A Cowboy State of Mind Page 7

  “You’re right,” she told him, heat burning her neck. “It’s not your place to say.” If only her brother had waited five more minutes to call, she’d have been alone in the truck, and Zane wouldn’t have had to hear her side of the conversation.

  He held up his hands. “It’s your money.”

  “He’s my brother.”

  He nodded, not saying anything more.

  He’s my brother. She’d been using the same justification for years. The same rationale for why she let him take advantage of her, why she went hungry so she could send him money. She’d been taking care of him since they were kids, and he was the only immediate family she had left. What else could she do?

  “Let’s just focus on getting the car back before it dies again.” She glanced at the pickup. “You sure you want me driving your truck? Most guys are pretty possessive about their pickups.”

  “I trust you,” Zane said. “Plus, you’ll have the dog riding shotgun.” His lips curved into the slightest smile before he turned and slid into the driver’s seat of her car.

  That smile had her heart racing as she climbed into the cab of his truck and followed him back to her house. He might trust her, but right now she wasn’t sure she trusted herself. She didn’t seem to be making the brightest decisions today.

  A few minutes ago, she’d thought luck was on her side, but luck was a fickle bitch and the realization sank in that Bryn didn’t have a car that worked, had just promised to send her brother money she didn’t have, and had just bought a horse and a half that she couldn’t afford to feed. Not to mention the other gut-curdling fact that by purchasing the horse with Zane, she’d tied herself to a man who went against every principle she’d just sworn herself to follow.

  Zane might be compassionate and warm with animals, but every other part of him, from his stiff posture to his hooded eyes, gave off the aloof vibe of a guy who kept his distance—a forbidding lone wolf. Sure, he could make her smile with his wry wit, but the things his grin did to her body, the way he had her skin heating and her chest tightening with nerves promised danger and risk.

  She was done with emotionally distant guys she thought she could save. Talking to her brother and thinking about the things that asswipe Pete had stolen from her, not just her money but her pride, had her stomach churning and her heart hardening with resolve that she wouldn’t be taken in again by a man who resonated that kind of danger. Not that she dreamed Zane would ever hurt her physically, but he had the capacity to wreck her heart. And her body. That one peck of a kiss had left her breathless and fired a shot of desire down her spine that reached all the way to her toes.

  But then one phone call, and he’d completely shut down. She wouldn’t risk her heart again no matter how tormented and wounded Zane seemed—no matter how much she wanted to save him.

  She was done saving others. She wanted security and stability. Safety. And when it came to being around Zane Taylor, her heart was anything but safe.

  Chapter 5

  Birch Taylor was sitting in the kitchen that night when Zane walked through the door. His lips were pressed together, and a paper plate and an empty tumbler sat on the table in front of him. Zane couldn’t tell what had been in the glass, but the air in the house held the sharpness of his father’s temper. His chest tightened, and Zane fought to steady his breathing as he nodded to Birch. “Dad.”

  Birch didn’t answer, but his eyes narrowed in a steely glare as he watched Zane put the milk in the fridge and set the loaf of bread on the counter. The collie stuck to his heels as he took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water at the sink.

  “You eat?” Zane asked his dad before taking a steadying sip of water. He was a grown man. Birch hadn’t beaten him in years. So how did his father’s glare still cause the hair on his neck to rise and every flight instinct to go on high alert? He wrapped his fingers around the edge of the counter, his knuckles going white as his grip tightened.

  “No, Son. I did not eat,” Birch stated through gritted teeth. “I’m hungry, and I would have like to have eaten. But as I told you earlier, there was no bread in the house. So I couldn’t make a sandwich.”

  “Why didn’t you open a can of soup?”

  “Because I didn’t feel like a friggin’ can of soup. I felt like having a sandwich. And I didn’t know you wouldn’t be home until eight o’clock at night.”

  “You been sittin’ at the table waiting for me since suppertime?” They usually ate around six. If Birch had been sitting there for two hours, he’d had plenty of time to work up a good head of steam.

