Dirty-Talking Cowboy--A Kinky Spurs Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  Armed with the offer from Clint, and after making a call to a friend from high school who now worked in real estate, Shep stopped his truck in front of his parents’ house. On top of a small hill, limestone led to black accents that led to large windows along the front, and a dark-red door. His parents’ house had not changed throughout the years, no matter how wealthy they had become. The century-old farmhouse, with four bedrooms and a modest living room, dining room, and kitchen, was not the house of typical multimillionaires. The only big expense had been the renovation of the barn off to the left, with the large herd of horses grazing the field off in the distance.

  Shep sighed, returning his gaze to his childhood home. His father should have told him about his financial troubles. While Shep was not a multimillionaire, or even a millionaire, he had substantial savings due to the fact that his father had given him the land for his business, and maybe he could have done something earlier. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He forced himself to let the anger go. His father was not there to argue with or question, and Shep suspected this news was going to take the wind out of his mother.

  He exited his truck, the sun beating against his back as he trotted up the porch steps, moving inside the house. As always, he found his mother in the kitchen, a pot of soup on the stove, her jazz music playing softly from the record player in the living room. The house always smelled of home-cooked meals, her brand of love that she gave to them.

  “Now that smells delicious,” Shep said, moving to his mother before she could turn around. He planted a kiss on her cheek. “What’s on the menu today?” He took off his cowboy hat, placing it on the back of the kitchen chair.

  “Beef barley.” Jenny turned to him, wearing her apron with the flower pattern, her tender blue eyes regarding him, long salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a neat bun. His mother had aged well over the years. She always seemed to look happy, exuding warmth and love wherever she went, even through the darkest times. She waved the big wooden spoon in her hand at him. “So, you’ve finally decided to stop avoiding me.”

  Shep shook his head, giving a soft laugh. His mom always knew when something was wrong; really, it was a gift that in his younger years annoyed the hell out him. He moved to the fridge, grabbed a beer, then took a seat at the round oak table. After a big long sip to prepare himself, he said, “Come sit. We need to talk.”

  She studied him before she quickly placed the spoon on the light brown countertop and joined him at the table. “I thought you’d been avoiding me because of this new woman in your life. What’s wrong?”

  He ignored the former comment, sticking to the latter one. Leaning forward, he reached for his mother’s hand. “Did Dad ever tell you that the business was in trouble?”

  She slowly began to frown. “What kind of trouble?”

  The cold shock in her eyes told Shep his father had kept her out of it too. He didn’t understand any of this. Why had his father kept this to himself? “Bankruptcy in a year if we don’t do something about it now.”

  So many emotions rushed across his mother’s face, it was impossible to pinpoint how she felt. Most of all, he saw confusion, and that he understood. “Bankruptcy,” she eventually whispered.

  He squeezed her hand tighter. “Dad lost a lot of the old contracts.”

  Jenny placed her hand over top of theirs, glancing down. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

  “I can only guess he didn’t want to worry any of us.”

  She finally looked up, gave a sad smile. “I’m sure you’re right about that.”

  The despair on his mother’s face gutted him, and that was when he knew why his father had kept quiet. This. Her disappointment would have crushed his father. Like, it would crush Shep if he failed to give the life he wanted to give to his woman.

  Jenny took a moment longer, then, as usual, she pulled herself together. “What exactly are we looking at here?”

  “We need to find a way to breathe new life back into the company. Which would mean trying to find new customers since I doubt going after old customers will do us any good.”

  Jenny pondered. “I take it that would also mean you boys would have to help.”

  Shep nodded. “We won’t have the money to hire on new sales people to make that happen.”

  His mother eyes turned desolate, also revealing the second reason his father never said anything. To take away his son’s dreams so that he could keep his was not something his father would do. “Is that our only option?” she asked.

  Shep inhaled, preparing himself for this blow to her. “Before Dad passed, he was in talks with Clint Harrison.”

