Page 6 of Wild, Wild Cowboy

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a lot more comfortable than being constricted by jeans.”

The truth was, when I left the Nevada compound at fourteen, I had been so excited to wear jeans and tank tops, like every other girl I saw at gas stations and highway diners on our way to my brother’s ranch in Wyoming. They all looked so carefree. Sonormal. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I lookedweirdin normal clothes. I was sure people were staring at me. I was so uncomfortable.

So now I wore the long skirts every girl wore at the compound. The funny thing was, even though I knew my clothes made me stand out, I wasn’t uncomfortable with it at all. I felt like myself.

I pulled onto the dirt driveway, which would eventually turn to a gravel road for another couple miles before we finally reached actual pavement. Lodestar Ranch was maybe a third the size of what it once was when Zack’s great-great-great-great grandfather bought the land in the gold rush of the eighteen hundreds, according to old maps and deeds we kept on microfiche at the library, but it was still a few hundred acres. Its pastures stretched all the way to the mountains.

“Right there,” Zack said as we bumped past a pasture on the outskirts of the property. “That’s where we’ll set up staging.”

“What staging?” I asked distractedly, all my focus dedicated to getting my twelve-year-old Subaru out of here in one piece. “Parking and all that.”

“For your rodeo.”

That got my full attention. “You’ll do it?” I squeaked. “You’ll help me?”

He grabbed the steering wheel and steered us around a sharp dip, then leaned back with an easy smile.

“Yeah, Hannah Bell. Let’s do the damn thing.”

Zack had givenme plenty of time to shower, change, and feed my cats before I was due at the library. Annabelle, Lillian, Evie, Daisy, and Lord St. Vincent—named after characters in my favorite book series—were clearly confused that I had spent the night elsewhere, but they happily wrapped themselves aroundmy ankles to show they were glad for my return. Except for Annabelle, my old gray tabby, who would rather die than show unearned affection.

My little bungalow was a two-mile walk from the library. Aspen Springs was a very car-centric—or, to be precise,truck-centric—town, but I liked to be on foot anytime the weather would allow it. It had taken two years for people to stop shouting offers to give me a ride out their windows. Now they rolled on by with a honk or a wave.

Today was gorgeous, perfect for a brisk walk, despite last night’s sudden snowstorm. People around here liked to say,if you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes, it will change.That change wasn’t always for the better. Aspen Springs was nestled in the Rocky Mountains, between the Front Range and the San Juan. The weather tended to be as wild as the scenery.

There were patches of snow on lawns, and some deeper drifts where the shadows were darkest, but the street was clear, and so was the sidewalk—when there was one. The Colorado sunshine was a force to be reckoned with.

My stomach was in danger of cannibalizing itself from hunger by the time I reached Jo’s, the only coffee shop within a twenty-mile radius. Chain restaurants had been banned decades ago, which sounded like a quaint, darling idea until it was three a.m., you’re mutteringone more chapterfor the tenth time, and would do murder for a bean burrito with globs of cheese or hot, salty fries.

The good thing about Jo’s was the pastries were baked fresh every day and she kept a decent selection of teas. Jo Ramirez—whom no one ever called Josephine—was somewhere between the age of fifty-five and seventy-five. It was hard to tell. She had salt-and-pepper hair she kept short, smooth brown skin withouta line to be seen anywhere, and a wiry frame that reminded me of a ballet dancer.

She also had no sense of humor. I knew this because the first time I met her, I pointed out how fortuitous it was that her name was slang for coffee, given her chosen profession. She had stared at me like I was speaking Latin.

Exactly how I had stared at Zack this morning, probably.

It was possible she had heard that joke before.

I indulged in a cranberry-orange muffin and a nice Earl Grey tea. I didn’t have time to sit down for a decent breakfast, so I ate it as I walked the block from Jo’s to the library. After a quick stop in the ladies’ room to wash the muffin oils from my hands so I wouldn’t stain the fabrics, I found everyone waiting for me in the sole multipurpose room.

“You’re not wearing yesterday’s clothes,” Janie said as I walked in.

James, Chloe, and Essie stopped sorting their embroidery projects. They looked at me and then at Janie.

“Why would she be wearing yesterday’s clothes?” Chloe asked. Her head tilted and I could practically see the gears turning. She knew where Janie worked Friday nights, so those gears didn’t have to turn far. “Ohhh, was this a walk of shame situation?” she squealed.

“I gave Zack a ride home, that’s all.” Not that I had anything against one-night stands, for other people. I had tried one, once. It hadn’t been a good fit. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything, Janie.”

Janie arched an auburn brow. “That’s not how I remember it. You said,if I show up to our sewing club tomorrow in yesterday’s clothes, I don’t want to hear a word about it. And you didn’t. So…” Her voice trailed off with a grin.

“You drove all the way from town to Lodestar Ranch and back again?” James asked. I couldn’t tell if she looked suspicious or concerned. “In the snowstorm?”

“No, I stayed in Brax’s cabin,” I said.

“Huh.” Essie bared her teeth in a grimace. “Ithinkwe washed those sheets recently?” She said it like she had doubts.

I wrinkled my nose. Ew.

“You should have stayed with Zack,” Essie said. “Had that one-night stand. He’s like the Statue of Liberty or Paris. Something everyone should do once.”

---