the hospital permits it?”

  “He’s in no state for that.” Violet reaches past me to fasten my seat belt. Even with the haze still hanging around my head, I notice her sweet scent of vanilla and roses. I inhale as deeply as my shoulder injury allows.

  Natalie says something to Jake, but I can’t hear what she says. He turns over the engine and the truck rumbles to life.

  Violet rests her hand on my thigh—where it belongs and where I wish it would always be. I close my eyes and keep breathing through the pain.

  By the time we drive up to the emergency entrance, the cold that had filled every inch of my body has lessened, thanks to the heat blasting from the truck’s air vents. My clothes are still damp, but I’m no longer shivering. That’s the advantage of the hospital being so far away—if you can call it an advantage.

  Jake jumps down from the cab and disappears into the building, only to return a moment later with a wheelchair.

  He helps me down and I ease myself onto the seat. I swear after this, I never want to see another truck again.

  “I’ll park while you two get him admitted,” he tells Violet and Natalie as soon as they join me.

  Natalie—now wearing Jake’s jacket—pushes the wheelchair through the sliding hospital doors. Violet walks alongside. Neither woman speaks. The tension between them is thicker than the Bitterroot River morning fog.

  Yup—definitely not a good thing.

  We join the triage line. Luckily, Jake arrives a few minutes later, easing the tension between the two women. We only have to wait a few minutes before it’s my turn. Jake, Violet, and Natalie all join me, making for a very cozy space.

  “Aren’t you that really hot cowboy on Cowboy Most Wanted?” the triage nurse asks me. Before I have a chance to concoct some sort of response, she says to Natalie, “Does this mean you two will end up together? Please tell me you two end up together. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course you’re together. That’s why you’re here. Together.” She talks faster than Thor can gallop across the training ring.

  Or maybe it just seems that way—a side effect of the pain.

  Natalie does the talking. Which is a good thing. If I say anything, I’ll either be begging for painkillers or blurting how much I love Violet.

  Or a combination of the two.

  Jake talks to the nurse, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. She’s pretty, so maybe he’s asking her what time she gets off work. Nice, I’m injured and he’s trying to get laid.

  Lucky basta
rd.

  I’m wheeled back into the waiting room. As I wait for my name to be called, I keep glancing at the main entrance. What are the odds that Camilla and Co. got lost on their way here?

  Or maybe Old Man Jeffery’s flock is on the loose again, blocking the road out of Copper Creek.

  If that’s the case, forget the bottle of whiskey I owe him. I’ll owe him a crate of the stuff.

  Words from the TV show contract creep into my head. Words about what would happen if I’m injured prior to the final episode. Words that I’ve read a thousand times, looking for a loophole to get me out of the show.

  I straighten a little too quickly and grimace.

  Note to self: Don’t do that again. Holy fucking hell.

  “The contract,” I say to no one in particular. My tone is a mix of agony and self-congratulations.

  Jake frowns. “What contract?”

  “The one for the show.”

  Natalie glances between Jake and me. “What about it?”

  “If my memory is correct, this injury might be enough to get me booted from the show.”

  “If you have a broken clavicle like I suspect,” Natalie says, “you should be fine by the time they shoot the second part of the season.” Lines form between her eyebrows. Lines of confusion. Lines of hurt. “You want off the show, don’t you? But why?”

  My gaze falls on Violet—and my heart rate kicks up another notch. This time it has nothing to do with the pain in my shoulder and everything to do with the love reflected back at me. Reflected back from the woman who owns one hundred percent of my heart.

  “I’m sorry…but I’m in love with Violet.”

  Natalie blinks, as if she misheard me and is now reviewing the conversation in her head.

  “I never planned for it to happen,” I say. “She’s the sister of my best friend, which has always made her off-limits to me. But that didn’t matter. I fell for her, and I fell for her hard.” I look briefly at Violet. Her eyes are shiny. Is that a good thing? I have no idea.

  I swallow back the pain and pray someone puts me out of my misery soon. “I know that I was supposed to stay single for the duration of the season—or at least for the portion of the show I’m involved with.” I shift position and a new round of pain hammers my shoulder. I flinch. “But I can’t keep hurting her this way.”