They’d been friends back then. They’d played football together, attended their first rodeos together. They’d laughed at each other’s failures, celebrated each other’s wins. Sure, there had been moments of rivalry, but they’d had each other’s backs. And then Jed had gone off to Montana State to study livestock management, and their parents had been killed in a head-on collision on the state highway heading into Marietta, dying instantly, and Jed had had to give up all his plans to come home and shoulder the burden of keeping the family and the ranch together.
For a moment Jesse sat, stuck in guilt and grief and regret. Then he stood, turning away from the picture to grab his coat. One of the first lessons he’d learned after his parents died was that you couldn’t turn back time or change the past.
It was what it was, no matter how much you regretted it.
He made the twenty-minute drive back into town and met up with Flynn O’Connell and Shane at Grey’s Saloon. They settled down for some beer and a rehash of the day’s events before deciding whether to hit the steak dinner or not. After an hour, it became apparent it was going to be a loud and rowdy night at the bar, and Flynn suggested heading over to the Graff instead, where at least they might be able to hear each other talk.
The three of them were making the short walk across town when Jesse happened to glance across and see CJ on the other side of the street, a bulging black trash bag in hand. She was standing in front of the Marietta Laundromat, staring at the Closed sign as though it had done her wrong. As he watched, her shoulders slumped, and he could see the defeat in her from all the way across the street.
His steps slowed, then stopped. Shane threw him a glance over his shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Going too fast for you, old man?” Shane asked.
“Just remembered something I need to do. I’ll catch up with you boys later, at the dance, maybe.”
Shane didn’t seem to think much of it, slinging his arm around Flynn’s shoulders. “Guess the first round is on you then, hombre.”
They kept walking as Jesse crossed the street, just in time to catch CJ before she walked away.
“Hey. CJ,” he said, lengthening his stride to cover the last few feet and jump the curb.
She seemed confused for a moment and he realized she’d been deep inside herself when he called out. Contemplating something unhappy, if the expression in her eyes was anything to go by.
“Hey,” she said, her tone flat.
“What’s going on?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me if there’s another laundromat in town?” she asked.
His gaze went to the trash bag she was holding, then the Closed sign behind her. “Pretty sure this is it.”
She gave a grim laugh. “Yeah, figures. Listen, I need to go. I’ll see you later.”
She turned to go, but Jesse moved to block her path.
“Is everything all right?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Try me.”
She stared at him, her jaw working. She was still wearing her rodeo clothes, but they looked tired and wrinkled now. She looked tired, and he figured she must be feeling her ride by now, the same way he was.
“Someone broke into my room, pissed all over my stuff, if you must know,” she finally said.
For a moment he could only blink, his brain refusing to process what she’d said. “What the hell…?”
“Yeah. Good question,” she said.
A surge of adrenaline burned through him, curling his hands into fists. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was down to Maynard. The urge to go hunt the bastard down was so strong he actually looked up and down the street, as though by willing it he could make the other man appear. Then it hit him that chasing after Maynard wasn’t going to solve CJ’s problem or change anything for the better.
He could tear Maynard a new one anytime. Right now, he wanted to erase the tight, strained look from CJ’s face.
Reaching out, he took the trash bag from her.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s fix this.”
*
Jesse kept an eye on his rearview mirror all the way out to the ranch, making sure CJ was still following him. It had been testament to how beaten down she was by the events of the weekend that she’d barely put up a fight when he suggested she follow him home and take care of her laundry at the ranch.
Now, he watched as her headlights bobbed along the rutted drive behind him. He stopped in front of the barn beside Sierra’s truck, waving a hand out the window to tell CJ she should park beside him. They were both silent as they got out of their pickups.
“Nice place,” CJ said, looking around. It was twilight, so the full impact of Copper Mountain rising behind the house wasn’t quite as spectacular as it could have been, but the house looked warm and welcoming with light spilling out the windows.
“Our parents’ place. We all inherited it when they died,” he said.
It was always good to get the essentials out of the way early on, he’d learned. Saved people feeling like they’d put their foot in it later on when they asked the inevitable questions about family.
“Oh. I’m so sorry about your parents.”
“It was a long time ago now. Twelve years. Let’s go take care of those clothes.”
“If you or your family have something planned for the evening, don’t let me get in the way. I can just take care of my washing and get out of your hair,” CJ said as they crossed the yard.
“I haven’t got anything important on, and I don’t even know who’s home,” he admitted as they reached the porch. “So you can relax on that score.”
She gave a tense smile that went nowhere near her eyes and he felt an overwhelming urge to stop and pull her into his arms, the way he would with Sierra if something like this had happened to her.
God forbid.
Although holding CJ Cooper in his arms would not be the same as hugging his sister. Not by a long shot. Which was why he kept his hands by his sides, where they belonged.