  Birch narrowed his eyes to small hard slits. “Yes, Son. I have.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know. I can put a sandwich together for you.” He opened the refrigerator and took out a package of lunch meat and some Miracle Whip and set them on the counter.

  Birch pushed back from his chair so fast, it fell over behind him. He grabbed the loaf of bread and shook it in Zane’s face. “And just what the hell is this supposed to be? I asked you to get some bread.”

  “Take it easy, Dad. That is bread.”

  Birch slammed his fist onto the counter. “Don’t tell me to take it easy. I’ve been waiting on you for two damn hours to bring home a loaf of bread so I could make a sandwich, and you can’t even do that right. How hard it is to buy some bread? Only a dumbass would bring me this shit. Some hippie-dippie loaf of nuts and grain.”

  “It’s whole wheat, Dad. It’s not hippie-dippie. And they were out of white, this was all they had. Besides, the doctor said you need to eat healthier anyway.”

  “So, what? Now you’re my doctor? Yeah right. I don’t think so. You need brains for that, and you seem to be lacking in that department. Or are you trying to say that I’m the stupid one? You think I’m too dumb to know how to take care of my own health?”

  Obviously. Since you’re an alcoholic and you had a heart attack. Zane pressed his lips together, having learned a long time ago that keeping silent tended to end a lot better for him than mouthing off. He just needed to shut up and let his dad blow off the worst of the steam.

  “Here’s what I think of your healthy, piece-of-shit whole wheat bread.” Birch crushed the loaf between his hands, then twisted the bag, tearing the plastic apart and flinging bread and crumbs across the kitchen.

  A piece hit the floor in front of the collie, who stood steadfastly pressed to Zane’s leg. The dog leaned her head down to sniff the bread.

  “Get the hell away from that, you stupid mutt,” Birch screamed and kicked the fallen chair toward the dog. It flew across the floor, but the collie yelped and jerked out of the way, narrowly missing getting clipped in the leg.

  Zane didn’t think. He only reacted as he shot forward and pressed his forearm into his father’s chest and pushed him against the kitchen counter. He glared into his father’s eyes as he spat out the words: “You can say whatever you want to me, call me every idiot name in the book, but don’t you ever hurt that dog.”

  Birch glared back. “You think you’re a tough guy now? So big and strong you can beat up an old man?”

  His dad was far from an old man. Birch had the sinewy muscled arms of a man who had worked in a garage his whole life. Hauling tires and lifting car parts had made his body strong, and Zane knew all too well the strength of his father’s hands.

  “You think you’re so big and strong you can beat up a defenseless animal?”

  The collie stood fiercely by Zane’s leg. A low growl emitted from her throat, then she let loose with three sharp barks at Birch.

  “You better shut that damn dog up.”

  “Get back, girl,” Zane told the dog, who obediently stepped behind his legs.

  Birch shoved back against Zane’s arm, raising his chin and pushing his shoulders back. “Don’t test me, Son.”

  “Yeah, I know. You brought me into this world, you can take me out.” />
  A wicked gleam lit Birch’s eyes as he sneered at his son. “No, I didn’t bring you into this world. Your mother did that, and you killed her in the process. It’s almost a blessing she didn’t live to see the despicable excuse of a man you turned out to be.”

  Zane huffed out a disgusted breath, the hateful words having less power over him than they’d once had. “Yeah, I’ve heard this all before, Dad. You need to come up with some new material if you really want to hurt me.”

  Birch shoved away from him and grabbed his jacket from a peg on the wall. “I don’t need to take this bullshit from you. I’m walking down to the store. I’ll buy my own damn bread.”

  “Fine. Next time, do that in the first place.” He winced as the walls shook from Birch slamming the front door. Zane knelt on the floor, and the dog whined as she leaned her head into his shoulder. “It’s all right, girl.” He ran his hand down her legs, examining her for any sign of injury. “He’s an asshole, but I won’t let him touch you. I may not be good for much, but I promise I can keep you safe. Nobody is going to hurt you while I’m around.”

