Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(50)

“Yeah, it’s me, all right. I’ve been back for a couple of months now, me and Cody. We’re out with Mama at the old homestead—or at least what’s left of it.”

“Just visiting?”

“Nope. I’m hoping to stay if I can find a way to make a living. So far none of the ranches are hiring, so I’ve been waitressing at the Pioneer.”

“You? Waitressing?” He made a scoffing sound.

She scowled back at him. “What of it? I did it for three years in Las Vegas. It’s an honest living.”

“Not what I meant,” he said. “It’s just a damned waste of your talents.”

“Oh.” She smiled slowly. “Thank you.”

“What brings you out here?” He seemed suddenly wary, almost suspicious. He kept his head cocked at an awkward angle, as if to hide the damaged part of his face.

“Curiosity. I heard you’re raising some new breed of stock.” Unable to look him in the eye and lie, she dug the toe of her boot into the dirt. “I wanted to see the bulls.”

“You’re curious about my bulls or maybe you heard the talk and wanted a look at me?” He ripped off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Go ahead and gawk your fill, sweetheart. There’s not too many burned-up, one-legged cowboys ’round these parts. There’s even fewer who wear their asses on their face.”

Janice clenched her fists. She’d never wanted so badly to slap anyone in her life. How could he say such things to her? It hurt like hell. He’d lashed out, so she lashed back. “Then maybe that’s fitting, Dirk, since you’re acting like a complete ass to boot.”

He winced. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have no clue what it took just for me to drive out here. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve for weeks.” She was trembling with hurt, rejection, and rage.

“Why? Thought you couldn’t stomach the sight of me?”

“Just stop it!” She jutted her chin to look him squarely in the eye. “My reluctance had nothing to do with your injuries. I knew you were hurt and actually expected a lot worse.”

“That so?” His brows met and his mouth compressed. “You’ve been back two months and you’re just now coming around? Why’d you stay away so long?”

She swallowed hard, but it did no good. Her mouth was dry as sawdust. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

He clawed a hand through his short, sandy hair with a groan. “How could you have come to that f*cked-up conclusion?”

“After the way you disappeared from Las Vegas—”

“Las Vegas?” He shook his head with a derisive laugh. “Yeah, a lot of ugly shit happened in Vegas and a lot more afterwards.”

“What do you mean?”

“Grady didn’t tell you?”

“Grady couldn’t say much of anything for a while. He went out with you that night and came home with a broken jaw. What really happened, Dirk? And why’d you leave without even saying good-bye?”

He shrugged. “It’s history best forgotten. ’Sides, what happens in Vegas is s’posed to stay there.”

She chewed her lip. “Does it really, Dirk? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe not, but we gotta move on, don’t we?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said, her gaze wavering. “It’s why I came back. Cody needs a real home and I need a fresh start.”

“So you’re really planning to stay?”

“If I can make it, I will, but it hasn’t been easy. Mama lives on social security and her health isn’t good. She probably should sell what’s left of the place.” Janice gave a fatal shrug. “That’s probably what it’ll come down to in the end.”

He pressed a hand to the small of her back. “C’mon, Red. We’ve got some serious catching up to do. Let’s you and me go have a beer.”

“OK,” she replied. “But I can’t stay long.”

With a hand on her back, he steered her toward the bunkhouse behind the barn. Janice looked up at him in question.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with what’s going on at the house right now,” he explained. “There’s time enough for that bullshit later. ’Sides, you and me need some private conversation.” He opened the door and beckoned her inside. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“Home? Wasn’t this the bunkhouse?” Janice asked as she stepped inside. It was a typical log cabin with a clean-swept floor, scarred oak table, and leather-upholstered sofa and armchair angled next to the stone fireplace. There were several of the requisite mounted hunting trophies marking it as a male domain, but not much else. The room seemed strangely devoid of personality. “Why are you here instead of in the main house?”

“It was empty and I needed space,” he said. “I have a bed, shower, kitchen, and office.” He nodded toward a corner desk and laptop. “Everything I need.”

“So you’ve let all the hands go? Things are that tough?”

He shrugged. “It’s no secret. It’s tough for everyone right now. We only have a couple of part-timers left who come out as needed.”