Page 3 of A Cowboy in the Streets

Solution. The word slid into my heart like a hot knife through butter. “I didn’t realize I was a problem,” I said softly.

“Now, James, listen to me. This isn’t personal. Make no mistake, I’ve seen how hard you work, and I’m impressed. Never think that I’m not. But head trainer is more than just training horses. It’s leading other trainers. It’s having a vision. It’s making tough choices.”

“I can do that,” I said. “I know I can. Eli Stanford hasn’t trained a single reining horse to make it in the top ten. He will, someday. He’s good. But not as good as me.”

“You don’t have what it takes,” Dad said flatly.

“You mean I don’t have a penis.” The words were out, dripping with disgust and disappointment, before I could bite my tongue.

Dad frowned. “Don’t be crass, James. It’s not ladylike.”

I forced myself to hold his gaze, letting him know without a word that his dodge of my accusation had not gone unnoticed. We stayed that way for a long moment, anger crackling between us like a live wire.

He blinked first. “Take the weekend to think it over. Cool off. Be ready to get to work on Monday.”

I shook my head. I didn’t need the weekend. “Thank you for your offer, but I decline.”

“James, for god’s sake.” Dad rolled his eyes, exasperated. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too hotheaded to take the reins of our entire program. You’re making a decision in the heat of anger when you’re all emotional. Be reasonable. Blue Skies is your home. Where are you going to go?”

Hotheaded. Emotional. It wasn’t the first time he had called me that. And maybe he was right, in a way. I definitely felt things, and I acted on those feelings. But just because I let emotions guide me didn’t make my decisions wrong.

“I don’t know.” Like that was going to stop me. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that someone will be thrilled to have me.”

If I wasn’t appreciated here, then it was time to go where I was.

Chapter 2

Adam

“Sell the bitch.” Blaine, a junior trainer here at Lodestar Ranch, smacked the dust from his ass, which he had been tossed on by Belle of the Ball. Not unceremoniously. There had been, in fact, a hell of a ceremony. Bucking and spins galore.

Blaine joined me at the fence. “I’m serious, Adam. She’s got the attitude of a stallion.” His eyes narrowed on the palomino, minding her own business on the other side of the pen. “If she were a stallion, at least we could lop her balls off.” He sounded downright bloodthirsty. “She’s unrideable.”

I grunted noncommittally. “By you, maybe.”

“I don’t recall seeing anyone else stay on.”

“I have,” I said, earning a dubious side-eye from Blaine. “I’ve seen someone stay on,” I amended, because I sure as shit hadn’t even tried. I had an eleven-year-old son, not a death wish.

My mom, though. She stayed on. I thought back to that day two years ago, her body frail from cancer, Mom bound and determined to have one ride on the filly she had hand raised herself. Belle had barely started her training at that point, but she didn’t kick up a fuss at all when my dad gently placed Mom on her back. Mom died a week later, and precious few people had managed to ride Belle since. Sometimes I thought she was heartbroken, like the rest of us.

Then I remembered she was a fucking horse.

“Couldn’t sell her even if I wanted to,” I said. “Not without a loss.”

Belle’s bloodlines were impeccable. Winners on both her sire’s side and her dam. That quality of sperm didn’t come cheap. Not to mention the thousands of dollars we had already spent on Belle’s care, feeding, and training. Dollars we no longer had to invest elsewhere. Dad had let a lot of things slide when Mom got sick, including the business. Belle was our best hope for putting Lodestar Ranch back in the game.

Hell, she was our only hope.

“So take the loss,” Blaine said. “Someone will buy her. I mean, look at her.”

I didn’t disagree. Belle had come by her name honestly. Golden coat the color of a summer hayfield, cream-colored mane and tail, four white stockings and even a white star on her forehead. But there was no denying the truth—the beauty was a bitch.

Blaine shook his head. “You’re never gonna sell.”

“You got a problem with that?” I twitched an eyebrow. A dare.

One that Blaine wasn’t stupid enough to take me up on. He was young, barely out of high school, but he had been here long enough to know better. “Nope.”

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