“S’pose you’ve got my whole weekend planned out already?” he said.
“And next week,” she said.
He frowned. He hadn’t planned to stay in Marietta longer than the rodeo. But before he could speak the sound of a truck engine had them all turning to watch as his younger brother, Casey, pulled up behind Jesse’s truck.
“Damn it. I wanted to be here when you arrived,” Casey said, swinging out of his truck and grabbing Jesse in a fierce bear hug.
His brother smelled like fresh air, horses and clean sweat, and the fist he banged on Jesse’s back was going to leave a bruise, but that was all good with Jesse.
His brother finally let him go and they pulled back to take a good look at each other. Casey had let his hair grow shaggy and wild, and his jaw was dark with beard scruff. Like Jed he looked lean and brown, his dark complexion making his eyes look even greener than usual.
“You ’bout to run off and start a cult or something?” Jesse asked, reaching out to ruffle his younger brother’s unruly hair.
Like old times, Casey ducked out of the way, one hand lifting to block Jesse’s arm. “Hey, hands off the merchandise.”
The move brought back a flood of memories of the two of them practicing highly staged martial arts fights in the cool dimness of the barn, the choreography gleaned from obsessive repeat viewings of old Bruce Lee films.
“Crouching tiger, hidden Casey,” Sierra said dryly. “Can you two wait a few hours before you start rolling in the dirt, trying to use the touch of death on each other? I don’t want to drive two dusty idiots into town for the street party.”
“Thought you might have wanted to skip it this year,” Jesse said hopefully. “Maybe just have a quiet night here at home.”
“Nope, but good try. The Whiskey Shots are part of the lineup, and I plan to be there to bask in my brother’s reflected glory,” Sierra said, flashing a big smile at Casey.
Casey had been the lead singer and guitarist in a four-member band for a couple of years now, picking up gigs locally.
“Hey, cool,” Jesse said. “Don’t want to miss out on that.”
He’d yet to see his brother perform in public, although he’d heard him picking away at his guitar plenty when they’d been kids. In truth, Jesse had been a little surprised when he’d first learned about the band, since Casey was notoriously shy around people he didn’t know well. The idea of his younger brother volunteering to stand on a stage with all eyes on him had seemed counterintuitive to Jesse, but Sierra had assured him many times that Casey more than held his own.
Casey eyed Sierra sternly. “No screaming this time, okay? Last time the Shots played, people thought someone was being mugged.”
“That’s because I am your number one fan,” Sierra said, doing her best Kathy Bates-madwoman eyes.
Jesse laughed, tickled as always by his sister’s sense of humor. Suddenly he felt like a huge dick for avoiding home for so long. Jed might be a stoic, taciturn bastard, but these people were his family and he loved them to death.
“Thought the Shots were playing last?” Jed asked.
“Sure, but we can find plenty to do until then,” Sierra said.
“I was thinking more that Jesse won’t want to be out all night when he’s got to compete tomorrow,” Jed said.
“Pretty sure I can handle a late night,” Jesse said, resenting his brother’s parental tone. He was twenty-nine years old to Jed’s thirty-one, long past the age when his brother needed to look out for him.
There was a short pause following his too-sharp words. Jed’s face was carefully blank as he nodded and took a step back, turning toward the house.
“Then I guess we’re sorted,” he said, already moving off.
Jesse watched him walk away, a lean, stiff-backed figure. If anyone else had made the same comment, Jesse would have taken it at face value, but with Jed every interaction always felt loaded with the weight of their personal history, and more often than not Jesse wound up overreacting—exactly like the resentful kid he’d been when he left home with his brother’s boot up his ass all those years ago.
“I guess some things never change, huh?” Sierra said.
Jesse swallowed the urge to apologize. It wasn’t like any of them were strangers to this shit. This was just the way it was.
“I’ll grab your gear, help you get settled,” Casey said.
“Thanks, man,” Jesse said.
Sierra was checking out his clothes, her nose wrinkling with disapproval. “You’ve got something better than this in your bags, right?” she said, reaching out to finger his wrinkled, travel-stained blue shirt. “I want you all in top form tonight so I can be the rose among the thorns.”
“Weed among the thoroughbreds, you mean,” Casey said.
“Get your metaphor right, doofus. Thoroughbreds are horses, not plants,” Sierra said.
They headed for the house, Sierra walking between the two men.
“Proud, powerful, virile animals,” Jesse agreed, exchanging a quick grin with his brother.
“As opposed to stubborn, prolific, homely weeds,” Casey said.
“Awesome. Not even five minutes, and you two are ganging up on me already. Can’t believe I was actually looking forward to this,” Sierra said.
Hard on the heels of her words, she stretched out both arms and smacked each of them on the back of the head with the flat of her hand, a well-calibrated move honed by many a childhood dispute. Then she took off, laughing like a schoolgirl, taking the steps to the house two at a time.
“Welcome home, man,” Casey said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Jesse said. Then he went after his sister, determined to run her down and teach her a lesson.
*
It took nearly two hours for all four of them to get showered, changed and organized to head back into town. Sierra made good use of the drive in, poking and prodding Jesse with questions about everything from his diet to his social life.
