Hard-Riding Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 3)

That’s where they differed. Megan loved working and getting her hands dirty. She liked being right in there with her team. Dad was more of a reap-the-rewards type of guy.

She kept silent on that. Dad was he who he was. Which was precisely why she never worked for him.

Dad finally replaced his hat then looked at Megan. For a long time. “What?” She laughed.

He cocked his head, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Everything okay? You look”—he studied her intently—“different. Can’t quite put a finger on it.”

She forced herself to sit still, not squirm under his careful regard. Oh, yeah, she was different. But she couldn’t tell him about it. “Different how?”

Dad crossed his arms. “New hair?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Same hair.”

“New clothes?”

“Not that either.” She smiled softly.

He stared a moment longer then shrugged. “Then I don’t know what it is.” He rose from his chair and pressed another kiss to her head. “But I sure am glad you’re home for a visit.”

Her heart warmed, giving her the peace she’d hoped to find by coming to the farm this morning. Sometimes home was the best place to be.

As she parted her lips to respond, a sudden furious voice cut through the silence. “You goddamn prick.”

Her stomach rolled a little with mixed emotions, nervousness and worry, when she turned to find Nash dismounting his horse. Next to him was Beckett, a guy from high school who ran in the same circle of friends she and Nash had while growing up.

“Excuse me?” Dad glared.

“Don’t even try to play coy.” Nash closed the distance and pointed at her father. “You sonuvabitch.”

Megan sighed and rose, trotting down the steps, getting between them. “What’s wrong?” she asked Nash calmly.

Nash’s gaze flicked to Dad. “You going to tell her?”

Dad squared his shoulders. “I have no idea what you’re going on about, boy.”

Megan glanced over her shoulder and sighed. Again. Dad might as well have given Nash the finger every time he said boy. The tone of his voice was so condescending, even she cringed.

Something Nash noticed too. The careful control he had slipped for a moment, and intense rage seeped into his gaze. “Are you honestly going to tell me you’re not behind cutting our fence and releasing our cattle onto your property, so the guests would miss the run this morning?”

Dad snorted. “That is ridiculous.”

“You will not get our land, Harrison,” Nash growled, the veins on the sides of his neck looking about a second from bursting. “Not one fucking piece of it.”

Megan considered getting on a jet and going somewhere tropical and never coming back.

While she hoped her father had nothing to do with this, she also studied him, looking for any signs he was lying. Truth be told, he probably would do something as dirty as make the guest ranch fail to put the Blackshaws in the position of having to sell their land to him. That was without question. To everyone in River Rock, Clint Harrison was a cutthroat businessman. She had seen that side to him growing up. The thing was, he was also her daddy, and she loved him. The hard, terrible side of him was not the side he showed her. Ever.

The long, loaded silence was finally broken with Dad’s scoff. “I don’t need your land.”

“Bullshit,” Nash practically spat, taking a step forward, his gaze throwing daggers at Clint’s head. “It’s never enough for you, is it? First, you steal our clients. Now this.” Nash leaned in and gave a look promising death. “Blackshaw land stays with us. Always. You won’t get any of it. No matter how much you try and sink us.”

Sure, the implications of what Nash said rippled across her, but Megan remained stuck on the hatred shining in Nash’s eyes. Hatred that had been born when he was a child and had only worsened over the years. Hatred that was the very thing that stood in the way of allowing her heart to have what it so desperately wanted.

Nash.

She had no doubt he would never overlook the longtime fight between the families. Nash was too proud and too angry. Megan had yet to figure out if he was most pissed about Blackshaw Cattle losing its prestigious position as the top cattle ranch in River Rock. Or if he was angry about the spine injury that had cost him his career as a professional bull rider. But in the end, the family animosity couldn’t be overlooked. How could she choose between her father and the man who held her heart?

“I will not repeat myself,” Dad said slowly, with a hard warning. “Get off my property. Come here again and sputter these insults at me, and I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”