  * * *

  It was close to midnight when Zane heard the soft whisper of his bedroom door opening. He hadn’t been quite asleep, but the dog had been lying next to him and snoring for the last half hour. She lifted her head at the sound, her hackles rising and a growl formed in her throat.

  “Shhh,” Zane whispered softly, stroking the dog’s neck but otherwise not moving.

  Birch didn’t turn on the light, but Zane knew it was his dad and waited for the weight of his father’s body to sit on the end of his bed. They’d been here before. Many times. But not since the heart attack. It wasn’t the first time his dad had slung hurtful words in his direction since then, but it was the first big fight—the first time his dad’s temper had torn loose—and Zane wondered if maybe his empty tumbler from earlier had held more than iced tea.

  Zane held his breath and tried to push back the emotions of his ten-year-old self—the yearning for love, the bone-deep desire to hear the apology and the kind words that followed a beating. No wonder he was screwed up. His whole life love had been intertwined with pain—he suffered through one to get the other.

  Birch laid a heavy hand on Zane’s leg. In the dark room, Zane could still make out the shadow of his father, the slump of his shoulders, the hanging head. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, Son. I didn’t mean it.”

  Yeah, you did. Birch could apologize a million times, but the first time he’d said the words aloud—placing the blame of his mother’s death on his birth—Zane knew his father believed them to be true. It was a heavy burden for a child to carry—one he’d been trying to lay down since he’d become a man.

  Zane tensed his shoulders, waiting to hear what came next, his heart already thirsting for the meager words of affirmation Birch offered after a fight.

  Birch softly patted his leg. “You’re a good boy, Zane. A good man.”

  Zane didn’t say anything. He never did. He just waited for his dad to push off his bed and carefully pull his bedroom door shut behind him.

  He finally let out his breath as the dog cuddled in closer to his side. She pushed her nose into the crook of his neck and gave his ear a quick lick before laying her head on his shoulder. He pressed his forehead against hers as he ran his hand through her fur and over her back. She let out a doggie sigh, and his body finally relaxed. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Zane twisted a piece of wire around the corral fence he was mending and tried for the hundredth time that day not to think about Bryn.

  She’d kept her word and not only fed him lunch the day before, but supper as well. He’d been eating meatloaf and mashed potatoes and flirting with a beautiful woman while his dad had been waiting for the bread. A tendril of guilt tried to work its way through his gut, but he pushed it back. It wasn’t his fault his dad hadn’t opened a can of soup. And he was allowed a life. Wasn’t he?

  It had felt like he was living a life yesterday as he’d spent the afternoon and most of the evening with Bryn, working on her car and fixing up the corral and a stall for Beauty. He hadn’t wanted to leave, which was why he’d gotten home so late. But he knew it wasn’t the kind of life he’d ever get. Bryn was sweet and kind, and he was damaged goods. The fight with his dad the night before had solidified his notion that he didn’t want to bring that kind of darkness into Bryn’s world. Which was why he shouldn’t be spending the majority of his day today thinking of ways to get back there.

  But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see her again. Be with her. Find ways to touch her, to hug her, to make her laugh again. Last night, he’d offered to drive her to and from work today, and she’d tentatively accepted the ride home but claimed she was fine walking into town. He checked his watch. Still another few hours before he could pick her up.

  He crossed the corral and stepped into the barn, where Logan stood with a couple of the James brothers from the neighboring ranch. Although they hadn’t been friends per se—he hadn’t let himself have many of those—he’d known Mason and Colt most of his life and had played hockey with both of them in high school. They were good men, and he respected the work they’d done with their ranch.

  He tipped his head as he entered the barn. “Mason. Colt.”

  “Hey, Zane,” Colt answered. “How’s it going?”

  Zane shrugged, not a huge fan of small talk. “It’s going.”

