More Than a Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 3)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Jesus,” he said, because he knew she was right.

  Someone would find out about the tragedy that connected their families, and they’d use it generate salacious column inches and clicks. The Carmodys would have to deal with their private loss being commodified into headlines. Their parents’ photos would be dug up and recirculated.

  It would be awful. Hurtful and grubby and pointless.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to say anything, but then I was worried that maybe it hadn’t occurred to you.”

  “I appreciate the call,” Garret said, even though a part of him didn’t. The part that was exhausted and more than a little overwhelmed by the apparently never-ending shitstorm that had rained down on him all day.

  “I’ll call tomorrow and give you a progress report. I’m just waiting on a final statement from the bank and we should be able to start pinpointing some areas of concern.”

  Which was a euphemism, he knew, for being able to finally narrow down which of Tate Transport’s clients had received a bribe in order to sway a contract in Tate’s favor.

  “Thanks, Mae.”

  Garret let his breath hiss out between his teeth. He didn’t know what to do about protecting Sierra from the voracious appetite of the media. Obviously they could be super careful and make sure they were never seen together socially, especially in these early days while the press were still eager to tease out the details of a new story. But would that be enough? Maybe he could talk to Greg, find out what his best advice was for flying under the radar.

  He was still pondering the issue when he turned onto the street that led to the lake house. He frowned when he saw the cluster of vans parked around the entrance to his driveway.

  More press.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.

  He reached for his sunglasses, shoving them on as he slowed to turn into the drive. Camera flashes popped in his peripheral vision as he drove past the huddle of waiting journalists and photographers. What were they hoping for? Some kind of accidental slip of the tongue from him at the end of the day? Maybe they had their fingers crossed he’d get angry and give them footage of a rich angry white guy screaming at journalists through the open window of his luxury car.

  He’d never been more grateful for his father’s flamboyant taste in real estate than when the curve of the long driveway hid the press huddle from view. At least trespassing laws would keep them at bay and afford him and Sierra some security and privacy.

  He parked the car and collected his things before striding toward the house. Sierra rushed out the front door, meeting him halfway and wrapping her arms around him without saying a word. He let himself relax and breathe and made a conscious effort to enjoy the way she felt in his arms.

  This was what it was all about. This was real and worthwhile.

  Maybe it was because he was still jumpy from all the camera flashes, but some instinct made him lift his head after a few seconds—which was when he registered a low electronic buzz that seemed to be getting louder.

  Then he saw it, zooming toward the spot where he and Sierra stood like deer in the headlights, their arms around one another. A drone, hovering maybe fifteen feet off the ground, its camera glinting in the afternoon sun.

  He acted without thinking, bringing up his briefcase to block any view of Sierra’s face.

  “What—”

  “Head for the house. Quickly,” he said.

  He twisted so he could guide them, one hand holding up the case to continue blocking any view the drone might have, the other ensuring Sierra’s face was turned toward his chest. Half a dozen steps and they were beneath the portico. Four more and they were inside the house, the door swinging shut behind them with a muted thud.

  “Was that a drone? Were they filming us?” Sierra asked, pulling away from him, her eyes wide with outrage. “Can they do that? Isn’t that trespassing of some kind?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” he said, pulling out his phone with shaking hands.

  Shaking because he was suddenly filled with an almost overwhelming anger.

  This was too much, especially today. He’d been pushed too far and too hard and right now a very large part of him wanted to charge down the driveway and find someone to punch in the face. Preferably the piece of crap drone operator who’d just tried to steal his privacy and peace of mind.

  Alec answered on the second ring and listened to Garret’s terse explanation in silence.

  “You can call the police,” he said. “I have to admit I’m not up to speed on what the trespassing laws might be in regard to drones. I do know there was a recent Supreme Court ruling that suggests there is no implied promise of privacy in a residential yard. But the cops might still be helpful with moving the press on.”

  “So these assholes can just harass me at will? No charges have been laid yet, and my every move, my whole freaking life is up for grabs?” Garret vented, stabbing a hand through his hair.

  He was conscious of Sierra watching him, her brow furrowed with concern, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Him flipping out wasn’t going to change anything.

  “Let me ask around. There might be something we can do,” Alec said.

  Garret grunted and ended the call. Tomorrow he could feel bad about not being more polite. It wasn’t Alec’s fault, after all. But right now he was done with courtesy.

  He was done. Period.

  Sierra’s warm hand slipped into his. “It’s okay. It’s just a stupid drone. So they get a few shots of the exterior of the house and the tops of our heads. Good luck to them.”

  Her green eyes were steady on his, her mouth slightly curved at the corners as she encouraged him to see the lighter side of the situation.

  She didn’t understand. But she would soon. She’d read the articles that were popping up online, and she’d turn on the radio and hear Tate Transport’s name being dragged through the mud. She’d be identified by some intrepid reporter and all her family history would be spread out for people to pick over. She’d greet him night after night as he came home from days like this, weeks like this, years like this as he dealt with the fallout of his greedy, reckless father’s actions, and she’d bear witness to his rage and helplessness and frustration. Over and over.

