by Maisey Yates
Maybe if he did a good job organizing this charity thing, the town would have to realize that he had the ability to see something through. To do something right, to do something noble, even.
Yeah, noble wasn’t a word typically used to describe him.
Maybe, though...maybe he could get noticed for doing something good. Maybe he could change some things.
Everyone liked him well enough, but no one took him all that seriously. He wondered if that would change if the townspeople had any idea that he carried the same genes as the venerable West family.
No doubt it would, since the oldest of the West children had a fairly large scandal in his past, and yet the town never seemed to talk much about it. As though the influence of Nathan West was mixed into the mist, settling over everything. All-seeing, all-knowing.
But he had no claim to that name; he’d sold it when he was eighteen years old. A little bit of hush money to get his life going, to permanently separate himself from a man who had never given a damn about them anyway. It had seemed like a no-brainer at the time.
Now sometimes he felt a bit as if he’d sold himself. Pretty damn cheap, too.
And the Wests were part of the town—the mortar in half the brick buildings on Main Street. Jack felt somewhat obligated to slide under the radar. Oh, sure, he’d been a pro bull rider; he was a ladies’ man; he lived in the same town he was born in. The people paid him no mind, because they thought he was harmless. Thought he was laid-back. Thought he was haphazard, that he came by his successes accidentally.
They underestimated him, and he allowed it.
And he was pretty tired of it.
He jerked open the fridge and pulled out another bottle of beer before slamming the door shut again. Yeah, he was pretty damn tired of it. So he was going to put an end to it.
This charity rodeo was going to be a success. One of the biggest things Copper Ridge had ever been a part of. Maybe it would even be something that caught on. Something that was annual, at least here, if not in other counties.
It would be work. Hard work. And people would have to acknowledge that.
Hell, that was the entire point of his horse breeding operation. No one knew it. No one but him. But he was amassing a reputation for having some of the finer stock around, and he was most definitely gunning for Nathan West. To overthrow him. To diminish the man’s empire.
To meet the man at the top of his own game and beat him at it.
Maybe it was petty. To want something just so he could prove to the man who would never lower himself to call himself Jack’s father that he wasn’t just a little bastard brat who could be swept under the rug. That if he was given money, he wouldn’t just go drink himself into a stupor with it because he was poor and unworthy and didn’t know what to do with cash. Oh no, he was making himself legitimate competition.
And the old man had provided the seed money that allowed Jack to do it.
It was poetic justice, albeit private poetic justice, that he had been enjoying greatly for the past couple of years.
This would be just a slightly more public showing. The middle finger to his dad, a bid for legitimacy. A way to flaunt himself without violating their agreement. His dad’s dirty secret shining in the light, and even if no one else knew it, the old man would.
Yeah, he was all in. No question.
He turned and walked back into the living room, offering Eli and Connor a smile they didn’t see, since they were glued to the game.
“Since I’ve been a pretty awesome friend to you lousy pieces of flotsam and jetsam for the past twenty-some-odd years, I was thinking you could help out with the charity.”
“How?” Connor asked. “I feel invested in helping, if for no other reason than Eli and I saw the way that husband of Alison’s treated her.”
“Time donation, monetary donation, spreading the word. Whatever you feel like you can give.”
“You’ve got it,” Eli said.
“It will be good for your reputation anyway, Sheriff,” Jack said.
“Well, now you’re acting like I need to have ulterior motives to contribute to charity.”
“I’m just adding incentive.”
“Your pretty face is enough incentive, Jack. It always is,” Connor said.
“I’m flattered, Connor but you’re a married man, and I’m not a homewrecker.”
“That’s too bad. Liss is pretty open-minded.”
“If I took you up on what you’re pretending to offer, you would scamper into the wilderness and never return,” Jack said drily.
“Damn straight.”
“And I’d run in the opposite direction,” Jack added.
“Okay, that call was balls. There is no way this game isn’t fixed,” Eli groaned.
And after that, they didn’t talk about charity, and Jack didn’t think much about it. He didn’t think about Kate, either. Well, not much.
Sure, there had been some tension between them recently. But ultimately, she would always be the little mud-stained girl he’d helped distract while Connor and Eli had dealt with their drunken mess of a father.
It had given him a place to be, something to focus on besides his unhappy home.
The simple fact was the Garretts were more than friends to him. They were family. Connor and Eli were his brothers, a dream an only child like himself had never imagined could be realized.
Then he’d grown up and found out he had siblings. Half siblings, but other people who shared his DNA. At that point he had another realization about just how little blood mattered.
Colton West was his brother by blood, but he doubted the man would ever cross the street to shake his hand. He doubted the other man had any idea.
Connor and Eli had always been there for him. And they always would be.
Nothing on earth was worth compromising that over. Nothing.
