Page 7 of Protected By the Cowboy

As I wait for an answer, the sense of protection I feel for her is building. If this piece of shit hurt her, we’re going to have a problem.

“He’s,” she blows out a breath, “entitled and rude at times. When he got mad, he got pushy.” She shrugs. “I put up with it for too long. I told my mom, and for some reason, she thought she’d still go through with the wedding.” She shrugs. “Personally, I’d have burned both of them to the ground if it were my daughter, but what do I know?”

My skin is hot, and my fists are tight. “I’m not sure bringin’ a date to the weddin’ is goin’ to help this. You need to talk to her.”

“I’ve talked to her plenty. She’s gaga about the money. She can’t see anything else.”

I blow out a heavy breath, unsure of how I’ll see some asshole who I know has hurt Dolly and not punch the fucking life out of him.

“Anyway,” she reaches down for Jolene and holds her in her arms, “what about you? Why aren’t you with some cute, little buckle bunny?”

I laugh. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Why? I thought that was the reward of the rodeo. A little blonde in a short skirt with a sparkly bra?”

“Nope. That’s never been for me.”

“You’re not a fan of attractive women who like sex?”

I laugh. “Attractive is relative, and no, I like my women mouthy and hard to get.”

She bites back a smile and sucks down more wine. “You’re crazy.”

“A little bit. Blame it on my dad. He gave my brother and I a streak of asshole that ain’t fit for the world.”

She shakes her head and scrubs her hand under Jolene’s chin.

Jesus! I’m referring to this dog as Jolene now too.

“Your dad still around?”

I nod. “Same asshole he’s always been. Still in Tennessee haulin’ logs. The man’s eighty-five years old. I think he’ll drop dead out there.”

“That’s got to be hard for your mom to watch.”

“She passed away about ten years ago. He works to keep himself busy. I’ve gotta sister still out that way. She’s got kids, and they keep him occupied when he’s not workin’ himself to death. What about your dad? He still in the picture?”

She looks toward Jolene. “He died when I was eight. Mom went downhill after that. She, uh, she loves me, somewhere deep down, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered what life would’ve been like if dad was still here.”

“That’s the thing. The fantasy of it all. You get an imagined version of your dad to love. Your mom has to be real. I get it. My momma’s like a saint to me now, and Lord knows the woman was not a saint. She tarred and feathered every damn person that came into her house for one thing or another, but… I miss her.”

“Were you guys close?”

“Yeah. She was a nurse. I’d sit by her in the clinic back in the day, helpin’ her as the official Band-Aid manager. Even back then, I held that shit over my brother.”

“And now you’re… a rodeo rider, likely getting hurt all the time. Did she support that?”

I nod. “Every day of it. I know deep down she thought I was crazy, but she was at every ride. Even flew out to Texas for a few of my championships.”

“She sounds incredible.” Dolly’s tone is low.

“She was.” I blow out a breath and scan the room for anything to change the subject to. “Is that cake you brought in?”

“Oh yeah.” She stands, grabs a pink pastry box, and brings it to the table. “I made it myself. It’s chocolate raspberry with cream cheese frosting. I wanted to do something nice for you after all you’re doing for me. Money aside.”

Do I tell her now or later that I never intended to take her money?

She helps herself to two plates and slices up the cake, bringing it to the table as though she’s been here a dozen times before. “This is my recipe, so I hope you like it. No steak seasoning, though.”

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