It starts with the horse…

Liv Bailey never forgot her high school crush. Champion roper Matt Montoya always did have that irresistible daredevil swagger. But Liv isn’t Matt’s shy tutor anymore. She’s a grown woman and a physiotherapist with a painful past. Matt isn’t the only tough one now, and when their tempers clash over a horse they both claim ownership of, sparks fly in more ways than one.

Liv’s willing to let Matt bring some passion into her life, but when he opens his heart to her, she’s scared of being hurt again. Liv knows there’s more there than just desire—if she can only trust the cowboy who loves her.

“There’s something you need to understand, Matt.”

Liv folded her arms over her chest. “You might be able to charm yourself out of a multitude of situations, but you aren’t charming me. Sometimes, despite charisma and good looks, the answer is no. And that’s what it’s going to stay. No.”

He bit down on the corner of his lip before saying, “Aren’t you going to threaten me with your father again?”

“Dad’s busy cutting hay.”

“About time.”

“He’s been sick.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He didn’t sound one bit sorry and he made his lack of sympathy clear when he said, “This isn’t over, Liv. I’ll hire a lawyer.”

“Andie’s dad already advised me, and he said he’ll give me all the help I need to keep Beckett.”

“He’s my horse.”

“Not according to the State of Montana.” Liv lifted her chin. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation.”

Dear Reader,

Ah, secret high school crushes…remember those? My heroine, Liv Bailey, certainly does. She spent months tutoring hot high school rodeo star Matt Montoya so that he could remain eligible for competition, only to have him ask her sister out once his grades improved. Although Liv didn’t realize it at the time, the situation with Matt helped spark her initiative to stop being the quiet, nice girl who bent over backward to keep everyone happy.

Ten years later, when the story opens, Liv is no longer the make-no-waves person she was, and when Matt once again needs her help, he’s surprised at how much she’s changed. Matt has also changed, but not by choice. He’s dealing with a career-ending injury and has to learn how to deal with the situation. Like many men, he starts with denial…

I wrote this book because I’m fascinated by the idea of reinvention, whether by choice or circumstance. I especially like it when people rebel against their assigned niche (remember how everyone was assigned a niche in high school?). Then there’s the matter of unrequited love. Who hasn’t fantasized about running into that crush and having him or her realize just what they missed? It was a lot of fun giving Liv that chance and it was also satisfying changing Matt from a self-absorbed guy obsessed with reclaiming his career into a caring hero who realizes there’s more to life than winning.

Thanks for reading Once a Champion! I love hearing from readers. If you have questions or comments, please contact me at jeanniewrites@gmail.com.

Jeannie Watt

Once a Champion

Jeannie Watt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeannie Watt lives in rural Nevada with her husband and many animals. For many years she sent her (now grown) children to visit their grandparents in Montana, where they would experience ranch life firsthand. Her kids still talk about the fun they had teaching calves to lead, branding, driving tractors and fencing. She and her husband still talk about the peace and quiet they enjoyed while the kids were leading calves and driving tractors.

Acknowledgment

I’d like to thank Kari Lynn Dell and Myrna Gallian for bringing me up to speed on rodeo competition and calf/tie-down roping. I love watching rodeo, but, as with all sports, there’s so much more to it than meets the eye. Thanks so very much, ladies!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT ON EARTH had happened to the Bailey Ranch?

Matt Montoya slowed his pickup to a crawl as he drove over the cattle guard that marked the northern boundary of the property, taking in the sagging fences and weed-choked hay fields that should have been cut at least a week ago. What the hell?

He hadn’t been to the Bailey Ranch in years, not since he’d come to look at some cattle after he and Trena had first married. The place had been immaculate then. Well-farmed, well-maintained. This was not the ranch he remembered.

Matt stepped on the gas and continued down the drive to the ranch house, half a mile away. A few steers stood in the pasture, heads down, tails swishing as they ate. At least they looked fat and well fed, but again, the last time he’d been here, Tim Bailey had had at least a hundred Angus in this field that now held ten.

So was his missing horse here, on this disturbingly run-down ranch? If so, Matt didn’t know why. Tim had never been a horseman, preferring to do his cattle work on a four-wheeler, but one of the local team ropers had insisted that he’d seen Matt’s gelding here when he’d come to repair a gas line.

All Matt could do was hope. He’d been looking for Beckett for over a year now and this was the first solid lead he’d had. Ironic if the missing horse had been on this ranch, two miles from his own home base, all this time. Ironic and aggravating.

After parking under the giant elm trees that shaded the old ranch house, Matt got out of the truck, moving carefully to avoid banging his healing knee, and then for a moment he stood, getting the feel of the place. It wasn’t good, smacking of neglect and abandonment.

White paint hung in tattered strips off the sides of the house and the once blue trim was now mostly gray wood. Weeds poked their heads up through the gravel and the lawn looked as if it hadn’t been cut in about a year. Or maybe two. Matt felt as if he were standing square in the middle of a deserted ghost town, except that this place wasn’t deserted. Two trucks and a small white sedan were parked next to the barn. Someone was there. But where?

If he couldn’t find Tim, Matt wasn’t above exploring the pastures and barns on his own. He needed to know if Beckett was on this ranch and if he was, then he had to formulate a plan to get him back. Tim Bailey was a notoriously stubborn guy, so it might take some work, but Matt was going to reclaim his horse. He needed him.

Matt had just reached the sidewalk when the front door of the house swung open and a slender woman with a long reddish-brown ponytail stepped out onto the porch. She closed the door behind her with a gentle pull, as if trying not to disturb someone inside. Matt stopped dead in his tracks.

“Liv?”

It’d been a dozen years since he’d seen Tim’s daughter, his former tutor who’d helped him maintain his GPA so that he could compete in rodeo during high school. He missed so much school being on the road that he’d had to get some kind of help to keep from flunking, and brainy Liv Bailey had been the perfect person for the job. Shy, but no-nonsense when it came to studies, she’d guided him through the first semester of his senior year, had helped him make grades. Liv had always been there for him and now here she was again.

Life had suddenly got easier.

“Matt,” she replied coolly, shifting her weight and taking a stance in front of the door as if guarding it from an intruder. Or from him. Not the greeting he’d expected.

“How are you?” Matt asked, taking a couple more steps forward.

Liv folded her arms over her midsection in a defensive motion, causing her breasts to swell against the blue chambray shirt and making Matt suddenly aware that she’d changed a bit since high school. She pointedly glanced down at her chest, where his eyes had briefly held, then back up at him, making him feel like a middle-school kid who’d been caught looking at a girly magazine.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with an easy smile. In a strange way, he’d enjoyed their tutoring sessions back in the day. She’d worked hard to pound the knowledge into him, but since she was so shy, he could easily fluster her with a smile or joke—which was exactly what he’d done whenever he’d wanted a break.

“Why not?” she asked in a reasonable voice. “It’s where I grew up.”

“Last I heard, you were in college.”

“I’ve been out for a while.” There was a definite edge of sarcasm in her voice.

“I know. I was just saying...” Nothing important. “Are you living here now?”

She nodded, but did not elaborate, choosing instead to stare at him as if he’d crawled out from under the proverbial rock. This was not the Liv he remembered.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’m here about a horse,” he said, figuring it was time to focus on the matter at hand, since he and Liv were obviously not going to have a touching reunion.

The color faded from her already pale cheeks. “A horse?”

“Yes. It’s a long story, but to shorten it up, I left a roping horse with my now ex-wife. He disappeared. I’m looking for him.”

“Disappeared?” She reached up to touch her earlobe in the same self-conscious gesture he recalled from their tutoring sessions.

“Without a trace.”

“Before you were divorced?”

“Yeah. But we were separated. The divorce was in the works.” And should have happened a lot sooner than it had. It would have happened a lot sooner, had he known that Trena was not spending her nights alone.