* * *
THE LIST OF PARTICIPANTS for each event had grown. And thanks to Jack’s hard work it included several people from the pro circuit. Kate felt downright intimidated, she couldn’t lie. She was signed up to compete against some of the best barrel racers around, and even though it was just a charity competition, she felt as if it would be some kind of moment of truth.
About her skills. About whether or not she had an excuse to hold back from turning pro. About a whole lot of things.
She looked down and kicked a stone, watched it skim across the top of the fine gray dust in the driveway. She’d come out to get a ride in before the meeting tonight. Before Jack was due to pick her up and take her over to the Grange again. But she sort of felt numb, sluggish, frozen. Not in the best space to do a run around the barrel she had set up in the arena.
But she supposed she had to. She kicked another stone.
She hadn’t seen Jack since that day at the Farm and Garden. They had only shared one phone call, where he had rattled off a list of names that had made her stomach heave with anxiety. All the while, her heart had been pounding faster because of the deep timbre of his voice. She didn’t need professional psychiatric help at all.
She let out an exasperated breath and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets as the wind whipped across her path. She upped her pace as she headed toward the barn.
Her fingers were still numb as she tacked Roo up. She pulled the girth tight and checked everything over once. Then she leaned in and kissed Roo right over the star on her forehead. She inhaled her horsey scent, shavings and the sweet smell of the hay. It was like slipping into a hot bath, a moment of instant relaxation.
“Okay,” she said. “We can do this.”
She led Roo outside before mounting and taking it slow over to the arena. Roo was a soft touch, and it took only a little gentle encouragement to urge her horse to speed up. Then she let out a breath and spurred Roo to go even fas
ter, leaning into her horse’s gait, making the turn around the first barrel easily.
She wondered what her time was. She should have grabbed the stopwatch that was hanging on the fence. She leaned back slightly and Roo sensed the change, shaking her head and knocking against the second barrel as they went around.
“Shit.” She looked over her shoulder and watched it topple. So that was it. That was her run.
She slowed considerably when she approached the third barrel, then made an easy loop around it before stopping Roo inside the arena. She cursed again, the foul word echoing in the covered space.
She lowered her head, buried her face in her hands and just sat there. Feeling pissed. Feeling miserable.
“It was a pretty crappy run.”
She raised her head and looked up, saw Jack standing against the fence, his boot propped up on the bottom rung, forearms rested on the top.
“What are you doing here, Monaghan?”
“I decided to come a little early and see Eli and Connor. Neither of whom are here.”
“So you decided to come over and poke me with a stick?”
He lifted his hands and spread them wide. “No stick.”
“Verbal sticks, asshat.”
“Sure. I have verbal sticks. Why the hell did you suck so bad?”
“What does that mean? Why did I suck so bad? I didn’t suck on purpose.”
“No, you didn’t. But you can do better. So the question is, why did this run suck so bad?”
“I don’t think there’s an answer to that question,” she said, sitting up straighter on the back of her horse and crossing her arms.
“There is always an answer to that question. And if you want to be a lazy-ass rider, then the answer to the question is that your animal acted up. But if you want to get better, then the answer is that you did something stupid. Always put the control with yourself. Then it’s your fault when you lose, but then it’s up to you to win.”
“Are you going to have me wash your truck now?” Wax on, wax off.”
“I kind of am your Mr. Miyagi at the moment. Your flirting guru. I might as well teach you how to win rodeo events, too.”
“No one asked.”
“But I am the only one of the two of us who has competed on a professional level. And if it is something that you really want, maybe you should accept my help instead of being stubborn.”
“I’m not being stubborn.”
“Babycakes, you eat stubborn-Os for breakfast.” He wandered over to the open arena gate and grabbed hold of the stopwatch that was looped over the top rung of the fence. Even while he was here witnessing her failure, annoying her, she couldn’t ignore how damn sexy he was. The way his jeans clung to his muscular thighs.
Did women look at thighs? Was that even a thing? Or was it just a bad case of the Jacks?
“I’ll reset your barrels.” He walked into the arena and made sure everything was lined up, lifted the one she had knocked down. Then he walked back to the fence. “Reset yourself, Katie.”
She flipped him the bird while obeying his command. She had some pride, after all.
Then she shut him out. Shut out his voice, shut out his presence and focused. The horse started to move, and she knew that Jack would have started the time at that moment. The start was a little bit slow, and she faltered going around the first barrel. Then she shook her head, spurring Roo on harder into the second. That went better. But she knew she wasn’t at top time. Not even her own top time. She was too in her head, and there was nothing she could do about it right now. Not with Jack here. Not with that whole list of professionals she was going to be competing against in front of people.
Not when she was going to be faced with the undeniable proof of whether or not she had the ability to compete professionally and win. And down went the third barrel.
