Ride Hard (Roughstock Riders Book 1) Page 5

  Once inside her room, she leaned back against the door and fanned herself with a sigh. How could she want to simultaneously beat a man and kiss him? It made no sense. There were no butterflies in her belly when she was around him — she’d bypassed butterflies and gone straight to inferno. She’d never felt so… out of control, so… alive around a member of the opposite sex before. Ty was in a category all his own. She could see that now — the difference between how a man treated her, and how the boys did. Big difference, and she preferred the former, hands down.

  Maybelle pushed into her work boots, pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, and grabbed her work gloves, humming Sin Wagon as she hurried through the main room and out to the porch where Ty waited. He looked like a real-life version of a sexy cowboy in a magazine ad, arms crossed and leaning a hip on the porch rail. She felt his eyes on her as she hopped off the steps. She hummed a little louder as she started down the path to the barn.

  “Do you always sing?” he asked when he caught up to her.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” she challenged, not looking at him. She might compromise on a lot of things, but singing wasn’t one of them. She loved to sing, and there was no way mister grumpy-butt was going to stop her.

  “No, no,” he said quickly. “Just curious, is all.”

  “Good.” Maybelle picked up her pace. She didn’t want to keep Teddy waiting.

  Ty easily kept up with her. “What’s on the list this morning?”

  “Usual,” she answered. “Feed and water the horses, muck the stalls, check the livestock, check the fences and the troughs. We’ll be branding and tagging pretty soon, so we’ll need to put the word out.

  “I can do that.”

  “You don’t know anyone here.”

  He stopped and turned to face her, hands on his hips. “And you do?”

  Why did he have to challenge her every step of the way? “My cousins, sure.”

  “I know your cousins, too.”

  “Well, I’m going to see them,” she sputtered. “I might as well do it.”

  “This afternoon?” he said, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Because I’m going to see both Colt and Cody this afternoon.”

  Oh.

  He had her there. She’d planned to work Rango again and maybe go into town for groceries around dinnertime.

  “Okay, fine,” she grumbled, starting down the path again. “You take care of recruiting help.” Maybelle stewed all the way to the barn, where sure enough, Teddy stood waiting, sipping a mug of steaming coffee.

  “You two sort everything out?”

  They both answered at once.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “We have not,” Maybelle corrected, jerking her eyes Ty’s direction.

  “We’ve worked it out enough,” he said evenly, holding her gaze, practically daring her to make a scene. “We’ll work on the rest as we go.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Teddy. “I’ve already mucked the stalls. Why don’t you two head out to check the livestock? Maybelle already knows what to do. I’m gonna tend to Dottie’s chickens.”

  Maybelle stood a little straighter. At least she was staying in charge.

  Her elation lasted all of ten minutes. “That’s not how you call over a horse,” Ty scoffed when she clucked and climbed over the fence and landed in the horse pasture with a soft thud.

  “Of course, it is.” She quietly approached Oreo, halter in hand.

  “You need to wait for them to come to you.”

  “Nope.” She knew what she was doing. Sure enough, Oreo dropped his head as soon as she started scratching behind his ears, and she slipped on the halter in no time. Oreo didn’t protest a bit.

  Behind her, Ty made a disbelieving noise in his throat. “That’s one way, I suppose.”

  “Let’s see you do it then, hot shot,” she challenged, leading Oreo through the pasture gate.

  Ty walked through the gate, standing just on the inside and clucked. Nothing happened. He clucked again.

  Maybelle snickered. “How’s that workin’ for ya? I can go get him,” she offered, motioning to a large roan named Big Boy.

  Ty smiled halfway and shook his head. “No need. He’ll come.”

  “If I stood there all day too, he’d come.”

  “Just wait.”

  To Maybelle’s surprise, Big Boy trotted over, ears pricked forward, and dropped his muzzle into Ty’s outstretched hand, where she was sure he had a lump of sugar. “No fair,” she cried. “You cheated.”

  “Of course, it’s fair,” he said, slipping the halter over Big Boy’s ears. “You’re just mad you didn’t think of it.”

  “I don’t need to bribe my horses with treats,” she said loftily, leading Oreo over to where they’d set the saddles over an old hitching post.

  “You always catch more flies with honey,” he said giving her a hard stare. “And horses.”

  From the expression on his face, Ty wasn’t talking about flies. Or horses. “Sorry,” she mumbled, face flushing. “Catch your horse any way you like. I don’t care.” She meant it, too. She didn’t care how someone else caught horses, or rode them, for that matter. Just so long as they were good to the animal. And it was obvious Ty was gentle with livestock. Horses could identify assholes faster than humans. There was no lying to a horse. And Big Boy, who could be easily excitable, was loving all over Ty. It was adorable, actually. Sexy, too, the way Ty kept up a low-voiced conversation with the horse. If Maybelle hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she never would have believed a bull rider could be so gentle with a horse. “Where’d you learn to handle horses like that?”

  Ty peered at her over Big Boy’s back. “Grew up on a ranch, same as you.”

  Oooooohhhh.

