Page 18 of Catch Me, Cowboy
Since when did he think like that?
He’d thought that way for a few weeks after being broken to the point the doctors told him he probably wouldn’t ride again. He’d announced he was through, but looking back, he half wondered if that had been to get his dad off his back… and maybe the concussion hadn’t helped his cognitive abilities.
Well, he’d set speed records healing, had done all of his rehab, bought a new vest in case another horse decided to smash him in the chute. Broken or not, he was riding in the Copper Mountain. If he didn’t destroy himself, then he was set to start the new rodeo season in October.
Chapter Five
Shelby set acrock of stew on the table and called her grandfather to dinner before heading to the cupboard for dinnerware. If it wasn’t for the slow cooker, they’d be eating peanut butter and crackers most nights, because neither of them had time to cook during their jam-packed days.
Things would slow down as soon as the snow fell. She’d stop training full-time and start pinching pennies until training season started again. She was usually able to get on during the Christmas season at one of the larger stores in Livingston or Bozeman, even though Gramps hated her making the drive. Money was tight year around, but she was doing what she loved and living frugally seemed a reasonable trade off.
“Gramps,” she called again.
Nothing.
She set down the bowls she’d just pulled out of the cupboard and peeked into the living room. Her grandfather was sound asleep in his chair, even though he and Ty had quit almost an hour earlier than they had the day before—possibly because Gramps had wanted to be there when her new horse arrived—the one from the ritzy ranch people.
Fine. The stew would keep. And if she left for her evening out in Marietta before he woke up, she’d prop a note on the table telling him where she was.
Gramps began snoring as she finished her meal. Shelby did her best to find comfort in the sound, although part of her wondered why, three days into Ty’s stint on the ranch, her grandfather was still coming home exhausted. Ty was supposed to be doing most of the work.
One way to find out was to ask.
She washed the bowl and put it into the drain rack to dry, then went to the kitchen window just in time to see Ty disappear into the machine shed.
Quarry sighted. She quietly let herself out the back door.
“Hey,” she called when Ty came out of the shed again and started toward the barn, his limp slightly more pronounced than it had been when he first arrived. He stopped and turned and her heart jumped as their gazes connected. He was so damned gorgeous, all hard lines and muscle.
Shelby shoved the thought aside. Parts of her couldn’t stop wanting him—the parts that didn’t know any better. The rest of her was still damned angry and hurt and not about to slide down that slippery slope again.
“Hi,” he said on a cautious note. It was the first words they’d exchanged in a day and a half.
“How’s the fencing going?”
“Slow. Lots of muck to contend with.”
“Are you letting Gramps do more than he should?”
He blew out a breath. “I’m doing my best to rein him in.”
“I thought you said you could make himthinkhe was busting his ass.”
“In the old days I could have.”
“What’s changed?”
“I think that he’s trying to get this fence done as soon as possible to get me off the ranch and away from you.”
Shelby stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
Ty gave his head a slow shake.
“But he agreed to this plan.”
“Probably because he knew it was senseless not to.”
“Meaning…?”
