Page 8 of My Cowboy Valentine

Red gasps, her face blazing. A look like that could melt the sun. But as a kid, I was on the losing end of it so many times I’ve built up a natural resistance to her heat.

Natalie whispers, “Sir, I don’t know if you should do that. Have you read today’s headlines?”

Everybody keeps talking about these damn headlines. “Send security in, and make sure he has handcuffs handy in case she resists.”

“Resists?” Red spouts, looking downright murderous.

“Yes, honey. If you have even half the temper you did as a teen…”

“Don’t you honey me,” she spits as the door clicks open behind her, and Ned walks in wearing his blue and black uniform. “Or bring up the past.”

“We’re engaged, right? I can honey you and talk aboutour historyall I want,” I spit back at her.

Despite his attempts to remain calm and expressionless, Ned’s face twists. “Ma’am, you need to come with me.” He reaches for her arm, but she pulls away with an aggressive huff.

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Looking over her head at Ned, I nod as his hand twitches on the cuffs.

“You would not,” she growls.

I raise an eyebrow, cocking my head with a shit-eating grin. My eyes narrow, and my face hardens. “Cuff her.”

From lust to retribution, the thick smattering of emotion condensed into a less than fifteen-minute meeting with Red has me rubbing my hands over my face and scrubbing my eyes with my palms after Ned removes her.

My heart pounds as I dial Billy’s number, leaving three voicemails before the call finally goes through and my long-lost business partner answers.

“Rowdy, long time no talk.”

“You better have an explanation for this, Billy, or I swear to God I’ll hunt your ass down and kill you myself.”

He chuckles, and I clench my teeth so violently I’m certain he can hear buckling molars through the phone line. “Did you or didn’t you sell your half of the company to Red?”

“I did.”

“What the fuck? I thought we were partners. What in the hell have you done?”

“Calm down, man,” he replies, which is the last thing I want to hear. I slam my fist into the large oak conference table with a sickening crack of my knuckles.

“Fuck,” I grumble under my breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” I scream. “You know I hate people like your sister. Big-city know-it-alls who treat us small-town folks like inbred idiots. Only she’s a hundred times worse because she’s one of us pretending to be something else! Disingenuous, inauthentic, presumptuous, egotistical… Need I go on? ”

“Don’t hold back,” he grumbles, a warning edge to his voice. I’m on the verge of crossing the line when it comes to berating his older sister. “But you’ve got to understand this from my point of view. I’ve never seen you work harder at anything than this fashion brand. You’ve put your blood, sweat, and tears into it,and when the investors came back with an ultimatum that you need more experience or associations in the fashion industry, I knew Lesley was our answer. Like it or not.”

“I’d rather have the whole line fail than this,” I counter, so furious my voice shakes.

“You don’t really mean that.”

I don’t answer, but he’s right.

“This is exactly what you need to get Jameson & Cash off the ground in style. And it’s what I need, too. I don’t want to be a part of the rat race. Never have. That’s why I gave rodeoing such a hard go. But working in an office? Sacrificing countless hours of my time, day in and day out, to keep up with the Joneses? It’s not my thing. I’ve tried to tell you this in a thousand different ways, but you won’t listen. So, here we are.”

I hang my head, a mixture of frustration and guilt flooding me. On the one hand, I wish Billy had more staying power and could get behind the brand. On the other hand, he’s right. I knew from the get-go that he never really bought into the idea. But I forced his hand, reminding him it was his idea to get into team roping. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner about this, man?”

“Check your email. I sent a message yesterday, but you never replied.”

“An email? You thought this news was best delivered by email? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Putting him on speaker, I flip through my phone into my email, finding nothing. “Which email did you use?”

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