Page 8 of A Cowboy in the Streets

The man at the fence pushed back, straightening to his full height, and turned around.

The smile I had been aiming at Ben evaporated from my face, my earlier feelings of well-being replaced with dawning horror.

Oh, no.

It was him. The guy from the coffee shop. The one I unintentionally assaulted with my mouth.

He was a mountain of a man, from his broad shoulders to his scruffy jaw, sharp as the jagged peaks that surrounded us. Dark hair grown a little long, like maybe he had forgotten to get a haircut. Blue eyes under furrowed brows. Scowling. Of course he was scowling.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

“Adam, this is James Campos,” Ted said, making the introductions. His voice sounded odd, like he was holding back a laugh. “James, this is my son, Adam. You’ll be reporting to him. In the ring there is Blaine Weatherspoon, your second in command.”

I nodded to the Black man, who lifted a hand in greeting.

“No,” Adam said. Angrily, but with a hint of desperation, like he was trying to wake himself out of a nightmare.

Same, buddy. Same.

Ted burst out laughing. I blinked at him, confused. “He thought you were a man,” he explained. “Wouldn’t let me tell him otherwise, in fact. Lordy, the look on his face right now.” Ted clutched his stomach as he doubled over, chuckling.

I suspected that the look on Adam’s face had more to do with the coffee shop incident than my gender, but who was I to ruin the man’s fun? I arched a brow at Adam. “Did you, now?”

“That’s not—I don’t—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit, Dad.”

“Language, son. There’s a lady present.” Ted could barely get the words out before he was laughing again.

His laughter was contagious, so I joined in. Adam did not join in. He continued to scowl. That, I decided, was his problem.

“Tell me about the horse,” I said.

He looked at me like he wanted to refuse, but he nodded. “Belle. She’s four years old. Impeccable bloodlines. We’re hoping she will be the foundation of our breeding program here.”

Blaine brought her over. I pulled a carrot out of my windbreaker and offered it to her on my palm. She lipped it up, her velvety muzzle tickling my skin.

“She’s gorgeous.” Even though I knew the coat didn’t make the horse, I had a soft spot for palominos. Kinda like the way men preferred blondes.

“Yeah, well, she needs to be more than gorgeous to be a good dam,” Adam said, like he was telling me something I didn’t know. “She needs to be a winner. And so far, that hasn’t happened.”

“She’s unrideable,” Blaine cut in. “If she can’t be ridden, she can’t win. I’ll get her tacked up so you can see for yourself.” The glint in his eyes told me he wouldn’t be unopposed to seeing me hit the dirt. I didn’t take it personally. A little hazing was normal in tight-knit communities.

“Gee, thanks,” I said drily. “But that won’t be necessary.”

“Is it because you don’t want to get your boots dirty?” Ben asked, earning a frown from his dad and a smirk from Blaine.

I turned to look at him, sizing him up before I responded. He was tall for his age, and I was short for mine, which put us not quite eye-to-eye. I had a few inches on him. Thanks to my height, kids often saw me as one of them, and they often talked to me as such. What might sound disrespectful was often just sincerity. On the other hand, some kids were just assholes. But I had the feeling Ben wasn’t one of them.

“Nope. These boots were made for riding, same as yours.” I pointed to his boots, noting the emblem on the ankle. “Ariats?”

“Yeah.” His eyes were wide as he looked from my boots to his and back again, recognizing the similarities underneath the color differences.

“Mine, too.” I beamed at him. “I’m not going to ride Belle today, but when I do, I’ll probably be wearing these boots. The thing is, though, Blaine just told me she’s unrideable and I believe him.”

“You should.” Ben looked very serious. “She’d dust you pretty quick. You’re not very big.”

Adam twitched, grimacing, his gaze darting between Ben and me. He nudged his son’s shoulder. “You can’t say things like that, Ben,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to hurt her feelings, right?”

Ben shot me a worried look and I smiled. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it when you tell me the truth.”

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