Page 50 of Cowboy

“What do you want me to do?” I snap, exasperated by this entire situation. She hurt us. She hurt the farm. And she hurt me, but can I really fault her for doing her job? Yes, I decide. I can. What a shit job she had.

“I don’t think you should let her run off,” Canyon adds, turning for the window which Scarlett just passed, heading for the lane. Her bright red hair bobs as she hastily walks away.

“Why? Fuck her,” Blade says.

“Hey,” I mutter. That’s a little strong.

“We almost lost the farm,” he reminds me. It isn’t exactly true. People closest to us believed in us and not the slur of walking our cows through their own shit or producing unsanitary milk. We struggled with a few buyers, and there was the hassle of the inspections, but some of it was stuff we might have encountered on any other day. MoosHaveRights2 is a bastard of a group finding fault in the oddest of ways, and we still don’t understand how they got involved other than illegally sneaking on our land.

“You know I wish I’d known about Joey from the start. Her mother might be a bitch, but I still wish I’d been there. Known my child existed from day one.” Canyon’s voice lowers as he reminds us all of his history. He didn’t know he’d gotten a groupie pregnant until a ten-year-old showed up on the scene without her mom. It was complicated and changed everything for Canyon. “I don’t think you want to miss out on this.”

Glancing up at the window, I stare at the now-vacant drive. Did I really want Scarlett to go? What if the baby is mine in every sense of the word? Hadn’t I already told her I wanted Sprout no matter what? I’d meant it, but I was still angry.

“Well, if you ask me, good riddance,” Blade mumbles.

“No one asked you,” Canyon interjects before I can speak. “And you wonder why you’re alone,” Canyon continues, rubbing in the perpetual bachelorhood of our brother.

“Fuck you,” Blade says, turning back for the cow catalog he’s been flipping pages in but not reading. Canyon ignores our youngest brother and turns back to me.

“She’s not a groupie,” he says, keeping his eyes on me. “She’s not looking to gain something by being with you or blabbing to the world she slept with you.”

“Isn’t she?”

Canyon tilts his head. “You don’t really believe she’s here for a second scoop, do you?”

I’d like to think not, and within a heartbeat, I realize I don’t. Scarlett might be a lot of things, but devious just doesn’t seem like one of them. Plus, there’s nothing exciting to report. There wasn’t anything worthwhile in the past either. So I got dumped, and it hurt, but it happens. Maybe not three times, but it still happens to everyone. Even Scarlett had her heart broken by her husband. In some ways, that sounds worse because the commitment to love and honor her was already in place when the cheating occurred. He should have been faithful to her, keeping his promises of loyalty. For a second, I’m grateful I haven’t made those kinds of promises myself to Scarlett.

“If only women came with a ninety-day guarantee,” Blade says, flipping through the cow catalog. “Although she did sound sincere. I mean, she could have started sobbing and wailing, pouring on the waterworks, but she stood here, head up, and said she was sorry.”

My lips twist, contemplating what Blade said. She did sound contrite, but it takes more than an apology to make things right. I’ve heard I’m sorry too many times in my life.

“Wish someone had apologized to me,” Canyon adds, recalling once again a daughter showing up without explanation or apology for keeping the truth from him for nearly a decade.

“It’s also a little ironic that the best woman to cross your path in . . . forever . . . is the one you’re pushing away,” Blade mutters, flipping another page of the catalog without looking up. “But no one asked me, so what do I know?”

“Two seconds ago, you said fuck her,” I remind him.

Blade’s brows lift. “Yeah, and now, I’m thinking, as you already did, and she’s carrying your child, you can’t just let her leave. Plus, people change. See, I just changed my mind.”

“That sounded so stupid it almost made sense,” Canyon says, rolling his eyes at our brother. “Bull, get out of here. Go after her. At least talk to her.”

When did he get to be the rational one about women? His rule of one night only started this whole thing. One and done. Of course, I can’t remember the last time he’s been out and done such a thing. And one night with Scarlett was never going to be enough.

“Fuck,” I groan, yanking my cap off my head and swiping fingers through my hair as I turn for the door.

“Scarlett,” I call out, hoping she’ll slow her pace. She’s traveled pretty far in the time it’s taken my brothers to reprimand me. Jogging down the road, I holler for her again. Unfortunately, she’s at her little sports car, slipping in and backing out of the drive by the time I near the house. Blocking her exit down the lane, Scarlett stops before me, and I round to the side of her BMW.

I’m not certain what I’m supposed to say to her, and when I see her face, my tongue freezes even more. She isn’t sad. She isn’t angry. She’s resolute as if she’s just had enough. Like me, who has had breakup after breakup and then this scandal, Scarlett’s had a shitstorm of events in the past few months with losing her job, finding out about her husband, and getting pregnant with a virtual stranger. She looks finished, and nothing scares me more.

“What do you want, Bull?” The sharpness of her question startles me. What do I want from her? What have I wanted from any of the women in my past?

“Where are you going?” I ask instead of answering her. She slips on a pair of sunglasses.

“I need some . . . retail therapy.”

Is that a thing? “What is that?”

“Look, I just need a day alone, I guess.” She doesn’t look at me. With her eyes forward and large sunglasses covering them, I can’t read her well enough to answer my biggest question: Will she be back?