  She’d understand what she’d signed up for then. She’d get the very worst of him and his family. The very worst.

  Looking into her beautiful face, seeing the love and concern there, he suddenly understood that he couldn’t do that to her.

  Even though everything in him wanted to cling to her, to the happiness and joy she brought to him, to the way she made him feel, it would be an act of selfishness of the highest order to subject someone he loved to the ordeal that lay ahead of him.

  Only an asshole would do that to someone they loved, and he had a choice. He could save her from all this—if he was man enough to do it.

  “Jesus,” he said, closing his eyes, his whole body growing heavy with the weight of realization. “Jesus.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sierra said, stepping closer.

  He opened his eyes and scanned her face, trying to commit to it to memory. Her dark-fringed eyes, the delicate swoop of her nose, her sun-kissed skin. He reached out and brushed his hand over her hair, feeling the cool silk of it slip through his fingers.

  She was so gorgeous. So smart. So funny. So damned brave.

  And he had to let her go, because he loved her and it was within his power to prevent her from walking down this dark road at his side.

  “Garret, talk to me. What’s going on?” she said.

  He swallowed and let his hand fall to his side. Then he took a step backward.

  “We can’t do this anymore,” he said. “We can’t be together.”

  She gasped. “What? No. What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that my life is a dumpster fire, and it’s only going to get worse. Once the details of what my father has done get out, thi
s thing is going to be a national scandal. Tate Transport is going to be dragged through the courts. We’ll be lucky if the business survives. And god knows what sort of charges my father will be facing.”

  “None of that has anything to do with us,” she said, her gaze intense, as though she could sway him to her way of thinking through sheer willpower.

  “I’m not putting you through all that, Sierra. I refuse to drag you down with me.”

  “You’re not dragging me anywhere. I choose to be with you. I choose to help you get through this. I’m not going to just walk away because things are messy.”

  He laughed, the sound closer to a bark than an expression of amusement. “They’re not messy, Sierra. They’re fucked. Completely screwed. We’re already hemorrhaging clients, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. My father’s probably going to go to jail if the stress doesn’t kill him. The Tate name is going to be mud. And I’m going to be neck-deep in all of it and I refuse to inflict that on you. God knows my family is not renowned for doing the right thing, but if I can save you from this nightmare, I’m going to do it. I love you, but we can’t be together. That’s just the way it has to be.”

  Sierra was already shaking her head before he’d finished. “No. You can’t make that decision for me, Garret. You can’t decide what’s right for me, how much I can handle. I’m not a child. I know it’s not going to be fun, but I don’t care. You’re the only thing that’s important to me.”

  “I know.” And he did. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and she would stick by his side through thick and thin. If he let her. If he was willing to do that to her.

  Her eyes widened. “No. Don’t say it like that, like the decision has already been made, like it’s irrevocable. I’m not walking away from you, you idiot. I love you. Don’t you get that? Love isn’t only about the good times. Love is about the bad times, the sad times, and all the other times in between. I’m not abandoning you because it’s going to get hard. I would never do that.”

  She was breathing fast, her eyes shining with emotion, and she was so beautiful to him, so precious. It would be so easy to cave, to tell himself he’d tried to do the right thing, but she’d overridden him with her loyalty and determination.

  But his love for her wouldn’t allow him to do that. Because that was the thing about loving someone—he was beginning to understand—suddenly her happiness and well-being were so much more important than his own.

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” he said. “I have a choice here, and I choose to cut you free.”

  “I don’t want to be cut. So fuck that, Garret.” Her chin came up and there was a martial, determined light in her eyes. It only made him more determined to stick to his guns. She deserved so much better than what he had to offer her.

  “I’ll talk to HR tomorrow and arrange a payout for what’s left of the time you’re supposed to be filling in for Jack,” he said. “I’ll write a reference recommending you to anyone and everyone. If you’d prefer not to fly the Bell home tomorrow evening, Mandy can arrange for a car to get you home to Marietta.”

  He headed for the kitchen, not giving her a chance to respond. He knew she wouldn’t give up easily, but he loved her too much to back down. This was the one good, decent thing he could do, and even if it killed him, he was going to do it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sierra whirled on her heel and chased after Garret. He was pulling a bottle of wine from the wine fridge when she entered the kitchen.

  “You can’t make me stop loving you, Garret. That’s not the way this works,” she said.

  Her shoulders were stiff with righteous indignation, and hot emotion burned at the back of her eyes. Not because she was sad or angry, but because she understood why he was doing this. He wanted to protect her. He was being noble. He was giving her an escape hatch to save her from the future that was bearing down on him.

  It was so very Garret to want to do that. His sense of what was right, his essential decency, was part of why she loved him.

  But she didn’t want an out. She wanted him. Whatever he was facing, she would face it with him.