  Well, darn. That put things in a whole new light. Subdued, she saddled Oreo and mounted up after she’d rechecked the cinch. Ty followed without a word, and they rode for the far end of the property in silence. But Maybelle couldn’t stay upset for long, especially on such a glorious morning. Soon enough, they were skirting the pond and she was humming songs under her breath, daydreaming about—

  “Whoa, WHOA, WHOA!” a voice screeched as a body dropped in front of Ty’s horse. Big Boy reared, spooking Oreo. For a wild moment chaos reigned as Maybelle and Ty fought to keep their seats and calm the horses.

  “What in bloody fucking hell is going on?” he shouted at the figure when he’d circled Big Boy around.

  “You nearly killed him,” spat a feminine voice.

  “Catalina?” Maybelle asked. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Research,” she said, still not moving. “His horse nearly stepped on a nest of Plestiodon septentrionalis.”

  “A nest of what?”

  Catalina glared. “Plestiodon septentrionalis. Northern Prairie Skinks. And it’s breeding season,” she said aghast, as if they’d committed a cardinal sin.

  “And you nearly broke my neck,” Ty shot back.

  “Maybe you should have been watching where you were going and not staring at her.” Catalina jerked a thumb toward her direction.

  Ty had been staring at her? A little thrill ran through Maybelle, launching a flight of butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

  “You nearly crushed the life out of eight eggs.” Catalina added with a determined set of her jaw.

  “Catalina, I’m so glad you brought that to our attention,” Maybelle rushed, hoping to de-escalate the situation. She raised an eyebrow at Ty, hoping he’d go along with her. “Catalina’s the herpetologist I mentioned yesterday.” The wildly odd scientist gave new meaning to the word eccentric, but Maybelle liked her quirkiness, and loved asking her questions. “Are you planning to flag it?”

  Catalina nodded. “At least until the eggs hatch.”

  “She can’t flag it, the cattle will crush it. Or worse, they’ll get mixed in the hay.”

  “We’re not mowing this field,” Maybelle pointed out. “And Catalina needs to be able to keep track of her animals.”

  “Reptiles,” Catalina corrected.

  “I don’t care what she needs,” Ty rumbled. “My job is to take care of the cattle.”

  “Well it’s mine, too,” Maybelle said hotly. “And I say she can.”

  Ty scowled. “Do you have a plan for when the cattle get sick from eating it? Or worse?”

  “They’re not going to eat a flag.”

  Catalina cleared her throat. “Will you kindly lower your voices? Your anger is scaring the tadpoles.”

  “The tadpoles,” Ty repeated with disbelief.

  Maybelle smothered a giggle. The look on Ty’s face was priceless.

  “Yes. Over there,” Catalina answered, gesturing to the pond.

  “We’ll use more caution,” Maybelle assured Catalina as she urged Oreo ahead.

  “Good,” Catalina called after them. “Because there are threatened species in that pond.”

  As soon as they were out of earshot and over the next rise, Maybelle pulled Oreo to a stop.

  Ty pulled up beside her. “Why are we stopping?”

  She couldn’t contain herself another second. “Your face… back there,” she squeaked out in between giggles. She laughed so hard, her sides hurt. She laughed until tears leaked from her eyes and she couldn’t catch her breath. When she finally slowed, she snuck a glance Ty’s direction. He was staring at her with the oddest expression on his face. She couldn’t read it, but her body responded with a zing of awareness. “What is it?” she asked, breathless all over again.

  Ty reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “You’re cute when you laugh.”

  Cute? Cute?? Maybelle’s heart sank. She scoffed and shook her head. “Kiss of death,” she mumbled under her breath. Everybody knew that. Only people permanently friend-zoned were cute. Not that she should be entertaining anything other than purely platonic thoughts toward Ty… but she couldn’t help it. As much as he drove her crazy, she was irresistibly drawn to him. Why couldn’t she be one of those women everyone thought beautiful? Or sexy? Or, or… captivating? But when she snuck another glance his direction, he wasn’t looking at her like she was cute. He was looking at her like she was all of those other things.

  “Maybe I like cute,” he said, eyes boring into her.

  She heated under his stare, desire skipping through her and settling deep in her bones. The trees came into sharp relief, and the smell of damp earth. Her ears buzzed. She could melt just from staring back, and she suddenly had the urge to fling off all her clothes and preen before him, but before she could act on her impulse or blurt something incriminating, he scowled and shook his head. “Let’s go.” He urged Big Boy forward, not bothering to look back to see if she was coming.

  Chapter Eight

  “You ready to get back in the saddle?” Colton asked as he and Ty rolled to a stop at the arena outside of town.

  “You mean back on the bull?” Ty said with a laugh that was more than a little nervous. Glancing around, he could see why Colt and Cody’s roughstock riding school had been an early success. The setup was perfect - a small arena with chutes on one end, holding pens for livestock, and a big barn that housed mechanical bulls and a second, indoor training arena.

  “I can’t wait for you to see it.” The excitement and pride in Colt’s voice heartened Ty. He hadn’t been excited by much over the last few years. Sure, he was proud to have finally earned an Associate’s Degree, but it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do inside. If he was being honest with himself, Ty was half-afraid to climb on a bull not because he was worried about failure, although the thought haunted him. He was more afraid he’d climb on a bull and feel nothing. That the trauma of trial and jail had been too much for him, and there was nothing left inside him that could feel.

