Page 60 of Ride Me Cowboy

He grins. “Ranching’s everyone’s thing,” he says, reminding me then of Beau. “I guess I just had other things I wanted to do, too.”

“Like?” I try to remember what he does for a living. I can’t recall if I’ve been told.

“Music,” he says, walking across the living room to the record player and pressing a button, so that same soulful, acoustic country song Mackenzie put on the other night floods the room. I vaguely remember Mackenzie humming this song, when she came out of her room, too.

“Is that you, singing?” I ask, staring at him, totally floored.

He shakes his head. “I’m a producer. I found this guy in a bar a few years back.”

“It’s amazing. Mackenzie played it the other night.”

Something shifts in his expression, but it’s gone again so fast I figure I imagined it.

“She loves this song.”

“I can see why.”

The front door slams and my heart starts to bang faster, against my ribs, before Beau, Mackenzie, and Austin walk in, mid-conversation, Mackenzie holding forth.

“Hey,” Nash says casually, as he stops the music from playing, throwing me a wink, like we’re accomplices or something.

“Nashua,” Beau grins, going over to his twin and holding out his hand. The brothers shake and sort of hug, in a big, manly bear way, then Austin shakes Nash’s hand. Mackenzie has disappeared onto her phone, checking something, looking to all the world like any other person her age.

“Hey, Mackenzie,” Nash says, over the sound of the other guys talking.

“Oh, hey,” she waves casually, barely looking up from her screen, moving to the couch and flopping down onto it.

The front door bangs and my poor nerves—which have been stretched almost to breaking point—pull harder, because itmustbe Cole. I don’t realize just exactly how desperate I am to see him again until Caleb walks into the lounge room, grinning and calling out to Nash, greeting the others. The volume levels go way, way up, and I take the chance to excuse myself, back to the office, which, by total coincidence, has a handy view of the drive, to keep an eye out for approaching cars…

Cole

Without a doubt, this morning with Beth was one of the best ways to start a day I’ve ever known, but the last few hours have totally wiped out whatever warm and fuzzy feelings I had zipping through me afterwards.

I stop the car at the bottom of the drive, needing a moment to compose myself.

Even before dad died, I never much liked going to the bank, but now, knowing how hopeless things are, it feels like just about the worst way to spend time. I grip the steering wheel tight, looking to the left, surveying the property boundaries that have almoststayed the same since my great, great grandparents came out here and set up ranching. There’s a small slip of land dad sold to the Callahans, but beyond that, this place isours.For a long time, being the Donovan’s of Coyote Creek Ranch has defined us, our family, and the thought of having to piece it up even more, selling parts of it off, losing the creek, losing the fields our cows need to feed.

I hate the thought of it. But with only six months left to turn things around, I have to start thinking of ways to make cuts. I need solutions.

I think about talking to my brothers and Caleb. Telling them the problem, seeing if we can’t put our heads together and come up with a solution. But every time I get close to opening my mouth, I see my dad, his face, his eyes—so kind and gentle—and know that I can’t do it to him. This place was his pride and joy. That same pride was built by his success, and how his kids perceived him.

It’d cut him up for the others to know about this.

It’s his secret, and he’d want me to keep it that way.

He gambled everything, and he lost, but he did it to help someone. He trusted someone he shouldn’t have. That damn big heart of his.

I start up the drive once more, but even the thought of seeing Beth leaves a rock in my gut. It’s not that I don’t want to see her, it’s that I don’t want her seeing me. Asking me questions.

She never knew my dad, and if she pushes this, I can’t say for sure that I won’t tell her. At the same time, it’s the last thing I feel like talking about. I just want to be alone a bit, to brainstormand process. To ride out and cover every square inch of this ranch until a solution bangs me on the head.

Which is a shame, because I’d completely forgotten about Beau’s barbecue, and the fact Nash is coming out for it. But as I sweep toward the house, his truck is right there, with that ‘Will Stop For Ribs’ bumper sticker plastered right across the back, beside another one that reads ‘My Other Car is Electric’.

Well, shit.

So much for getting some time alone.

I swing out of the pickup, my gaze travelling along the house, to the office, where I catch a glimpse of a familiar blonde head, and all thoughts of being alone evaporate like a dam in a drought.

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