Kate growled, bringing Roo to a halt. She slid off the back of the horse, walked over to the barrel and reset it herself. “I’m gonna call it good now,” she shouted.
“Do it again.”
“No. I’ve done it twice—that’s enough.”
“Your horse can handle more than that. You know that.”
“I’m done, Jack,” she said, feeling a whole lot angrier than the situation warranted. But she didn’t care. Because all of this felt like a little bit too much. Because she wanted Jack, and yesterday, just when she thought he might want her too, he had walked away. He had walked away and acted as though it didn’t matter.
And now he was here again, getting in her face, treating her like a kid. He was the worst. He was worse than the run she had just done.
“Do you want things to go well when you compete next month?”
“No,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “I want to fail miserably in front of a thousand people.”
“With those skills, you will.” There was an intensity to him that was unusual. And it matched her own.
This was weird. All of this was weird. Sure, she and Jack sniped at each other, but this wasn’t normal.
None of this was normal, and she had no freaking clue what to do about it.
She turned away from him and started fiddling with the barrel position again.
“You going again?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said. “I already told you that.”
“Stop being a baby.”
She snorted. “Kiss. My. Ass.”
“I don’t think I’ll kiss it, actually.” She didn’t see his next action coming. Literally, because she was turned away from him. The sharp crack on her backside with his open palm didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell shocked her. “Now, get that pretty ass back on the horse and do it again.”
Shock, anger and undeniable lust twisted together in her stomach, forging a reckless heat that fueled her next set of actions.
He had too much control. She let him set the terms in the Farm and Garden, let him mess with her, let him ramp up her attraction and walk away. He thought he was the teacher, in everything, in all things, because he thought she was a kid, easily dealt with. Wasn’t that what all of this was? Just him dealing with an obnoxious kid. Teach her how to flirt, keep her out of trouble. No way. No more.
He had too damn much control, and he was too confident in it. She was going to take it. Now.
She reached out, grabbed ahold of the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, catching him just enough by surprise that she managed to knock him off balance and close the distance between them as she stretched up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.
She realized her mistake a split second too late.
She’d seen it as a moment to seize power, but what she hadn’t realized was that all semblance of control would flee her body like rats off a sinking ship the moment his mouth made contact with hers.
There was no calculation, not now. There was no next move that she could think of. There were no thoughts at all.
There was only this. There was only Jack. The heat of his body, the sensation of his lips pressed against hers. The fact that this was her first kiss was somehow not at all as important as the fact that she was kissing Jack.
And he wasn’t pushing her away.
He didn’t move for a moment, simply standing there and receiving what she gave him. But in a flash, that changed.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her hard against him, crushing her breasts to the muscular wall of his chest. So tightly she could feel his heart raging.
Somewhere in her completely lust-addled mind, she was able to process the fact that he was affected by this, too.
She angled her head, trying to deepen the kiss, wanting more, needing more. Just as she did, she found herself being propelled backward, released.
Jack turned away from her and walked about four paces before
whirling around again.
She felt cold. Shaky. She had kissed Jack. Actually kissed him. And for about two glorious seconds he had kissed her back.
And then he had...shoved her.
“Don’t do that again,” he said, his tone hard.
“If you’re going to slap my ass, I expect a kiss on the lips first,” she said, not quite sure how she was managing to keep her tone steady.
Her insides certainly weren’t steady. They were rocked, completely turned on end. But at least her voice was solid.
“Don’t...do that again,” was his only response.
“Why not? I thought you were going to teach me how to flirt. Doesn’t that fall under the header?”
“That falls under the header of playing with fire, little girl.”
Her heart thundered faster, her lips impossibly dry. “Maybe I want to.”
“Spoken by a girl who’s never been burned,” he said, taking another step backward.
“Spoken like a man who’s afraid I might be kerosene to his lit match.” Apparently, being stubborn and unwilling to back down handily took the place of having experience and confidence.
Good to know.
“We’re not going to do this.”
“Why?” she asked, not quite as pleased with the tone of her voice this time. She sounded needy. And she hated that.
Her mother had walked out when she was two; her father was a drunk. She’d never had the chance to be needy. Frankly, she didn’t like the way it looked on her. She was making a mental note to avoid it in the future.
“You know why.”
Because he thought of her as a kid? Because he wasn’t attracted to her? Because Connor and Eli would kill him and bury his body in a far-flung field? She didn’t know why, because there were too many whys. But she wasn’t going to go on. She wasn’t going to do the needy thing. She was not going to beg.
She had her pride. Sure, she’d never been kissed before today, but she had never really wanted to be kissed by any of the guys she had known. She would go find someone else before she would make a fool of herself in front of Jack Monaghan.