Hard-Riding Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 3)

He rested his hands on the horn of his saddle. “I’m a lucky man. I get to stare at one helluva gorgeous view.” He winked.

She laughed softly, accepting his compliment. “I don’t do stuff like this enough. I can’t even think of the last time I jumped on a horse and rode. I’m really glad I stopped by right in the nick of time.”

He inclined his head. “I’m glad you’re here, Freckles.” Hell, this was pure selfishness on his part. He wanted to see her today. And with her working at night, and him working days, he knew he wouldn’t see her unless he went into the bar. That wasn’t enough for him. Not anymore. More and more, he felt tugged to get closer to her.

A cough came behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, finding the guests following him down the trail, with the chuckwagon rocking against the uneven ground they rode along. Ahead of him, Gus ran in front of the horses, well aware that once they got there, the guests would likely give him food. In fact, they’d been giving him so much food lately, Nash had to cut back his dog food. He was too cute for his own good.

With the sweet smile on Megan’s face as his only focus, Nash kept silent for the rest of the ride, giving her the peace he often found out on these rides. Because something was on her mind. Her silence told him that.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the edge of the cliff and Nash dismounted, a few drips of sweat running down the side of his cheek. The sun was hot enough to cook an egg on a rock. He wiped the sweat away and tied Bentley to the metal posts offering shade that he’d installed beneath the trees when he came up with this idea for the cookout. He took Major’s reins from Megan after she dismounted and tied him next to Bentley.

“Tie up your mounts here,” Beckett called to the guests, “then follow me to the lookout while lunch is prepared.” He turned to Nash and tipped his head with a grin.

Nash returned the smile. Showing the guests the gorgeous views of Blackshaw land had always been Nash’s job on the chuckwagon lunch. Nash owed Beckett a beer.

He removed his chaps, draping them over his saddle, then turned back to Megan, finding her heading in the opposite direction from where the guests were going, with Gus following her, his tail wagging. Nash passed the chuckwagon, then gave a quick nod at the chefs building the fire. Soon, though, everything else faded away while he watched Megan take a seat near the edge of the rocky cliff staring down at the treetops. From up there, the world always looked a lot different. Or, at least, it made Nash feel smaller and his problems less big. The air was cleaner. The world simpler. The smells richer.

He dropped down next to her right as Gus did, placing his head on her thigh. A sweet smile curved her mouth while she stroked the dog’s head, his eyes shutting.

Nash couldn’t look away. There was a heaviness about her today that he’d noticed growing more pronounced on the ride. Maybe Gus felt it too. “I know the saying is, a penny for your thoughts,” Nash said. “But I’ll give you a thousand bucks if you tell me what’s on your mind right now.”

He thought that might garner a laugh. He was wrong.

She glanced his way and watched him closely. “Are you happy doing this?” she finally asked after a loaded moment.

“Happy doing what?”

“This.” She gestured at the chuckwagon with a flick of her hand. “Leading this simple kind of life.”

Tightness formed in his chest, and he inhaled against it. He didn’t like talking about his past, present, or future. “It’s not if this makes me happy or not. This is what I’m doing right now, and I’m content with that.”

“But will you always be?” she asked softly. “Can a guy who was as competitive as you and who needed a lot of excitement do a job like this for the rest of his life?”

He searched her eyes, trying to find what she was getting at. One look into the uneasiness on her expression helped him understand. “You’re worried I’m going to be leaving again?” He hadn’t lived in River Rock while he was in the PBR, staying in Texas to train.

“It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind.” She glanced back at Gus, continuing to stroke his head. He began snoring. “So, really, it makes you happy?”

“Happy?” he repeated, pondering that single word. He wasn’t entirely sure, so he deflected. “Why do you think it wouldn’t?”

“It’s really”—she looked over his shoulder to the guests before returning her gaze to him—“boring.”

He snorted a laugh. “Don’t let the guests hear you say that.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, it’s not boring for, like, a vacation for someone who has never done this before. But for you”—her eyes searched his carefully—“for a guy who had a career in the most dangerous sport out there, this type of job seems entirely dull.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted, wanting to move off the subject. “Right now, I’m focused on making the ranch a success.” He watched her eyes tighten, and he snorted a laugh. “And what about that has you so concerned?”

She drew in a deep breath before addressing him. “I don’t mean to push.” Yeah, she did. Nash knew that. “I guess I’m curious what your plans are now with the PBR in the past.”

He glanced away to avoid her gaze. Her voice was soft. Her questions were not. They were laser sharp, right to the point, and he shifted against the discomfort. The subject was a touchy one. He never talked about this to anyone, not even to his mother. Because he didn’t want the PBR to be something of the past.

He shut his eyes, swearing he could smell the dust circling in the air in the stadium and the popcorn coming from the crowd and hear the gasps of shock echoing around him.

“Don’t move, Nash,” Gerry said, pressing a hand to Nash’s chest.

Gerry’s big red nose was the first thing Nash made out, followed by the clown makeup. Searing pain suddenly shot through his back and down his legs, and he cringed against the agony ripping through his spine.

Trevor, a fellow bull rider, appeared, his dark eyes hard with concern. “The medics are coming, buddy. You’re all right. Stay still.” His hands pressed against the sides of Nash’s head.