The sound of a guitar being played met his ears as he let himself into the house, and Casey looked up from where he was sitting beside the fireplace, his acoustic guitar in his lap. Sierra lay on the rug in front of him, feet propped on the seat of the nearest couch, a cushion behind her head, her eyes closed as she listened to Casey play.
Casey stopped when he saw Jesse had company, flashing CJ a quick smile before focusing on the bridge of his guitar. It was baffling to Jesse that he’d watched his brother own the stage last night at the street party, yet Casey still turned quiet when confronted with someone he didn’t know.
“Don’t stop,” Sierra insisted, eyes still closed.
“We clear to use the washing machine? Either of you got anything going on in there?” Jesse asked.
Sierra’s eyes popped open then, quickly focusing on the stranger in their midst. “Oh, hi.”
Drawing her feet off the couch, she scrambled to stand up.
“It’s CJ, right? You had such a good ride today. I nearly made myself hoarse cheering for you,” Sierra said brightly. Then she seemed to fully register what Jesse had just asked and she frowned. “Why do you need the washing machine?”
CJ glanced at him, as though looking for guidance as to how much she should say.
“Someone broke into my room at the motel and messed up my stuff.”
Sierra’s face scrunched up with disbelief and disgust. “You’re kidding? Asshats. Did you call the police? Did they steal anything?”
“I don’t think anything is missing. And the police are busy. They told me to come in tomorrow to file a report.”
Jesse could tell by the way she said it CJ wasn’t expecting a big investigation to swing into action once the sheriff heard her tale of woe.
“Man, that sucks. Although I guess it does get pretty loopy in town when the rodeo is on,” Sierra said. She gestured over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “Come on,
I’ll show you where everything is.”
Jesse started to move forward, intending to maintain his escort, but CJ shot him a quick look.
“I’ve got this. I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“You sure?” he asked.
“Of course.” The smile she gave him this time was small but real.
“Don’t let Sierra chew your ear off,” he warned her.
“I heard that,” Sierra called.
Once CJ had left the room, Jesse dumped his phone and keys on the coffee table and let out a sigh.
“So. Define ‘messed up’ for me,” Casey said quietly, keeping his voice low so CJ wouldn’t overhear.
“Someone pissed all over her stuff,” Jesse said grimly.
Casey frowned. “You got any idea who it was?”
“One of the saddle bronc riders, a spoiled little dirtbag who can’t handle CJ being better than him.”
“Happy to go with you if you want to have a quiet word with him.”
Jesse shot his brother a grateful look. “Thanks, man. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. We get busted fighting on the tour, we can lose our slot. But right now, I’m feeling like it would be worth it just to turn that little shit-heel inside out.”
“The cops aren’t going to do much,” Casey said matter-of-factly.
“I know.” It stuck in Jesse’s craw to think that Maynard might get away with such blatant bullying and harassment, simply because it wouldn’t be considered serious enough to warrant real scrutiny from the authorities.
“I saw her ride today. She’s damned good,” Casey said.
“Yeah, she is,” Jesse said, and for some reason he found himself grinning as he remembered the sheer freaking glory of CJ’s ride this afternoon. “You see the way she was glued to that bronc’s back? She’s got amazing instincts.”
Casey coughed, covering his hand with his mouth, and Jesse guessed he was hiding a smile.
“What?” he demanded.
“You should see your face.”
“What are you talking about?” Jesse scoffed.
“It’s okay. I get it. You’ve got a little crush. She’s hot, it’s understandable,” Casey said.
Jesse rolled his eyes. “A crush. You still in high school?”
“Funny, I was about to ask you that.”
The look on his brother’s face was so provocative, Jesse could only laugh.
“So is this an unrequited thing? Or are you two…you know?” Casey asked.
“We met yesterday, you clown,” Jesse said.
“Ah. So this is all part of your strategy.”
Jesse frowned. “This is me trying to show her that not every guy on the circuit is a jackass. It’s fucking disgraceful this happened to her.”
Casey’s smile faded and Jesse was glad his brother could see he was serious.
“Yeah, good point,” Casey said.
“Tell me—when was the last time anyone was out in the trailer?” Jesse asked.
When their parents had first bought the land the ranch was built on, they’d lived in an old Airstream trailer until the house was built, and it had remained behind the barn ever since. When his parents were alive, it had been used as an overflow guest room, but Jesse had no idea what condition it was in these days.
Casey frowned as he tried to puzzle out the intent behind Jesse’s question. Then his brow cleared. “You want to offer it to CJ?”
“I’ll sleep out there, offer her my bed. Can’t send her back to that motel, not when her room’s already been broken into once.”
“Sierra had some friends from college stay last month, so it should be in good shape,” Casey said. “Want me to go check?”
“Thanks, man, but I can do it.”
Leaving his brother, Jesse went out into the night.
Chapter Six
“Then you need to turn this dial around to regular wash, and just push it in,” Sierra said, suiting words to actions. “Looks like you’ve got a few loads there, so we can dry the first lot while the second load washes.”
