Cowgirl Up and Ride (Rough Riders #3)(30)

Her lips curled in a cat-like smile. “Too bad you weren’t this honest the other night. I know just the place. Let’s go.”


Later that same afternoon Cord pushed back his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked over at his brother, who was doing more leaning in the back of the truck than working.


“Pull the lead out, Colt. I ain’t got all goddamn day.”


“Cut me some slack. I’m whupped.”


“Only reason you’re whupped is because you were up late last night f*ckin’ around.”


“Jealous?”


Not since he’d been doing some f*cking around himself, but no way would he share that with his smartass brother. “No. I’m pissed. You’ve been draggin’ ass more than usual lately. I’m sick of carryin’ your share of the load.”


“Some of us have a life.”


“Maybe I could have a life if I wasn’t so busy workin’ my ass off so you don’t have to.”


Colt straightened up and rested on the pitchfork. “Got somethin’ to say to me?”


“I’m sayin’ it. Show up for work on time, Colt. Not hungover, not f*ckin’ whinin’ like a toddler. And while you’re at it, maybe you oughta think about the fact this is a small county. Some of the sex shit you and Kane and Kade are doin’ with every woman in the tri-county area is gettin’ around and before long it’ll get back to Ma.”


“Right. Like you have a right to talk. Why do you think everyone says ‘them wild McKay boys’—you and Colby and Quinn wrote the damn book on bad behavior. I’m just sowin’ my oats, same as you guys done.”



“Wrong. I was done by the time I was your age.”


“Well, la-di-f*ckin’-da. I think you’re pissed off because Jasmine didn’t invite you to join in the fun and games the other night because you’re old and cranky.”


Furious, Cord jumped off the tailgate. “I’ll show you old. I’m gonna kick your smart ass, punk.”


Colt tossed the pitchfork aside. “Come on up here and try it.”


Just about that time, Colby galloped up on his horse. He reined between the two pickups and the two angry brothers. “What the hell is goin’ on here?”


“Ask Colt. Better yet, why don’t you ask him what he’s done today? Or yesterday?


Or all goddamn week?”


“Accordin’ to Cord, if you ain’t workin’ twenty-four hours a day, you’re a f*ckin’ slacker.”


“You’d know all about bein’ a slacker, Colt.”


“Enough. Both of you.” Colby’s horse stuck his head in the back of the truck bed to sniff for food.


“Fine. I’m done anyway.” Colt climbed in his truck and roared off.


Cord stared after his shithead brother, mentally cataloging half a dozen crappy jobs for him to do tomorrow.


“What’s really goin’ on with him? Why’s he bein’ so damn ornery?”


Cord relayed what he’d seen in the Golden Boot. “Only thing he cares about is gettin’ laid and gettin’ drunk. And if you think I’m exaggeratin’, ask Dad. He knows what Colt ain’t been doin’ around here.”


Colby sighed. “I did. That’s why he sent me. He says you’re workin’ too hard.”