For a moment Liv pressed her lips together and stared down at the weathered porch boards. There didn’t seem to be anything on this ranch that wasn’t weathered. Except for Liv. Liv looked...good.

She also looked threatened.

“Do you have my horse?” he asked.

She met his eyes then, hers as blue as the winter sky on a sunny day and just as cold. “I have my horse.”

Her horse.

Matt hooked a thumb into his pocket. “Can I see your horse?”

Liv drew in a breath that made her chest rise—not that he was looking—and changed the subject. “What are your plans for the future?”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Simple question. What are your plans for the future?” She used the same voice she’d used while trying to help him learn calculus. A voice geared to hide her innate shyness.

“I injured my knee a month ago in Austin. I’m here to finish healing up, train a little and then I’ll go back onto the circuit.” He figured another week of ground work and then he’d get back on his horse and start some serious training. Hopefully his doctor would agree when he saw him in a few days.

Liv didn’t so much as blink when he’d said he had to heal, maybe because he’d been plagued by so many injuries the past two years that hearing he had another meant nothing. Not that he thought Liv was following his rodeo career; it was just that when a hometown boy made good, the locals kept track.

“How long will it take your knee to heal?”

Matt shifted impatiently, wanting very much to put an end to the questions by saying, “Why do you want to know and where’s my horse?” but instead responded with the more congenial, “Time will tell.”

There was another long pause, and for a moment she stared past him out into the pastures behind the barn. He almost turned to see what she was staring at before realizing she was making a decision.

Which told him that Beckett was definitely on this ranch.

“I have a horse,” she finally said. “With a brand inspection and a bill of sale to go with it.”

“Is it my horse?” Matt asked quietly.

“I bought him from Trena.”

Relief surged through him, even though he knew he had some work ahead of him.

“Trena had no business selling him.”

“Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t.” And from the expression Liv now wore, she apparently believed Trena did have a reason to sell. “That doesn’t matter. If the horse was sold before the divorce, he was community property and the sale is legal. Trena’s name was on the papers.”

Well, shit. Matt took a moment. One thing he’d learned over the years was that expressing anger solved nothing. There were other ways to get what one wanted.

“She had no right to sell, Liv.” He spoke in his most reasonable voice, no easy feat under the circumstances. Trena had skewered him every way she could prior to their divorce, but selling his horse had been her vengeful coup de grâce. “Beckett was home recuperating from an injury.”

“I’m aware,” Liv said stonily.

“And you would keep him, my horse, even though you know that he shouldn’t have been sold.”

“Legally—”

“I’m not talking legally, Liv. I’m talking about a vindictive person trying to hurt another by selling what was dear to him.”

If he’d expected the speech to make a difference in her demeanor, he was disappointed. She continued to stare at him as if he were a nasty slug or something.

Matt rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling like he’d stepped into the twilight zone. Who was this woman? Where was the Liv he’d once known? That nice kid who’d saved his academic life?

Probably scared to death that he was going to take Beckett away from her—which he was, once he figured out how.

“Can I at least see him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s my horse, Matt. I’m keeping him.” Once again anger started to rise, and once again Matt tamped it down. He needed to be careful, not burn bridges.

“What did Trena tell you?” Because it was pretty damned obvious that Trena had told her something that wasn’t true.

Liv shrugged carelessly, but her expression was taut as she said, “It doesn’t matter. I bought the horse. I’m keeping the horse.”

“Liv...”

“It’s time for you to leave.”

“Liv—”

“Now.”

Matt exhaled, told himself to calm down. Not blow this. “I’ll buy him back,” he said. “For ten percent more than you paid.”

She smiled a little at that, the first smile since he’d arrived and it was more of a smirk—an expression he’d never seen on Liv’s face before. “I’m not selling.”

There was a noise from inside the house and Liv glanced over her shoulder then back at Matt. “My dad is not well,” she said, finally explaining why she was guarding the door, “but I think he’d take a good shot at kicking your ass if you don’t get out of here. So unless you want to fight an ailing older man, I’d get into that fancy truck of yours and get the hell out of here.”

And with that, Liv turned and walked back into the house. For a moment Matt stood, staring at the door she pulled shut behind her.

Realizing that standing on the front walk wasn’t doing him any good, Matt started back to his truck, striding down the cracked sidewalk and across the weed-choked gravel, his knee throbbing with each step. Anger solved nothing, but he was pissed as hell when he climbed into the cab of his truck. Yeah, he could hammer on the front door and maybe Tim would try to kick his ass, or he could go home, regroup. Think this through. Figure out a way to get his horse back.

He was going with plan B. It’d be easier on both him and Tim in the long run.

* * *

AN UNEXPECTED SHIVER ran through Liv as she watched Matt Montoya turn his truck around and drive past the barn. Delayed reaction. She rubbed her hands over her upper arms. She would not let Matt have Beckett.

“Who was here?” Her father’s deep voice sounded from behind her. She’d hoped he’d sleep through Matt’s visit, and he had, so thank heavens for small favors.

“Matt Montoya.”

“Did he need a calculus lesson?”

Liv turned back to her father and smiled a little. Rarely did her father make jokes, and even less so now that he was not feeling well. He was tall and lean, his dark hair streaked with silver, and normally he held himself in an almost military posture. Right now, though, his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he were in pain. Liv hated seeing him that way, hated that he was pretending he was merely recovering from the flu.

“My horse. He had questions about him.” Liv took one last look at the rooster tail of dust from Matt’s truck, then moved away from the window. “Seems he wasn’t in favor of Trena selling Beckett.”

“Good thing she did,” was all Tim said. “Did Matt give you any grief?”

Liv shook her head.

“Good thing,” Tim repeated as he sat in his leather recliner, a chair that had been in the house ever since Liv could remember. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes. Seeing her father in a chair during the day had shocked Liv when she’d first moved home from Billings a week and a half ago—almost as much as the fact that he hadn’t cut the hay on time. Not that he’d let her cut it for him. That would be admitting there was something wrong instead of pretending it was a conscious choice on his part.

She needed to get him to a doctor, but there was no forcing Tim Bailey to do anything he didn’t want to do. They both knew the ranch was a wreck, that it was due to health issues, but he resisted all of Liv’s efforts to discuss the matter. Finally she’d stopped trying—at least until she had more of a handle on the situation.

“I’m feeling better today,” he said, keying in to her thoughts. “Whatever this bug is, I’m finally getting the better of it.”

Liv didn’t believe him.

“You’re dressed for town,” Tim commented. Meaning that she was wearing slacks instead of jeans and sandals instead of running shoes.

“I’m having lunch with Andie.” Her doctor friend who had the clinic where she was going to start providing physical therapy services. She was just glad she’d still been at the ranch when Matt showed up looking for Beckett. She hadn’t expected that to happen, not in a million years.

“Don’t know why you left an established business in Billings,” Tim grumbled. Liv knew he suspected it was because of Greg, her ex-fiancé, but that wasn’t why she’d left.

“I wanted to come back to Dillon.” She didn’t dare say “to be closer to you and find out what the hell is going on because the ranch is a wreck and we both know it.” Out loud, anyway.

Her parents—polar opposites—had divorced when she was five. She’d spent every summer with her father on the ranch, and even though she loved him, she didn’t really know him. She didn’t know if Tim Bailey let anyone truly know him—even those he loved.

Living with her father had never been uncomfortable, merely silent. Sometimes they talked, but usually about small things. Things that didn’t require Tim to open up. And when they weren’t talking, they’d worked together on the place. Every morning Tim would have a written list of chores and Liv would do her part, some in the house, some outside, mostly what her father considered to be girl stuff, not hard labor. She’d often wondered if her father wrote a list to be organized, or so he wouldn’t have to talk. She’d wanted to talk. She still wanted to talk.

Fat chance.

The man was sixty-three years old. He wasn’t going to change, but maybe they could develop more of a relationship, somehow, if he didn’t keel over first.

