It Takes a Cowboy

Blair didn’t look away from him to judge Scott’s reaction to her words. “Do you understand, Jeffrey? Next time someone makes you angry—and it will happen again—I expect you to handle the situation very differently.”

Jeffrey’s eyes flared. “I’m just supposed to let him say whatever he wants? I’m not supposed to do anything about it?”

“I told you what to do about it. You come to me.”

He didn’t look at all satisfied with her answer. She suspected that she hadn’t quite convinced him he’d been wrong to lash out. She glanced at Scott then, wondering if a man’s perspective would help. Surely Scott would agree that fist fighting had been the wrong choice. “Scott? Would you like to comment?”

He seemed to have been waiting to be invited into the conversation. He looked at Jeffrey. “Why don’t you tell us what he said that made you so angry?”

Still looking furious, Jeffrey spoke in a rush. “Jason’s always giving me a hard time. He makes fun of me because I’m shorter than he is and because I’m new in town and because I live with my aunt. He said he heard my dad dumped me here because he didn’t want me, and he didn’t believe me when I said my dad’s coming back to get me. And then he said I’ll probably end up at Lost Springs with the other losers, and that’s why Aunt Blair was there for that auction thing, because she’s planning to send me there because she doesn’t really want me.”

Appalled, Blair struggled for words to tell Jeffrey what utter garbage that was. Scott spoke before she could. “Do you believe him, Jeff? That your aunt doesn’t want you?”

Jeffrey cleared his throat. “Well, I—”

“Because it seems to me,” Scott continued, “that Blair is happy to have you here. Look at all she’s done for you in the past week. She even got you a cat just because you mentioned wanting one.”

“I told Jason he was wrong,” Jeffrey assured Blair, as if he was worried that she’d been offended. “I said you weren’t trying to get rid of me, but he wouldn’t believe me. He just kept saying it. So I hit him to make him shut up.”

“The thing is that you knew he was wrong,” Scott said. “That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but—”

“What he said to you was vicious and unfounded, Jeffrey,” Blair chimed in. “And I don’t blame you for being angry. I feel that way myself. But you were still wrong to hit him.”

“Wouldn’t you have hit him, Scott?” Jeffrey demanded, obviously hoping for masculine moral support.

Blair held her breath.

“No,” Scott answered flatly, to Blair’s relief and Jeffrey’s obvious disappointment. “I never waste my time on jerks, and that guy is obviously a jerk. You’ve got better things to do than argue with morons, and you shouldn’t let them get you into trouble at school or anywhere else. Remember how we talked about keeping your own best interests in mind? Letting some dipstick sucker you into a fight or taunt you into doing something you know is wrong is hardly in your best interest.”

“So I should have just walked away?” Jeffrey asked, his voice subdued.

“Yeah. But with an attitude.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, I’ll show you. Blair, want to help me with some role-playing?”

She was willing to do whatever it took to help Jeffrey get the message. “What do you want me to do?”

He stood, hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and spread his booted feet in a casual pose. “I’m standing here minding my own business and you’re a jerk spoiling for a fight. Go off on me so I can show the kid what to do.”

“Go off on you?” she repeated uncertainly.

“Yeah. You know. Call me ugly or something.”

That was enough to make Jeffrey snort with muffled laughter and Blair smile wryly. If there was one word that did not apply to Scott McKay, it was ugly. But she made an effort to play her part. “Hey, you,” she said, exaggerating belligerence. “You’re ugly.”

He gave her a raised-eyebrow glance, as if she were a bug that had caught his attention with its buzzing. In a cool voice, he asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“I said you’re ugly,” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what’s that getup you’re wearing? You think you’re some sort of cowboy or something?”

“Whatever.” He turned his back to her and glanced pointedly at his watch.

“You’re ugly and your horse wears army boots,” Blair said, rather enjoying herself.

The look he gave her was chilling, though there was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice when he warned, “Don’t talk about my horse.”