Jesse lost track of the times he said “none of your business,” and even Jed was smiling by the time they found a parking spot in town and walked toward the section of Main Street that had been cordoned off for the parade earlier that afternoon. The space was lined with display tables for the sidewalk sale and food trucks now, all the activity fanning out from the courthouse steps. Many of the shops had decorated their windows with a rodeo theme, and there was a lighthearted, festive feel to the evening.
Sierra called out to a couple of acquaintances as they worked their way along the street, and one of Jesse’s old schoolteachers came over to welcome him home and ask which bronc he’d drawn for tomorrow and what he thought his chances were. Jed headed off to catch up with a business acquaintance, and Casey made some excuse about touching base with the other members of the band before disappearing.
“Don’t even think of bailing on me,” Sierra said, looping her arm through Jesse’s.
“Last thing on my mind,” he said.
Then he spotted a tall, dark-haired woman ahead of them examining leatherwork on one of the tables set out for the sidewalk sale. It took him a moment to realize it was CJ Cooper—she looked so different with her long hair flowing freely over her shoulders. His gaze drifted down her body, taking in slim-cut denim jeans that made her legs look long and athletic and her ass juicy enough to bite. She was studying the workmanship on a tooled leather belt, her fingers tracing the intricate pattern, and a small smile curved her lips as she said something to the vendor.
It only took him a moment to decide to go talk to her. His conscience had been nagging him ever since the scene at the arena. He’d gone over it a few times in his mind, wishing every time that he’d stepped in and shut Dean down before things had gotten ugly. His only excuse was that it had all happened so fast, but that was poor comfort to CJ Cooper. He could only imagine how she must have felt, arriving at her first rodeo on the pro circuit and being treated like dirt by a bunch of ignorant cowboys.
He turned to Sierra, who was busy tasting
samples of jam and chutneys at another table. “There’s someone I need to talk to. Won’t be a sec.”
“I swear to God, Jesse Carmody, if you try to sneak off, I am going to hunt you down and shame you in front of the whole town.”
“I’ll be right over there, so quit it with the drama, llama, okay?”
Jesse approached CJ with no idea what he was going to say. He figured the words would come when he needed them to.
She appeared to be trying to decide between two belts, and it took her a moment to register his presence when he stopped next to her.
“Afternoon,” he said, by way of kicking things off.
She glanced at him casually, perhaps thinking he was simply another customer, then her eyes widened with recognition.
“Oh, God. Not another one,” she said.
Chapter Three
“Another what?” the cowboy in front of CJ asked, his forehead creased with confusion.
“Look, whatever you’ve got to say, I’m not interested, okay?” she said, giving him the hand. “Your friend has already pointed out how I’m an interloper, stealing the hopes and dreams of good and decent men everywhere. So consider your message delivered and go back to being an asshole with the rest of your redneck buddies.”
The tall, dark-haired man in front of her blinked. Then his mouth curled up ever so slightly at the corners.
“Actually, I wanted to apologize,” he said, his deep, low voice rich with amusement.
“Oh.”
“I should have jumped in, back at the grounds, and told Dean to pull his head out of his ass. Only reason I didn’t was his reaction surprised me as much as it surprised you. But I want you to know I regret it.”
His gaze was direct, sincere and steady as it held her own.
She was so surprised it took her a moment to respond.
“Okay. I appreciate it. Thanks.” She couldn’t remember which of the saddle bronc riders he was—she’d never been good at attaching faces to names, and her run-in with Maynard had wiped everything else from her mind.
“You should know Maynard doesn’t speak for all of us, or even most of us,” he said. “As long as you can ride, that’s all that matters.”
“I can ride.”
“Then the other riders will respect you as much as any man.”
It was nice he thought that, but it hadn’t been her experience so far. While she hadn’t encountered anywhere near the level of overt hostility she’d experienced today before, it had taken months and several wins before people had started taking her seriously.
“I appreciate the apology,” she said, because she did. It had been a pretty shitty day, and it helped that someone had gone out of their way to be nice to her. “Thanks for taking the time to make it.”
“Least I can do.” He studied her face. “I rode against a guy a few years ago, down in Colorado. His name was Cooper, too. Zach Cooper, I think. Any relation?”
She’d expected him to bow out after he’d said his bit so the question threw her for a moment.
“Um, yeah. One of my brothers. I’ve got three. They’ve all done a bit of rodeo in their time. My dad rode a bit, too, back in the day.”
“So this is a family dynasty-type situation we’ve got going on here, then?” he asked, the glint in his eyes letting her know he was teasing her.
It was beginning to really bother her that she didn’t know his name.
“I’m really sorry, but I can’t remember your name,” she said, since she’d always favored the direct approach.
The only giveaway that he was surprised was a quick blink. Then he offered her his hand, a too-charming smile on his lips. “It’s Jesse. Jesse Carmody.”
She didn’t need to be a mind reader to interpret his surprise—she was pretty sure guys as hot as Jesse Carmody weren’t forgotten very often, especially by women. With his short, wavy dark hair and lean, hard body, he was pretty much the epitome of rugged masculinity. It was his eyes that most women would probably go weak-kneed over, though—an intense, true green, framed perfectly by dark lashes.
