Reckless
: Chapter 3

“Morning, gorgeous,” I whisper, my voice raspy since I’ve only been in the company of horses for the last several hours. “Keeping these boys in line?” The mare whinnies as I brush out her mane.

The colts in the stalls on either side of her glare at me. I swear they know I’m busting their balls. Horses are smarter than people give them credit for.

I yank back my baseball cap and wipe the sweat away. It’s not even seven in the morning, but the air is already thick and humid. It’ll be a scorcher.

On days like today, I try to get to the stables along the back of my property as early as possible, usually around four in the morning, because around ten or eleven, it’ll be too hot to go riding. I’ll have to wait until early evening to attempt it, but that’s Texas in the summer for you.

All morning, I think about that conversation with my brother last night and wonder how I’m supposed to replace someone who’ll love and nurture my kids half as much as my mom. It feels like an insurmountable task.

By the time my nine o’clock lesson shows up, I’m a grumpy fuck.

Eyeing the BMW that pulls up the drive, I groan. Mallory Mathers is richer than God and pays an obscene amount of money for me to board and train her filly and give her lessons, but it’s a tradeoff in my sanity for several reasons. One, she’s my wife’s friend and our families go way back. Two, she always hits on me. I can only convey my disinterest so many ways before I lose my patience. Three, I need the business right now, so I can’t be a dick.

“How’s my girl doing, Ethan?” she coos when she enters the barn, flicking her red hair over her shoulder.

I don’t have to force the smile since we’re talking horses. “Doing awesome. She’s a natural.” Baby Got Back is young, so we’re still taking it easy, but between her pedigree and her own natural athleticism and cow sense, I’d say Mallory has herself a winner.

There’s a lot of money to be won in cutting events. Even though I could use some of those winnings now, it’s the competition I’ve always loved. But the thought of getting back in the arena is bittersweet, so I push it out of my mind and focus on the sorrel filly in front of me.

It takes a special kind of animal to go toe-to-toe with a six-hundred-pound cow and “cut it” from the herd. A cutting horse has to be agile and lightning-fast to stop, turn, and juke the cow, keeping it away from the herd. Not only will Baby be excellent in the ring, she’d make an incredible work horse if that was what her owner needed.

Judging by my client’s designer duds, though, work is not what Mallory has in mind. While she knows her horses, Mallory’s probably better suited for an equestrian ring than cutting, but who am I to judge?

“You bring a change of clothes? Gonna get those nice threads dirty if you go riding.”

A smile tilts her over-painted lips. “These old things?” She laughs, and Baby jerks in her stall, startled. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty when I ride.” Her hand drifts across my shoulder, and I roll my eyes, grateful she can’t see my face.

I should probably appreciate that an attractive woman is paying attention to me. Looking down at the mud on my boots and the grime on my hands, all I see is a filthy rancher who trains other people to win.

What’s the old adage—those who can’t do, teach? That’s me.

But no amount of self-pity will get me interested in someone from Allison’s circle of friends.

Mallory scratches Baby’s ear. “Think I can ride her soon?”

“Nope.” The woman whines like my five-year-old, and it’s all I can do to not throw her out of my facility. “You wanna teach her some bad habits? Maybe get thrown off ’cause neither of you are ready? Then be my guest. Otherwise you’ll be learning on one of my horses until Baby can handle you.”

After a staredown, she huffs, “Your daddy was nicer.”

No shit. “Well, he ain’t here, so buck up, buttercup.”

The mention of my father darkens my mood. Pops was a champion cutting horse rider and loved by everyone who trained here. He would’ve charmed Mallory into thinking it was her idea to ride one of our other horses.

I don’t have time for charm.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Mallory rolls her eyes, but gathers her equipment so we can get started.

Once her lesson’s done and she’s out of my hair, I hurry to ride one more horse before it gets too hot. By the time I’m finished, my face is burning from the searing heat. Stomping over to the faucet on the side of the barn, I bend over to splash some cold water on my face, but it comes out warm.

“Damn it.” I wipe my face again and tell my two ranch hands that I’m headed to the house for a few minutes and they should take their lunch. I wish I could say we’re calling it a day, that I can pick up the rest of my workload this evening when it’s cooler, but that’s not an option if I want to get my kids fed, bathed, and tucked into bed before a potential buyer swings by tonight to look at one of our yearlings.

My shoes kick up dirt as I trudge across our expansive yard, but I love this walk. A deep pride wells up in me as I approach my home through the field of dandelions and thistle. I inherited this house from my parents, and I’ve worked my ass off to take care of it. Some day, I hope to give it to my kids so they can have the same leg up in this world that my folks gave me and Logan.

