Page 25 of Cowboy and the Convict

Janie chewed her lower lip, eyes sliding from Winnifred to him. "The girls don't like to ride?"

"The girls don't have time to ride."

He gathered Winnifred’s food, carrying the bucket back to where Janie stood. “Even if they did, they’re teenagers. They've got a million other things they'd rather be doing then hanging out with their dad."

A smile teased Janie's lips. "And you think I don't have a million things I'd rather do than hang out with their dad?"

"You don’t have to pretend." He leaned against the section of wall between the stalls, propping one arm on the wood surface. "I know you'd only be coming to hang out with Winnifred."

Janie pushed up on her toes, peeking over the gate into Winnifred’s stall. "She does keep a better house than you do."

"That's because she doesn't have three messy teenage tornadoes tearing everything up all day." He swung open Winnifred’s gate, sending Janie stepping back. Tipping his chin toward the stall, he stepped inside. "Come on. Might as well get real close. Make sure you'll feel comfortable going for a ride tomorrow."

It didn't matter whether she was going to be comfortable or not. Janie was already decided, he could see it all over her face. Hell, she'd probably go out tonight if he offered.

Unfortunately, he’d had a long day, and there were still three girls who’d be fighting and bickering as they got ready for bed. They could handle the actual task themselves—and did on the nights he had to work late—but when he was home, he tried to run interference.

Janie cautiously followed him inside, sticking closer than he expected as she sidestepped around Winnifred. "She seems a lot bigger without the gate between us."

"Winnie’s not a small horse, but she’s sweet as pie." He gave the mare a gentle slap on her flank, collecting her empty bucket as she shifted out of his path.

"Was she your wife’s horse?" Janie's question was soft. Hesitant.

They'd never discussed Mags, but he didn’t discuss her with most people. Because—like most people—Janie appeared hesitant to bring her up. Worried he might not want to talk about his dead wife.

It was always an uncomfortable spot to be in. Not for the reasons most people assumed either. He'd loved Maggie. She was a great woman. She'd given him three amazing daughters and shown a strength unlike anything he'd ever seen as she fought to stay here with her girls. But the last two years of their marriage hadn't been what most people thought. Hell, the five before that hadn't been what he thought. It was only when Maggie found out she was sick that he learned the truth.

That she wasn’t happy, and hadn’t been for a long time.

“She was my wife’s horse.” He gave Winnifred her food and hay, watching as Janie continued smoothing one hand down the horse’s side. “She used to love riding. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them even though I can’t give them the time they deserve.”

The horses were one of the few memories he had that Maggie’s admission hadn’t tainted. So much of his life had turned out to be nothing like he thought it was, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind Maggie was happy when they went riding, and it felt wrong to let that go. To give up the only bit of what they’d had that still felt real.

Janie turned to him and he braced himself for the sympathy that always came his way during discussions of Maggie, but—as if she was determined to remind him of how different she was—Janie rolled her eyes on a groan. “Fine. I’ll come over and go for a ride.” She poked him in the stomach as she moved out of the stall. “But if you keep trying to guilt trip me, I’m going to hide your daughters’ flat irons and tell the girls you threw them away.”

11

Janie

JANIE WAS JUST reaching the porch of Devon's house when a car pulled into the driveway. She stopped, turning to find Riley pulling up to the two-car garage in her secondhand sedan. She gave Janie a smile and a wave as the door lifted, then pulled inside, barely managing to squeeze her car into the small amount of space available.

“For the love of…”

She’d thought it was strange when Devon came in through the front door but his girls came in through the garage. Now she knew why.

And damned if it didn’t melt a little more of the ice she packed around her heart. Her mother would never have given Janie the one spot in the garage. Karen Kendrick wouldn’t inconvenience herself for anyone, and that included her children. No matter how great Janie’s grades were, how perfect she looked and acted, her mother never saw her as anything more than an accessory. Something that existed only to make her look better.

“Fucking hell.” Janie mumbled the words under her breath as she turned from the porch, heading for the open double bay. She walked into the cluttered space just as Devon's oldest daughter got out of her car. The teenager let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping as she groaned. "I'm so happy to be home."

"Long day?" Janie stood back, eyeing all the crap occupying the other side as the girl opened the back door and pulled out an overloaded backpack.

She should be irritated by all the random piles stacked onto the floor around her—it was yet another mess Devon neglected to tell her about— but instead she was itching to get her hands on it. Eager to chase the same sort of high that carried her home last night after making a surprisingly big difference in Devon’s kitchen.

"Mondays are freaking crazy." Riley slammed the back door and slung the bag over one shoulder. "I leave at six in the morning and don't get home until six at night." Her steps were slow as she headed for the door leading inside. "It seemed like a great idea to schedule as many classes as I could together, so I wouldn't be driving back and forth all the time, but it's so much."

"That is a lot." Janie followed behind her. "The longest day I had when I was in college was six hours, and by the end my brain was fried. I can’t imagine how you feel after twelve."

Riley paused on the single step leading inside, turning to face her. "You went to college?"

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