Page 39 of The Cowboy's Downfall
He’d said he was taking them with him to see how far he could wind her up, then forgotten about them because the night had taken aDear Penthouseturn. He wasn’t about to give them back now.
Remi kicked his chair back and stormed out, leaving his tray on the table.
Fifteen minutes to seven. Nix dropped his tray in the dirty dish bin at the end of the counter and began to mentally prepare for the upcoming conversation with Peg. He’d hear her out first, then let her know once and for all that her problems were no longer his.
Remi waited outside, shoulders hunched into his leather jacket and the collar turned up to his ears. If he thought this was cold, he had an unpleasant surprise coming in a few weeks.
“Whatcha got in your pocket?” Remi asked, his eyes hot.
“What business is it of yours?” Nix fired back. No way could he have been able to identify that they were panties. Nix hadn’t held the small wad of colorful fabric up for inspection.
Remi’s expression turned ugly. “She’s seventeen, you asshole. She’s akid. That’s why it’s my business.” He gave Nix a shove.
Nix, caught by surprise, staggered a step backward before regaining his footing.What the actual—
Remi thought those panties were Taryn’s?
How ever Remi had reached that conclusion, Nix did not want to know details.
Remi took a swing at him. This time, Nix was ready for it. He grabbed the teen’s wrist, wrenched his arm upward behind his back, and frog-marched him into the toolshed. They didn’t need the whole ranch to see this.
He shoved Remi against the wall and got in his face. “Listen up, because I’ll say this once. Whatever Taryn told you about me isn’t true. I don’t know why she enjoys winding you up, other than that you’re an easy mark, but there it is. You, my stupid young friend, are being played. Sort out your lady problems on your own. Leave me out of it.”
“If she’s lying, then why do you have a pair of her panties?” Remi’s eyes narrowed. “You wanted me to see them. That’s why you took them out of your pocket while I was watching.”
Great. Fantastic. The sisters shared the same taste in lawn-jer-ay. He couldn’t go there in his head. His mind’s eye would go blind.
His patience expired. “Has it occurred to you that maybe women shop at the same stores? It’s not as if there’s a lot of options in Grand,” he said.
The fire died in Remi’s eyes, although some embers remained. He wanted to believe Nix, which was a good first step. “She says you’re smashing. Why else would I pop off? If you weren’t with her, then where were you last night?”
Remi was jealous enough to try and keep track of Nix’s movements. Thankfully, he had a curfew—strictly enforced—so there was no way he could know where Nix had been. Not for sure.
“None of your damn business,” Nix said. “But let me give you a bit of advice. If you can’t figure out yet that Trouble enjoys grinding your gears, then there’s no hope for you. She’ll drag you around by your nose hairs for the rest of your life if you don’t put a stop to it now. I tell you this from personal experience.”
Speaking of personal experience, it was five after seven. Chances were good that he’d missed Peggy’s call—which might be for the best, because Remi’s situation served as an excellent reminder that his nose hairs were also endangered.
He didn’t have to wait around to take calls from Peg. He didn’t need to jump when she said to. This was his day off and he could do as he pleased. He’d grab a wrapped lunch, saddle a horse, and head out for a ride. He wasn’t finished with Remi yet, though.
“One more thing—you take a swing at me again and you’d better make damn sure of your facts. You might want to bring a few friends. Otherwise, I’ll kick your ass from Grand to the Canadian border,” he said.
He stalked to the bunkhouse. Handy was putting his boots on. It was his day to keep the juvenile delinquents out of trouble. He was doing a lousy job of it, too.
“Missed your call,” Handy said. “Your wife’s gonna get the idea you don’t want to talk.”
Nix gave up on trying to correct him. He knew Peg’s status.
Shauna did too. And that was what mattered.
He got his heavy jacket, bear spray, and rifle, then swung by the cookhouse to pick up his lunch. After that, he went to the barn and saddled a horse. He chose one of Ryan’s prized Tennessee Walkers—not because he especially liked the breed, but because a Walker was good on the trails and had the endurance to withstand a full day of riding. He’d choose a quarter horse for cutting cattle. Most days, he drove a four-wheeler.
He spent the day in the saddle and came home with a plan. He’d move Taryn to Ford’s training team. Problem solved. No way would anyone ever believe Ford Shannahan was—how had Remi put it?—smashing a teenaged girl. Smashing things in a traditional sense, sure. Ford looked capable of taking on an entire army. But otherwise, it was a surefire hell no.
When he asked himself what would be accomplished by addressing the rumor with Taryn directly, however, he had no idea. It might be best to let it burn itself out. It wouldn’t take long for word to get out that she and Remi had a thing going, since neither one of them could keep their mouths shut.
There was a lesson buried in that.
He took care of his horse, ate supper in the cookhouse, and was back in the bunkhouse by seven. The guys were watching television, and he was reading a book when the phone rang.
