Ride Hard (Roughstock Riders Book 1) Page 2

  “Provided,” interrupted the man. “You notify your local parole officer when you leave one state, and you report to the office in your local jurisdiction in the other within twenty-four hours.”

  Ty’s brows knit together and he cocked his head. Kansas? Job offer? What in the hell?!? He coughed and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I—”

  The friendly lady in the center pinned him with a stern look. “You’re free to go, Mr. Sloane. I suggest you make the most of this opportunity.”

  He got the subtext, even though he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. He wasn’t about to sit here and argue with the parole board. He hadn’t even been sure they’d release him, given he’d informed the counselor he had no job and no home, so to speak. And who the hell had offered him a job? The next several hours passed in a blur of cleaning out his cell, returning his laundry, undergoing final checks at the library and commissary. At four-thirty on the nose, he was ushered into a changing room where a duffel with his old clothes, his old life waited. He cringed at the spatter of blood across the left leg of his jeans. Flashes of fists and bar stools crashed through to his awareness. Even after all this time, his gut clenched like it had just happened, adrenaline hummed in his veins, making him too jumpy. Slowly, because his hands shook, he buttoned up the blue plaid shirt with fancy embroidery. He’d get rid of these as soon as possible. They weren’t him anymore. He’d keep his boots, though. Sliding his foot in was like coming home to an old friend. No matter what happened next, he could face it in his lucky boots. A final set of fingerprints, a last mugshot, and a two-hundred-pound guard with a handlebar mustache escorted him through the gates.

  Panic pressed against his insides. He beat it back with a sharp reminder to himself that he’d been through worse. He blinked, taking in the view of the sky without barbed wire, the mountains in the distance, the smell of dirt and diesel, and summer heat.

  “‘Bout damn time,” a faintly familiar voice rasped. “Been waiting two hours. At least.”

  Ty’s gaze slid left, toward the voice, and he shook his head, letting out a laugh that was more relief and wonder than amusement. “What in the hell are you doing here, Kincaid?”

  Colton Kincaid tipped his Stetson and pushed off the side of the big white truck he’d been leaning against. He crossed the distance and held out his hand for Ty’s duffel. Too surprised to object, Ty let the duffel slide through his fingers. Colt stuck out his hand and clapped his back. “A little birdie told me you might be in need of a soft landing.”

  Ty shook his hand like it was a lifeline, blinking hard at the moisture that filled his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.” His voice was raw, rough like sandpaper.

  “No need to say anything. You helped me and Cody when we were first gettin’ started. It’s our turn to help you.” Colt held up his hand. “Shut your mouth right there. Unless you’re sayin’ yes. Our father-in-law has need of a reliable foreman, and we,” Cody’s mouth crooked up, eyes glinting with too much mischief, “have a business proposition.”

  Chapter Two

  Ty tapped his fingers nervously on the armrest. “Are you sure about this?” Maybe he was just spooked from time on the inside, but something about Colt and Cody’s idea felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  Colton took his eyes from the road and quickly glanced his direction before focusing back on the windy two-lane road that led to Falcon Ridge Ranch. “Sure,” he said casually. “Teddy’s swamped. All of us— me, Cody, the girls, everyone’s been doing double-time trying to help out at the ranch. Plus, the girls have been working overtime planning Lexi’s wedding.

  Ty covered a smile. He’d met two of the Grace sisters, and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t take a liking to their husbands referring to them as girls. But he wasn’t about to step his foot in another man’s relationship. No way. Those ladies could handle their men. Sure as shootin’.

  “Yeah, but have you… you know…” Ty couldn’t shake the unease that clawed at his stomach. For the rest of his life he’d be branded a criminal at best, monster at worst.

  “Told him?” Colt shook his head. “I haven’t been able to reach him, he’s been running around so much. But don’t worry. He’s heard us speak highly of you before.”

  “But that was before—”

  “The Graces are good people,” Colt interrupted with a firm set of his jaw. “Hell, I’m no saint either, and they’ve embraced me.”

  “Because they had to,” pointed out Ty.

  “I see your point, but you’ve gotta trust me on this.”

