Song for a Cowboy (Kings of Country 2)

Emmy felt downright sick. Fired?

“Don’t listen to him.” Krystal hugged her. “Everything will be fine.”

Emmy wanted to believe that. But what if it wasn’t? What if her spur-of-the-moment act cost Brock the one dream he had left? Even though his accusation still stung and it would be awkward, she had to talk to him. She had to know and, if possible, find a way to make amends.

* * *

Brock kept his head down. The team was still on a high from their win—fourteen points up. It was too much to hope that his team would forget what had happened in the first five minutes of the game. It was damn lucky they’d won the game—everyone was in a good mood.

Everyone but him. Watching Emmy run onto that field had triggered something. He didn’t think or question or have any sort of plan beyond protecting her. He wasn’t willing to risk one or both of the huge Broncos going through Emmy Lou to make a touchdown. It wasn’t like either of them would have been on the lookout for a woman, or a kitten, on the field. Going after her, protecting her, was what he had to do—no matter what the consequences.

Once Coach McCoy was done with the postgame press conference, he expected Brock in his office. After the stunt he’d pulled today, he didn’t know what to expect. The whole country had witnessed his antics. Between the sports commentators’ comedic narration and the challenge that this year’s championship halftime show wouldn’t be able to compare to this, it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. His teammates would make the most of it. If he thought all the underwear was bad…

“Brock?” Russell leaned into the locker room.

Brock nodded, grabbed his bag, and followed Russell to Coach’s office—knowing every player, trainer, and staff member watched him go. Michelle gave him a sympathetic wave and a wink before she closed McCoy’s office and he braced himself for what came next.

“Sit,” Coach said.

He and Russell sat.

Dale McCoy sat behind his desk and stared at Brock for a solid five minutes before he said, “That little stunt you pulled? It’s a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine.” He leaned back, his hands behind his head. “Hell, the league could pursue legal action if they wanted to.”

Brock didn’t argue. He knew better. And in any other situation, he wouldn’t have set foot on the field. It hadn’t been a conscious decision—it was Emmy. “I’ll pay the fine.”

“No, hell no.” Coach McCoy laughed. “Hank King already paid it. If he hadn’t, I have a handful of people who would.” He leaned forward, pushing a stack of notes around. “Michelle says the phone calls keep coming in. American Feline Association, Black Cat Rescue Group, cat food companies. There’s more.” He pushed the notes aside. “I’m pretty sure the league won’t pursue anything. It was a damn kitten. Emmy Lou King. And you.”

Hank had paid the fine? He didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Can’t buy that sort of publicity,” Russell Ewen added. “It’s the feel-good story of the season.”

“I don’t give a shit about the fines or the publicity. Do you know what I do give a shit about?” Coach McCoy pulled off his cap, ran a hand over his head, and put it back on. “Getting your ass off the bench and back on the damn field. Your appointment is tomorrow. Let me know what Dr. Provencher says.” Coach McCoy sat forward. “And I mean as soon as you know.”

Brock left soon after. His phone kept vibrating the entire walk to his truck.

Connie sent a screenshot. Emmy Lou King, holding up the smallest black kitten Brock had ever seen. She had captioned it “Meet Watson,” with the hashtags #mommasboy, #loveatfirstsight, and #fearlessfeline. She tagged Brock and added the hashtag #myhero.

He stared at the image, saved the picture, and stuck his phone back in his pocket.

His phone vibrated again. Connie’s enthusiasm was a good thing, but right now, he needed a hot bath and a long sleep. He waited until he was in his truck to answer it.

It’s Emmy. Aunt Mo gave me your number. He stared at the screen. I’m so sorry about today.

Don’t be sorry, he typed, then deleted, then retyped another text, but instantly regretted hitting send. It read, Watson, huh?

She sent back a laughing emoji. It fits. And it’s a way to say thank you. Another text popped up. Krystal and I are also leaving a thank-you apple pie for you at Aunt Mo’s.

He put the truck in gear, his heartbeat picking up. You there now?

Headed that way.

He made the trip to the ranch in forty minutes. When he got there, no one else was parked out front of the ranch house.

“Surprise, surprise. I should have called you to get ice cream.” Aunt Mo offered her cheek for his kiss. “I figured you’d come running for the apple pie the King girls dropped off. Figured it’d be tomorrow.”

Dropped off. Meaning she was gone. He swallowed down his disappointment. He didn’t need to see her to know she was okay. She was. That was all that mattered. “You know I love apple pie.” Emmy Lou knew it, too.

“Go on and help yourself.” She smiled. “Plan on staying?”