“If you have thoughts of discussing me with Andie, don’t.”

Liv just smiled and grabbed her sweater. Silence could work for her, too. She wasn’t going to argue with him and she was definitely going to discuss him with Andie.

“I mean it,” he called as she headed for the door.

Wow. Two sentences in a row. He was serious.

And Liv was worried.

Anxiety knotted her stomach as she walked to her truck—and then past it to the barn. Beckett had free access to the stalls from the pasture and by some miracle he’d been inside, out of the sun, when Matt had arrived.

The big sorrel raised his head when Liv opened the man door on the opposite side of the barn and nickered a soft greeting.

“Good to see you, too,” Liv said as she walked across the dusty floor to the stall. “No treat today,” she murmured as she slowly raised her hand to rub the horse’s ears—something she hadn’t been able to do when she’d first bought him, because the horse had been so head shy. It’d taken her months to get to where she could raise her hand without the gelding flinching.

Beckett leaned into her hand, bobbing his head as she hit the sweet spot behind his ears. The scarred areas on his back and shoulders were now marked only by white hair that showed starkly against his rich copper coat. When she’d bought Beckett, the areas had been gruesome saddle sores where the hair and, in some places, the skin, had been worn off by a poor-fitting saddle and too many hours of use. The sore on his shoulder had been infected with maggots and the memory still made her shudder.

When Liv had expressed her outrage, Trena had only nodded, keeping her mouth carefully shut as if saying too much would betray Matt, her then husband. Trena wasn’t without guilt—she should have tended to the wounds, kept them from becoming infested—but she was afraid of horses and Matt was responsible for the wounds themselves. Well, someone had to take care of the horse, and that had been when Liv had been certain she was buying Beckett, regardless of what her then fiancé, Greg, decreed. Her life had changed that day as she stood up to Greg and hadn’t backed down in the name of peace and harmony. He’d been stunned. And so had she.

It had felt wonderful to finally stand her ground...and terrifying.

Liv gave Beckett one last pat, then took a few backward steps, debating about closing the access door to the pasture and keeping Beckett in the barn, just in case Matt came back.

She decided against it. Beckett needed space to move and if Matt came back, what was he going to do? Load the horse and leave? Steal him?

Probably not. He had a reputation to maintain and stealing a horse from the rightful owner was not going to help his image. But she could see him trying to charm her into selling. Charm had always been Matt’s strong point. It’d been the reason she’d been so duped by him back in the day.

As she walked back to the man door, she pressed a hand against the side of her face, remembering the one time he’d kissed her—on the cheek—and grimaced at how ecstatic, yet disappointed, she’d been. She’d been such a damned fool where men had been concerned back then, and had remained a fool for about ten years after. It’d taken Greg’s controlling behavior and a horse that needed her care to make her wake up and see the truth.

CHAPTER TWO

BECKETT WAS ON the Bailey Ranch. That was the good news. The bad news was that, unless Liv did a 180, getting Beckett back was going to be a challenge and Matt didn’t know what he was going to do about that. But he was going to do something and he was going to do it soon. He’d been off for four weeks and figured he had another six before he could trust his knee enough to compete—just in time for the Bitterroot Challenge, the richest rodeo in Montana. He needed to start racking up earnings again.

The injury in Austin had put a major crimp in his comeback season, a season that until that point had been gold. Hopefully, because of his winning streak, he’d earned enough to hold his qualifying position for the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas, but he wasn’t taking chances. The year before, while dealing with his divorce and all the shit Trena had thrown his way, he’d missed qualifying by four hundred dollars. Four hundred lousy dollars—after winning the world title the previous season. It’d killed him, and it hadn’t helped that his brother, in his debut season, had done so damned well.

He needed to get that championship back.

He sank down into his chair and stretched his bad leg out in front of him. When he’d wrecked his knee this time, he’d done more damage than usual. In the past he’d injured his right knee, the one he used to brace against the calf when he threw it to the ground. This time, however, the left knee had gone, the one he used to mount and dismount. The emergency room doctor had been blunt and told Matt he’d roped his last calf, but Matt had heard that before and had proved the doctors wrong three times so far—and that was only on his right knee. It simply made sense that he had at least two more goes on his left. If he spaced them out.

Matt eased off his boot. Life without roping was not an option—at least not yet. It was the reason he got up in the morning, the reason he needed Beckett back. They shared chemistry, he and the horse. If Trena had truly wanted to hurt him—and she had—she couldn’t have come up with a better way to do it. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes.

Honestly, even if he never roped off Beckett again, Matt wanted him back because, until he had that horse, Trena would remain the victor in their private war.

And Matt did not take losing well.

The sound of a truck pulling into the drive brought Matt out of his chair and for one wild moment he thought that maybe Liv had decided to take his offer. Beckett was worth many thousands of dollars and he was certain that Trena would have gotten as much out of him as she possibly could, since the sale of the horse, as well as his truck, old tractor and two of his hunting rifles, had apparently bankrolled her exit. Ten percent over what Liv had paid would make for a tidy profit for her and he could see where after some thought she might have come to her senses.

But the visitor wasn’t Liv.

Matt instantly recognized the battered red pickup when he glanced out the window. His cousin, Wilhelmina, or Willa to anyone who didn’t want a black eye.

Willa was practically on his doorstep when he opened the door and a kid of maybe thirteen or fourteen was shuffling up the walk behind her. When had her son gotten so old?

Matt and Willa were not the closest of relatives, despite the fact that they lived in the same area, but that was mainly because he was always on the road and Willa was too prickly and mean to let anyone get too close to her.

“Hey, Willa. What’s up?” he asked, knowing it couldn’t be good. His cousin was all of five feet two inches high and had a squarish build, with blond curly hair and intense blue eyes. The kid was three or four inches taller than his mother with light brown hair and those same blue eyes peering at him from behind horn rim glasses. He smiled at Matt with a hint of apology that sent red flags popping up—then ambled a few feet away and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

Willa dove straight into her request. “I got a job working on a dude ranch up north and I need a favor.”

Yep. Bad news. “What kind of favor?”

“Crag needs a place to hang for a while.”

Crag? He’d thought the kid’s name was Craig. “Why with me?”

“Because you owe me,” she said in a low voice so that her son wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t owe you enough to be a babysitter,” Matt hissed back.

“Yeah, you do.” Willa stated it as fact, and he grudgingly had to admit she had a point. Willa had been the one who’d called him in San Antonio and warned him that a lot of his property seemed to be disappearing shortly after he and Trena had officially separated. She’d seen someone driving the old Studebaker pickup he’d bought to restore and had looked into the matter since, close or not, Matt was her cousin. He just wished she’d noticed before Beckett had been sold.

But... Matt eyed the boy, who candidly stared back...he knew nothing about kids.

“Like I said, Crag needs a place to stay and he needs something to keep him busy. Sorry about the short notice, but—” Willa shrugged “—not much I can do about it. I’m supposed to be there tomorrow.”

“What’s the rush?”

“One of their wranglers got hurt and this is a big opportunity for me. If I can get on full-time, I’ll get regular living quarters and then Crag can come live with me, but I have a probationary period.”

No. No. No.

“Willa...”

“He won’t stay here the entire time,” Willa said. “I’m making other arrangements. I just hit a snag and I have to get up there ASAP—”

“I get it.” Matt didn’t want to ask how long she wanted him to keep the boy, not with the kid standing there, but he needed some idea, since he didn’t plan to be there for much longer than six weeks himself.

“Please?” She practically mouthed the word, she said it so quietly.

“What are we talking here time-wise?” Matt asked. “I have some plans for later in the month. And a doctor’s appointment in Bozeman tomorrow.”

“One week, tops.” Willa scuffed the toe of her dusty work boot on the deck in a way that made him wonder if she was being totally honest. “That’s when my friend will be back from visiting her boyfriend in Seattle and she said Crag can stay with her. I can’t let this opportunity pass.” There was a note of desperation in her normally no-nonsense voice.