  Ty nodded, still ill at ease. But a foreman’s job was a sight better than camping out on his property and scraping by.

  “So have you given any thought to a comeback?” Colton asked as he signaled a turn onto the ranch. He asked as casually as if he’d commented on the color of the clouds.

  Ty made a noncommittal noise and lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m gettin’ pretty old.” He’d done his best to stay in shape, stay limber, but there was no denying that if he returned to the arena he’d be ancient. In bull-riding terms, at least.

  “We’ve got training space, and I helped rehab Cody. We could get you back in competing shape in no time.”

  Ty shook his head. “Cody’s a sight younger than I am.”

  “But why not come back and show ‘em you’re not gonna let some assfuck weasel with a sob story keep you down?” Colt blustered. “Everyone who knows you, knows you were wronged.”

  Ty let out a heavy sigh. He really didn’t want to go there. He wanted to get as far away from the last three years as he could. “That’s in the past, man. I’ve let it go, and you should too,” he answered with a hard edge to his voice.

  “Encouraging you to step back in the arena and claim your rightful place as one of the best bull riders in the country is not dwelling on the past,” Colt snapped back. “You’re a legend. You owe it to yourself not to go out with your tail tucked between your legs. You didn’t get to the top by walking away from a challenge.”

  Colt had a point, and it didn’t sit well with him. He’d never walked away from a challenge — until walking away had been his only chance for survival. Three years of playing it cool had given him a different perspective. Still, the thought of getting back in the ring was sorely tempting. Even so… “what if I fail?” he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Colt gave him a sly smile. “What if you don’t?”

  Somewhere, in the deepest part of his soul, a glimmer of hope unfurled its wings, as fragile as a butterfly fresh from the cocoon.

  “Why don’t you come help me and Cody out at our training arena?” Colt pressed. “See how it goes? At the very least, we could use another set of expert hands.”

  He nodded once. “Sure.” Maybe it was the coward’s way out, but this he could manage. And if he was honest with himself, he couldn’t resist the draw of the arena — the hit of adrenaline, the smell of manure and sweat sharp in his nose. Even if he was too washed up to ride, he couldn’t live without the rodeo. That was a fact. “I’ll do it,” he said, more to himself than to Colt.

  “Hell, yeah, you will,” Colt returned with a delighted grin. “Let’s get you settled, and tonight at the wedding, you and Cody and I can work out the details.”

  “How about tomorrow?” he countered. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “You won’t be intruding.” Colt gently socked him in the arm as he set the brake. “Time to get back in the saddle. I’m gonna go hunt down Teddy and let him know you’re here. Foreman’s cabin is a half-mile beyond the barn. Just follow the path over the hill and down to the ravine. Make yourself at home.”

  Colt was out of the truck and headed behind the house before Ty could ask another question. He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. He was Ty Fucking Sloane, goddammit. He’d won every award there was to win in bull riding. Multiple times. Was he seriously going to let a setback like prison throw him off his game? Fuck no. His teeth ba
red in a grin that was all bravado. He’d faked it until he made it before, he could do it again. He had to. Move forward or die, he’d always said. No matter how hard it might be, he was hellbent on moving forward. He fisted a hand around his duffel and pushed open the door. The hopeful spring in his step lasted all the way to the foreman’s cabin… until he pushed open the door to an explosion of pink and white frills that resembled unicorn vomit. Or fairy piss.

  Chapter Three

  “What the fuck?” Ty muttered, taking in the profusion of white and pink Pepto-Bismal-colored decoration. Not one surface was left untouched, including the stove where a pink pot stood on a burner. Was there something wrong with his eyes? He blinked to make sure.

  There wasn’t.

  This had to be some kind of a joke. Back on the circuit they’d been generous with their pranks. And Colt was a master. Reaching for his phone, he shot off a text to Colt.

  Are you punking me?

  Dots appeared on his screen, then a message. No?

  Is someone staying here? Ty texted back in a hurry.

  Colton’s answer came quickly. Cabin’s been empty for ages. If there’s stuff you don’t want, put it outside, we can take care of it later.

