Colton Cowboy Jeopardy (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

The cavalier response wasn’t as convincing as he probably intended. This issue of family mattered to him. “Being excluded hurts,” she said.

“What hurt more was being dumped with an aunt who didn’t want anything to do with us.”

“So you came here to get under Payne’s skin?”

“In a way.” He slid one palm across the other as if testing the calluses. “Not that he’s noticed me. I showed up here to prove Payne doesn’t know everything about me or my siblings, and discovered that I enjoy the work.”

“I get that,” she said.

“You do?”

His furrowed brow was as appealing as everything else. “Sure. I went into modeling because I needed a speedy fix for my financial crisis and discovered I enjoyed it. No, no,” she said when he opened his mouth. “You won’t divert me this time. You might love the work, but there’s more to it.”

He chuckled and the sound made her want to stretch and purr. Did he know how he affected her? How could he not? She assumed he’d seen his reflection recently. His body was formed by the work he did, rather than hours in a climate-controlled gym with precise exercises and supervision. The resulting differences had never been so clear to her.

And she really had no business comparing Jarvis to her ex-husband.

“Mia?”

She blinked and heat washed over her face, down her throat as she got caught staring at him.

“If you’re tired, go in and rest,” he suggested.

“I’m fine. Adult conversation, remember? Keep talking. I’ve been open with you. Give me whatever you’re holding back.”

He only smiled, the expression slow and indulgent. She pressed her knees together against the quivering response at her core and shifted her attention to the gentle slope of Silas’s nose.

“How about a story?” he asked.

“As long as it’s real.”

“I can only tell you what’s real to me,” he replied. “My grandpa used to tell us that we should be as wealthy as Payne and his kids. He told me that back in the 1800s, his grandfather’s brother, on the Colton Oil side of the family tree, stole the ranch from our side of the family.”

“Your grandfather, Isaiah Colton, told you this?”

His casual expression turned razor sharp. “I’m starting to hate the internet too,” he groused. “What do you know about it?”

She motioned for him to keep talking. “Tell me more.”

He raked a hand through his thick hair. “No one in the family believed Isaiah’s tall tales. He talked about gunfights and feuds that started generations ago between Colton brothers. He claimed that trickled down and is the reason Payne pretends we aren’t related.”

“Why didn’t anyone believe him?”

“It was Isaiah. He was half-drunk more often than he was stone-cold sober. I loved those stories of generations long gone. Stories about poker games, cattle rustling and shoot-outs as the area was settled, stolen and settled again. It was a lark, really. But when the dementia set in near the end of his life, he got agitated and vocal about it. And detailed. He talked to me more, insisting that I listen to what he called the facts. Granddad was convinced the Triple R belonged to us and he wanted me to find the proof and take it back.”

She was on the edge of her seat, literally, leaning forward to hear more. “Have you verified his story?”

“I’ve done some research into dementia and confabulation. It’s entirely possible he’s twisted up old Western movie plots and family rifts.”

“But you became a cowboy, anyway.”

“I did. With dementia, sometimes the oldest memories are the truest. And his details, Mia—they convinced me to try. That’s why I’m here. Near the end of his life, he told me the proof of rightful ownership of the Triple R is buried here on the ranch.

“The legend, according to Isaiah, goes that his granddad, Herman Colton, lost a chunk of prime acreage in a poker game. Herman swore to anyone who would listen that he was cheated in that game. Enough people believed him that his brother, Eugene, agreed to buy back the land for him. Isaiah told me the brothers struck the deal, but then for some reason Eugene refused to sign the acreage over to Herman. He kept it in the family, passing it down the line.”

“Kept it and kept adding to it,” she said.

“Yes. Isaiah said Herman had a signed letter of the agreement between him and Eugene, proof of the poker game stakes, and even a confession from the man who cheated to win.”