“I get you.” Matt wasn’t happy, but he did understand. Willa had a college degree in animal science, which had exactly zero job potential. Working as a horse wrangler on a dude ranch was a golden opportunity.

“All right.” Matt attempted to smile at the kid, who didn’t appear to be fooled by the lukewarm effort. He didn’t appear to be insulted, either. Just...accepting.

“Great. Thanks!” Willa turned to her son. “Go get your suitcase. I think you’ll like staying here.”

“No doubt,” the kid said flatly before getting to his feet and heading back to the beat-up truck.

Willa turned instantly back to Matt. “If he tries to go stay with his friend Benny don’t let him,” she said as soon as her son was out of earshot. “The kid’s not bad, but there are six other kids in the family and the mother never knows what any of them are doing. I think she’s on tranquilizers.”

“I would be,” Matt said. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nope. I think you two will get along great. I’ll email and call when I can, and here’s my cell number—” she handed him a card that read Willa Montoya, Horse Specialist “—so you can get hold of me if you have any questions. But other than Benny’s family situation, I can’t think of anything you need to know.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “I have a hundred bucks I can give you for food.”

Matt shook his head. “No need.”

“Do you have any idea how much an adolescent eats?”

“If he eats too much we can settle up later.” He didn’t feel right taking money from a woman so desperate to get a job—even if she was putting him in a position here.

Willa smiled and pushed the money back into her pocket. “Thanks, Matt. For everything.”

“No problem,” Matt said, hoping it sounded at least a little sincere.

A few minutes later, after Willa had said a few words to her son and then hugged him goodbye, she waved to both of them and then drove away.

Matt and Crag stood awkwardly next to one another, watching Willa escape to her new opportunity, and then Matt let out a long, silent breath.

This day was not turning out at all well.

The kid glanced over at him. “You know, if you don’t want me around, that’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t. Matt did not take commitment lightly and he’d just made one.

“I have a friend I could stay with—”

“Benny?”

“Mom got to you, eh?”

“Listen, Crag—”

“Call me Craig. Please.” The kid rolled his eyes as he said the last word. “I mean, come on. If your name was Wilhelmina, would you name your kid something as dumb as Crag?”

Matt felt like smiling. “No. I wouldn’t do that,” he agreed.

“Me, either. I just ask people to call me Craig and hope that the majority of them think my mom has an accent or something.”

This time Matt did smile. “Good plan.” He gestured at the duffel. “Let’s go inside. I have a spare room with a bed, but it’s not fancy.”

“It wasn’t like you knew I was coming.”

Amen to that. Matt held the door open and let Craig walk in ahead of him. The kid seemed okay. Not prickly like his mother.

Only a week. He could do it.

He hoped.

* * *

“SO YOU’RE COMING to watch practice tonight, right?” Dr. Andrea Ballentine reached for the check the server had just set on the edge of the table and Liv took hold at the same time. Liv gave a tug. They’d just finalized arrangements and Liv would start seeing patients next week, so she was technically employed and could technically pick up the tab.

“Only if you’ll come to drill practice tonight,” Andie said as she let go of the ticket.

“I’ll come.” Even though Liv had concerns about joining a mounted drill team that had a reputation for speed. She and Beckett had belonged to a sedate parade team in Billings comprised of ten women who drilled at a jog. It was pattern work, but slow pattern work. Flying around an arena at high speed in intricate patterns with eleven other riders? Liv wasn’t so sure about that.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t a decent horsewoman. In fact, she was quite comfortable on horseback, but while her stepsiblings, Brant and the wildly popular Shae, had both been members of the high school rodeo team, Liv had never joined. Why? Because she’d been shy and self-conscious and didn’t like people watching her. She wasn’t a huge fan of speed, either. According to Andie, the Rhinestone Rough Riders had only one speed and that was as fast as they could go. Intimidating, to say the least, but Liv needed to do something to build a social life now that she was back in town and she was determined to explore new horizons—something she’d wanted to do but hadn’t for the first twenty-some years of her life.

“Promise?” her friend asked as she counted out dollar bills for the tip. Andie had always fancied herself the guardian of Liv’s social life, which was kind of funny, since Liv’s social life had always been practically nonexistent—especially in high school. Andie, on the other hand, had somehow straddled the line between being popular and walking amongst the common folk. She always included Liv in everything, even if Liv had been practically invisible in most social situations. She’d been so afraid of screwing up, saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing...afraid to let her true self show.

“Yes. I promise I’ll come to practice tonight. Eight o’clock, right?”

“Seven-thirty, but we don’t start riding until eight. You might want to come a little early, meet the other riders. You’re going to love it.”

Liv hoped so. She had a ton she could be doing on the ranch to get the place back together before she established her practice, but since Tim bristled whenever she suggested that she do some real work, like, say, painting the house, she had free time that was driving her crazy. In a way she sympathized with her father. All he wanted was to be left alone while he pretended nothing was wrong, and Liv had ruined that by moving home. Maybe a few evenings to himself during the week would help.

“So what’s up?” Andie asked as she closed her purse and set it on the table.

“Up?”

“Yeah,” Andie said, picking up her coffee cup. Apparently lunch was not yet over. “As in distracting you. We’ve hammered out a deal, gossiped and ate the best cheesecake ever, but your mind is somewhere else.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “Greg hasn’t been in contact again?”

Liv snorted. “No.”

The last time Greg had attempted to contact her, Liv had told him in no uncertain terms what she would do. A few of her threats had involved law enforcement. One had been more directly aimed at his private parts. That had shocked him. Quiet, cooperative Liv threatening violence. And she’d been serious.

“Then what?”

“I’m worried about Dad.”

“With good cause,” Andie said. “Keep working on him. Try to wear him down.”

“It’s like trying to wear down granite with a toothbrush,” Liv muttered. “But what’s really bugging me is that Matt Montoya stopped by the house.”

Liv hadn’t intended to talk about the situation with Matt and Beckett because she was halfway hoping it would resolve itself; that once Matt had time to think, he’d realize that legally he didn’t have a leg to stand on and that Liv meant it when she said she wasn’t selling. But deep down she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Matt was nothing if not persistent. She’d seen it when he came to her twelve years ago, determined to pull substandard grades up not just to passing, but to As, and she’d also seen it in his rodeo career. Not that she was following it.

No. This probably wasn’t going away.

Andie’s face darkened. She was one of the few people who knew what had happened to Beckett. “No kidding. Why?”

Liv folded her napkin and set it next to her plate. “Apparently Trena sold the horse to me without Matt’s permission.”

“Of course she did. To save the animal.”

“He wants Beckett back.”

Andie set down her cup with a thunk. “You’re kidding. After what he did? What are you going to do?”

Liv shrugged as casually as she could. “Nothing. Beckett was community property, so Trena had a right to sell, and I’m not letting him go.”

“How’d he take it?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what’s bothering me. I have a hard time believing that he took no for an answer so easily.”

“Doesn’t sound like Matt,” Andie agreed.

“He’s tenacious.” And confident, which had ended up biting him in the butt in high school, when he’d been overly confident in his ability to miss a huge amount of school due to rodeo and stay current in his studies. After being placed on academic probation, he’d asked Liv for help catching up on his studies.

She was smart. She lived close by. She had a wild crush on him. Three things that made the situation perfect for Matt. She would have done anything for him. Liv didn’t know if Matt had been aware of the crush, but looking back, she didn’t know how he couldn’t have been. She could barely finish a sentence when he was around, unless that sentence involved derivatives or vectors.

When he’d asked her for help, she’d thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Spending her evenings with Matt Montoya! Maybe he’d come to see her as a person. Maybe they’d become friends...and more.