  “I know that,” he said, pouring wine into two glasses. “The only thing I can control is the degree to which you’re exposed to the ugliness my father has created. So that’s what I’m going to do, Sierra.”

  He held her gaze as he spoke, letting her see his determination, how immovable he was, and there was a coolness in his eyes, a distance that stole some of the wind from her sails.

  He was so decided. Implacable. She’d never seen him like this before, with all his shutters up.

  “Garret. Please. You don’t need to do this. If you’re worried about the media, then we’ll be super discreet. If you’re worried I’m not up for some tough times, then you don’t understand me nearly as well as I thought you did. Carmodys don’t quit. This is it for me. I’ve been waiting twenty-seven years to meet someone I can give my heart to and I met him and it’s done. I’m yours now.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. There was such an air of finality to the two words and the flat determination in his eyes that her stomach lurched.

  “No. This isn’t happening. You can’t do this.” Hot tears slid down her face when she blinked. She wiped them away impatiently as she moved closer, grabbing both of his hands in hers.

  Somehow she had to make him understand. She had to find the magic words that would break through this shield he’d put between them and make him relent. “Garret, we can do this together. We can. Please, please don’t shut me out.”

  He didn’t return the press of her hands. He simply looked into her eyes and she saw that his mind was made up. He’d made his decision. He wasn’t going to unmake it. He’d decided this was the best, kindest, most generous thing he could do, and he was going to go through with it even if it killed him.

  She opened her mouth to rail at him, her hands clenching around his. Hot, angry, desperate words crowded her throat. She loved him. He loved her. Pushing her away was madness, especially when he needed her so much.

  Then she saw tiniest flicker of emotion behind his eyes, the briefest glimpse of what it was costing him to do this, and everything in her went still.

  Suddenly she knew that there was nothing she could say to him right now that would get through. He was in lockdown mode, under enormous stress, assailed from all sides. He’d had the day from hell, his picture splashed all over the papers, his home and business raided.

  She could argue and plead and beg all she wanted, but he couldn’t hear her right now.

  A memory came to her then of something she’d said to Eva when she was explaining why she wouldn’t let herself give in to the attraction between her and Garret.

  I need to be the easy part of his life right now, not another problem.

  She closed her eyes for a long beat. Then she released her grip on his hands and took a step backward.

  Because that was what he wanted her to do—what he needed right now—and she loved him enough to put his needs above her own. Even though it made her heart twist in her chest to even think of walking away from their brief, precious time together.

  It won’t come to that. He’ll snap out of this and realize he’s being crazy, that he needs me. That I need him. He just has to get past this horrible day and get some clear air.

  “I’ll fly you back to Marietta tomorrow night,” she said. Then she turned and left the kitchen.

  Every step felt wrong, but she forced herself down the hallway and up the stairs to her room. Then she sat on the bed, gripped her knees, and willed herself not to cry.

  Tears were not going to change anything.

  After a few minutes the urge passed and she took a deep, shaky breath. Clearly, Garret had a catastrophic day. She’d figured as much when she’d been alerted to the first news stories by her brother Jesse, who had texted her with a big capitalized WTF and a link to an article describing the simultaneous raids on the Tates’ private residence and
business headquarters. It had been accompanied by a photograph of Garret looking about as un-Garret as he could possibly get, posing next to a bikini model with a drink in his hand. She knew him well enough to see the discomfort in his posture, but no one else would. Everyone else would see that photograph and think he was an entitled, spoiled jerk, the perfect heir to his crooked father’s business.

  She hadn’t asked Garret if he’d seen the article. It was safe to assume he had. It was also safe to assume he’d had worse to deal with during the long hours he’d been at the office today.

  His life was in free fall, and his knee-jerk response was to try to save her from falling with him. Somehow, she was going to have to convince him that that was not his choice to make.

  Not tonight. Possibly not even tomorrow. But this was not over. Not by a long shot. She loved him, and she knew he loved her. The rest was irrelevant.

  It was early still, but suddenly she was exhausted. It had been a long, grueling day, and her nerves had been stretched thin even before Garret had made the announcement that they couldn’t be together anymore.

  She pulled off her clothes, brushed her teeth, and curled up in bed, trying not to remember how good it had felt to fall asleep with Garret’s arms around her last night.

  How insane that they could go from the fun and sheer rightness of last night to today’s stark, arid ugliness. A lone tear slid down her cheek in the seconds before she slipped into the oblivion of sleep, the only sign of weakness she would allow herself.

  The next day, she waited until Garret had left the house before going downstairs to fix herself breakfast. She found a thermos waiting on the counter for her. He’d made her coffee. The good stuff, because he hated the thought of her making do with anything substandard.

  She stared at it, emotion rising up her throat. Then she blinked rapidly and concentrated on making herself a comforting bowl of oatmeal with an extra helping of brown sugar just because.

  She caught a cab to the airport midmorning and spent the day finishing up any maintenance issues she’d noted and ensuring the Bell was in pristine condition, ready to fly as needed. At four she towed it out onto the pad and readied everything for departure.