Page 31 of Rough Cowboy
The custom metal Walker sign dangles on one side of the wooden archway. The stone fence that veers off crumbles in places. Brown grass stretches for miles. I’m told that’s dormant grass at this time of year, which means it’s not dead, even if it looks that way. The city girl in me had no idea until I arrived in Texas.
“This doesn’t look promising.” Silver leans between the front seats as we rumble under the sign.
Sammy maneuvers around potholes in the twisting and turning dirt laneway. It’s past five, and the sun is beginning to set in the distance.
“It’s sixty-seven acres to call home.” Sammy slides off his sunglasses and tosses them on the truck’s dashboard. “The metal barn has an arena inside and an outdoor roping area with a return alley. Tack room, concrete pads, horse stalls, loafing shed, and water facilities. And that’s not even mentioning the camping area. What’s a little superficial fix-me-up?”
A littleis where Sammy went wrong.
I’m not sure if I was expecting the magnificence of their folk’s ranch or the quaint vibe of Wheeler’s place, but neither compares to the ranch we roll up to.
“Isn’t it great?” In a flash, Sammy is out of the truck, and yanks open my door. “Welcome home.” He holds out his hand and helps me out of the truck.
Silver stumbles out behind me.
“What do you think?” Sammy rounds the back of his pickup—the tailgate clambers when he drops it open.
“This is...a ranch.” I can’t exactly find the right words for this rundown house, broken barns in the distance, and overgrown property I’m now going to be calling home.
“This is a dump.” Silver is beside me.
I’m convinced he purposely rubs the side of his body against mine. What does he think is going to happen here? I’m not his little fuck toy, and he’s made it clear sex is all he’s interested in. Five months ago, that was me too. A part of me is jealous of his freedom and the fact he has a brother willing to take on his responsibility.
Sammy shoves his brother, stealing the lead with arms full of gift bags. “Don’t you remember this place in action? Bull riding, roping, barrel racing, goat tying. Our summers here were awesome. We could run around, camp in tents, and swim at the creek. This place is gonna be great again.”
Silver folds his thick arms over his muscled front. “How long has old man Walker had this place shut down?”
“Looks like a good decade plus.” I kick through the long brown grass and make my way to the stone walkway.
The tip of my cowboy boot catches one of the broken stones, and I stumble. Silver’s right there to catch me. He is relatively quick for his blitzed state.
His arm gently loops firmly under my breasts. His hot palm splays over my hip and simmers his handprint through the material of my dress.
The man might not be daddy material, but he knows how to boil blood for a woman.
“You okay?” His husky voice tickles all the right places.
It’s a good thing I officially hate him.
“It was a little stumble.” I put distance between us. A good few feet. “I’m fine.”
“Make yourself useful, Silver, and grab some bags!” Sammy shouts, almost at the front door.
Silver retreats back to the truck while I walk up the stone path.
Sammy’s in the house by the time I reach the threshold. The inside is dark and dreary, with paneled walls, wooden beams running along the ceiling, and a dirty beige carpet that needs to be ripped up. The foyer showcases a fully furnished dining and living room divided by custom oak bookcases hugging a brick fireplace.
I would think twice before sinking onto the old sofa or starting a fire.
“I thought you hired an interior designer.” I leave my boots on as I stroll to the kitchen tucked in the corner of the dining room.
It’s an ample space with an island and breakfast nook perched by a window. The oak cupboards match the bookcases and window frames.
“For the bedrooms, but I wanted to tackle the rest of the house myself.”
“Really? Why?”
“It’s been years since I’ve been able to work with my hands.”