“More” had been a big part of her plan, but it hadn’t worked out. Once he was caught up and his grades were back where they belonged, he’d smiled and thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, followed by a bouquet of thank-you flowers delivered to the school. Liv had waited breathlessly for him to ask her out, now that they were no longer “professionally” involved.

Less than a week later, he’d asked Shae to go to Rodeo Prom.

Even now it made her cringe. Shae had known about Liv’s wild crush on Matt and she’d said yes to him anyway. To Shae it had been a matter of being realistic. If Matt had been interested in Liv, he would have asked her out. He didn’t and therefore he was fair game.

They’d dated for all of two months and then Shae had dumped him and moved on. Shae was hell on men. Liv kind of wished she could be the same way.

“Well, you know,” Andie said, “if you have any problems all you have to do is call.”

Which was another reason she hadn’t said anything. Andie was wildly protective. Liv didn’t need protecting. Not anymore.

“I won’t have any problems,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Andie asked with a slight frown.

“Yes.” Liv tilted her chin up. “I’ll handle this on my own.” She’d handle everything on her own—her dad, Matt, anyone else who might want to tangle with her—and not by using her old strategy of trying to negotiate peace and keep everyone happy, except for maybe herself.

* * *

WHEN LIV ARRIVED at the drill team practice that evening, there was a variety of horse trailers parked in the lot—fancy trailers with living quarters, small two-horse trailers and a long aluminum stock trailer that looked as if something had tried to fight its way out from the inside.

She parked her truck in the last space, next to the stock trailer, and pocketed the keys as she walked over to where Andie was saddling her horse, Mike. Liv felt awkward and out of place, and was nervous, even though she wouldn’t be riding tonight—all in all, she was feeling way too much like the old Liv.

Those first months after she’d walked out on Greg had been sheer hell as she fought to let herself be less than perfect. She was better, much better, but still had her moments...like when she was faced with the unknown.

“Glad you came,” Andie said as she set the saddle on the bay quarter horse’s back. “Gretchen isn’t going to make it and we need someone to shoot video. Linda’s husband does a terrible job.”

“I can do that.” Liv had never filmed anything in her life other than a few minutes of phone video here and there, but, realistically, how hard could it be? And how perfect did she need to be? Not perfect at all.

She needed to remember that.

Andie finished cinching up, then slipped the halter around the horse’s neck and eased the bridle onto his head. “I’ll introduce you to the group.”

The group consisted of ten women besides Andie. Liv knew some of them—Susie Barnes, who’d graduated the same year as she and Andie; Ronnie and Melody Churchwell, twins who’d been a few years behind her—and others she didn’t. At least four of the women were well into their fifties and Liv instantly lost track of names. She took note of what each one looked like so that she could quiz Andie later.

“Well, ladies,” a smallish woman on a big buckskin horse said in a commanding voice, “it’s time to ride!” She moved her horse forward, saying to Liv as she passed, “You’re going to film for us, right?”

“Yes,” Liv replied.

A bald man instantly held out a video camera with an expression of relief. “I never do this to Linda’s liking,” he confided as the group rode in the arena.

“I probably won’t, either,” Liv said, again ignoring a twinge of performance anxiety. She reached out and took the camera, turning it over in her hands. “How does it work?”

The man gave Liv a brief rundown of the camera operation, then said, “You need to go up to the announcer’s booth and when the music starts, you film. Don’t forget to turn the camera on.” Then with a quick, tight smile, he headed for a truck parked next to the stands, walking quickly as if afraid that Liv was going to relinquish her responsibilities to him if he didn’t get away.

Liv climbed the rickety steps up into the arena announcer’s stand and for the next hour watched as the women rode, stopped, argued, discussed, rode again, turning the camera on and off. On and off. She only forgot to turn it on once, and she was fairly certain that with the miles of film she’d recorded, no one would notice.

By the end of the practice, she had a good idea of the dynamics of the drills. Whether she and Beckett could do them was another matter. At one point she’d caught her breath when it appeared as though the riders were going to run smack into each other, only to have the horses weave together in a long serpentine pattern. There was a lot of splitting and joining, rollbacks and spins—all at high speed.

“So what do you think?” Andie asked after Liv had joined her at her trailer. She pulled the saddle off her horse and lugged it to the tack compartment. Liv automatically picked up a brush and started working on the bay’s sweaty back while Andie unbridled the horse.

“I think it looks challenging.”

“We all screw up out there, you know.”

“Yes. I know. I have it on film,” Liv said.

“Did you get the flaming argument between Linda and Margo?”

“I tried for close-ups,” Liv said with a straight face.

Andie laughed and leaned against the trailer. “So?”

“I can’t wait to get started,” Liv lied. She was intimidated as hell, but determined to try new things, face new challenges. And give her poor father an evening or two to himself.

* * *

MATT HAD NOT in any way, shape or form, ever expected to become a babysitter—which was exactly what he was, even if the kid was fourteen.

Craig seemed a lot more comfortable being in a strange place than Matt was having him there, which made him wonder how many times the kid had been dumped into someone else’s care...and why none of those someones were available this time.

“I’m kind of curious as to why your mom is having you stay here,” Matt finally said after setting a grilled cheese sandwich in front of the kid at dinnertime. “Surely she has other friends in the area?”

“She tried a bunch of them, but there were problems. Vacations, visitations. One of her friends, Gloria, had just gotten back from rehab—”

“I get it.”

Craig peeled back the edge of the sandwich to inspect the cheese. “This is a good opportunity for my mom. It’s hard to get horse jobs, which is probably why she has to cut hair on the side.” He spoke so earnestly that Matt hoped Craig didn’t think he was trying to get rid of him.

“Do you like horses?” Matt asked as he sat at the table. They’d spent a long, silent afternoon together as he’d worked on his quarterly tax report and Craig had played games on his phone. Matt had needed that time to get his bearings, get used to the idea of sharing his house with a teenager, but the silence was getting old. And uncomfortable.

Craig made a face before he bit into his sandwich. “Horses? No,” he said with his mouth full.

“Roping? Rodeo?”

“Uh-uh,” Craig answered through another mouthful of sandwich.

“Oh.” Well, that squelched talking about roping techniques with the kid. “What do you like?”

“I read a lot and there’s some TV shows I like. Have you ever seen Star Crusher?”

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“But you do have satellite, right?” Something akin to panic lit the kid’s eyes.

“Yes. So...what else do you like?”

“The video games my mom allows, which aren’t many,” he said with a disgusted twist of his lips. “No exploding heads.”

“Can’t blame her there.”

“And I think old trucks are kind of cool.”

Score. Maybe they could talk. “I had a Studebaker truck once that I was going to rebuild.” And it still stung that he didn’t have it.

“I know,” Craig said excitedly. “I’ve seen it. That was what clued Mom in about your ex selling your stuff. Kirby Danson driving your old truck around.”

“You know all about that?”

“Well, Mom and her friends talk a lot.”

“And you listen.” Great.

“Well, she and I talk a lot, too. It’s just, like, the two of us, you know? That was bogus what your wife did to you.”

And not something he wanted to discuss with a fourteen-year-old, not even one whose eyes were now ablaze with indignation on Matt’s behalf.

“What are you going to do while you’re here?” Matt asked. “Besides play on your phone.”

Craig shrugged. “Whatever, I guess.”

Matt finished his sandwich and sat back in his chair. He would have liked to have had a beer with his meal, but didn’t know if that was allowable with an impressionable houseguest under his roof.

“If you have any work or anything that needs to be done around the place, well, I could do that.”

“Work?”

“Mom thought it would be a good idea. Keep me busy.”

Damn, this had to be tough on the kid. The problem was that Matt’s place was well-kept. He had a cleaning lady and the guy who fed his livestock when he was on the road also did the maintenance.

“Yeah. I can use some help.” Or come up with something. “I’d pay you.”

Craig shook his head. “No. You’re giving me a roof and food.”

