Page 27 of A Cowboy in the Streets

“Yeah?” she prodded.

She stared at me, waiting. I stared back at her, dense.

“You know, apologizing doesn’t mean you’re weak,” she said. “It means you’re smart. It means you can take in new information and use that information to course correct. To become better.”

Her words brought to mind the way she rode Magpie for the first time, opening the rein and giving him space to make the right choice. And, like Magpie, I did the same. Because I might be dense, but I was at least as smart as a fucking horse.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out gruff, but at least they came out at all. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of Ben. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.” She tilted her head, studying me. “For what it’s worth, I think Ben’s a good kid. One infraction doesn’t mean he needs to be watched twenty-four seven. But I’m not his parent, so if you think he does need watching, then hire a real babysitter. You can’t shove that duty on me just because I’m the only female on the premises and happen to bake cookies.”

“James, it happened because Ben glommed onto you. If he had been with Jesse or Blaine instead, I would have gone off just the same. Baking cookies had fuck all to do with it.” I looked at her from beneath my drawn eyebrows. “Why would you think it did?”

She turned away, looking out the passenger side window at the empty pasture. “Oh, you know. It was something my dad used to tell me. You can’t expect men to respect you if you’re baking them cookies and acting like a girl.”

“Acting like a girl.” It took me a beat to fully comprehend that. “But you are a girl.” Or woman. Female? Shit.

She smirked at me over her shoulder. “Noticed that, did you?”

A little too much for my comfort, to be honest. And then I remembered Steven’s crack about her ass and straightened so fast I nearly bumped my head on the cab roof. “Have any of my guys been less than respectful?” To your face, I added silently. “Said something or touched you or—”

“No. That’s not—” She shook her head, and I exhaled sharply through my nose. I didn’t have to fire anyone today. “The guys have been great. I’m saying I want to be valued for my skill at training horses. That’s all.”

I was silent for a moment. She studied her nails. Short, unpainted, with a tiny bit of stable dirt around the edges. Her mouth twisted in a grimace, like maybe she was regretting this conversation. I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t exactly the sort of man people felt naturally inclined to unburden themselves to. Normally, that was fine by me.

But this time, it wasn’t fine. I wanted to say the right thing. Do right by her the way she had for my boy.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how to accomplish that. But I was going to try anyway, even if I made a mess of it.

“Let’s go,” she said. Eager to be done with my company, I was sure.

I settled my hand on the gear shift and put it in drive. “We checked your references, you know.”

“Yeah?”

I could feel her eyes on me, but I kept my gaze peeled to the dirt road in front of us. “Yeah. Heard a lot about how you had a special touch with problem horses. How you could get a little something extra out of any horse in your care. Even the ones that were performing well already, you took them to the next level. But not a single one of them said anything about cookies.”

She hummed a little, sounding pleased.

“I’m not saying your cookies are bad…” My voice trailed off, suggesting exactly that.

She smacked my arm. “Hey!”

“Prove me wrong,” I dared.

“You can’t be serious. There’s no such thing as bad cookies. You’re just messing with me so you can have a batch all to yourself.”

“Peanut butter is my favorite.”

She crossed her arms over her bewildering chest. “Dream on,” she scoffed. “I’m not baking you cookies.”

“You keep talking, buttercup. But all I hear is you lying to yourself.”

Chapter 11

James

James

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