Best Friend's Ex Box Set

I rolled my eyes in irritation. “So, this whole entire thing was a ploy then? I should’ve known you were up to your usual tricks.”

“Always, dear brother,” she said as she winked playfully at me. “In all seriousness though, I did invite her to stay until we know she can at least protect herself in case something happens again.”

“She doesn’t own a gun?” I asked. “I mentioned getting a security camera to put in the barn.”

“Does Cheyenne look like the type of person who knows how to even hold a gun? Let alone shoot one?”

Rubbing a hand over my jaw, I knew that Tiffany had a point. As tough and proud as Cheyenne could be, she couldn’t protect herself very well again a person, or even a wild animal.

“I’ll rectify that,” I said. “I don’t need to go in until later this afternoon for the dinner rush.”

Tiffany smiled, visibly pleased.

“Teach her well,” she said and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Colt. I don’t care what Bill Coates says about you.”

It was cold outside when I made my way down to the barn after watching Tiffany drive down the road. Cheyenne looked up from the red mare she was brushing when I entered the barn to find her in one of the horse stalls. A shy smile spread across her lips.

“Morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” I said, and reached out a hand to let the mare nuzzle my palm in search of a treat. “Did Rick show you where everything was?”

“He did. Thank you again for letting me be here—and rent-free at that.”

“Not a problem. Stay as long as you like.”

“The insurance company called yesterday. They’re going to have a claims adjustor out next week to look at the barn.” She continued with her gentle brushing and pats on the mare’s belly. “I’m not sure what to tell my grantors. I’m afraid I’d lose them if they knew where I was staying.”

“I wouldn’t say anything until the barn is redone,” I advised, scratching the mare between her ears when she snorted into my hand in disappointment. “They don’t need to know unless you plan on never rebuilding the barn.”

“I want to,” she said. “I love it here in Green Point. I’m not giving up on my dreams just because of one man.”

She tilted her chin up and looked at me with such fierceness that it startled me. I had no idea if she meant Bill Coates, or if it was the man who—according to Tiffany—chased her out of her hometown. Any thought I had about asking dissipated when a guarded expression completely changed her face. Instead, I changed the topic to what Tiffany brought up earlier.

“When you’re done here, I was thinking I could teach you something new,” I said. “Something that would benefit you in the future.”

That piqued Cheyenne’s interest. She looked up at me curiously, her dark braid swinging around her shoulders as she straightened up from brushing the mare’s underbelly.

“Such as?”

“You’ll see,” I said, and smiled at her. “Rick will be here soon to help out with the horses, too.” I caught the hesitant look on her face. “You don’t have to worry about them when he is here. I trust Rick completely with this ranch, Cheyenne. You can trust him too.”

“Where are the rest of your ranch hands?” Cheyenne asked. “I noticed Rick is the only one here besides you and Tiffany.”

The lack of sleep from the night before didn’t help my mood which instantly soured at the memory of a couple of ranch hands searching through things in my father’s office.

“I couldn’t trust them,” I said darkly. “I’ll bring on workers as we need them.”

“Oh.” Cheyenne looked down at the stall floor, visibly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to pry, Colt. I’m sorry. I was just curious about it.”

I sucked in a deep breath to regain control of myself. “No, I’m sorry, you’re fine. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I had a bad night.”

Opening the stall door, I hooked a finger on the mare’s bridle to lead her out, despite Cheyenne’s protests. She stopped when she realized the mare wasn’t pulling back out of fear and followed us out to the fields.

“You think I don’t know how to handle an abused horse?” I asked, amused by the shocked look on her face. “Come on. Follow me.”

Cheyenne followed me across the field to the edge where the land sloped down to a small pond the horses enjoyed an occasional drink from. I pointed to where I had placed a few bottles on some fence posts before pulling out my .9mm to hand over to her.

“You’re going to practice some gun safety,” I said.