Never the Cowboy’s Bride Read online

  “Displays!” Peter claps his hands and I keep my feet planted on the floor, even though I desperately want to jump up on the stage and press his palms together so he’ll stop doing that. “The first round is horses. We want your finest fillies. Or stallions, as it were.”

  “You want us to bring our horses in for people to vote on them?”

  “To show ‘em off and to have our panel vote on them!” By the look on his face, this is the best news Peter’s ever heard. “Our sponsor wants to see us all having a good time.”

  This is bizarre, to say the least, but I want that billboard.

  “The second round will be—of course—cattle.”

  A rancher coming in behind me cheers back. Cattle. Cattle, of course. Our herd is down to the last few head, but even if I don’t have a prizewinning cow...

  “I’ll be there no matter what,” I grumble.

  “We wouldn’t expect anything less.” This from Austin Bliss, who picks up one of the other clipboards and stands too close for comfort. “You Carson ladies are real winner-take-all types.”

  “What does that even mean?” I hiss out the side of my mouth. “You’re the one who dragged me over here.”

  He guffaws. “I didn’t drag you anywhere. I was helping my friend Hal. You’re the one who followed along like a lost puppy.”

  “Excuse me. I followed along like a person who has been publicly challenged.”

  Austin’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. “Excuse me? I’m the one who challenged you? You accused me of rigging this competition before it even started. How’s that for a public challenge?”

  “It was right there in the open.” I’m about ready to slam my clipboard back down on the desk, but then—Mrs. Howard is right there, watching me with her librarian eyes. I’m not about to do anything like that in front of her, not in her smart little blazer with a Paulson Public Library t-shirt underneath. I put it down gently instead, earning myself a smile and an encouraging nod from her. “You and Hal, standing together, talking about how he’s one of the judges—god, Austin, do you guys ever quit?”

  “Ever quit what?” He hands his clipboard directly back to Mrs. Howard, a smile lighting up his face. Austin doesn’t smile much, at least not when I’m around him, and yes, yes, I will admit it in the privacy of my own mind and nowhere else, he has a great smile. He doesn’t deserve a smile that great, that’s for sure, and I loathe the space in my chest that goes all warm and gooey at the sight of it. I will not, however, admit to anyone ever the way it makes me feel even lower. Lower than my belly button. Low. Way down low. “Running a successful ranch?”

  “Acting like the entire town belongs to you.” Anger and envy wrap themselves into one dancing hell-demon and shimmy up and down my spine. It’s so easy for him. It’s always been so easy for him. And now I’m all on my own, getting dragged into this stupid contest. “Acting like you need another feather in your cap.”

  He snorts. He actually snorts at me, though the snort doesn’t translate to another knockout smile. “A feather in my cap? Really, Brooke? Are you from the eighteen hundreds?”

  “I—”

  “Shh.” He puts a big finger to his lips. “Peter’s talking. If I recall correctly, you don’t like it when other people ignore the instructions.”

  I turn back toward the stage with such a red hot heat in my cheeks that I can’t hear a word Peter’s saying. Focus, focus, focus.

  I fail at focusing.

  The worst part is, I came down to the harvest festival opening ceremonies because I heard a rumor at the farm supply store that they were going to announce something big for this year. Before now, it’s always been the kind of event people attend out of a sense of obligation and probably procrastination—there are worse things, believe it or not, than standing around in the park and listening to the mayor praise himself for a job well done.

  I was all ready to hear some not-actually-big-news announcement. Like—they’re adding an extra concert to the festival schedule, something like that.

  Not a Complete Game Changer.

  Oh, it would be the best thing to win. It would be the best thing. My cheeks get even hotter at the pure, embarrassing desire to win.

  Because if I won...

  If I won, things at the ranch might just turn out.

  It hasn’t been easy, since my sister got married two weeks ago. I thought she and her new husband might move back to Montana. That was an insane pipe dream. Especially since she’s married to another Bliss. Yes. There are more of them across the country, a fact we only learned about very, very recently. Too recently. I still haven’t recovered from the wedding invitation, flying to New York, discovering there’s an entire branch of the Bliss family that nobody knew about, and then having her gift me the ranch at the reception.