“Your mom paid for the food.” Or had tried to.

“A roof, then, and she didn’t pay for that.”

“We’ll negotiate later, okay? You want to watch TV now?”

“In the worst possible way,” Craig said. “Mom says I can’t watch someone else’s TV unless they invite me to.”

“Consider yourself invited,” Matt said. “For as long as you’re here, the TV is yours.”

“Thanks,” Craig said, gathering up his plate and heading for the dishwasher. Matt watched in surprise as the boy loaded his dinnerware, then added the dishes that had been soaking in the sink. A quick swipe of the dishcloth around the sink after he’d rinsed it, then Craig headed to the living room. Wow. Willa had taught her son well.

As soon as the television came on in the next room, Matt opened that beer and sat at the table drinking it. Talk about a strange day. Found his horse, got an unexpected roommate—with whom he had nothing to talk about.

Matt reached out and grabbed the newspaper off the sideboard where he’d stacked all the stuff that’d been on the table when he’d cleared it to feed Craig. He flipped it open with one hand and looked at his brother—make that his half brother’s—smiling face on the front page and almost closed it again. But he didn’t.

Ryan Madison. The darling of the Montana rodeo circuit, who’d just done a charity roping clinic for the local kids, and who was also within striking distance of qualifying for the NFR for the second time in a row.

Matt shoved the paper aside.

Not that he didn’t want Ryan to qualify. He enjoyed beating his brother. He wished he’d had a chance to beat him last year, except he hadn’t because of four hundred lousy dollars. Ryan had come in a respectable fourth, which wasn’t bad for his first NFR and considering he’d been on a borrowed horse.

It’d killed Matt to sit on the sidelines and watch.

He and Ryan had been roping rivals since they were ten or eleven, and by the time Matt was fifteen, the two of them had developed an animosity that bordered on legendary—they’d also had no idea they were related. As far as Matt knew, Ryan was still in the dark—which was just fine with him.

CHAPTER THREE

THOUGH SHE TOLD herself she wasn’t going to think about it, Liv tossed and turned that night, and when she finally did fall asleep, she dreamed about searching for Beckett. She found tracks and bits of mane and tail hair clinging to branches and fence wire, but no horse. She woke up with her heart pounding.

A dream.

Even so, she got out of bed and walked over to the window looking out over the pasture and felt a wave of relief when she saw Beckett grazing near the barn. Her horse was still there. Hers. She couldn’t imagine losing him, not after everything they’d gone through. He was the reason she’d been able to stay strong against Greg, stick up for herself, let her true feelings show even if they were at odds with the people around her. It had been so very hard in the beginning....

Liv slipped out of her pajamas, folded them and put them under her pillow before she pulled on jeans and a Montana State T-shirt. After that she straightened the covers and opened the curtains all the way.

If she hadn’t tried to buy the gelding, if Greg had succeeded in forbidding it, she might now be Mrs. Gregory Malcolm, bending over backward to do whatever her husband wanted her to do. Be who he wanted her to be. During their relationship she’d had moments when she showed some backbone and argued her position, but ultimately she’d always backed down, as she’d done for her entire life—as her mother had done for her entire life—and let him have his way. Because if you made waves, people might abandon you.

The thought made her shudder.

A clattering of cutlery greeted her as she walked into the kitchen. Tim was already there, dressed and standing straighter than he’d been the day before. He put a couple more knives into a drawer, then turned.

“Coffee’s on,” he said. “I’ll be in around noon if you don’t mind getting me some lunch then.”

“Where are you going?” Liv asked.

“To salvage what I can of the hay.”

“You’re feeling better,” she said flatly. He was standing taller, but his color was still off. “And you can spend a day on the tractor.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Initiating confrontation still did not come easily to her—even after months of post-Greg affirmations and years of practice with her patients, who often did not want to do what they had to do in order to heal—but she was so much better at it than she’d been before.

His thick black eyebrows came together. Tim was not used to being challenged. He was used to living life alone, his own way.

Tough.

“I wouldn’t be going out if I wasn’t sure. I have work to do.” He grabbed his battered cowboy hat off the table and jammed it onto his head before stalking out the back door.

Liv let out a breath and then poured herself a cup of coffee, her movements automatic, mindless. Confrontation or concern? Which had her stomach in a knot?

She heard the tractor fire up as she took her first sip from the heavy ceramic mug. She had five days at home before she started seeing patients. Five days to keep a full-time eye on her father to make sure that he really was recovering and not just blowing smoke.

* * *

MATT CALLED WILLA at 6:00 a.m. to see if she’d made it safely to her new job and to find out if she was okay with him leaving Craig alone for the day while he went to his doctor’s appointment in Bozeman. The connection was awful, cutting in and out, and Willa had been on her way out the door—in fact she was late—but no, she didn’t have a problem with Crag spending the day alone. She’d hung up before Matt could ask about what day the kid would be leaving so he could make some plans.

The drive to Bozeman took almost two hours, which gave Matt a goodly amount of time to stew about the issues in his life while his knee stiffened up. His mom had called right after Willa had hung up, inviting him to a family dinner that Sunday. Matt had said yes, even though he hated formal family dinners, and mentioned that he might be bringing a guest. His mom had instantly gone on alert, assuming he meant a woman, and he’d had to tell her no. It was a kid. He was babysitting.

There’d been a strangely awkward silence after that and Matt had quickly filled her in, wondering what had made her go so quiet. Perhaps the fear that he’d fathered a kid, just as her husband had?

Except that Matt was pretty damned certain that his mom knew nothing about Ryan. It was a total fluke that he’d found out, and only because he hadn’t been where he was supposed to be on that fateful trip to Butte fifteen years ago.

Whatever the deal was, he and Craig would be having Sunday dinner on the ranch. Craig seemed okay with it, but then the kid seemed okay—no, he seemed beyond okay—with just about everything thrown his way. Dishes, housework, living with a cousin he barely knew—nothing seemed to bother him.

Matt wished he possessed that ability, but that wasn’t how he was wired. He had issues that needed resolving and he wanted them resolved now. His knee, his career, his horse. He had goals to meet, rodeos to win.

After dealing with the doctor, he was going to have to make another move in the horse game. He’d consulted with his lawyer and legally he didn’t have a leg to stand on, but morally Liv was in no better shape.

Maybe she hadn’t been aware of what Trena had been doing when she bought Beckett, but now that she did know...well, if their positions were reversed, Matt would like to think that he’d sell the horse back to Liv.

His knee was throbbing by the time he got out of the truck in Bozeman. He idly rubbed the sore area along the side, wondering if he was going to be in a brace permanently, or only for a while. A brace would slow him down, but it beat blowing his knee out altogether. The guy he was seeing was supposed to be good and was replacing Matt’s former doctor, who’d recently retired. Matt had fully expected the new doctor to warn him against using his knee too much, as the old doctor had, but he hadn’t expected him to be so utterly adamant about it.

“If you plan to continue roping, then plan on getting another doctor.” Dr. Fletcher pulled his pen out of his pocket after examining the knee and clicked it.

“That’s a bit rash, wouldn’t you say?” Matt shifted a little, making the paper covering the examination table rip beneath him. Damn but he hated doctor’s offices.

“I just did say it,” the doctor said after making a few notes and then closing the folder. “And I meant it. If you put this knee under undue stress and strain, you risk destroying the joint.”

“What about physical therapy?”

“I’m prescribing PT, but that doesn’t mean your knee is going to ever get good enough to throw a calf.”

It wasn’t the answer Matt wanted. More than that, it wasn’t an answer he was going to accept.

“Listen to me,” the doctor said with a quiet intensity that broke into Matt’s stubborn thoughts. “I know this isn’t easy to swallow, but facts are facts. Your knee won’t last if you continue roping. You’re too young for a knee replacement, but if I did end up replacing the joint because of stupid behavior, you still won’t be able to rope because the joint won’t stand up to lateral pressure.

