Karen Rock

A Cowboy's Pride


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face paled beneath his farmer’s tan.

      A heaviness filled her at the thought of the proud, hardworking Lovelands losing their land. It’d be devastating, especially for Cole, who’d sacrificed for it. He’d wanted it above all else. Even her. “I promise. It’s off the record.”

      “I trust Katlynn,” Boyd vowed. “She was almost family.”

      Almost. Her eyes stung at his staunch support. She would have loved to be a part of the tight-knit Loveland clan, so unlike her own.

      “If the public discovers our financial status, people will think Pa’s marrying another rich woman for her money.” Cole’s fingers drummed on the table.

      Tom stomped inside. “Who’s marrying for money? Sounds interesting.”

      “Just debating causes for the feud,” Katlynn temporized, and the tip of Cole’s boot touched her foot beneath the table. Her eyes flew to his, and she melted a little at the glimmer of warmth in their blue depths.

      “Throw in as much scandal as you can, and we’ve got America hooked.”

      Cole’s eyes narrowed on Tom, shooting sparks.

      “We’ll only report verifiable facts,” she hurried to assure Cole and Boyd.

      “And speculate on those we can’t,” Tom cut in, not helping at all. “And you’re right, Katlynn. We are in the middle of nowhere. Can’t get a signal.”

      “Could use the landline.”

      Boyd pointed to a rotary phone mounted on the wall beside a cuckoo clock as old as the house.

      Tom studied it a moment, then gingerly lifted the handset, turning it every which way. “Where are the buttons?”

      Cole lifted an eyebrow as the left edge of his lips tipped up in an amused smile, his silent “can you believe this” look.

      She flared her nose and scrunched her eyes, her old expression for “Shut it.” Then she flattened her lips to keep from smiling back at him.

      She was here to work. Not flirt. Especially with an ex capable of shaking her hard-won confidence.

      Tires crunched on the rocky drive outside. Tom peered through the window then whirled. “Good. The director’s found us. Mr. Loveland, would you show us the lay of the land? We need to scout the property for potential shots.”

      “You got it.” Boyd grabbed his coat and shoved his arms through its sleeves. “It’d be a relief to resolve the feud before the wedding.” Boyd settled a wide-brimmed brown rancher’s hat over his head. “I’m hoping to make us all one happy family.”

      “I should have said congratulations right away, Mr. Loveland.” She hugged Boyd and breathed in the comforting smell of his Old Spice cologne.

      “Katlynn, you know to call me Boyd. Could have been Pa if you two had worked out.”

      Tom’s openmouthed expression was quickly replaced by a speculative stare. “You were engaged to him?” He pointed at Cole, who rose to his full, towering height. “I mean. That’s a surprise. No judgment.” He backed through the door away from the advancing giant. “I’ll meet you outside, Mr. Loveland.” And with that, he scurried away.

      “Twitchy guy, ain’t he?” Boyd observed, pulling on his gloves.

      “Twitchy?” Katlynn almost laughed to hear the Hollywood power player reduced to those terms. Must be the Rocky Mountains effect. It put everything into perspective.

      “Pa’s got it right.” Cole’s boots clomped on the wide-planked floor as he neared. “Want me to ride out with you?”

      “No. Check on the heifer and calf after Katlynn’s finished her coffee.”

      “I’m done with it.” Panic rose at being alone with Cole. “I’ll ride with you.”

      Boyd’s gaze dropped to her designer heels. “You’re not dressed for the climbing we’ll be doing, let alone riding. Besides, you said you wanted to start interviewing family. Sierra will be in some time this morning. Daryl, too.”

      “Thanks, Mr.... I mean, thanks, Boyd.” She turned to Cole with a sinking heart.

      Great.

      Just great.

      Who didn’t want to rehash ancient history with the man who’d shattered her once fragile heart?

      * * *

      COLE MANEUVERED THE ATV around another rut a few minutes later, careful not to bounce the vehicle or spew dirt up at Katie-Lynn—Katlynn—since her dress probably cost more than he made in a month. Maybe two. Or three...

      What did he know about dresses?

      But this one looked expensive, like every inch of the new version of her he hardly recognized. Although, he had to admit she looked fine in the fitted black dress, her legs as long and sleek as he remembered.

      “I’m sorry to hear your ranch is struggling,” she shouted over the roaring engine, her smooth platinum hair now wild, whipping around her flushed face in a golden-white stream.

      “It’s not as bad as Pa made out,” his pride prompted him to holler back. Katie-Lynn was beautiful, successful and famous and who was he? A soon-to-be homeless cowboy with no prospects. Not exactly a catch by anyone’s standards, let alone a star like Katie-Lynn.

      Not that he was looking to get caught...

      But her knowing how low his family had fallen, financially, stung him hard.

      He had to turn the ranch around without selling family secrets to the highest bidder and risking his father’s happiness. And he sure wasn’t selling to the Cades.

      Katie-Lynn turned and mouthed something to him; he caught the word, “Foreclosure.”

      He shook his head, keeping his eyes dead ahead in case they betrayed him, a trick he’d learned from a childhood spent keeping secrets. Katie-Lynn, on the other hand, had always lived her life out where anyone could see it, the good, the bad and the ugly, open and unafraid.

      He’d admired that about her once.

      Loved her for it.

      Only now that trait might come back to bite him. If she revealed too much about their financial situation, shared it with the world, the Lovelands would never hold their heads up again in Carbondale, and his father’s chance at happiness might vanish if Joy changed her mind. He had to convince Katie-Lynn to back off the story.

      He peered at her, briefly, from the corner of his eye, taking in the delicate slope of her nose, the soft curve of her cheek, the rounded point of her chin, and his heart eased. Beneath the war paint, she was still the girl who’d held his hand at his mother’s funeral, who’d kissed away his tears and listened as he’d rambled, raged and ranted during the most difficult time of his life. They used to climb up an ancient gnarled oak they’d dubbed their Say Anything tree and shout their problems to the wind, speaking everything they couldn’t say to anyone else.

      Would she listen and agree to kill the story? Put him and his family ahead of her ambitions and career? She hadn’t before, but it was worth a shot.

      A couple minutes later he parked the ATV by the calving shed, hurried around to Katie-Lynn’s side and helped her out. For a moment he stared deep into her blue eyes, and his heart stopped, the birds silenced, the wind stilled, and the entire world narrowed down to just her and the feel of her soft skin against his. He breathed in her expensive perfume and recalled her clean, cottony scent that used to remind him of laundry hung on a line to dry. Fresh and full of life.

      “I miss the way you used to smell.”

      He realized he said it out loud when her long lashes—artificial and alien-looking—blinked up at him. “You remember how I smelled?”

      He forced himself to release