Sharp Shootin' Cowboy (Hot Cowboy Nights, #3)(39)

“If you feel that strongly, why don’t you just adopt a kid?”

“On my own?”

“Why not?” His nonchalance made her heart drop.

“Because I’d want my child to have a normal family—a mother and a father. We aren’t going anywhere, Jeffrey. We want different things now.” She wanted a family, but once more he balked at the very idea. It was past time to reevaluate her future.

“So you’re really going to leave?”

“Yes.” She exhaled slowly, almost in relief. Perhaps a new job in a new place really was the answer, and eventually a new relationship might follow. She’d held on too long. He didn’t love her any more than she loved him. It was time to move on.

“I didn’t think at first that I’d take the job,” she said, “but I can’t just sit by and watch from a distance while all we’ve worked for comes undone. And I’m tired of all the politics, Jeffrey. I want to do something for the greater good. You can wage your war in the courtrooms, but I’m taking mine back to the field.”





Chapter 14


Whiskey Mountain, Wyoming backcountry

“Goddammit, slow down! I need to catch my wind. The air’s so thin up here I can hardly breathe.”

Reid ground his teeth. It would probably help if you dropped about eighty pounds.

In their brochure, Everett’s Extreme Expeditions cautioned potential clients about the need for physical conditioning prior to a backcountry trek, but some folks seemed to think money took care of everything. This one was worse than most.

Frank Barstow had expected not just a private guide, but a personal pack mule. Reid. He’d been carrying almost all the gear since they’d left their lakeside base camp. Apparently, Barstow didn’t know the unspoken law among all outdoorsmen—you pack your own shit or you leave it behind.

They’d ridden the horses as far as they could, but that was about five miles back. The rest of the way was wild and rugged terrain, only accessible by foot. It was also all uphill, which made it the perfect habitat for the country’s largest wild herd of bighorn sheep.

“I dropped almost ten grand on this hunting trip,” Barstow continued to grouse. “We’ve been hiking this goddamned wilderness for the better part of a week, and I haven’t seen a single elk to show for all that.”

“You’ll get your elk just like you got your bighorn sheep,” Reid promised. “Or I’ll refund half your money.”

Jared would shit a brick if he heard that promise, but Reid was damned tired of rich *s who treated hunting guides like lesser beings. He’d been home three months, but he was wrong to think he’d be able to slip right back into his old life. They all expected it though. He was resentful about playing babysitter to begin with, but it was only getting harder to keep his mouth shut and temper in check—especially with Barstow.

He was a big man with a ginger-colored beard who reminded Reid all too much of a certain Austin Powers’ henchman with the same initials. He’d told Reid to call him FB, but Reid secretly thought of him as “Fat Bastard” ever since.

Reid dropped his pack and pulled out two water bottles, offering one to FB who waved it aside with a grunt, only to pull out a flask of Scotch instead. The guy drank like a fish. Reid hoped the man wouldn’t have a coronary before the trip was over. He didn’t know how the hell he’d get FB back down the mountain if he did.

“We’ve got about another half mile and then we’ll make camp up on that ridge.” Reid pointed up ahead. “There’s a gorge down below where the elk come for water. We might catch some of them at dusk, but the best time is gonna be right before sunup.”

That was the second problem. Fat Bastard liked to eat and sleep. While Reid was used to hitting the trail with a thermos of instant coffee and a wad of beef jerky in his pack, FB refused to budge before breakfast. Eggs—sunny-side up with no brown around the edges. That’s right. He was camp cook now too. Went along with the private guide gig.

Two more days, he reminded himself, and then he’d take a few off. Maybe get away for some badly needed R & R. Tonya was slowly wearing him down to go away with her to Chico Hot Springs. He’d avoided giving her any answer for as long as he could. He was still trying to get his head straight.

He didn’t love her. Didn’t know if he ever could, but she was an old friend of the family, a decent companion, and keen to get back together. They had a lot in common, and he was damned tired of being alone. He was on the wrong side of thirty now and wanting to settle down. Hell, the way things were going, he’d probably be digging out her old engagement ring before year’s end. That was a dangerous thought.

“You rested?” he prodded FB. “We don’t have much daylight. Maybe another hour or two, and we still need to set up camp. If we move it along, we can try and spot some of those elk.”

It took nearly an act of God to get FB moving before sunup, but by the time its rays were melting the shadows, they were in position overlooking the river below. Reid peered through his glasses into the tree line. Just as he’d hoped, several elk were emerging to drink.

“You’re in luck, Barstow.” He handed him the field glasses. “There’s a six-point bull down there with your name on it.”

“Where? I don’t see it.”