Page 40 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
The laugh rips out of me before I can stop it, sudden and rough but real. For the first time since the restaurant, the knot in my chest loosens.
“Damn,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You’re something else, kid.”
She beams at me—she knows she’s won.
And just like that, I feel the ground under me again. If she’s looking up to me, if she really sees me as someone worth emulating, then quitting isn’t an option. Not for her. Not for the horses. Not for me.
I reach through the rail and squeeze her hand, my rough palm swallowing her small one. “I’ll do better,” I promise, voice low but steady. “I’ll make sure I’m someone worth looking up to.”
She just smiles, wide and certain.
When she finally pads back inside, I stay leaning against the rail, the evening pressing in around me. The horses shift and snort, their calmness seeping into me.
I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to do it—change the way people see me, undo a mistake that’s older than Daisy herself. Maybe I never will. Maybe they’ll always look at me and see nothing but the mess I was.
But when she looked at me, she didn’t see that. She saw more. And Quinn—stubborn, infuriating Quinn—she keeps betting on me too, no matter how many times I give her reason not to.
I don’t have the answers. But I’ve got people worth proving myself to and a life I’m not ready to let slip through my fingers.
So no, I won’t give up.
I push off the fence, casting one last glance at the horses moving lazily, settling in for the night ahead. Tomorrow, I’ll start again. Hell, maybe I’ll even get it right.
When I turn back toward the house, the porch light reveals Quinn in the doorway, arms folded, like she’s been standing guard. She doesn’t say a word, just tips her head in that quiet way of hers, as if to remind me I’m not carrying this alone.
The weight in my chest eases, just a little. The darkness doesn’t feel like it’s closing in anymore. It feels like the start of something I might actually be strong enough to see through.
15
QUINN
I’m a nervous wreck as I watch Beck walk up to me from the stables. Daisy came in a few minutes ago, and she gave me a thumbs-up on her way in. I have no idea what it was for, but I’m taking it as a sign that she had a good talk with her uncle.
My heart is still breaking for Beck. Watching him spiral after the cruelty he suffered this afternoon left me wrecked. Having to explain it to Jace and watch his fierce demeanor crack after learning what happened to his brother was tear-jerking.
Jace looked ready to burn down the whole town for Beck, but even he understands that this is a process. We are going to have bumps in the road, and today we suffered a pretty huge one. I just hope Beck doesn’t back out of our agreement because of it.
I wouldn’t blame him—today was brutal, and most people would crack under such extreme hate. Hell, I would too. I’m just hoping Beck is stronger than that. I need him to be. I see so much potential in him, and I want to share the version I saw today in that playroom as he interacted with the kids with the rest of the town. They need to see that he has changed and is no longer the troubled teen from back then.
So I rehearse the words in my head—arguments I’ll use to pull him back if he tries to quit. Logical reasons, emotional appeals, anything to keep him tethered to our plan. Because if he walks away now, it’s not just his image that goes up in flames. It’s my work, credibility, and chance to get the investment I’m working my butt off for from the Morgans.
He finally gets to me, shoulders squared, jaw set, the storm I’ve braced myself for nowhere to be found. His eyes sweep over me, steady and deliberate, before he says, “So, what’s next?”
For a second, I just blink at him. That’s it? No resentment, no fight, no declaration that he’s done? I’d been ready to wrestle him back from the edge, and instead he’s standing here, calm, waiting for direction.
“You want to keep going?” The words come out sharper than I mean, my disbelief slipping through.
He lifts a brow. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
I don’t bother denying it. “Yes, I thought you would be halfway across the state by now, and I’d have to chase you down.”
He chuckles, the sound music to my ears. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Atwood.”
“Can you blame me?” I retort.
I’d braced for it so much that I can hardly process the relief now washing over me. I feel my spine loosen, air slipping deeper into my lungs. He hasn’t abandoned this. He’s here and ready to keep working.
But even as I’m thinking this, I can’t ignore the truth pressing at the edges of my mind. This isn’t just about Beck. His redemption is tethered to mine, and if he had walked away just now, everything I’ve built would unravel with him. The Morgans would take one look at my failed project with him and close their checkbook before I could even get a single cent from them.