“I’d like to see you again in two weeks,” he said as he handed him the chart to take back to the reception desk where he’d settle his account.

“Right,” Matt said. But he didn’t plan on coming back. There were other doctors. Knee specialists. Alternative medicine. Doctors with more open minds.

Matt settled his hat on his head as he left the office ten minutes later and several hundred dollars poorer. He’d seen some of his rodeo compadres come back from rugged injuries not only to compete, but also to win.

He had every intention of doing the same.

Matt ran a few errands, then started the long drive home, keeping his thoughts as positive as possible. He was going to rope again. He was going to finish out the rodeo season. He was going to get his horse back.

The rodeo arena parking lot was full when he pulled off the freeway in Dillon and Matt slowed, then drove in. It’d been over a year since he’d stopped by the Tuesday night roping to talk with the guys he’d grown up with, rodeoed and partied with. He used to hit the roping every time he was in town, but when Trena had turned his life upside down, he’d stopped going. Then, when he’d failed to qualify for the finals for the first time in seven years...well, he just hadn’t felt like socializing after that. He’d stayed home and trained, then headed to Texas to start what had been a golden season right up until his foot had hung up in the stirrup in Austin.

He parked and felt a stir of anticipation as he watched a steer leave the chute at a dead run and the horses and riders charge after it a few seconds later. The pickups and trailers parked next to the fence blocked his view, but he could see the cowboys’ loops swinging.

Okay, maybe this had been a mistake. All it did was remind him of what he couldn’t yet do. Maybe in a week, two at the most, he’d be roping from horseback, but for right now he was stuck on the ground roping the dummy for hours on end.

He needed to get out of here. He’d meet up with his friends at another time, another place. Just before he turned the key in the ignition, he was startled by a knock on the passenger window. Wes Warner waved at him through the glass and Matt put the window down.

“Should you be here?” Wes asked with a smile that barely showed under his thick mustache.

“I was just discussing that with myself,” Matt said. Wes, a former bronc rider whose career had been cut short by a car accident, was no stranger to injury or the disappointment of losing a promising career.

“Want a beer while you carry on your conversation?”

“Sure.” Craig had assured him that all was well when he’d called the house half an hour ago so one beer wouldn’t hurt.

Wes gestured with his head and Matt got out of the pickup and followed him to the tailgate of his truck, which faced away from the arena.

“Did you find your horse?” Wes asked as he pulled a longneck out of the cooler and handed it to Matt. “I heard he was on the Bailey Ranch.”

“He is,” Matt said, twisting off the top.

“Why does Tim have a horse?” Wes opened his own bottle, which foamed over the top and onto his pants before he took a long pull.

“Not Tim. Liv.”

“Liv has your horse?” Wes wiped the back of his hand across his mustache, clearing it of foam. “Quiet Liv Bailey? I didn’t even know she rode.”

“She rides,” Matt muttered. Shae had once told him that Liv was actually an accomplished rider, but lacked the drive to be a real competitor. Funny words from a girl who was mainly interested in competing in the queen contests and not in the events.

Wes leaned back against the side of the truck. “How’d she end up with your animal? Isn’t she living in Billings?”

“She’s on the ranch right now, and I have no idea how she ended up with him.”

Wes scratched the side of his head. “She and Trena weren’t friends or anything, were they?”

Matt snorted. “As far as I know they weren’t.” Trena and Liv had traveled in different circles. Way different circles. Almost to the point of being on different planets.

Trena had moved to Dillon at the beginning of their senior year, a California transplant. Blonde. Beautiful. Not a rural bone in her body. She’d arrived with the kind of splash that would have sent shy Liv running for cover, instantly making the girls jealous and the guys pant. It’d taken her almost a nanosecond to hook up with the king of the football team, Russell Marshall.

Matt had been doing his damnedest to pass his classes and stay on the rodeo team, thus the tutoring sessions with Liv, and hadn’t made a play for her back then. He’d been more focused on his own kind—rodeo girls such as Liv’s stepsister, Shae—and that had remained his focus until his early twenties when he and Trena had run into each other again when he’d come back to Dillon during the hiatus after the NFR. They’d clicked in a big way, and the next thing he knew, they were married. Happily. For a while.

Trena had sworn that she wouldn’t mind going on the road with him, but the reality, even with a state-of-the-art live-in trailer, had been too much for her. She’d wanted to rent motel rooms, eat out, fly everywhere. Spend money as fast as he made it. He made good money, too, but not enough to spend like that.

The next year she didn’t go on the road with him. That had spelled the beginning of the end, although Matt hadn’t known it at the time.

The gate banged shut behind them and a few seconds later a cowboy Matt didn’t know rode by. He nodded at Wes, who nodded back.

“There’s a get-together later tonight at the Lion’s Den,” Wes said. “We’re making some plans for the Fourth of July rodeo.”

“I have to get home,” Matt said. “I’m, uh, babysitting.”

Wes coughed. “You?”

“Me. For Willa’s kid.”

“Does he rope?”

“He loads the dishwasher.”

“That’s a handy talent,” Wes said.

“Even if I wasn’t taking care of the kid,” Matt said, “I’m not feeling all that social right now.” He set the bottle on the edge of the truck bed. “I thought I was, but...I shouldn’t have come down here yet.”

“So what are your plans?” Wes asked quietly. “Now that you’re back in the area.”

“My plans are to heal my knee in time for the Bitterroot Challenge.”

Wes sent him a dubious look. “Is that possible?”

A twist of the knife. “I won’t know unless I try.”

“That’s right,” Wes said. “You gotta try.”

“I’ve seen guys come back from worse injuries than this,” Matt said, not liking how defensive he sounded.

“Me, too.”

Matt swallowed the last of his beer and tossed the bottle into the trash can near the fence. “I’ve seen guys come back from broken backs and climb back up on a bull again.”

“You kinda gotta wonder if they got kicked in the head one too many times.”

“You’re missing the point,” Matt said.

Wes smiled from beneath his mustache and took another drink of his beer. “Other than healing, what are your plans?”

To rodeo for another five years. He was thirty, single and not ready to settle down. When he did settle down, it might not even be in Dillon. His mother would hate that, but sometimes he thought it would be best if he didn’t settle too close to his dad.

“And I mean other than rodeo.”

“I don’t know.”

“You could start a babysitting business.”

“I could punch you in the face,” Matt said conversationally and Wes smiled. “I don’t have any set plans,” he admitted. “Other than the one I just told you.”

“You might want to come up with one. Just a bit of advice from one injured rodeo man to another.”

Coming up with a backup plan felt like admitting defeat before he’d even started to fight the battle.

“You could go back to college. Here at Western.”

Matt made a dismissive gesture. He didn’t want to go back to college. Not at his age. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his future.

“I’ll come up with some kind of plan.” It’d probably involve raising hay and roping horses, which sounded pretty damned boring. He wasn’t ready to go that route yet.

“And the horse?”

“I’m getting the horse back,” Matt said. It was a matter of changing tactics.

He’d shown up on Liv’s ranch without warning and indicated he wanted Beckett back. Of course she’d felt threatened. But under normal circumstances, when she wasn’t pressed into defensive mode by a surprise attack, she was a nice person. A good person. Not a person who kept a guy’s horse.

He’d wait a couple days, then drop by and they’d talk again, under less stressful conditions.

* * *

NOT AGAIN.

Liv pressed a hand to her forehead as Matt Montoya’s distinctive two-tone silver-and-black Dodge pulled up under the elm tree and parked. Thank goodness Beckett was behind the barn where he couldn’t see him.

She moved back from the window as Matt got out of the truck and stood studying the house for a moment, as if gauging his best means of attack.

Plan all you want, Montoya. You aren’t getting my horse.

