Page 26 of Cowboy and the Convict

Janie laughed. "I went to a lot of different schools, but I started with community college." She rolled her eyes. "I thought I wanted to be an accountant." She laughed again, because, looking back, that was probably the most ridiculous of her aspirations.

Riley's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in curiosity. "You didn't?"

Janie considered before answering. "Technically, I did, but accounting didn't want me. I was fucking terrible at it." She tipped her head from side to side. "And, honestly, if I hadn't been terrible at it, I still probably would've hated it. Sitting behind a desk crunching numbers is not something I can see myself enjoying."

As tiring as it was, she much preferred the physical requirements of the jobs she did now. Were they careers that would impress anyone? Hell no. But she never dreaded working, and she never came home miserable, so that had to count for something.

"So you're glad you didn't become an accountant?" Riley continued to study her, expression open and curious and carrying zero judgment.

It was refreshing, and made her feel more comfortable continuing to talk about what most people saw as failures.

"I am now. My mom gave me a hard time about quitting, but by that point I’d already figured out nothing I did would ever impress her, so..." She shrugged again, unsure how to finish that sentence.

Because it wasn't actually true. That was the point she should have figured out she'd never be able to make her mother happy, but it took a long time for the reality of it to really sink in. Even now, it was still difficult to come to terms with. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult if she was able to feel proud of herself, but she was turning out to be just as tough to impress as her mother was.

Riley opened her mouth, likely to ask another question, but the door behind her flung open. Devon lifted his brows, eyes moving between them. "Are we hanging out in the garage now?"

"Yeah. All the cool kids are doing it." Riley shot him a grin and an eye roll. "But you can't come because you wear dad jeans."

Devon stepped back, giving them room to come inside. "Why are you always giving me hell about my jeans? You're the one who picked them out."

"What did you want me to pick out?" Riley started to drop her backpack on the table but stopped, her eyes moving to Janie before she hauled it back on her shoulder. "You would look stupid in anything else."

"So the jeans I'm wearing are uncool, but I would look stupid in anything else." Devon shook his head. "I feel like I can't win here."

Riley widened her eyes, giving him a pointed look. "You're not supposed to win. You’re a dad." She gave Janie a quick smile as she moved for the hallway. "Can you do something with him so he stops giving me shit?"

The request was surprising. Part of her expected Devon's daughters to be weirded out by her showing up at their house tonight. She assumed they'd get the wrong idea—that she and their dad were something more than just acquaintances. But it didn't seem like Riley was bothered to see her again. The teenager seemed just as unbothered by the idea of her father spending time with a woman who wasn't their mother.

Devon turned to her as Riley's heavy steps went up the stairs. "See? You're not the only one I annoy."

"Yeah, but I think it's your job to annoy them." She poked his middle. "You just annoy me for fun."

"Right. Because your reactions are always so fun." He gave a strand of her hair a little tug. "We need to get moving. Otherwise it's going to get dark on us."

Janie followed him out the back door, the same way she had the night before. All day, she'd been anticipating this. Both excited, and a little apprehensive. After loving horses from afar for so long, what if she was terrible at riding them? What if her ass fell right over the side and broke a leg?

"Relax. It's easy." Devon slung one arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side.

The move didn't feel romantic, only friendly, and she leaned into him despite her better judgment. Being single was lonely. Being single and not close with your family was even lonelier. She went weeks sometimes without really touching another person in any sort of way, and the weight and warmth of him felt really freaking good. As good as it did the night he brought her home and they ‘accidentally’ hugged.

He pulled her closer as they ducked around the treeline. "We’ll just do a short ride tonight. Get you used to everything. Then if you want to do it again, we can plan for something a little longer."

Janie lifted her brows. "You mean in all that free time we have?"

Devon groaned. "Don’t remind me. I don't know where the days go." He dropped his arm from her shoulders to slide open the barn door, leaving her feeling too light. "They all just blur together. Before I know it, all three girls are going to be grown and gone and I'm gonna be sitting there wondering how in the hell it happened."

She didn't know much about having kids, but she did know about time getting away from you. For years, she'd just been taking life one day at a time, and now the only thing she could do was wait for the days to pass, each one bringing her closer to paying off the significant debt she'd accrued being young and stupid.

And then not young, but still stupid.

It hadn’t even crossed her mind to consider what would happen after that. Would she be left sitting there—just like Devon—wondering where all the time went? Probably. And it was kinda depressing. Because none of her time had gone to anything that mattered.

"Don't you think everyone feels that way though?" Janie followed him into the barn, hoping he might tell her that it wasn't just them. That it wasn't one more way she was fucking her whole life up.

"Probably. I think a lot of people, anyway." He opened up Winnifred’s gate and led her out into the main area of the barn. "At least I hope so, because if I find out everybody else is out there enjoying every day and living without regret, then I'm gonna be real depressed."

She couldn't even imagine what that would be like—to live without regrets. Regrets felt like all she had sometimes. They said hindsight was twenty-twenty, but even looking back she couldn't see a way to make things better. Just a different kind of mess.

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