Cowgirls Don't Cry

by Silver James

  She propped up on her elbow and smirked. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, cowboy.” She licked her lips in a show of bravado, relishing that his eyes tracked her tongue. She finished the gesture by tapping the tip of her tongue against her top lip, as if she licked something else entirely. His gratifying groan elicited a laugh. “Oh yeah, buddy. Just you wait. The night is young.”

  He smirked back. “Be careful what you ask for, darlin’. A challenge like that might just jump up and bite you on the ass.”

  Eight

  Cass drowsed in Chance’s arms, content but all too aware she needed to get up, get dressed and get him to drive her home. She had chores to do. Since coming home, she’d pitched in to ease the burden on Boots. He was older than her father, and while he looked hale and hearty, he was seventy. He didn’t need to be wrestling bales of hay or mucking stalls. And truthfully, she really didn’t want him to know she’d spent the night with Chance. Feeling way too much like a delinquent teen, she slipped out of the circle of arms holding her. Tiptoeing across the room, she shut the door to the bathroom before flipping on the light.

  The reflection staring back at her from the mirror showed a woman who’d been well and truly loved. Swollen lips, a slightly abraded cheek—darn his shadow beard—half-lidded eyes and hair that looked like a windstorm had blown through. She ran cold water from the faucet and splashed her face. Using her finger as a toothbrush, she attempted to freshen her breath. But when it came to her hair, running her fingers through it only created more snags. Talk about a major case of bed head. Reluctant to rummage through his drawers or medicine cabinet, though denying her curiosity almost killed her, she flipped off the light and opened the door—only to run smack dab into a muscular chest.

  “You’re up early.”

  She tilted her head to look up at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you, but now that you are...I need to go home, ’kay?”

  His eyes narrowed. “No, not okay. Why?”

  “I have chores.”

  He blinked at her and rubbed a hand across his face as if clearing the last bit of sleep befuddlement from his head. “Chores?”

  “Chores. At the ranch. Horses to feed. Cows to feed. Stalls to muck. You’re a cowboy.” She glanced around, curious now about the luxury condo. “Allegedly. Surely you’ve done ranch work before?”

  He scratched his chest, an idle gesture that drew her gaze. She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring as his scent filled her. Musk, leather and something clean—like fresh laundry hanging on a clothesline on a hot summer day. She almost laughed at the thought. No one smelled like sunshine.

  “Want to grab a shower? We can share, save time and water?”

  “Do you really think the two of us in the shower will save time?”

  “Well, we could do it with you sitting on the counter, but I sort of like wet and wild.” He backed her into the bathroom and flicked on the light. “Won’t be as thorough as I’d like, but it’ll take the edge off.”

  He reached around her, turned on the shower and before she could protest, picked her up and stepped under the myriad jets. He set her down, grabbed a bottle of body wash and started in. By the time he finished, she was clean, sated and weak-kneed. Then again, so was he. Two could play that game.

  * * *

  She forked the last bit of new straw into Doc’s stall and turned around. Chance stood there watching her. Tilting her head, she cocked her hand on a hip and gave him her best sassy smile. “See something you like, cowboy?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Cass had to admit he’d surprised her. He didn’t drop her off. He’d parked his truck and insisted on helping. While she slipped into the house to change, he headed to the barn and with Buddy’s help, turned the horses out into the pasture so they could clean stalls.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  She glanced at the door. Boots, his expression inscrutable, watched them.

  “Good morning, Mr. Thomas.”

  “Stayed out a little late, Cassidy Anne.”

  She realized she’d dropped her gaze so that her guilt now appeared obvious—and that Boots had ignored Chance. She raised her chin and met the situation head-on—by ignoring the insinuation. “Chores are done. Any coffee left?”

  “There is. But I figured y’all might be in need of something more substantial. Breakfast at the Four Corners. My treat.”