  “Huh.” Ty shook his head, glancing about the cabin again. Seemed awful prissy for him, but Colt had mentioned one of the Grace sisters had lived in the cabin previously. Nevertheless, the cabin was his now, and that pink shit was going. He glanced down at the pile of very feminine clothing at his feet. Whoever lived here before must have been in a hurry to leave. “No wonder.” He scooped up the filthy clothes and tossed them on the porch. “The color’s enough to give you indigestion.”

  He beelined for the sofa and pulled off the blankets spread across the back, ignoring their plush softness and the fresh-as-spring scent. He was too used to industrial cleaners and the smell of bleach permeating everything. The curtains were less cooperative. Whoever had hung them had obviously decided they weren’t coming down, ever. But they were, and as he gave a strong yank, the hardware pulled loose from the wall. Ty let out a startled grunt as he lost his purchase, dropping to the floor with a curse and coming face to face with an enormous white, fluffy, and very angry cat, who yowled and hissed as it scrambled away.

  Alarm bells sounded in Ty’s head. What in the hell was a cat doing in here? He stood, dusting himself off again, and shot off another text to Colt. Does the cat come with the cabin? He wasn’t a pet kind of guy, let alone a white, fluffy cat kind of guy. But beggars couldn’t be choosers either, so he’d make do.

  “H-hello?” a distinctly feminine voice asked.

  Ty froze.

  “Hello?” the voice asked again, more firmly.

  He turned toward the voice as a vision wrapped in a white towel stepped from what must be the bathroom, wielding a plunger like a baseball bat. His heart gave one enormous thud, then paused, suspended somewhere between shock and awe. She was a tiny thing, probably just over five feet in his estimation, with wide blue eyes the color of a mountain sky, a round face flushed pink, and a plump lower lip. Her towel covered full breasts — barely — and skimmed the top of long shapely legs. He half-wondered where she was hiding her wings, because surely no earthly being could be so perfect. Except for the scowl that pulled down her mouth, and the flash in her eye. And the plunger. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but he got the message loud and clear. He wasn’t welcome.

  In spite of that, he couldn’t stop staring. An odd sensation rippled through him, so foreign, he barely recognized it for what it was. But when the energy balled low in his belly, a forgotten part of his brain snapped back to life. The sensation only intensified when the beauty in front of him spoke. “Who are you and what are you doing in my cabin?”

  Her sweet southern lilt that was at once haughty and husky resonated in his bones. The old Ty would have turned on the charm, disarmed her with a grin, and sweet-talked the towel off in no time, in order to sample the garden of earthly delights and bring them both to the climax they both wanted. And it was clear she wanted. He didn’t miss the quick flash of desire in her eyes, or the way her gaze raked over his body. But he’d lost his taste for buckle bunnies. He was different now. Three years locked up and too much time to reflect changed a man. He was turning over a new leaf, making the most of his chance here at Falcon Ridge, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to blow it minutes into his first day. “I could ask the same of you,” he growled.

  He’d touched a nerve. He could see it in the way she drew herself up and stared up her nose at him, as if she were some kind of a schoolmarm, instead of a sweet young thing, ripe for the picking. “I’m the foreman here, and it seems that you’ve dumped my clothes on the porch. Can you kindly put them back?”

  She was the foreman? Something territorial sprang from inside him. He wasn’t going to give up his one chance to redeem himself to some young thing who sought to put him in his place. “Like hell you are,” he rumbled. “I’m the foreman here, and you’re trespassing in my cabin.”

  “Trespassing?” she sputtered, taking a step closer and tightening her grip on the plunger. “Trespassing?” she asked again, voice quivering with indignation. “If anyone’s trespassing, it’s you. And it’s time for you to leave.”

  He shook his head. “No can do, sweetheart.” He stepped forward, not enough to scare her, but just enough to make his point. “I’ll give you five minutes to get yourself dressed and skedaddle back to wherever you came from. Unless…” he paused, mouth twitching. “You prefer to vacate the premises in your… err… current attire.” His eyes swept over her, lingering at her curves. She was a beauty, no doubt about it. Young and lush, and he’d bet the ten bucks in his pocket — cotton candy sweet.