My brother also inherited a house on the other side of the property, which we share for the sake of the business. Since Allison left, I’ve wondered if it would be easier to have my mom move back in with me and the kids instead of having her live with Logan, but I’m afraid that would make my dependence on her worse. The woman needs a break, which she won’t get here.

Mila comes tearing by me when I open the back door, and Cody toddles after her. “No running in the house.”

Mila slows to a halt until Cody plows into her legs, and then she starts power-walking around the corner. My mom lumbers about ten paces behind.

“You doing okay, Ma?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m okay, but those little punks are getting faster.”

“Don’t you dare run after them.”

“Their mischief and mayhem know no bounds, so until you replace that babysitter, don’t tell me what to do.”

I snicker at her snippy attitude. “I’m on it. I’m on it. Soon, you’ll be sipping mimosas with Aunt Hazel, missing your rugrats.”

“Ain’t it the truth.” She pats my cheek like I’m a boy and shuffles off to track down my children.

Turning, I make my way to the kitchen, my least favorite part of the house. Everything about this room reminds me of my wife. The track lighting and the professional range oven. The dark marble counters and fancy cookware. All shit she wanted but never used or appreciated.

At least now I can bathe in the enormous double sink without her bitching about it.

Stripping off my sweat-soaked t-shirt, I duck under the cold faucet in the kitchen, get my head and neck wet, and hope to God the sudden change in temperature doesn’t make me stroke out.

This is when Allison would complain I was raised in a barn, which isn’t far from the truth.

I’m twisting the faucet when I hear a familiar voice.

“E, you back here?” my brother calls out.

“Yeah. Kitchen.”

Footsteps sound down the hall as I reach out for a dry dishtowel. My eyes are stinging with sweat, so it takes me a few tries to replace the right drawer.

Finally, I wrap my hands around a towel and bring it to my face just as a throat clears behind me.

By the time I dry my face and open my eyes, I come face to face with Logan, who looks like a cat prowling a cage of canaries. Then I see why.

He’s not alone.

“Thought I’d bring Kat and her sister so you could chat.”

He smirks as I take in the two women by his side.

“Hey, Kat.” I motion with my head.

“Hi, neighbor.” She gives me a sweet smile as she rubs her swollen stomach. Then she nudges the woman next to her. “This is my younger sister Tori.”

That’s when I finally get a good look at the sister. Fucking Logan.

My eyes dart back to my brother, who’s grinning so wide, I can count his molars. I glare at him, knowing full well what he’s doing right now. My brother is worse than my mother when it comes to matchmaking. Because if his expression is any indication, this is about more than replaceing a babysitter.

Some men are all about tits. Others like a girl’s ass. Me, I’m a hair man. So it sucked when Allison chopped hers off right after we got married and kept it short.

With a resigned sigh, I finally turn my full attention to Tori, whose long, dark mane tumbles over her shoulders like she’s some kind of mermaid. Dressed in a white tank top, cutoffs, and some weathered shitkickers, she looks ready to star in a dirty cowboy fantasy. Long legs. Curves for miles. So much bare skin. I barely hold in a groan.

Big, luminous hazel eyes blink back at me as she unabashedly studies my face, my chest, my tats… I look down, realizing I’m standing here only sporting jeans and dripping water and barn funk all over the kitchen floor.

I clear my throat. “Ladies, excuse me. Was out with the horses this morning. Had I known you were coming by…”

My brother laughs. “The horses are the only ones around here who can tolerate Ethan, since hospitality isn’t his strong suit, but he can make a damn fine barbecue.”

Kat frowns and turns to Logan. “I thought you said you scheduled this with him.”

Yeah, right. I would’ve told him to do this another day.

Logan runs his hands through his hair. “I mentioned you might be stopping by. He must’ve forgotten.”

“Don’t be an ass. You know you didn’t tell me,” I grumble, more and more pissed by the minute to be blindsided. Turning to the women, I sigh. “I’m gonna go change. Give me five minutes, and ignore everything that comes outta his mouth. Seriously, Logan, I have other shit I need to do right now.” A potential buyer from Dallas is stopping by tonight, and my to-do list is obscene. This isn’t the day I want to interview Ariel the Mermaid. And yes, I know every damn Disney character. “Next time warn a guy.”

Kat’s daughter Izzy peeks out from behind her mom’s flowing dress and waves. “Hi, Mr. Ethan.”

Shit. I shouldn’t be cursing in front of her. “Hey, little darlin’. Didn’t see you there.” She’s a couple of years older than my daughter.

Izzy giggles and waves some more, and I twiddle my fingers at her like a lame ass.

Kat tries to hide her smile, but Tori doesn’t look amused. In fact, she looks as pissed off as I feel. Hopefully this interview will go fast. Because clearly this isn’t gonna work out. And in my experience, there’s never a good reason to jam a square peg in a round hole.