  Jenny’s brows rose. “What kind of talks?”

  “To sell him land.”

  All the color drained from his mother’s face, and she barely whispered, “What would happen to the business then?”

  “The business would close.” His stomach twisted.

  “Oh.” Her voice became low, head dropped, and she sniffed quietly, attempting to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

  She stayed that way for a few minutes, likely reconciling this all in her mind. He did the only thing he could do—hold her hand until she found her footing again.

  When she finally looked at him, renewed strength appeared in her soft, warm eyes. “I raised you boys here. This is my house. Our house.” She paused, her voice blistering. “But if you think it’s in our best interest, then I’ll move.”

  “The house was never part of the deal,” Shep explained gently. “Clint wants the land surrounding his farm for his cattle. We would still keep a good chunk of property that surrounds all our houses and the land my company is on.”

  Jenny gave a soft nod, withdrawing her hand from Shep’s. “What does Colin think of all this?”

  “He’ll stay on if we give him a reason to stay.” Shep paused, letting that sink in before he added, “This isn’t an easy fix, but I’m doing my best to look for an option so we don’t have to sell.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” She patted the top of Shep’s hand. “You’ll keep me informed on how things are playing out?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” She rose, moved back to the stove, and grabbed the wooden spoon. “Now, onto other important matters, tell me about this Emma.”

  Shep stretched his back, lacing his hands behind his head, not minding the subject change. “Which traitor told you?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Nash. His mother always protected him. She turned to Shep and waved the spoon at him again. “What matters is that I haven’t met her yet.”

  “You haven’t met her because I just met her.” He rose, moving to her at the stove. “If things become serious, you’ll meet her.”

  Jenny regarded him then scooped up some soup, offering it to him. “Why are you lying to me?”

  He blew on the soup before devouring it. “It’s good.” She stared at him intently, so he sighed and added, “I’m not lying to you. I don’t even know if she’s staying here in River Rock. She’s a city girl, who may very well move back to New York City. So right now, there’s nothing more to say than that.”

  Jenny stirred the soup. “Ah, I see, so you’re waiting for the bomb to drop to see if she’ll leave before you actually tell her that you want her to stay.”

  “Mother,” Shep warned.

  As always, she wasn’t deterred and pushed back harder. “I’m just saying that it’s been a long time since you and Sara broke things off. It’s time for you to get settled, start a family of your own.”

  “Mother,” he warned . . . again.

  “This house needs grandbabies in it.”

  “Mother,” he snapped sharply. “Enough.”

  She laughed, continuing to stir the soup. Not that Shep could really blame her for being excited that he had a new woman in his life. It had been a long time since he’d had a serious girlfriend. And Shep knew his mom secretly loved when they had girlfriends because it brought women into her life. His mother was al
so as tenacious as he was. When she wanted something, she often got it. By her own will, or by using any means necessary to make things happen her way. Knowing that, he added, “You’ll meet Emma, I promise. Just not now.”

  Jenny’s lips parted to object, and in that very second, Shep’s cell phone blessedly rang in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, damn glad for the interruption, and raised the phone to his ear.

  “Shep,” he said, grinning at his frowning mom.

  “Shep,” Emma gasped. “Please. Come. I need you.”

  Chapter 12

  Minutes had felt like hours since Emma ended the phone call with Shep. Last night she’d told herself that tonight she’d spend the night alone. To think. To get her head on straight. To figure out what in the hell she was doing with him and what she wanted. She couldn’t repeat the same mistakes she’d made with Jake. But after Harper went home, and she’d come out to do the afternoon feed, she had called Shep not out of desire, affection, or anything else, but straight up fear. She was sure her stomach had made its way up into her throat as she paced the fence where Tadgh ate hay from the trough, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, when in fact, everything was entirely wrong.

  In the middle of the sand ring, Bentley lay on his side, only moving every so often to lift his head and look at his belly. Emma wanted to run to him, help him, but Shep’s warning not to get close to him remained on constant replay on her mind.