  “What in tarnation is going on here?”

  Ty whirled at the voice in time to see Teddy Grace burst through the door with Colton hot on his heels. Behind him, the plunger clattered to the floor. “That’s what I’d like to know,” he retorted. “Sir.”

  “Uncle Teddy, he says he’s foreman,” she responded with a hint of a pout and a jerk of her head his direction.

  Uncle Teddy? Lightning strike him dead for thinking even one of the x-rated thoughts that had ricocheted through his head. If she was Teddy’s niece, she was definitely off-limits.

  Colton cleared his throat, eyes darting back and forth between them. “Seems like there’s been a bit of a miscommunication.”

  Ty arched a brow. “Oh?”

  “I’ll say there was,” interjected Teddy’s niece, stepping up next to him. Ty caught a whiff of vanilla, and something else delicious. It reminded him of summer, of long lazy days and warm sunshine. His chest gave a sharp squeeze.

  Teddy shuffled his feet, looking like he swallowed a porcupine. “I ah… didn’t realize that Colt had found someone. I gave the job to Maybelle.”

  Disappointment crashed through Ty, but he wasn’t about to let anyone notice. He needed to come up with a contingency plan, and fast. Maybe there was another ranch that would take him. Maybe he could be a line cook at one of the restaurants. Surely, there had to be something else for him? Dread pooled in his belly. What if there wasn’t? What if no one would take him? Heat rose up through his middle, then his spine and crawled over his scalp. He shot a look Colton’s way. Maybe he should have gone back to Steamboat Springs after all.

  Colt cleared his throat. “We can work something out, don’tcha think?”

  Teddy removed his hat and dragged a hand across the top of his head. “‘Spose so. Lord knows I could use an extra set of hands.”

  “Great!” Colt rubbed his hands together, a look of relief passing across his face. “It’s all settled then.”

  “Not so fast,” Teddy said with a shake of his head. “Where’s Ty gonna sleep?”

  “How ‘bout the tiny house?”

  Teddy shook his head again. “Nope. We’ve got a snake scientist lodging up there.”

  “A what?” Ty asked.

  “Her name is Catalina and she’
s a herpetologist,” Maybelle answered crisply.

  Ty slid a glance sideways. “Come again?” he asked, mouth twitching.

  “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter,” Maybelle snapped. “She’s studying reptile habitat in the Flint Hills.”

  “Okay, so that won’t work,” Colt answered in a rush. “What are the other options?”

  Teddy looked chagrined. “House is full-up right now.”

  Ty got the message loud and clear. He wasn’t welcome. He coughed. “I best be goin’.”

  “Oh, no way.” Colt scowled, jaw set with determination. “We need your help with our riding school.”

  Teddy narrowed his gaze. “I’m not too keen on them sharing quarters, but it’ll do in a pinch, seeing as there’s two bedrooms down here.”

  Maybelle sucked in a breath.

  “I’m fine sleeping on the porch,” Ty offered. It couldn’t be worse than the shitty bed he’d inhabited for three years. And sleeping without walls closing in on him would be a welcome change.

  “Uncle Teddy, I don’t-”

  Teddy stopped her with a raised hand. “Just for a few weeks.” Teddy pinned Ty with a stern glare. “Once Ty earns his wages, he can rent something in town.”

  “No need,” Maybelle objected with a sniff. “My trailer will be back at the end of the month.”

  “I’ll get a place,” he growled. No way was he going to accept charity from the little spitfire.

  Maybelle spun his direction, fiercely staring him down. “Don’t be a hero.”

  “I’m no hero, sweetheart.” He glared back, heat rising.

  “I’m sure there’s an extra cabin next door at Resolution Ranch,” Colt interjected. “I can ask at the wedding tonight.”

  “I’m fine sleeping on the porch,” Ty answered gruffly. “It’s summer.” He turned his attention to Teddy. “What I’m more concerned about is who’s going to be in charge.” No way was he going to stick around and take orders from someone who looked barely out of her teenage years.