  She glanced at Chance, bemused by the expression on his face. He stared at Boots, but the smile curving his very sexy mouth looked almost hostile. She opened her mouth to decline and suggest that even she could scramble eggs, but her stomach growled. Loudly. Chance glanced at her and chuckled.

  “Guess that means we’re doing breakfast. I’ll get washed up.”

  He disappeared into the tack room, taking longer than he needed so he could sort through his emotions. Boots Thomas didn’t trust him, and Chance needed to figure out why. The old cowboy knew who he was. Did the man also suspect why he was pursuing Cassie? He stared at his reflection in the broken piece of mirror stuck up above the sink. Why was he after Cassie? He told his brothers and father it was business. But last night turned it into something else entirely.

  Hell, he was falling for the girl. That was a big damn joke on him. Chance Barron didn’t fall for girls. Life with the old man convinced him that love didn’t exist. Lust? Oh, yeah. Lust was dependable. But love? With Cassidy Anne Morgan?

  “Damn, son. You are in so much trouble now.”

  Over the sound of running water, he heard Cass leave. By the time he joined Boots to lean against the hood of his truck, she appeared on the porch, ready to go. Buddy lazed in the shade. Boots moved to the passenger side and as soon as he opened the back door, Buddy leaped into the backseat.

  “No, Buddy. Get out.” Looking mortified, Cass ran to the truck and did her best to pull the dog out. “You can’t go.”

  “It’s okay.” He’d opened the driver’s door and leaned in to watch.

  “But Chance, those are leather seats.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Her mouth gaped. “Let me at least get a blanket or something.”

  “He’s fine, Cass. Just get in the truck. I’m hungry.”

  Her mouth gaped a little wider as she read his expression—and his double entendre. The tips of her ears burned as she flushed, and she ducked into the back before Boots got a good look at her. Buddy occupied the seat behind him, barking and looking pleased.

  Once they got to the diner, he’d have to keep a low profile and hope no one recognized him. Clay, as a US Senator, was always in the limelight and Chase made the tabloids on a weekly basis. He supposed Chase’s position as CEO of the entertainment and real estate arm of the family empire invited that sort of attention. Chance, along with Cord and Cash, did his best to stay out of the public eye. Maybe he could pull this off. Even though he was senior partner of his own law firm, he made sure his associates were the ones on the news.

  * * *

  Cass hadn’t been back to Four Corners since the day of her dad’s funeral. The warm pressure of Chance’s palm against the small of her back propelled her through the door. A bell jangled merrily, and heads turned. Jovial greetings rang out, and Boots stopped to visit with folks on the way to a booth by the front window. Nadine appeared with clunky ceramic mugs in one hand and a steaming coffeepot in the other.

  Chance settled beside Cassidy and as soon as his thigh brushed against her, it stayed. Moments later, a waitress appeared with glasses of ice water, cutlery setups rolled tightly in paper napkins and a metal pitcher of cream. Cass doctored her coffee from the jug, watching the thick swirls turn the rich sepia liquid in the mug to gentle café au lait. They ordered. They ate. And she leaned into the corner listening to Boots and Chance. As the old man quizzed the younger, she watched their expressions. Chance remained relaxed,
deflecting or answering the questions with good-natured ease. Boots, cynical at first, relaxed, as well. She could almost see the moment he made up his mind about Chance.

  Nadine returned frequently, perching beside Boots to chat, her laughter filling the awkward moments. Cass smiled but hid it behind her napkin. Nadine had a thing for Uncle Boots, and if she knew him at all, he was rather sweet on the woman, as well. To her knowledge, Boots had never married and she wondered why now. Her smile morphed into a yawn, despite the copious amounts of coffee she’d consumed.

  “I think we need to get our girl home for a nap, Mr. Thomas.”

  “Call me Boots, son.”

  Cass stared from one to the other, feeling as if an iceberg had just dislodged from a glacier. She would no longer have to justify Chance’s presence or dating him. The idea left her feeling dizzy. Were they dating? Or had last night just been a one-night stand? He’d stayed to help in the barn today, and he certainly didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. She wondered again what he did for a living. It paid well, whatever it was, based on his truck and his condo.