  “God, where are you?” She kept her phone tight in her hand, not even remembering what she had said to Shep exactly when she called, only remembering her gasp of “I need you.” She did need him, badly, and so did Bentley.

  From her spot at the fence, Emma noted the sheen of sweat along Bentley’s neck. His head lifted again and he looked at her, then nuzzled his belly, obviously in pain. “Fuck this.” She planted one foot on the fence, ready to climb over, when she heard the crunch of gravel. She jerked her head left, discovering Shep’s truck barreling toward her, dust and stones flying up in the air. All her tension fled just that easily. Help was there. She lowered her foot from the fence, running toward his truck.

  Shep came to a hard stop and was out of his truck a second later, leaving the door wide open, jogging toward her. “What’s happened?” he asked.

  She met him halfway, grabbed onto his arms. In the strength of his gaze, the world got less scary. “It’s Bentley. Something’s wrong.”

  Shep turned and examined Bentley for only a moment. “Shit.” He charged the fence, soaring over it, heading straight for Bentley. Emma’s heart squeezed; Bentley was utterly soaked with sweat, his belly lifting and falling quickly with his deep breaths. Shep dropped to one knee next to him, stroking his neck, and Bentley snorted. Emma moved closer to where they stood, grasping the wooden fence with her hands. She couldn’t take her eyes off Shep. For such a strong man, when faced with a sick animal, he was shockingly tender as he ran his hand from Bentley’s head to his belly to his hip as he moved around him.

  He got behind him, giving him a firm push. “Come on, boy, you gotta get up.” He pushed harder, again and again. Bentley lifted his head, then dropped it back down. “Nah, buddy, this isn’t up for discussion. Get up.” Shep gave Bentley’s butt a hard slap then clapped his hands and yelled a couple times.

  Bentley got up to his knees, and a second later fell back down on his side.

  Shep’s gaze flicked to Emma. “Grab me a halter and lead, quick as you can.”

  The concern in his eyes, even the tightness in his voice, told Emma how serious of a situation this was. She took off running into the barn, grabbing the halter and lead from the hook on Bentley’s stall door, then hurried back to them. “Here,” she called from the fence.

  “Bring it to me,” Shep grunted, shoving his arms underneath Bentley, trying to rock him onto his feet.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Come. Now.” Shep grunted again, pushing against Bentley’s shoulder, all but trying to lift him to his feet. Bentley being likely twelve hundred pounds or more, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  Emma exhaled deeply then slid through the wooden bars of the fence, moving toward them.

  “Put the halter on him,” Shep instructed. “We need to get him on his feet. He’s colicking, and if he stays down, he’s going to die.”

  So many thoughts rushed through her mind. One, Bentley couldn’t die. That would mean the first abused animal she took in died. Which also meant she failed. No goddamn way. Two, the last time she put a halter on this horse, he’d sent her to the hospital. Though as she reached his head, staring into his soft black eyes, the cold fear vanished. Bentley was hurting, and he needed her.

  She breathed deep then did what both Shep and Bentley needed her to do; she slid the halter onto his head, buckling it up then clipping on the lead. “What now?” she asked.

  Shep dropped to both knees now, sliding his arms underneath Bentley’s side. “When I say so, pull as hard as you can.” He wiggled a bit more, getting good leverage. “On three.” His steady gaze held hers, making her almost believe she could do anything. “Ready?”

  She wrapped the rope around her hand, digging her heels into the dirt. “Ready.”

  “One.”

  Something pulled her then, a connection that had her glancing back into Bentley’s eyes. God, she remembered when those soft eyes fooled her into trusting him before. Though now, in their black beauty, she saw what Bentley must have seen in her before. She trusted no one when she first touched him, maybe that’s why he couldn’t trust her and had been scared. Her heart reached for him, this large, kind creature who she and Shep saved together.

