Page 9 of Perfect Cowboy

In my case, the spots have become tainted.

It could be a nostalgic song, a specific clearing in the woods, or even a scent that reminds me of her.

But I’ve gotten really good at tamping the thoughts down as soon as they pop up because I had to.

Without moving on, I would have lost my sanity.

“Cameron,” I say sharply, striding over to where he’s crouched down setting up a generator with a few of the cowhands.

When he stands, his expression is sheepish, so there’s no doubt that he knows exactly why I’m pissed.

“Hey, man. We’re almost done setting this one up,” he says.

I guess he’s deciding to go with the playing dumb card.

“Can I talk to you in the office, please?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure.”

We leave Brad, Marty, and Daniel to finish equipping the barn that will house our pregnant cows during the storm. They have to be corralled in a safe, warm place because I can’t risk any accidents when their lives and my livelihood are both at stake.

I’m not even convinced this storm is really coming, and if it does, I doubt it will be as bad as everyone is saying. We’ve prepared for storms that never happened more times than I can count, but no one will shut up about this one.

Meteorologists seem to just tell tales at random, cause people to scramble around like idiots, and then change their minds like it’s nothing. The margin for error is high, but it can’t hurt to be ready just in case.

When we reach my office, Cameron shuts the door behind us. I sit on the edge of the desk and he leans against the wall, waiting for me to give him hell.

“You could have told me,” I say, scrubbing my hands over my face.

Cameron is one of my best friends, and after his family suffered some devastating tragedies that caused them to lose their own ranch, I hired him as my lead hand. It’s been a joy to spend so much time with him and helping him out during a time of need is my privilege.

“Man, I know what she means to you,” he says. “I just–”

“Meant,” I correct. “What she meant to me. She’s nothing now.”

“Is that why you look like you’re about to fall over?”

I absently run a hand through my hair and decide that I should work on my poker face. The truth is that I shouldn’t give a shit about Ashley Gibson, but the reality is far more complicated.

He softens his voice and walks over to rest a hand on my shoulder. “If the news broke you, I wanted you to have Bobby. You know I’m here for you. I’ll always be in your corner. But I just thought… You might have needed him. That’s all. I’m sorry if it was the wrong call.”

The misdirected anger deflates out of me. It’s not Cameron’s fault, but he was the easiest target.

“I appreciate it,” I say roughly. “Seeing her was…”

Well, it wrecked me.

“You ran into her?” he asks, with a wince.

“Unfortunately. Guess it was bound to happen.”

“Do you want to–”

“Fuck it,” I say. “We’ve wasted enough time on her. Let’s just get back to it.”

We head outside and I help the guys set up the shelter belts, heat lamps, and generators. And then they help me unload the truck so we can restock our supply building.

“There’s my best buddy,” I say, as Scout runs over to greet me. I make the signal that gives him permission to jump on me so I can hug him. “How’s my favorite boy?”

---