Hard-Riding Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 3)

“That’s okay.” Megan rose, sensing the deep disappointment darkening the world around her. “Let me see what I can do about that down payment.” She would find a way to make that house happen. Everything about the home felt right. And not much felt right lately. “Thanks for squeezing me in today.” She offered her hand.

Scott returned the handshake and gave a firm nod. “Once you get that down payment, come back, and we’ll get this deal done.”

With a few more pleasantries and a goodbye, Megan left the office, moving back into the main part of the bank. Harper and Emma rose from their seats in the waiting room.

“Oh, no,” Harper said with a frown. “It didn’t go well?”

Megan sighed. “It went fine, if ‘fine’ is coming up with a larger down payment that I don’t have.” As Harper’s mouth parted, Megan said firmly, “Yes, I could ask my dad for the money. No, I don’t want to.”

Emma looped her arm in Megan’s as they began walking out of the small bank with only one teller currently working. “Is there no way to come up with the money?” she asked. “Like, refinance the bar or something?”

When they made it outside, the warm sun shone against Megan’s face. She tipped her head back, taking in the fresh air. “Scott said it’s a bigger down payment or nothing.” They passed the vet clinic, which had a full waiting room. “Ugh. I really needed this to go smoothly. Everything has been so hard lately.”

Harper’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Megan’s arm tight. “It won’t always be this crazy.”

Emma nodded. “Harper’s right. Everything will fall into place. Nash and your dad need to stop being”—she smiled—“well, themselves. Once that figures itself out, this will all work out. I just know it.”

Megan had doubts about that. She wasn’t sure if they would ever figure themselves out. This morning when she saw Nash and her father’s rage, she knew her baby would not be around that, not if she could help it. She couldn’t delay this anymore. Her baby was coming in less than thirty weeks. He or she would be there before she knew it, and she only had herself to count on to make sure the baby had a soft bed in a happy house.

That’s what a mother did, and that’s what Megan wanted to do.

They passed a children’s store that Megan figured she’d be going to soon for all her baby supplies, while she considered her next steps. “I think, maybe, it’s better I rethink my plan,” she eventually said. “I could always rent a different house for a while.”

“Hell no,” Harper said adamantly, looking the fierce fighter that she could be. “That house belongs to you. I could feel it when we were there. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go to my restaurant and have a huge-ass chocolate brownie sundae.”

Megan frowned, not following. “A, it’s noon. Isn’t that a bit early for a sundae? And B, how will that help my luck with getting a down payment?”

“A, there is no such thing as too early for chocolate. And B, do you know nothing?” Harper rolled her eyes. “Chocolate can help us form a new plan to make this work.”

“Because . . . ?” Megan drawled.

“Dude,” Harper said, and stopped on the sidewalk, eyes wide. “Because my chocolate brownie sundae fixes everything and works miracles. How do you not know this?”

Emma nodded happily. “It really does. I’ve seen it.”

Megan didn’t overthink it. She hurried forward. “Okay, then let’s go, because I could use a miracle right now.”

* * *

After spending hours driving the streets and searching for Megan in all the usual places, Nash had come up empty. Back at her parents’ house this morning, once he’d realized she’d left, so did he. Clint had still been yelling, but Nash flipped him off then drove away. He’d heard from his brothers that Megan had spent some time with Harper and Emma at Harper’s restaurant, but neither Harper nor Emma would tell him shit as to where she was now. Instead, they both gla

red at him and went inside Emma’s farmhouse to tend to the kittens that Harper and Chase were watching today since Nash had expected trouble on the horizon when telling Megan’s family about the baby. It occurred to him then, staring at Emma’s closed front door that had been slammed in his face, that he’d forgotten about his mother’s call reminding him that he’d made her a promise today. He glared back at Emma’s front door before he hit the road again making his way to the ranch.

A couple hours later, with his mind focused on the horse beneath him, sand was kicked up as the horse he rode in small circles trotted around the ring. The hot sun beat down on him, sweat slicking his spine. The barn lay in burnt rubble with the cleanup and rebuild happening sometime over the next couple weeks, since the fire marshal had finished his investigation but hadn’t reported back on his findings yet. The guests were out on the river fishing and rafting, enjoying the perfect summer afternoon.

The horse Nash rode belonged to Dahlia, the twelve-year-old blond girl standing next to her parents on the bottom railing watching him over the fence. Nash’s mother stood beside them. He was only there for his mother, doing this favor for her because Dahlia was the granddaughter of one of her bridge friends. Somehow, over her game, she had offered Nash’s services to help the gray, fifteen-hand horse that had been giving Dahlia grief, landing her in the hospital from a concussion. Today, they had trailered the horse to the ranch to get Nash’s opinion on whether they should sell the horse.

The tears in Dahlia’s eyes told Nash it was the last thing she wanted.

For the last hour, the horse had done its utmost to buck Nash off, even reared a couple times. But this horse wasn’t like Bentley. His will was weak. Nash would bet money the stubborn horse had been spoiled by an owner who was far too nice to him.

From the trot, Nash squeezed his thighs and the horse broke into an easy canter. The wind breezed by, bringing the sweet scents of the hay fields. Nash continued with quick commands, moving the horse into a small circle then back to a trot and finally to walking again. A quick look down and Nash noticed the sweat glistening off the horse’s neck while he stretched out, his mouth soft on the bit.

“He’s good,” Nash told the group when he stopped next to the fence. He dismounted and then waved at Dahlia. “Come on. Let’s see you have a go.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Dahlia’s mom asked.

“Yeah, he’s safe for an experienced rider like Dahlia.” Nash moved around to the front of the horse, holding onto the reins. Dahlia was already slipping through the fence, appearing unafraid even if her mother looked terrified. Nash respected that bravery.