Page 23 of Pretend To Be My Cowboy
Her gaze moved to the right where a faded red barn was silhouetted by the setting sunlight. Nash was in the doorway, leading a horse by the reins. The sight was so perfect. He looked so natural in this environment, like he fit. Like he belonged.
Her heart gave a sharp tug of yearning at the thought. What must it be like to belong to the land?
She could only imagine.
“Emma, please tell me you’ll be back when you planned,” Lizzy pleaded.
Emma sighed, jarred into the moment by her sister’s voice. She couldn’t just ignore the laundry list of responsibilities that filled her plate.
“You know I’ll...”Try.That was what she wanted to say, but there was no way Lizzy would let that fly, so instead she settled for what she hoped would be the truth. “You know I will.”
8
The sun was brutal the next morning. Of course, it didn’t help that Nash had stayed up too late playing pool with the guys, or that even after a few beers and some distraction from his friends, he’d still tossed and turned with thoughts of Emma’s tear-filled eyes.
“You look like moose scat,” JJ said when he joined him in the stables.
Nash gave a grunt that made JJ laugh.
“Did you go into town after you left us last night, or what?” The ranch hand scratched at his scruffy beard, his dark brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. The ladies seemed to find him appealing, but like with Kit...it certainly wasn’t for the effort he put into his appearance.
“Not in the mood to talk, huh?” JJ said.
Nash just grunted again. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes or small talk. There was work to be done, and he meant to do it….without chatter.
JJ laughed again at his silence. Like Kit, JJ was quick to humor. Not much fazed the guy. What was more, he was dependable and a hard worker.
His full name was Jesse Jamieson and he was a few years younger than Nash and Kit, and that was just about all Nash knew about the guy. With some prying over drinks a few years back, they’d learned that he’d been married briefly—a topic he seemed keen to drop immediately—and that he’d worked in the Dakotas for a few years before finding his way to Frank O’Sullivan’s ranch.
He’d become a good friend, even if he didn’t talk about himself much. And right now, he seemed to respect the fact that Nash wasn’t in the mood to talk about himself either.
Instead, Nash went back to work, and JJ did the same, saddling his horse while murmuring something to it that Nash couldn’t hear.
The man was born to be a cowboy, it seemed. It fit his personality to a tee—no-frills, taking life as it comes, and with a talent for working with his hands.
Over the years, Nash had never once heard JJ complain. Not about anything.
When JJ finished his routine, he turned to Nash, who was still scowling. He’d woken up in a foul mood, and it wasn’t likely to go anywhere anytime soon.
Definitely not until he figured out how he could help Emma.
“Aw, come on, man. Snap out of it. You still bummed because Cody won your money?” he joked.
Nash gave a grudging huff of laughter. Cody was the third ranch hand and hardly ever won a game of pool. “That was a fluke. It won’t happen again.”
JJ pointed a finger at him accusingly, though his eyes were filled with laughter at Nash’s expense. “No, Nash, that was you being distracted. Cody took advantage of the fact that you were barely with us even though you were in the same room.”
Nash turned away, avoiding more conversation by putting away some supplies. He couldn’t deny it. He’d hung out with JJ and Kit’s brother, Cody, for hours last night at the cowboys’ bunkhouse, where they stayed most of the year.
The bunkhouse had a small lodge of its own for the guys to relax after a hard day’s work, and it was where they tended to gather in the evenings when they weren’t up for making the drive into town.
He’d thought it would help last night, but no amount of jokes or trash talking could stop his thoughts from wandering back to Emma.
He’d sent her a text around dinnertime asking if she wanted to go out for something to eat, but she’d said she wanted to stay in and that she’d help herself to the kitchen if she got hungry.
So, fine. Good.
He sent a bale of hay flying when he shoved the stack too hard to move it out of his way.
