Dirty-Talking Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 1)

“Did she?”

Jenny gave a firm nod. “She was proud of you. She’d tell me how you were blowing people’s minds in New York City, stealing jobs from people with far more experience.” Jenny hesitated then nodded again. “Unbelievably proud, she was.”

Emma smiled but quickly looked away, trying to hold it together. Though when she saw the vet begin dumping the clear liquid into the tube, she almost wished she hadn’t looked. She focused on Shep then, while he stroked Bentley’s neck. His tenderness made her hopelessly mushy.

“I worry about Shep,” Jenny said.

When Emma glanced her way, Jenny gave her a measured look. “He will never complain or ask for help, but I see the strain on him. He’s worried for me, for the business.”

Emma didn’t know how much she should say of what Shep had told her. She decided “I’m sorry that you lost your husband,” was a safe bet.

Jenny drew in a long steady breath. “Thank you, but these things happen, I’m afraid.” She exhaled nearly as slowly, then added, “I’m only sad that my husband didn’t share all that was going wrong. We could have helped him. At least taken some of the burden off him, so he could see that we’d all be fine, no matter what he had to do. Now all these troubles have been put onto Shep’s shoulders. He’s a fixer, did you know that about him?”

Emma nodded. Frankly, she was still learning all the things about Shep. Though he’d proven he was a fixer by how he’d taken on her problems and Bentley’s. “Yes, I’ve come to discover this about him.”

“When he sees someone he cares about hurting, he wants to fix whatever is troubling them,” Jenny explained. “Of course, he’ll never admit that, but can you do me a favor?”

“Of course,” Emma said.

Jenny sighed, tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t let him take on too much. I will be fine, no matter what he decides to do with the land and the company. The Blackshaw men have a terrible habit of taking on too much and not letting anyone know of their troubles.”

That’s what Shep’s father did, Emma knew that. By all appearances, Shep also didn’t open up with his mother. But Emma realized he had opened up to someone. Her. “I’m not really sure what I can do to help, or even if I said anything, that it would matter to him.”

“Oh, what you say matters. Don’t think otherwise.” Jenny leaned forward, leveling Emma with a hard look. “There is another thing that Blackshaw men don’t mess around with.”

“What’s that?”

“Their heart. When they know, they know.” Jenny rose then, as if she had made the point she wanted to, and placed her glass down on the table in between the chairs. She took Emma into a warm hug and said softly, “Shep knows, honey.”

When Jenny leaned away, Emma remained speechless, only giving a smile goodbye, her mind racing a mile a minute. Shep seemed to take care of everything and everyone. Always being the big brother, always being the good son, even being the good man who took on her troubles, as well as her broken horse. He’d given her the room to trust him, and he’d built that trust on action alone in less than a week.

Emma had so many regrets. Lord, she had so many, but Shep wasn’t one of them. He shared so much with her, had been open and honest . . . Maybe it was time she did the same.

Chapter 13

Dust drifted up beneath the tires of Alan’s truck as he and Cheryl vanished down the driveway. In the sand ring, Bentley lay on his side, resting. It’d been a few hours now since Shep arrived at the farm, and a good hour since Alan administered the liquids. Bentley would be fine, after he slept and rested. The hay had been pulled from the ring, much to Tadgh’s dismay, but he’d survive the night, and so would Bentley.

Shep sighed, turning away, and headed up the porch steps, knowing his troubles weren’t over quite yet. His mother and Emma had been chatting. Of course, he wondered what they talked about. He hoped nothing his mother said had rattled Emma. Regardless that he was sure she had said things that would probably annoy him, he was pleased his mother had liked Emma. He could tell by the smile she’d given him before she left. A smile that basically said Emma is special. That was precisely why his shoulders were tight, chest heavy.

Emma was special. Very special, indeed.

He didn’t want to take a wrong step with her.

After he made it to the front door, he removed his boots on the welcome mat, not wanting to drag the sand inside. When he opened the wooden screen door, he discovered Emma staring out the living room window overlooking the sand ring, arms folded over her chest.

“Is Bentley okay?” she asked, without looking back.

“He’ll be fine.” Shep closed the front door behind him, carefully regarding her. She still hadn’t looked at him. He began to wonder if she was crying.

Then came her sniffle, making his assumptions right. Fuck repeated in his mind when he moved to her, that soft sound of her sadness breaking him apart. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping close to her, but not too close, giving her distance in case she wanted that.

She sniffed again. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“Come here, darlin’.” He gathered her in his arms. One look into her pretty eyes told him all he needed to know. Everyone had an emotional limit. Where all they’d been fighting suddenly broke free. “You’ve been through a lot lately. Today, with Bentley, was stressful. I’m sure the effects of that are all toppling over.” He rested his chin on top of her head, holding her tight against him.

All that had felt wrong since he’d last seen her suddenly felt better. Since day one, everything with Emma had been so natural. He allowed the silence to flow between them, a comfortable silence that he’d never quite felt with anyone before.

“I missed you,” she eventually said.