  I should be grateful. She married Asher Bliss so that the ranch would stay in the family, but I thought that meant the two of us. But as soon as it was in her name, she signed it all over to me. Free and clear, she’d said. It’s yours to do what you want with.

  She moved to New York within the week. It was supposed to take longer, but when you really want something, it hardly takes any time at all. And she really, really wanted to move to New York to be with Asher. I mean, who wouldn’t want to set up house at a fancy resort on a lake called Ruby Bay? Who wouldn’t want to win this contest and show everybody over there what I’m made of? Everybody here, too?

  Oh, god. I’ve become that person. I’ve become a person who cares about winning this contest, just for the sake of—of what? Upholding my parents’ legacy? My dad almost put a stop to that through his obsession with marrying us off, but I guess that worked out for the best. Everly is happy. Everly is happy, happy, happy. And across the country from me. But that’s neither here nor there.

  “You don’t look like you’re paying attention,” Austin whispers in my ear.

  I hate how his breath against the shell of my ear gives me goosebumps. “How can I pay attention when you won’t shut up?”

  “Did you hear what the third weekend was?”

  “No,” I admit, taking a big step to the right so I don’t have to smell the clean, soapy smell of him, laced with some manly cologne that’s somehow not too strong. How does he smell that good? I’m not even sure I smell that good. “But I’m sure you were listening.”

  “It’s fall crops and craft items. Craft items. Craft beers, vegetable crafts—”

  “What the hell is a vegetable craft?”

  “Language, Brooke, we’re in public.”

  I could slap him, but instead I just dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands.

  “—see you back here next weekend for the livestock competition! The top three winners will be ranked and awarded and—”

  “Well, I’ve got work to do,” I announce.

  “You sure it’s worth your time?” Austin keeps his eyes on the stage ahead of us. “You know I’ve got this locked up.”

  “Oh, so you’re openly admitting that you can’t win in a fair fight.” Nailed it. “That’s very big of you. Now the rest of us can go home, and you can get what you always wanted—a nice pretty medal around your neck for doing absolutely nothing.”

  Chapter Three

  Austin

  “Come on, Connecticut.” I pat my horse on the snout. He’s been a good boy, following easily on his lead rope. Up in the hills, up to the crest that looks down on Paulson. My mother liked to paint this scene. But no matter how much I try to reminisce about the good old days, I can only think about Brooke Carson this afternoon at the ceremony. I’m not playing around, she said. Well. I’m not either. I clap a hand to the back of my neck. Still feels hot, almost feverish.“I need to take a dip.”

  The river’s not far off, in a stand of trees that runs all the way down through the hills, tapering off as it meets the property line between the Bliss Ranch and the Carson property. I can get her out of my head. I’ve done it before. Submerging myself in cool river water should help.<
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  In the trees I loop Connecticut’s lead rope around a branch that looks like it grew specifically for the purpose of hitching a horse and strip off my clothes. There’s a towel in my saddlebag for emergencies and I tug it halfway out, just so it’s ready. And then I wade in.

  The river is cold and clear and wide in the middle. It’s almost a pond at this spot, only the water runs faster than your average pond. It tugs at my waist and I curl my toes over the rocks at the bottom. Why not sink down and let it cover my head? Why not indeed.

  I go down on a big exhale and open my eyes to watch the air float up to the surface in big round bubbles. Why does hating Brooke Carson feel so damn complicated when in reality it’s as simple as anything could be? She’s rude, she’s tenacious, and she’s here. She’s always here. That stubborn woman hasn’t moved out of Paulson for a day in her life, and now I’m staring down the barrel of the rest of my life sharing a property line with her. It’s not good. Back in the day, our fathers used to be buddies. Now they’re both gone, and I’m never going to call her a friend.

  Which...bugs me.