  Both men made a grab for the check, but Chance snatched it first. He left cash to cover both bill and tip on the table and slid out, offering a hand to her. A bit shy, she placed her hand in his. Strong fingers closed around hers and with a gentle tug, he pulled her to her feet. He refused to relinquish her hand, and weaving through the diner to the door proved awkward. But she didn’t care. Not one for public displays of affection, this particular PDA made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Outside, Buddy appeared from around the corner. He barked and jumped up on her, making her laugh.

  “Bacon breath? You are so busted, dog!”

  Boots climbed into the backseat with the dog, and she rode shotgun. Chance didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to hold her hand on the trip home, nor to kiss her in front of Boots once they arrived.

  “I’ll see you soon, darlin’.” His words whispered in her ear after the kiss.

  Cass resisted the urge to ask when that would be. Clingy and needy were not two adjectives she wanted added to her personal bio. Instead, she offered a wry smile. “You know where I live, cowboy.”

  * * *

  Chance sprawled in the overstuffed leather chair, looking far more at ease than he felt. He could see the reflections of his brothers’ faces in the highly polished surface of the mahogany conference table. His siblings ranged against him on the other side—all but one, and his face dominated the wide screen monitor on the wall. Chance studied them. Phones were ringing in Clay’s office and he looked not only distracted but uncomfortable, as well. Of those arrayed on the other side of the table, Cord was the only one who would meet Chance’s gaze directly. Chase had his smartphone out, thumbs flying as he texted or surfed the web or did something. Cash looked bored as he stared out the window over Chance’s left shoulder.

  “This feels an awful lot like an intervention.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, Chance.” As the oldest, Clay took the lead. He sighed, the sound not quite synced with his image. “I’m in the middle of the budget battle. I don’t really have time for this petty squabble.”

  A burst of laughter erupted from Chase, and he paused in his texting. “You callin’ the old man’s squabble petty, Clay?”

  “I am in this instance. Chance, you’ve stalled long enough. Just file the papers, foreclose on the place and get done with it.”

  “But you forget, Clay. There’s a pretty girl involved. I think brother Chance is letting his little head think for him.”

  Chance glared at Chase and jumped in before his oldest brother could. “You’re one to talk, bro. How many times have we bought your way out of woman trouble?”

  With a negligent shrug, Chase focused once more on his phone. “Whatever. But I’m tired of these command performances. I’m in the middle of negotiations for a new resort property, and I damn sure don’t need to be jetting back and forth.”

  Cash cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Look, Chance, I know you like the girl. Hell, you’ve been with her almost every night since you got back from Chicago. I’m betting she’s a pretty good—”

  Before he realized what he was doing, Chance reached across the table and grabbed the front of Cash’s shirt, his hand fisting in the folds of expensive Egyptian cotton. “Shut. Up. Cash. I know damn good and well you’ve been tracking me. That ends now. Today. You hear me? I’ll handle this. In my own way and in my own time.”

  “No.” The single word cut through the tense atmosphere. Cyrus Barron filled the doorway. “You will do this my way and in my time.”

  Chance released Cash and faced his father. The old man looked right through him. His heart pounded as anger surged up from his gut. “Why is this such a big deal?”

  “It’s a big deal because I say it is.” Cyrus stalked the rest of the way into the room and stopped at the head of the table. He stared at his middle son, and his face twisted as if he’d stepped in manure. “That old bastard died before I could settle the debt between us so I’ll settle it with his brat.”

  Wanting to pound his fists on the desk, or on his father’s face, Chance clenched them at his sides and breathed instead. Forcing his anger down, he looked for the right argument. If the old man figured out Cass was important to him, all bets were off.

