Page 8 of For Cowgirls and Kings
I stiffen, my fingers tightening over the leather in my grip a second before I exhale. Sven doesn’t deserve my ire, even if it’s not directed at him.
“Who cares?”
“Uh—”Jonah’s eyebrows shoot to his hair line in surprise before he flails the shirt in my general direction once more. “Every horny daughter, or desperate mother waiting to land‘the big one.’”
I snort at that. No mother would want their daughter to end up with me if they respected or loved them at all. All I do is work.
“Jonah, you read too many tabloids. What am I even paying you for?” I reach for the hook on the gate, something he could have done if he hadn’t been ogling me, and Sven prances beneath me growing impatient.
“Boss, you look great. Ripped even. And the tattoos are nothing but chick magnets. I know you have to get some serious a?—”
I whip my head around, pinning him with a glare. “Finish that sentence and you’ll find somewhere else to work. I will not tolerate crude behavior like that.” Even if he’s right, which I’ll never admit, I believe in being a gentleman even when no one’s around. It’s about having a standard, and I hold myself to the highest of them.
“Sorry, boss,” he mumbles, and I roll my eyes, feeling half sorry for scolding him. He’s not much younger than me, probably six years, but I know we were raised differently. I’m not talking about the difference in wealth even—although that plays a part—I’m talking about the iron fist and the golden bar.
“Hand me that.” I point at the shirt and he hesitantly walks forward, extending the fabric. I grab the piece, stretching it over my head and pulling it down as best as I can. Even when I’m not covered in an offensive amount of sweat my clothes hate to fit.
“Do they have meaning?”
I face him again, motioning at the gate still open where he’s standing. He grabs the latch, but his eyes don’t leave my face.
I shrug, pushing Sven forward. “Most of them, no. They just look cool, or felt right. A couple of them do though.” My eyes flick down to the most obvious one printed across my knuckles:NOBLE ONE.
“I remember when you first got those, after you inherited the company. Everyone said they meant something.”
“Again, I’m not paying you to read magazines.”
“Do they mean something?” he pushes, and I have half a mind to fire his nosy ass.Is he a secret agent or something?
“Do yours?” I hiss.
Sven knickers as we near the barn and I slide off his back, running a hand over his sweat covered flank.
“Do you want me to wash him?” Jonah offers and even though I know I’m paying him to do just that, I grip onto the leather a little tighter. When I can, I prefer to do the work myself. There’s something about dirt beneath my fingernails to help remind me I’m more than just a symbol—that I’m more than just a Reyes.
Sven whinnies, pulling on his lead. I know he’d rather go eat the grain that waits for him in his stall than get a bath first, but he deserves better treatment than that. Even if he doesn’t realize it himself.
Just like a salty, five foot nothing brat that’s consumed my every thought since she called me out of the blue only weeks ago. I’ve missed the years where she grew up—taking over my family's empire made having friends nearly impossible—especially when our shared interests were next to none.
In high school, Adalene was the shy, withdrawn good-girl. But Dale—the nickname I started calling her at seventeen—is none of those things. Dale’s a woman, and I can’t help but feel drawn to her in a way I never knew I could be.
I’ve been Mateo Reyes, the millionaire rancher and casino boss now for eight years—a man of power and wealth andmotivation. And I’ve forgotten about just being Mateo: the man who loves cattle genetics, and taking long horseback rides just to feel the sun on my skin.
Being a Reyes comes with its perks, but it also comes with its hardships too. The biggest one being losing touch with the people who knew me for who I wanted to be, and not who I had to be.
I need to call her, see how she’s doing.I shake my head, reminding myself I just saw her only days ago when I forced my way into her house. I’ve seen more of Dale in the last few weeks than I have in the last ten years.
And yet…I’m not even close to having enough.
“Sir?” Another ranch hand, Davie—I think—stumbles back.
“Yes, sorry. What did you say?” My voice is far more growly than I’d like, but it’s Dale. The mere thought of her turns me on, which in turn,pisses me off.
“I said, you’re needed at Del Maria.”
I exhale the sudden frustration welling in my body—it’s not his fault no one can keep the ship afloat without me.
“Here.” I extend Sven’s reins to the guy and he eyes them hesitantly.
