Raising Kane (Rough Riders #9)(11)

Kane raised his beer bottle. “That would’ve been a D-plus.”


Kade laughed.


“Hey, I was extremely proud of the plus. Anyway, in addition to her kid, her daddy lives with her, so ain’t nothin’ happening. Like I said. I’m just helpin’ out.”


“How is Dash? You don’t have to like…help him to the bathroom and stuff?”


Kane shrugged, not entirely comfortable discussing the man’s private issues. He’d helped Dash last night, but the ornery coot hadn’t been any happier for Kane’s help than Ginger had been. Like father like daughter. “Not so far. Do you know why Dash moved to Sundance from sunny California?”


“Afraid to ask him?”


“Yes sir. And I know Ginger did some legal work for Sky, which means Sky told you.”


“And you want me to tell you?” Kade asked.


“Yep. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust, bro?”


Kade snorted. “Fine. Ginger and Sky got to swappin’ stories, bein’s they’re both from California.


Evidently Dash’s divorce from Ginger’s mother was nasty. The mother hired some high-falutin’ divorce attorney and she demanded all their physical property as well as excessive alimony. So Dash handed over all the real estate and gave up half of his future earnings to her for a period of fourteen years, until Ginger turned eighteen.” Kade swallowed a drink of beer. “Then he turned around and quit his judgeship, and signed on as Dirk Whitmore’s partner in Wyoming. The ex-wife was beyond pissed about the loss of income and refused to share custody of Ginger. So Dash was allowed to see Ginger for two weeks in the summertime—in California. That was it.”


Kane whistled. “Harsh.”


“Yeah. Makes me grateful we never had to go through any of that shit.”


“Daddy. You’re not s’posed to swear.”


“Princess, if you don’t tell your mama you caught me swearin’, I won’t tell her I caught you with her lipstick.”


Eliza immediately said, “Deal.” She yawned and crawled on her daddy’s lap. “I wanna go home. I miss Mama and my sissies.”


“We’re goin’. Get your winter stuff back on and me’n Uncle Buck will load Shep and his food.”


Seemed strange that the only ones who called him Buck were his nieces, his cousins’ boys, who he considered his nephews, and the kids in the Little Buddies program. The great experiment with changing his name to something completely different from his twin brother’s had lasted until the night he’d picked up a brunette in a bar outside of Gillette. Her continual cries of “Fuck me, Buck” and “Buck me, Buck” and


“Suck me, Buck” were enough to make him ditch the name altogether—not that it’d really caught on.


While they were outside, Kane said, “Can you handle everything Monday and Tuesday?”


“I guess. Gonna be a long weekend for you, huh?”


“Yep.”


“Before I forget, Colt said something about you pickin’ up the generators and takin’ ’em in to Brown’s Repair before we hit calving.”


“Why doesn’t Colt do it? It ain’t like I don’t have plenty of my own shit to take care of around here and I’m helpin’ out Brandt and the boys.”


Kade frowned. “I don’t know. He just told me to tell you.”


“Tell me,” Kane sneered. “More like command me. Asshole.”


“Whoa. I’m just the messenger.” Kade’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what the hell has been goin’


on between you and Colt the last month, but I’m pretty sick of bein’ the go between—”


“And I’m sick and tired of his—”


“Hey! Look.” Eliza stood on the seat and passed him a Ziploc bag of cookies through the sliding beer window—after she’d given one to Shep. “You can share with Hayden if you want.”


“Huh-uh, short stuff. I don’t share.”


“Mama says it ain’t nice not to share. Isn’t nice,” she corrected herself.


“How many bags of cookies you got stashed in your jacket so you don’t have to share them with your sisters?”


She smiled coyly and blew him a kiss. “Bye, Uncle Buck.”


Kane shook his head, charmed by his niece’s sweet slyness.


Chapter Four


Ginger woke to a spike of pain in her shoulder. Both her legs ached. Her hand smarted. Her mouth was dry.


Last night she’d only stayed conscious long enough to use the bathroom, eat more toast and swallow more painkillers.


And dream. Good Lord had the dreams been spectacular. All starring one hunky, built cowboy, who’d shed his gentlemanly persona right along with every stitch of his western clothes. He’d bound her. Gagged her. Tied her up. Tied her down. Spread her out. Bent her over. Displayed her body solely for his pleasure.


He’d demanded sexual obedience. He showed his bedroom prowess, demonstrating kinky things she’d only read about. So it was disorienting to wake up alone and realize she’d been hallucinating about the sexy gentleman rancher.