Cowgirl Up and Ride (Rough Riders #3)(53)

Kade retreated.


He knew Colt was out of control, but to see Dag like that? Totally out of control too?


Maybe Dag was drugged, or drunk, or maybe he just liked being f*cked and blown by a guy and sucking cock once in a while. Didn’t change the bottom line: Kade couldn’t live here anymore. The thought of moving back in with his folks at age thirty was more than a little humbling. Yet he preferred it to knowing what was going on down the hall.


Preferred it to wondering what the hell kind of kinky scene he’d stumble across in his living room in the middle of the night the next time.


He threw his clothes, boots, hats, CDs, electronics, and the few toiletries he owned in three suitcases. After grabbing his bedding, he stormed out, slipped on his boots, climbed in his truck and didn’t look back.


Two days later Cord clapped on his hat, loaded his pickup and drove out to check cattle before he started the dirty, daylong chore of haying.


But once he settled on the tractor, the problems of the day melted away. He focused on his task, allowing himself the secret joy of witnessing another cycle of Mother Nature.


Months back the winter snows melted, leaving what looked like barren ground. Then tiny shoots of grass poked up through the brown earth to make a living sea of green. Now he was cutting the first field of hay. He inhaled the pungent scent of alfalfa. Of hot dry dirt.


The smell of diesel and oil and overheated machinery and his own sweat.


This chunk of land was heaven on earth.


And the view. Lord, he’d never tire of the scenery displayed before him. White tufts of prairie asters and clumps of silver-green sage interspersed with cheat grass. The big sky ranging in hues from powdery blue to sapphire. The crested mountains in the background—towers of gray and black rock, shadowed stone. Ominous. Unyielding.


Constant. Comforting.


His gaze encompassed the treeless horizon only broken by scattered clouds and disappearing fences. This place was home. The only home he’d known, in truth, the only place he’d ever wanted to hang his hat. Took two long years of working on a fishing boat in Seattle to swallow his pride, mend fences with his dad and admit he longed to return to Wyoming where he belonged. The workdays were long. The winters were harsh. He’d never be rich even when he slaved every damn day. But he wouldn’t trade this life for anything.


Was AJ counting down the days to escape ranch work and the never-ending sink of time and money? Hours and days and years of being beholden to the weather and then to the cattle market?


Cord had little doubt she’d miss the land, the people, and the connection to both.


Folks who’d never had either would never understand that permanent sense of loss.


Once she graduated, would she settle down with a financially stable guy? Pop out a couple of cute kids? Entrench herself in the suburbs, drive a minivan and wear pastel colored tracksuits?


He snorted disdain. AJ was a horsewoman to the core. He couldn’t help but think marrying a man without her same love of the true Western lifestyle would be akin to a slow death. Would the lack of those necessary things in her life extinguish the light in her eyes and her soul over time?


Made him uncomfortable to think along those lines, but ultimately there was nothing he could do, besides offer to marry her. Right. Then she’d be more tied down than ever.


Despite her sweet words, he doubted she’d welcome a permanent tie with him—a thirty-five-year-old man with a kid. AJ was just starting her life and her career. She’d chosen him for a bed partner because he was safe. Experienced. And handy. It was inevitable their paths would diverge and veer different directions.