  “Cassidy Morgan plans to sell the place and return to Chicago. She has a herd of cattle. Once they’re sold, she can pay off her father’s medical bills. We can buy the place from her with one offer and a certified check.” He didn’t back down from his father’s glare.

  Cyrus leaned over the table and jammed his finger into Chance’s chest. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from breaking his father’s finger.

  “Ben Morgan double-crossed me and stole something important. I vowed then I’d ruin him. It may have taken me almost forty years, but by God I will have my revenge. Now sit down and shut up, Chancellor. You always were the runt of the litter.” His father faced the monitor. “Clayton, you better have that damn Senate committee straightened out on the oil pipeline bill.”

  Chance sank onto his chair. Old taunts still hurt, but he wasn’t that little boy anymore. He opened his mouth to continue the argument but snapped it shut as Cord delivered a shift kick to his shins under the conference table. He pressed his lips closed and glared at his father in silence.

  “I’ve made a few phone calls,” the old man continued. “That should take care of it. Don’t screw it up, Clayton.”

  “No, sir. I won’t.”

  Cyrus cast his gaze on his other sons and missed the grimace on Clay’s face. Chance caught it, right before his father’s eyes zeroed in on him again.

  “As of now, Ben Morgan’s brat will no longer have a way to get those cows to market.” The cynical smile on his face spoke volumes. Chance braced for the other shoe to drop.

  “We’ll foreclose on the property, and she’ll be left with nothing but a crapload of debt. Morgan’s remaining medical bills are over fifty thousand dollars. We’ll come in, sell off everything lock, stock and barrel and throw her and that old SOB Boots Thomas out on their asses.”

  Chance’s gut roiled and he fought down a wave of nausea. What the hell was the old man doing? Cass had nothing to do with this ridiculous feud. His father was out to ruin a woman Chance cared about probably more than he should, given the circumstances. He bit his tongue and remained silent. He knew the old man too well, positive there was even more to come. His father pinned him with a cold stare.

  “Quit stalling, Chance. I sent you to law school and let you start a law firm for a reason. Now get those papers filed. I want the foreclosure a done deal and everything liquidated.” The old man’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “Well, everything but Legend’s Double Rainbow. That little stud colt will finally be mine, too.” His father dismissed him with a negligent
wave of his hand and turned his attention to the others. “Now, what the hell else have you morons managed to screw up?”

  Chance tuned out the conversation, stewing in his own anger. He looked up to catch Cord studying him, his brother’s expression both speculative and serious. He stared back. They were all chips off the old man’s block and where Chance had once had some pride in that, now he wondered. Why the hell did he try so hard to win this man’s respect? Forget love. Cyrus Barron only loved power and money. Yet Chance had spent his entire life trying to please the old bastard.

  “Blood sticks together, boys. And you’d all better remember that. No one takes care of a Barron but another Barron. The rest of the world doesn’t give a damn so why should we give a damn about them? Family is all that matters. You all clear on that?”

  Silence reigned in the void left by the old man’s departure. Even the phones in Clay’s office had stopped ringing. Chase pushed his chair away from the conference table, stood and presented his backside to his brothers.

  “Is there anything left?” He whewed dramatically as everyone chuckled. “Nice to know something’s still there after that ass chewing.” He turned back around and focused his gaze on Chance. “Do us all a favor. End this thing with the Morgan girl, get the job done and get the hell out of Dodge. There’s not a woman alive who’s worth the old man’s wrath.”

  Chance remained still, staring at all of them in turn. “This doesn’t bother any of you?”

  Clay’s exasperated voice issued from the monitor. “Since when did you go all noble, Chance? I don’t have time for all this crap. Do your job.” The monitor flickered to a blue screen.

  Cash and Chase, like the twins they were, walked out shoulder to shoulder without a word, leaving Chance and Cord at the table.

  “What?” He glared at his older brother.

  “Man, you have it bad.” Cord shook his head from side to side, his expression solemn. “You really need to get over this girl.”

  “Why? Tell me why we have to destroy her?”