  “Two.”

  She blinked, bracing one foot in front of the other.

  “Three. Pull, Emma.”

  She gritted her teeth and yanked the rope as hard as she could muster, a burn scraping across her hands. Shep let out a loud grunt, the veins along his neck bulging as he pushed the horse up.

  “Come on, Bentley,” she yelled, yanking harder.

  There was no other option than getting up and being okay. Because she had to get up every day and be okay. They’d done that together, her and Bentley, and they were going to be okay. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. That was the only way this would work.

  Shep began pushing Bentley hard enough to rock up on his knees. Emma yanked harder and harder, her heels digging into the dirt below, roaring, “Get up.”

  This time, Bentley rose onto his two front legs. Shep withdrew his arms, smacked the horse’s butt, and yelled aggressively loud. The urgency in his voice told Emma the situation had become dire. She didn’t know much about colic, but Grams had explained once that it caused an impaction in the stomach, which was fatal in horses if they didn’t get help right away.

  He could not die.

  She stepped forward, grabbed either side of his halter, and yanked, screaming, “You will not die on me.” Bentley’s nostrils flared. He looked so tired, so exhausted, but they couldn’t give up. “You need to fight.” Hell, she’d fought. She hadn’t let the dark cloud of depression take her when she lost everything. “Get up!”

  One hoof. Then another. And suddenly, Bentley was standing in front of her.

  “That’s it. Good boy,” she gasped, stroking his neck, then she remembered who she was touching. She threw the lead at Shep.

  He caught the rope in one hand, his chest rising and falling with the exertion. “Nah, darlin’, you’ve got this.”

  Her breath caught at the emotion in the depths of his eyes. She reached for the lead again, not even thinking about all the reasons Bentley should scare her. Shep was there. He’d keep her safe, and Bentley needed her.

  Shep smiled, nodding her on. “Go on, walk him around the ring, he’ll follow you.”

  Emma strode forward, feeling almost weightless, and surprisingly Bentley followed. Still exhausted, his head low, his hoofs dragging against the sand.

  With each step forward, something inside her that had felt broken befo
re suddenly didn’t feel so broken anymore. Because with every step, she realized they’d learned to trust each other.

  More importantly, she’d learned to trust again.

  * * *

  Cautious, and careful, in case Bentley acted aggressively toward Emma, Shep stayed back, giving them the space they both needed. Leaning against the fence, he continued to press his cell phone against his ear while the receptionist at the vet clinic said, “Alan is on his way now. He was out at the Maynard Farm, so it shouldn’t take him too long to get there.”

  “Thank you,” Shep replied.

  “Good luck with the horse.”

  Shep ended the call, returning his cell phone to his pocket. Emma led Bentley around the ring. When she drew a little closer, he caught what she was saying. “New York City is so different than here. I’m sure you’d hate it. You know, because you’re sensitive and stuff. But I really loved it. Growing up there was so exciting. There’s so many people, so much to do and see.” She turned around the bend and carried on, running her hand across his neck, gentle and tender and everything Shep knew her to be. “It’s really loud, always busy—” Bentley’s legs buckled a little.

  Shep pushed off the fence, ready to act.

  “Oh, hell no.” Emma yanked Bentley forward back into step, alongside her. “See, here’s the thing. You have to be okay, because if you’re okay, then I’m okay.” She stroked his face and Bentley dropped his head lower. “Me and you are in this together. You’re what Grams would have called a ‘bump in the road.’ You’ve been derailed, and so have I, but together we’re going to figure this out and be okay at the end of it. So, this colic nonsense really has to stop soon. That’s just the way it’s gotta be.”

  Shep smiled to himself, unable to take his eyes off her. Christ, this woman was special in ways he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was almost as if Emma had the secret to knowing how to love someone right. When she was on, and centered within herself, nothing or no one could avoid falling under her spell. Certainly not Shep, and apparently not Bentley either.