Page 58 of Ride Me Cowboy

I keep myself as busy as I can while I’m waiting. When I’m not daydreaming about what we did this morning, I’m fleshing out the plan to turn Coyote Creek Ranch into a social media sensation. These boys are like something out of a cowboy fantasy, and with the right content, they could build a following in no time flat.

I know Cole isn’t into that kind of thing, but I can’t get the idea out of my head, and I figure if he just knew a bit more about it, maybe he’d let me get this up and running before I leave.

Unbidden, his parting comment from this morning comes back to me:think of it as my mission for the next couple of months to make you forget about him: a lot.

Couple of months.

As in, during the time I still have here. Because I’m leaving, when Reagan comes back, and that means whatever we’re doing has a guaranteed stop-point. An end date.

I’m so glad, because it means we can just relax let this run its course, without worrying about how and when it’ll end. No matter what happens with Cole and me, I’m leaving this place when this job’s up, but until then, I’m going to make the most of being here.

With Cole, but also, if he’ll let me, with flexing my marketing muscles a bit.

So, after I’ve done my necessary bookkeeping work, I focus on this proposal. I research comparable social media accounts, look at their numbers, their sponsorships, do a deep dive online to see if I can predict what each of those sponsorships is worth, then spreadsheet it all up. I’ve got no idea if money’s going to persuade Cole, but it becomes pretty obvious, pretty fast that the really successful accounts are raking it in.

Excitement builds in me as I start making a list of the kinds of videos we could produce. Short, snappy clips of the scenery, of the boys on horseback—my heart speeds up as I remember riding across the ranch with Cole’s arms around me, and now I can’t concentrate, for the way my heart’s racing.

I shut down the document and make my way to the kitchen, telling myself I’m not secretly hoping to find Cole in there. It’s deserted—disappointment makes a mockery of me. I pourmyself a coffee, and stare out at the trees in the distance, focusing back on the content suggestions I’m drafting.

I’m still staring out the window when, a few minutes later, a plume of dust kicks up in the distance, followed by a shiny black pick-up truck. Like Cole’s, but newer.

At first, I think it’s Beau who jumps out and starts striding toward the house, but there’s something a little different about this cowboy, from the way his clothes aren’t dusty and old, to a certain expression on his face.

That’s when I recall that Beau has an identical twin brother. Nash?

I only have a couple of moments to pull myself together—a familiar anxiety floods my system, bringing back memories of how much I hate meeting new people. Screw my late husband for doing this to me, for turning me into this person. And praise be to Cole for drawing me out of my shell, at least around him.

“Hey,” Nash dips his head when he walks into the kitchen. “You must be Beth.”

Well, that I wasn’t expecting. I blink, my mouth a little dry—a tension response I’m used to and able to mostly ignore. “Yeah,” I say, tilting my head once. “And you’re Nash, right?”

“Guilty as charged.” He crosses to me and holds out his hand. I shake it, as my body slowly returns to a state of normal, panic receding, because I’m here, in Cole’s kitchen, and I’m safe.

“I don’t know where everyone else is,” I say, apologetically.

“Cole’s in town, Beau’s at the bull pen, Mack’s with him, Caleb and Austin are on the property line, checking out a busted fence, and Cassidy’s still at school. Miss anyone?”

‘Cole’s in town’ is just about all I hear. Disappointment floods my system, because I’ve been counting down the minutes and he’s still a while away. Plus, now Nash is here, so who knows what that means?

“How do you know all that?”

He holds up his phone. “Family group chat.”

Putting aside the fact that’s really sweet, and something I didn’t expect, Nash being here is a definite spanner in the works of my whole ‘jump Coles’s bones’ plan.

“They didn’t tell you I was coming?”

I shake my head.

“Buffoons.”

I arch a brow. “It’s fine. I’m—I just work here,” I say, cheeks warm. “I don’t need to know the ins and outs of your family.”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that’s not really how we do things, Beth.”

His voice is so like Cole’s then that I do a double take.

“For as long as you’re here, you’re one of us. It’s how it’s always been, how it always will be.”

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