She shook his outstretched hand, noting its strength and warmth and toughness. Like all cowboys, he punished his body, and his hands were no exception.
“Good to meet you properly, Jesse.”
She was about to make an excuse to slip away when a woman joined them, sliding into place beside Jesse with a cheeky, mischievous smile on her face. CJ guessed she was mid-twenties, give or take. One glance was enough to reveal she was clearly a close relative—they shared the same distinctive eyes and dark hair—and the way Jesse shot the other woman a fondly exasperated look pretty much sealed the deal.
If this wasn’t his sister, CJ would eat her hat.
“Hi, I’m Sierra, Jesse’s sister,” the woman said, confirming CJ’s guess.
“CJ Cooper. Nice to meet you.”
“You in town for the rodeo?” Sierra asked, full of friendly interest.
She reminded CJ of a puppy, all big eyes and harmless inquiry.
Before she could respond, Jesse spoke up. “CJ’s competing in the saddle bronc.”
Sierra’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Against the men?”
“Yep, against the men,” CJ said matter-of-factly.
A delighted smile split Sierra’s face. “That’s freaking fantastic. Imagine if you won. That would be so cool. You could start a revolution.”
Jesse gave his sister a nudge. “Hey, how about a little family loyalty?”
“Loyalty schmoyalty. You can win any old time.”
“I’m touched. Genuinely moved,” he said dryly.
“So, CJ, how do you and Jesse know each other?” The glance Sierra shot back and forth between CJ and Jesse revealed what she was thinking.
“Oh, no,” CJ said before she could edit herself.
Sierra’s smile got a little brighter. CJ bet she’d given her brother hell when they were kids.
“Oh no, what?”
“Oh no, she can’t believe how nosy someone she’s just met is being,” Jesse said, directing a frown at his sister.
“Excuse me for being interested in my brother’s life. For caring about his emotional health and well-being.”
Jesse turned to CJ, a rueful expression on his face. “She’s got this bee in her bonnet about my social life at the moment. Please ignore her.”
Sierra was blushing now. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Or nosy. I was just…hoping. You’re always on the road. Is it the worst crime in the world that I’d love it if you’d met someone who could be there for you?”
“Okay. I’m going to leave you guys to it,” CJ said, taking a step backward. “Hope you have a nice night.”
She walked away before she could hear Jesse’s response, but she couldn’t help wondering why his sister seemed so worried about him. They seemed close, yet Sierra’s words hinted at distance between them.
Giving in to temptation, CJ glanced over her shoulder and saw Jesse talking to his sister. As she watched, Sierra gave her brother a friendly shove, and he hooked his arm around her neck and mussed up her hair. CJ had been the recipient of many similar hair mussings from her own brothers, and she couldn’t help but smile at the easy affection the gesture revealed. Then she realized she was about to get caught watching Jesse Carmody and whipped her head around.
She moved on to the next stall, where she spent ten minutes trying to decide between a turquoise necklace for her mother or a delicately engraved silver belt buckle. All the while, she was aware of Jesse and his sister nearby, talking to other locals. She heard Jesse’s low laugh ring out a few times, and each time she glanced up, turning instinctively toward the sound before she caught herself.
Okay, you are waaay too aware of him, she warned herself.
It was true, and it wasn’t just because he was one of the few people who’d been nice to her since her arrival. She had a stern word with herself as she paid for the buckle and determinedly put some distance between herself and the Carmodys.
She was not here to be beguiled by a pair of impossibly green eyes and a devil-may-care grin. She had no time for that kind of nonsense. Better yet, she wasn’t interested in it. This weekend was about her dreams, her future.
There was no room in that for a cowboy who was too good-looking for his own good.
*
Jesse had been to more than his fair share of small-town festivals and celebrations. The rodeo arriving in town was usually the signal to break out the barbeque and fire up the local band. He’d eaten more overcooked steak than he cared to think about, drunk gallons of local beer and done his best to be an ambassador for his sport even when he’d been punch-drunk from driving all day.
Marietta was his hometown, though, so this festival felt different. He was surrounded by people he knew—old classmates, neighbors, former teachers, local business owners—not to mention his own family, and even though he’d made a half-hearted attempt to get out of coming into town, he found himself enjoying catching up with everyone and everything.
The streets were strung with fairy lights, and live music played from a stage in the park beside the courthouse. The smell of cooking food wafted from the temporary kitchen that had been set up in front of the courthouse steps. Shops were doing a brisk trade, and the sense of community and prosperity pierced Jesse with a sense of unexpected pride. This was his place, he was with his people, and it was good to be home.
He talked for half an hour with Tara Watkins, his very first girlfriend and now mother to twin boys, then caught up with Reid Dalton, an old school friend who now worked for the Bozeman Police Department. It was nearly six by the time he allowed Sierra to steer him toward the food near the courthouse. Somehow Casey found them in the crush, and they loaded up with hamburgers and hot dogs from the temporary kitchen being manned by local men and women from various community organizations. Jed was nowhere to be seen, a circumstance Sierra shrugged off as they settled on a couple of bales of hay in the park to chow down.
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 3