Page 23 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
I drag a hand down my face, cursing under my breath. The horses in the nearest corral lift their heads at the sound, earsflicking, eyes tracking me like they know I’m one wrong move from snapping. Maybe I am.
But underneath the fire, there’s that hollow ache I can’t shake, the one that whispers maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve been running too long. Maybe the town still sees me as the reckless kid who ruined everything because I’ve never given them a reason to see anything else.
I kick at a loose stone, watching it skid across the dirt. Damn it. I don’t want Quinn here. I don’t want her smile, her sharp tongue, her judging eyes seeing every one of my cracks. But it doesn’t matter what I want.
Because for the first time in a long time, my father’s word is final. And that means I’m stuck with her.
I grab a pitchfork and set to work in the stables, different from the ones I left her in because I don’t want to see her. My muscles strain with each angry heave, sweat beads down my spine, the sharp tang of hay and manure thick in the air, but no matter how hard I push, it doesn’t burn the fury out of me. The tighter I grip, the harder I swing, the more it circles back, festering.
Quinn’s face flashes in my head—bright eyes, stubborn chin, the way she held her ground even when I wanted her gone. I hate that about her. I hate that I don’t hate it enough.
“Son of a—“ I slam the fork down, the clang echoing off the stall doors. The mare nearest me whinnies, shifting nervously, and guilt pricks at me. I soften my voice, steady my hands, give hera pat on the neck until she calms. She deserves better than my temper. Hell, they all do.
But I can’t stand this restless fire in my veins anymore. Not tonight. Not with everyone waiting for me to play along like I’m some damn redemption story.
I pull my phone from my back pocket, thumb hovering over Landon’s number. He won’t ask questions. He never does. That’s the beauty of it—Quinn’s golden-boy brother is just as reckless as me, only nobody cares enough to nail him to a cross for it.
I hit call. The second he picks up, my voice is steady, cold, decided. “Drinks. Tonight. You in?”
Because if they want me to play the good son, the reformed Morgan, they’re going to have to wait. Tonight, I’m not giving a damn.
9
QUINN
I storm out of the barn, boots kicking up dust, hair sticking to my sweat-slicked neck, and let out a sharp groan. Anger and frustration make my eyes burn with tears, my chest tight with a foreign emotion. I want to cry, kick, curse, and scream, but I will not allow that overgrown man-child to get a rise out of me.
Beck warned that he’d make my life hell, and he meant it. Today was supposed to be about getting him to see reason, not surviving a one-woman obstacle course. But I didn’t pack up my life and move here just to fold on the first day. Although, amidst all that labor, I was able to observe him, even from afar, and learn a few things that could potentially help me come up with a solid plan for him.
Ella is in the kitchen when I walk in, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of me. “Girl, what happened? Did you have a fight with the horses and lose?”
“Your brother happened,” I groan. “Can I have a bottle of water, please?”
“Of course,” she replies, grabbing one for me from the fridge and handing it to me.
“I’m gonna go shower. If you see Beck, let him know that I’m looking for him.”
That infuriating man left me all alone fighting for my life with that mare and disappeared to God knows where.
“To kill him?” Ella whispers fearfully.
Her honest fear makes me laugh. “Tempting, but no. It’s time to get down to business.”
She looks relieved and nods, letting me know she’ll keep an eye out for Beck.
The water bottle is gone by the time I make it to my room. I cannot get under the shower fast enough. I scrub myself from head to toe, watching as the water turns from murky brown to clear, the cleaner I get. I washed my hair this morning, but I’m forced to do it again due to all the sweat, mud, and animal shit stuck to it.
I spend a whole hour in the bathroom, but by the time I’m done, I feel all better.
Fresh clothes, clean hair, and moisturized skin feel like heaven. I haven’t eaten all day, but it’s not quite dinner time yet, so I head back downstairs in search of something to eat and Beck.
Ella is in the same spot I left her, only now her brothers are with her. “I made you this—figured you’d be hungry, so it’ll hold you over as we wait for dinner,” she says, pushing a club sandwich my way.
“Thank you. I’m famished,” I smile appreciatively as I take it from her.
“Ella filled us in on what Beck put you through today. My apologies on his behalf—he’s always been a brat,” Jace expresses.
“It’s okay. I knew what I was signing up for. I can handle him.”
