Page 38 of Ride Me Cowboy

Something signals a warning, just from the tone of her voice, but I nod anyway. “He’s showing me how not to die on the ranch,” I say, light-heartedly.

“I’m sure he is,” Mackenzie says. “That’s what he’s like. A real good guy.”

I nod. How can I argue with that?

“He’s not like he seems, you know.”

I bite into my lower lip.

“All tough and whatever. He’s still cut up about losing his dad. We all are.” Her voice breaks a little.

“Yeah,” I say, ashamed to say I’ve barely even thought about that since I arrived. Even when I’ve seen for myself the subtlechanges in Cole whenever his dad comes up. The pride, the grief, the absence.

“I saw the way you looked at him, the other night, at the bar. I just don’t want him to get hurt, you know.”

My heart twists. “I’m not going to hurt him,” I lie, because maybe I already have. “I’m just here until Reagan feels ready to come back to work, then I’m heading home to New York.” The word ‘home’ catches in my throat. I clear it, quickly. “Cole knows that.”

Her eyes hold mine for a beat too long, like we’ve just entered into an incontrovertible contract of some kind. “Well, okay then. Y’all have fun.”

She heads back to the kitchen, humming again, leaving me standing there, looking after her with a frown on my face and a tangle of feelings I can’t even begin to unravel.

We run together every night for the next week. Cole takes his job as ranch tutor very seriously, evidently, because he spends half the time holding up his hand to bring me to a stop—not touching me, we’re both so careful not to touch—and explaining what different tracks mean, different sounds. I can pick out a rattle snake’s shake now, and a coyote’s call, too. I know where they’re likely to be, and when, and what I should do if I come across any of them.

I’m a good student. As with Christopher, when my life is in danger, I study hard and fast.

Cole surprises me with his fitness. I mean, he’s a big guy and he’s obviously very outdoorsy, but I still didn’t expect him to keep pace with me like this. He never complains, no matter how fast and hard I want to run, and I can’t help but feel a hint of guilt about that, because I know he gets up early and rides out. I saw him, a few mornings ago, when I couldn’t sleep and got up to make a coffee. He was striding off to the stables, and about ten minutes later, he rode past, in the distance, but I knew it was him, even just from his outline against the sky.

There is something about the way he sits in a saddle, the way he holds himself, that’s firmly imprinted on my mind.

I’m distracted so I don’t see the way he holds his hand up to me.

“Beth,” he hisses. “Stop.”

I do, immediately. There’s something in his voice that conveys danger. A shiver runs down my spine and unconsciously, I step closer to him.

“What is it?”

“Do you see that?”

I follow his gaze to the line of pine trees, about a hundred yards away. I shake my head. I don’t see anything at first. But then, there’s a movement. A shift of something, and a quick flash of light, like reflective eyes.

“What is it?”

“A cougar.”

“A what?” I repeat, bringing to mind images of the predatory cats I’ve seen on documentaries.

“It’s okay. But we need to go back to the house now. Nice and steady. Don’t run. Just walk backwards a little way, okay.”

I’m sure as heck not going to argue with him. I’m shaking though, as we pace backwards, my eyes flitting to the cows that are grazing beside us, fenced by barbed wire. But I’ve got no idea if that’s enough to keep the cougar out.

“Are they in danger?”

“Yes.” He sounds so calm. I don’t feel calm. And perhaps he senses that, because he reaches down and grips my hand, gives it a squeeze.

“It’s okay. You’re fine.”

“I’m not worried about me,” I say. “Well, I’m a little worried.” The truth is, with Cole at my side, I feel like I’m safe, no matter what. “But the cows…”

---