  I blow out another bubble of oxygen. Why does it rankle? I don’t know. Maybe because my mother taught me to see the best in everyone, and to always be a good neighbor. She was always running out with a big ol’ salad for somebody coming home from the hospital. Everybody gives casseroles, Austin. Don’t be afraid to stand out a little bit. There’s no such thing as being a good neighbor to Brooke. She doesn’t want that, and I don’t want that, and I can’t even remember why. It’s been so long. Some disagreement after I left school, I think. But I’m not going to dwell on it at the bottom of the river.

  There’s a sound from up above, skidding across the surface, and it grabs my attention like a hook. Connecticut? I unfold my legs, put my feet on the ground, and stand up tall.

  “You.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Oh, shit is right.” Brooke glares down at me from the bank of the river, her mare’s lead rope in her hand. “What do you think you’re doing on my property?”

  Half a second ago, under the surface, I’d had a moment of peace and calm. I’d been on the verge of letting things go and getting on with my life. But the sight of her there, in those jeans skimming the curve of her cocked hip and those full lips pursed in a frown, lights me on fire all over again. Not even the river water can cool me down. “Your property?”

  “Yes. My property. Or were you not listening? You should really learn to pay attention, Austin.”

  I laugh out loud and damn do I relish the color that comes to her cheeks. “I’ve been paying attention for years. I know exactly where my property line is.”

  “Yeah?” She puts her hand on that hip, and I can’t help but follow the line of her arm to the nip in at her waist. I studiously ignored her black t-shirt earlier, but now I can’t help it—I’m naked in the river, and she’s on the shore, and there’s nowhere else to look. “Point it out for me.”

  “You’re standing on Bliss land.” I jab a finger behind me. “That pine back there’s just about on the line.”

  A slow smile spreads across her face, and if the water weren’t so damn cold I’d be having a reaction. That’s patently insane. I shouldn’t find anything about her attractive, especially not the sharp-toothed grin she’s giving me now. “You’re almost cute when you’re wrong.”

  “You’re almost cute.”

  She blinks—that’s the only reaction I get, but I see it anyway. It shouldn’t mean anything to me, whether she blinks or not, whether she hurts or not, and yet here I am, hanging on every twitch of her eyelids. “Get out of my river.”

  “I’ll get out of my river when I’m good and ready. Besides, you know as well as I do that no sheriff in town will arrest me for wading in the river. I’m allowed.”

  “You’re allowed to access rivers on private land if you enter them from public land.”

  “Why don’t you push your glasses up a little farther and say that again?”

  Brooke rolls her eyes. “You think I care if you find me intelligent?”

  “I never said that.”

  “I don’t know if you could say that. Intelligent is an awfully big word for you.”

  I pretend to be shot in the chest, because I don’t know what the hell else to do. “I never knew you thought so little of me.”

  “I think you should get on out of my river.” The smile dies off her face, and she jerks her head to the side. “Climb on out, cowboy.”

  Instead, I paddle backward, putting myself in the middle of the pond. My toes brush the bottom, knocking away pebbles from under my feet. “That’s not what you want.”

  Brooke cocks her head to the side, pursing her lips like she knows it does things to me. There’s no way she could possibly know that—I’d never say it to her in a million years—but it does. This time, even the cold water doesn’t make a difference. Damn, I hate her. I hate the way looking at her makes me feel, I hate the way she hates me so much it shifts every molecule in the air, and I hate the way I can’t remember how this disaster of a feud started in the first place. Over a decade, and I still don’t know. But now’s not the time for compromise. Now’s not the time for anything but making her feel off-balance, which is a tall order, since I’m the one naked in the pond. “No, that’s exactly what I want,” she says. “I want you out of that river and off my property.”

  “You want to see my dick.”

  The words cut through the air like a missile. I can practically see them shoving aside the oxygen on the way to Brooke’s face, see them land and the meaning sink in. Her mouth drops open half an inch, her eyes fly open wide, and that pink in her cheeks deepens to a scarlet red. I’ll be damned. That’s the thing that’s going to get under Brooke’s skin? That? She knows my dick is out—she has to. My clothes are right there on the ground, not ten feet from her toes.