  He climbed out of the truck and followed Colton to the barn. Ty let out a low whistle. “Jeezus, you guys went all-in.” In addition to the mechanical riding equipment, the far end of the barn was divided into glass-paned rooms that held offices, weights and other equipment. “You guys have a gym, too?”

  Colt lifted his brows with a quick grin.

  Ty shook his head. “When you said training space, I thought you were talking a heavy bag and a mechanical bull in the corner of your barn.”

  “Bull-riding is exploding. We aim to capture a corner of the market. Out here we have the equipment to take a greenhorn and make him a pro in three to six months.”

  “That fast, huh?” So much for the school of hard knocks.

  “Most of these guys won’t compete, they only want to take their bragging rights back to the office. We’re also training stuntmen for Hollywood.”

  “Huh.” Deep in the pit of Ty’s stomach, a little flame sparked to life. He itched to grip the bull rope, smell the combination of rosin, leather, and animal that always fired his adrenaline. He grinned over to Colt. “Let’s get started.”

  Colt clapped him across the shoulders. “I knew once we got you out here, you’d want to come back.”

  “Don’t go easy on me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Colt answered with a devious chuckle. “I’ve been looking forward to the day when the student becomes the master.”

  Colt was true to his word. For the next hour, they balanced on medicine balls, held planks on bosu balls until Ty’s abs burned, then finished with yoga. “I thought you were training me for bull riding, not the damned circus,” Ty complained, wiping his forehead with a towel.

  “Patience, grasshopper,” Colt teased. “We may be unconventional, but trust me, you’ll have better results this way.”

  “By turning me into a pretzel?”

  “Sure. What did you tell me about bull-riding when I first started out?”

  “You had to stay balanced and flexible, but keep your stomach tight.”

  “Exactly, so this is an extension of that. When you’re loose, flexible, and you have good balance, you’re going to stay on the bull. Most riders are too tight in their hips, and body-builder strong, not flexible strong. Know what I mean?”

  Ty nodded, new appreciation growing for his former mentee. “I get it. So let’s get out the bull.”

  Colt’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “It’s great to see the light in your eye again, my friend. Follow me.”

  Colt led Ty around the far side of the arena where the mechanicals stood. “Baby steps. I just want you to get used to the motion again, nice and slow ‘kay?”

  Ty nodded. He’d be a fool to go all out his first day back in over three years. As it was, his muscles were going to start yelling at him before morning.

  “We call this machine the oh shit machine,” Colt explained as Ty stepped up to the mechanical bull. This one only goes forward and back. The one to your left is like a standard mechanical bull at a bar. And the far one is on wheels, so we can drive it into the arena while you’re practicing.”

  “What do you call that one?”

  “Widowmaker,” Colt deadpanned.

  “Nice to see you don’t pull your punches,” Ty commented with a wry smile as he climbed onto the machine.

  “Ready?”

  Ty slipped his hand under the rope, raising his free arm above his shoulder, and gave a nod. Adrenaline surged through him, knotting his stomach and jacking up his pulse, but somewhere in the back of his brain, he remembered how to manage the familiar sensation. He breathed in through his nose and let out the air with a throaty rumble. It mimicked the chuff of a bull, and for some reason, it always helped him find his focus.

  The machine fired up with a groan, slowly moving beneath him, first forward and down, then back and up. “We’re not going any faster than this today,” Colt called over the noise. “Just get used to the motion.”

  At first, the movement felt clumsy, awkward. Like he was a greenhorn all over again. His brain wanted his body to move, but his body was slow in responding. After a few minutes, his already tired out muscles began to ache, but there was no way he was gonna signal to Colt to stop, or go even slower. Move forward or die. If he gave in now, he was done. It was a slippery slope to has-beendom once you started letting yourself off the hook. He’d seen it happen too many times, and always vowed it would never be him. He’d retire on top, go out with a bang, or on a stretcher. No way was he gonna fade into the ether to live the rest of his life a washed-up rider reliving the glory days on a barstool. Ty forced his clenched teeth apart and willed his tight muscles to relax, to give just a little bit more. This couldn’t last much longer. Hell, a ride in the arena was only eight-seconds.

  Sweet relief flooded him when Colt finally slowed the machine to a stop, chuckling. “You always were a glutton for punishment.”

  “Not exactly the kind of punishment I enjoy.” His mind briefly flickered back to wilder days, then just as quickly settled on Maybelle’s pink cheeks and pouty mouth. Loving her up would be the sweetest torture ever. A shot of lust rolled through him, the kind of wanting that always came after the adrenaline rush of a great ride. This time, it was harder to put the thought of her out of his mind. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he liked her sass and the way she poked at him, obviously looking for a rise. He dismounted with a sigh of regret. Cute as she was, Maybelle would always be off-limits. The sooner he accepted that reality, the better.

  “We on for tomorrow?” Colt asked when they pulled to a stop back at Falcon Ridge.