Page 13 of Rope Me, Cowboys

“I think I can handle it,” I said with a smirk, hopping up beside him.

“We’ll see,” he said, swinging the cart around in a tight circle. “If you’re planning to stick, you might as well learn the lay of the land.”

“Really?” I asked, perking up. “Can we go see those yellow trees?”

He started towards the trees, away from the house, along the narrow trail I’d walked down before I got distracted by the cows.

“Thanks,” I said after a minute of bouncing up and down in the seat. It was hard not to notice the rocking motion of it when I was so close to such a hot man.

A hot man who’s your brother, I reminded myself.

“It must be hard to come out here by yourself,” he said after a minute of listening to nothing but the hum of the motor. “Not knowing anyone or anything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I know everything.”

“I know better than to disagree when a woman says that,” he said as the cart crested a little swell in the land and started down the other side. Ahead, I could see the line of yellow trees. They were tall and thin, with white bark and bright yellow leaves that cheered up the whole place.

“Are those birch trees?” I asked.

“Aspen.”

“Okay, maybe I don’t know everything,” I admitted. “But I’m sure you can fix that.”

He gave me a funny look, opened his mouth, then closed it and stared straight ahead, his fingers gripping the steering wheel and his brows drawing together.

“So, um, is this still your ranch?” I asked, twisting around to look back at the house. It was probably five blocks away, but there was not a single thing standing between it and where we were. Unless cows counted.

“Uh-huh,” Waylon said. The cart passed from the field into a stand of trees, and I leaned back to look up at the yellow leaves contrasting against the clear blue sky, which had never looked so big or bright back home. Just then, the cart did a nose-dive.

I screamed and grabbed onto the dash with one hand and Waylon with the other. We bounced down into a ditch at least as deep as the cart. The tires ground and skidded on sand and round, smooth stones. My butt bounced at least a foot into the air despite my grip on the dash and my stepbrother.

Waylon shot me a grin, shifted gears, and hit the gas pedal. The cart lurched forward, lumbering up the other side, tilting so far we were nearly flat on our backs. When it bounced onto flat ground again, I tried to catch my breath.

“Some grip you got there,” Waylon said.

I looked down, only then realizing I was still clutching his thigh. It was solid muscle under my hand, hot and hard inside my tight grip. And I didn’t want to let go.

I jerked my hand back and smoothed my hair, which had flown all over the place in the turmoil. “You could have given me some warning.”

“I told you to hang on tight,” he said. “The creek bed is about halfway across the ranch. It only flows part of the year. We got access to the river a little further on, and five ponds on the property, too.”

“My God, you must own as much land as the island of Manhattan,” I said, marveling at the new expanse of land.

“For now,” Waylon muttered, shifting gears.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re almost to the river. You gonna be mad if I get you a little wet there, Princess?”

13

Amber

Now

By the time we got back to the house after riding around the entire property on the cart, which Waylon called a side-by-side, the tinge of embarrassment over getting stuck on the fence had disappeared. But when we got back to the house, Waylon switched off the motor and turned to me.

“If you don’t mind, can you…not tell the others?” I said. “I don’t want all three of you thinking I’m a ditzy dumbass.”