  Brooke snaps her lips closed, breasts rising and falling with a big breath. “That is the last thing I want to see on this entire planet.”

  “Too bad, sweet thing.” I sweep my arms through the water and propel myself forward, back to solid ground, or at least what passes for solid ground on the riverbed. My feet make contact. Every pebble makes an imprint in my soles, which are suddenly as delicate as a newborn flower. The water moves every hair on the backs of my arms in its own unique pattern and somehow, I don’t know how, I will never know how, I’m half-hard even with the cold current pulling at my cock. Well—maybe that’s why. Maybe my dick has a thing for river water. Or maybe Brooke Carson is so hot she could boil an ice cube. “Ask and you shall receive.”

  “What the hell, Austin?”

  I’m moving slowly, inexorably, toward the riverbank. The only thing left is to decide where I’m going to land. I hitch one leg up to the shallows.

  “You said you wanted me out of the river and off your property. Well, the only way that’s going to happen is if you see me in all my glory.”

  “You could wait—”

  I look her straight in those deep gray eyes of hers. “No. No, I can’t do that. You’re demanding that I get out of the river. You’re insisting on it. You’ve said it several times. Which means you must want to see every single part of me. You’re dyin’ to see it. Just dyin’. I can see it written on your face. You’re an open book.”

  Brooke shakes her head. “I never said that, don’t put words in my mouth—”

  “You want to see my dick, Brooke,” I shout. “Just admit it.”

  “There’s nothing there to see—oh.”

  In mid-sentence I’ve leaped from the river and onto the bank in front of her, my feet landing hard on the sharpest pebbles known to mankind. I’m sure as hell not going to let it show on my face. I’m too busy enjoying her shocked expression. And I don’t miss—no, no, no, I don’t miss—the way her eyes dart down to the apex of my legs in spite of herself.

  I stretch my arms above my head. “Go on. Look. I know you’ve never seen anything like it before.”
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  Her eyes fly up to mine, cheeks a genuine scarlet now. And why, why, do I want to run my thumb over that color to see if it stays the same under my touch? Why am I getting harder the longer she looks? Why is my stupid mind filled with images of the two of us rolling around in the grass next to the riverbank? “You’re an asshole.”

  “I’m only giving you what you asked for. Several times, might I add.”

  I turn as slowly as possible and head toward Connecticut. I can feel her eyes on my skin, burning little points where her gaze rests—my shoulders. My waist. My ass. I know if I turn around, I’ll catch her red-handed. She can’t help herself. How could she? There’s nothing between me and her but the wind.

  The next thing I know, there’s a shuffle and a snort, a breeze kicking up in the leaves. Rain. Storm must’ve blown in from the south while I wasn’t looking. Thunder rumbles, far off, and Brooke smirks despite the blush that goes from hairline to chin. I bet it goes lower.

  “Stay off my property,” she barks. “That’s your last warning.”

  I tip a fake hat to her as the first raindrops land, pitter patter on the surface of the river. “I’m not scared of you.”

  Chapter Four

  Brooke

  When I was a kid we only had a landline phone in the house. The phone company had run the wire down the side by the kitchen, so my dad drilled a hole in the wall and installed it over the kitchen sink. My mom would lean over the kitchen sink while she talked. I can still see how her fingertips would curve over the edge of the basin. It was always clean, that sink.

  I still keep it clean, another task I have fully inherited from my sister against my will. No more landline, though. We tossed the old handset in the basement a long time ago. It makes absolutely zero sense to lean over the sink while I talk on my cell phone—there’s no cord tying me there, the way it did for my mother—but that’s what I do. The stainless steel feels good under my fingernails. I only wish it was more satisfying to punch in numbers on my phone screen. When I’m done with this call, I won’t even be able to slam the phone down. Oh, things of the past. I wish Austin Bliss would become a thing of the past instead of following me every damn place on the earth. The rain batters at the kitchen window. It’s a fall tantrum. Quick to explode, quick to recede. It’s already tapering off, moisture disappearing into the air. It’s been dry lately. This doesn’t put a dent in it.