Page 4 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

His father had walked out the door without saying goodbye the morning of the Arapahoe County science fair when Bodhi, at age ten, was one of the finalists and giving a presentation of his project. His dad hadn’t shown up at the science fair or the presentation or award ceremony later.

One of the best moments of Bodhi’s childhood—even his granddad had flown out from Montana—but no dad.

And the focus on Bodhi’s achievement had shifted to the whereabouts of his missing father. His mom had come under a lot of scrutiny due to her job. Reporters camped out at the house for weeks. Police interviewed everyone again and again. Bodhi had finally been sent to live with his older cousin, Bowen, and his aunt for a few months.

Two months later after no word, his mom had filed for divorce. Nearly a year later they’d learned his dad had killed himself in a remote area of Estes Park. It had taken that long for a hiker to find the body.

Bodhi thought too late about burning the letter. He’d already automatically read the few handwritten lines. It was an “I’m sorry.” His lip curled. He read the rest—an explanation and a warning.

Bodhi didn’t have to google the disease. He knew it was genetic and an autosomal dominant disorder—meaning a person only needed one copy of the defective gene. He also knew the symptoms usually manifested between the ages of thirty to fifty. His dad wrote that he’d been diagnosed at age thirty-six. His aunt had died from it. And he’d watched Bodhi’s grandfather decline, saw firsthand how it ravaged a life and family.

Bodhi turned on the propane two-burner stove in his rig and watched the letter his father had wanted him to read, two decades after his death, burn.

Chapter One

Now, Marietta, Montana

Bodhi Ballantyne leanedagainst the ancient beat-up bar at Grey’s Saloon in Marietta, Montana, and surveyed the room. Two tables of bridesmaids were getting nicely toasted on Grey’s signature pink drinks. Greys had owned and run the saloon since Marietta was little more than a trading spot. Who would have thought Jason Grey, the current owner, whose expression varied between sullen and pissed, would have created a drink so festive?

Probably just to fuck with everyone. Who didn’t love irony?

Bodhi popped off the cap of his beer and whizzed it by Jason into the trash can, earning him another scowl. He took a deep draw on the local microbrew while his mind worked over his granddad’s parting comments tonight as he’d shooed him and his cousins off to Grey’s without him, breaking a long-running tradition. All three grandsons regularly took a break from the pro rodeo to come back home, help out Granddad on projects around the house and ranch. Every September, they took a break from the tour to come home, help at the ranch and compete in the local Copper Mountain Rodeo. It was sacred. Tradition.

This year everything felt different. Wrong. It had started with the letter. Went downhill from there.

His younger cousin Beck was in trouble with his girl Ashni and didn’t seem to know it.

And now Granddad had just announced that after running a reasonably successful fifth-generation cattle ranch, he was thinking of kicking off his spurs and selling the Three Tree Ranch to an outsider. And all three of them stood at the bar of Grey’s like they were at a funeral.

Beck fidgeted and checked his phone—probably hoping for a text from Ashni. His older cousin, Bowen, laconic at best, seemed to be praying over his unopened beer. When Bodhi prodded him, Bowen stirred and muttered, “He’s playing with us.”

Maybe.

It was the Ballantyne ethos. Competition. Games. Dares. Challenges. Always trying to one-up the other. Heck, it was so ingrained that they had taken their love of all things ranch and rodeo after spending nearly every summer since he and his cousins could remember with Granddad on the ranch and joined up on the pro tour after college even though they’d all grown up in the affluent Cherry Lake Village neighborhood in Denver. It was supposed to be a lark. A year or two. But the winning had started early and the money, thrills, challenge—and for Bodhi, the women—were seductive lures to keep him in the game.

But just like they always had each other’s backs, even as they fiercely competed, the ranch had always been there. Their future. Only now it maybe wasn’t.

Unimaginable.

Bowen had suggested that the moms’ pressure had finally beat down Granddad. Beck fretted it was money. Bodhi worried it was Granddad’s health, although Granddad wasn’t yet eighty, and with his trim build, active lifestyle, sharp gaze, and full head of salt-and-pepper shaggy hair, he seemed as vigorous and in control as he ever did.

But no matter what the reason, Bodhi had to step up and ensure that Granddad had what he needed and wanted. He’d do whatever it took, but it made more sense if Beck peeled off the tour first. He had Ashni to consider. She clearly was stagnating in her job and had tired of life on the road. Bodhi had thought Beck would quit end of last year, freeing him and Bowen to peel off as well. They’d always said they’d retire together and head to the ranch. But that damn letter. And then Beck re-upping without warning, and he and Bowen dogging his every step like they were his nannies.

Beck had his own problems he should be focusing on. Bodhi didn’t do relationships, but he was very, very experienced with women. He could tell when one was unhappy, and since so many wives and girlfriends came onto him with discouraging regularity, he could tell when a woman had one foot out the door.

And Ashni—the crown jewel of women as far as Bodhi was concerned—had her hand on the handle about to take that first step to freedom. Beck was clueless and would be destroyed to lose her.

Bodhi had fallen in love with Ashni the minute he’d heard her laugh and her smart comeback to his attempt to flirt. But she’d friend-zoned him, and the following year had fallen hard for freshman Beck who took one look at Ashni in the middle of auditioning for the role of Fantine inLes Mis, dropped to his knees, and asked her to the winter formal—in late August. So uncool. Bodhi had been floored and devastated when she’d said yes. She got the role and a dance partner for life. Bodhi had stood by and watched their love grow over the years.

Beck and Ashni had made love look so easy.

He’d never once felt anything but brief sexual interest in a woman since.

So now Bodhi had three problems to deal with. His potential time-bomb health, Granddad’s unexpected desire to sell the ranch, and Beck’s screwup with Ashni.

It really came down to one problem. Bodhi took another draw on his beer.

He had to protect Granddad and the legacy of Three Tree for Beck and Bowen’s future kids.

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