Sierra reached for the garbage bag lying at CJ’s feet, but CJ beat her to it.
“You don’t want to open this,” CJ said. “In fact, you might want to leave the room.”
Sierra frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because whoever broke into my room took a bathroom break all over my clothes, and it smells pretty bad. I figure only one of us should have to suffer.” CJ had been trying to avoid getting into the nitty-gritty of the attack with Jesse’s sister, and she could feel her cheeks growing warm now that she’d spilled the beans.
Why she was embarrassed about being the victim of a pathetic misogynist was beyond CJ right now. It wasn’t as though she’d done anything to provoke the man or invite his attention, apart from existing and having two X chromosomes.
Sierra’s green eyes darkened, her pretty mouth straightening into a tight line. “This wasn’t just a random thing, was it?”
CJ sighed. God, she was tired. Her hips ached, her shoulders were sore. She wanted a hot shower and a beer in the worst possible way. More than anything, she wanted for this weekend to have gone a different way, for Dean Maynard to have been a different kind of man.
But he wasn’t. And here she was.
“No. It wasn’t. One of the other riders doesn’t think I should be allowed on the pro circuit. He’s been pretty vocal about it.”
“Let me guess—that blond pretty boy who spat the dummy today,” Sierra said.
“Yep. That’s him.”
“What a pathetic little man-baby,” Sierra said. Then she surprised CJ by stepping forward and throwing her arms around her. “I am so freaking sorry you’ve had to deal with that. You were like a superhero out there today, and that guy can go screw himself if he thinks he’s going to stop you.”
It wasn’t until she felt the strength of another person’s arms around her that CJ understood how lonely she’d felt these past few days. Steeling herself to leave home and drive to her first pro event without the full support of her family had been hard. Arriving in a strange town where she knew she’d be up against it had been hard, too. And then there had been all of the extra bullshit Maynard had rained down on her, topped off with the lovely surprise she’d found waiting in her room this afternoon.
Yeah, it had been a tough few days, and she couldn’t stop herself from returning Sierra’s hug, wrapping her arms around the other woman and letting her forehead rest for just a few precious seconds on Sierra’s shoulder.
She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep a lid on the tears that threatened, and Sierra’s arms tightened around her, a silent signal that if she needed to cry, there would be no judgment here, only understanding.
After a beat, CJ took a deep breath, and Sierra let her go, taking a step back.
“Thanks,” CJ said, her voice still rough with emotion.
“Anytime. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I mean, it’s 2018. Have none of these guys read a paper lately? Nobody’s going to lie down and take this crap anymore.”
“Not sure Dean Maynard can read, to be honest,” CJ said.
“Excellent point.”
CJ glanced down at the trash bag. There was no point delaying this any longer.
“I’m going in,” she said.
“Roger that,” Sierra said, and they both took a deep breath as CJ undid the knot in the neck of the bag and delved inside for her clothes.
“You need to separate for colors?” Sierra asked, her face pinched.
The sour smell was even more ripe now, thanks to the magnifying effect of being in the bag.
“Let’s just throw it all in together,” CJ said.
They filled the machine, knotted the bag over what was left, reserving it for a second load, and then washed their hands thoroughly.
“So. How do we make this chickenshit pay?” Sierra said once she’d put in the detergent and started the machine.
“Good question
. I’m not holding my breath on the sheriff jumping into action.”
“Even if they did, with something like this, he’d probably just get a slap over the wrist, maybe a fine,” Sierra mused.
“So that leaves personal revenge. I’ve thought about just walking up to him tomorrow and kicking him in the nuts,” CJ said. “I kickbox. I could probably do some real damage, turn him into a soprano.”
Sierra laughed. “My God, wouldn’t that be awesome?”
“He’s the kind of guy who’d punch back, though,” CJ said. “Anyway, I feel like I’d be stooping to his level if I did that. As satisfying as it would be.”
“You should tell the rodeo association. Maybe they’ll pull his pro card,” Sierra said.
“I thought about that, too, but it just feels like…I don’t know, like running to the teacher. Does that make sense? I want to deal with this myself. Somehow. I just haven’t worked out how.”
“If only we could tell everyone what a pathetic little weasel he is. If people knew what he’d done to you, they wouldn’t want to cheer for him or treat him like a hero. They wouldn’t even want to spit on his shoes.”
“So, what are you suggesting? A raid on the PA system?” CJ joked.
“If only we could make that work. What does Jesse say?”
“I have no idea and I’m not asking him—he nearly got into it with Maynard today already. This isn’t his fight.”
Sierra looked like she wanted to argue the point and CJ shook her head.
“I’m not his responsibility. I don’t want him getting kicked off the circuit on my account. He’s been great, stepping up for me today, helping out with all of this, but I don’t need a protector.”
“I get it. I like to fight my own battles, too,” Sierra said. “Which means I usually have to fight off three brothers who want to get in there first.”
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 7