  Mason stretched out a hand. “Heard you and Bryn Callahan rescued yourselves a run-down mare yesterday.”

  “Bryn did the rescuing. I was just along for the ride,” Zane said as he shook Mason’s hand.

  “I heard the horse wasn’t in the best shape.”

  “No, she wasn’t. But she will be. A little malnourished, a nasty eye infection, and a little skittish. But that’s to be expected. She’d been tied up in a filthy horse trailer for I don’t know how long and the scumbags who had her obviously weren’t taking care of her. I don’t think they’d even given her water.”

  Mason winced. “Assholes.”

  “It’s a good thing you and Bryn found her then,” Colt said.

  “Yeah. She’s older, but still a good horse. And she’s in foal. I’m a little worried Bryn might be in over her head, financially speaking. One horse is expensive enough, but two can really tax you. I know her heart is in the right place, but heartstrings don’t buy hay bales.”

  “I’ve known Bryn a long time,” Logan said. “She has a way of landing on her feet.”

  “That’s true enough. By the time she and I went back to town yesterday, Doc Hunter had already put a hundred dollars on her feed store account.”

  Logan grinned. “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s one of her regulars at the diner, and Doc’s always had a bit of a crush on our girl Bryn.”

  It surprised Zane how much he liked the idea of being included in the consideration of Bryn being our girl.

  “Yeah, well, I figured I couldn’t let an eighty-year-old man show me up, so I’m planning to pick up another hundred dollars of feed and supplies and take it out to her today.”

  Logan pulled out his wallet and passed him a couple of fifties. “Add this to her account too. And I can pitch in some hay. We can fill up that small horse trailer with a bunch of bales, and you can take it over this afternoon.”

  “Sounds good.” Up until his dad’s heart attack, Zane had been away from Creedence for close to ten years, and he’d forgotten the generosity of the community. Well, toward one of their own who was someone like Bryn. Growing up the son of the town drunk had not afforded him the same kind of generosity. Or his dad’s pride hadn’t let them accept it.

  Birch would rather split a can of baked beans for their Christmas meal than accept any kind of charity from those “busybody women at the church.” Zane remembered that the women had still
tried, at least when he was a boy. But Birch’s mean-spirited comments finally drove them away. Just like they’d driven Zane away.

  Except he always seemed to come back for another dish of pain. Birch might not lay hands on him anymore, but his father’s words could bite and cut just the same.

  Logan turned to Mason and Colt and held out his hand. “Pony up, boys, it’s for a good cause.”

  Mason pulled out his wallet and held it open. “Looks like I’ve got sixty-three dollars to add to the pot.” He passed Zane the contents of his wallet.

  Colt opened his billfold and pulled out the two twenties inside. “I’m a little light, but I can throw some money on her account the next time I’m in the feed store. And we’ll tell Rock to pitch in when we see him,” Colt said, referring to the oldest James brother who played professional hockey for the NHL. “His wallet’s always full, and he loves Bryn.”

  “Thanks,” Zane said, shoving all the bills into his pocket. “Bryn’s gonna love this. I don’t think she’d accept it for herself, but she’ll take it for the horse.”

  “While you all are feeling so charitable,” Logan said, gesturing to the barn door, “why don’t you help us load up that horse trailer with hay?”

  Mason nodded. “Sure. We’ve got a little time before we need to be in town.”

  Zane walked beside Logan as they followed the other two men from the barn. “That’s pretty cool the way you all just tossed in cash to help Bryn.”

  Logan shrugged. “She’d do the same for any of us if she could. That girl is as generous as the day is long.”

  “Maybe too generous,” Zane muttered, a scowl forming on his lips.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothin’, I guess.” He hesitated, wavering between wanting to help Bryn and not betraying her confidence. “Say, what do you know about this last guy she was dating? The one back in the fall. She was telling me a little about him, and he sounds like a douche.”

  “He was. I don’t know what she saw in him. I didn’t spend a lot of time with the guy, but something about him gave me a bad feeling.”