Finally he started toward the house, his gait uneven due to the brace he wore, and Liv quickly crossed the living room and opened the front door to step out onto the porch. This time, though, it wasn’t to keep Matt from waking her father. Tim was out on the baler, trying to salvage the hay. He looked like hell, but still insisted he felt better. Liv didn’t believe him, but was at a loss as to what to do. She was frustrated and more than willing to take it out on Matt. In fact, she was kind of looking forward to taking it out on him.

She closed the screen door behind her and drew herself up as Matt approached, looking like a cowgirl’s wet dream. Her seventeen-year-old self would have never believed that the guy could have looked hotter than he had back then, but she would have been wrong. Matt was taller, his shoulders broader, and he had a sensuality about him that he hadn’t had back then.

Looks fade. Integrity lasts.

As far as she was concerned, Matt had no integrity. He’d shown that when he’d used her to get his grades up and then never spoken to her again, and he’d shown it when he’d misused Beckett.

Her eyebrows rose slightly as he stopped on the bottom step.

She very much wanted to say, “No,” before he started speaking, but figured that wouldn’t get her what she wanted—his carcass off her property.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” he said with rather convincing sincerity.

“What part?”

He looked surprised at her comment. “All of it. I mean obviously you had no idea of the truth, and I just kind of sprung it on you.”

“I know the truth, Matt. The truth is that I bought that horse fair and square. I’ve had him for over a year and I love him.”

“I happen to be fond of him myself.”

Yeah? Then why was he in the condition he was in?

But Liv wasn’t going there. It would only prolong the conversation. “You must have dozens of horses.”

“Practice horses. I only have one other rodeo horse and he’s not as good as Beckett.”

“That didn’t seem to slow you down when you won the World.”

“My times could have been better.”

“It’s all about the time?” Obviously it was all about time. And him. Not about the horse or his wife.

“Some of it is about Trena selling my horse behind my back and some of it is that I happen to like that horse—my horse—and I’d like him back.” He spoke calmly, reasonably. The picture of the charming cowboy who’d been done wrong and the fact that he could stand here and pretend he cared about the horse that he’d hurt through lack of care...well, it was all she could do not to walk down the three steps that separated them and smack him a good one. For Beckett.

Liv folded her arms over her chest. “There’s something you need to understand, Matt. You might be able to charm yourself out of a multitude of situations, but you aren’t charming me. Sometimes, despite charisma and good looks, the answer is no. And that’s what it’s going to stay. No.”

He bit down on one corner of his lip before saying, “Aren’t you going to threaten me with your father again?”

“Dad’s busy cutting hay.”

“About time.”

“He’s been sick.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He didn’t sound one bit sorry and he made his lack of sympathy clear when he said, “This isn’t over, Liv. I’ll hire a lawyer.”

“Andie’s dad already advised me and he said he’ll give me all the help I need to keep Beckett.”

“He’s my horse.”

“Not according to the State of Montana.” Liv lifted her chin. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation.”

“Or?”

“I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you’re trespassing.”

“Really.” He said the word flatly, telling her he wasn’t buying in to her bluff—which meant it may not be a bluff much longer. Liv no longer allowed people like him to walk over her.

“Yes. Really. Now please leave.” Before Beckett steps out from behind that barn.

Matt’s face became cold and blank. “This isn’t over, Liv.”

“Yeah, it is. Come back again and I will call the sheriff.”

Matt turned and walked back to his truck without another word. Liv held her breath until he fired up the engine and swung the truck in Reverse.

Round two to her. She truly hoped there wouldn’t be a third round.

CHAPTER FOUR

HE SHOULD HAVE waited longer before talking to Liv, because all he’d succeeded in doing was to put her on the defensive. Again. Now he was worse off than before, and the thing that killed him was that he wasn’t by nature impulsive. He’d simply thought that she’d had time to think about the situation, what was fair, what wasn’t. Liv had always been reasonable—until now.

Stupid move.

But, as he’d told her, this wasn’t over.

When he pulled into his driveway Matt realized that his jaw was aching because his teeth were clamped so tightly together, but he made no effort to relax the taut muscles. Let his jaw ache. Maybe it would distract him from the ever present pain in his knee.

He parked the truck next to the barn then crossed the driveway to the back door, his knee throbbing with each step. Through the clear glass storm door he could see Craig sitting on the sofa, reading.

It was so damned strange to come home to someone in the house after so many solitary months. He pulled the storm door open and took all of two steps inside before he slowed to a halt, noting the evenly spaced striations across his very clean carpet.

“Did you vacuum?”

Craig looked up from the book. “Yeah. The place needed it.”

No argument there. The cleaning lady had bailed on him last week and wasn’t due again until next Thursday.

Matt gave a small shrug. “Thanks.”

“No problem. The hardest part was finding the vacuum.”

“Where was it?” Matt asked as he pulled off his hat.

A look of surprise flitted across the kid’s face. “In the garage.”

“Ah.” Matt was about to toss the hat onto the nearest table when he noticed that the top had been dusted. The old ropes he’d been collecting in the far corner of the living room were coiled and stacked.

“I have a cleaning lady,” he said as he crossed to the rarely used hat rack and hooked his ball cap over the spurs hanging there. “She complained about too much stuff in the hall closet, so I told her to put the vacuum wherever she liked. I never asked her where she kept it.”

“You never use it?”

“Not if I can help it. I take it you do some of the cleaning at home?”

A quick shrug. “Someone has to. Mom works. A lot.”

“You don’t have to do this to earn your keep or anything.”

“My mom told me to help out where I could.” The kid spoke with a hint of challenge. Okay, he needed to make himself useful. Matt wouldn’t fight him.

“Well, I appreciate it.” Matt glanced again around his now-tidy living room, then walked down the hall to his room—right across from the extra bedroom. He paused, then nudged open the door. The bed was made, the blankets taut, and all of the kid’s clothing was folded and packed in his suitcase, which lay open against the far wall. Ready for a quick getaway?

More likely the boy was used to living out of a suitcase.

Matt rubbed a hand over his forehead. How rough was Willa’s life? He had a suspicion that she was getting no child support, but how bad off was she? Or was he reading more into the packed suitcase than he needed to? Maybe Craig was just a neat freak. The evidence seemed to point that way.

Matt pulled the door almost shut and went into his own room, where he sat on the bed and took off his brace, wincing as he pulled the Velcro tabs. If anything the joint hurt worse than usual. Not the promising sign he was hoping for.

Once the brace was off he put on sweatpants and a black T-shirt, then went into the living room, trying to walk normally.

“Are you okay?” Craig asked.

“Fine.” So much for walking normally. He sat down in the chair opposite the kid and stretched his knee out. “Hear from your mom?”

“No.” Craig shut his book, leaving his index finger inside to mark his place. “I tried to text her, but it never delivered. She must not have service there.”

“I think the area is pretty spotty. When I called her she kept cutting out.”

“Maybe that’s part of being a pretend cowboy,” Craig said before focusing back on his book. “No cell service.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

For a moment the silence hung heavy between them. Then Craig said in a matter-of-fact voice, “I know it’s weird having me around.”

“It’s not a problem.” To Matt’s surprise, he meant it. “But I confess that I haven’t had a roommate for a while.”

The kid’s lips curved up slightly. “And probably weren’t expecting one.”

“No, I wasn’t. But we’re family.” Matt’s experience with family, with the exception of his mom and Willa, wasn’t stellar, but there was no reason it couldn’t improve a little.

“Yeah?”

Matt sensed the need to tread carefully. “Yeah. Of course we are.”

Craig put his book down. “My mom is doing the best that she can.”

“I know she is.” Craig seemed to be pretty together, so Willa had to be doing something right. “And I also know that life has a way of throwing curveballs.” He rubbed a hand over his knee. “People have helped me out. I’m happy to help out you and your mom.”

Craig focused on something behind Matt for a moment, then cleared his throat and said, “I have a feeling that I might need a place to stay for longer than a week.”

“Your mom said—”

“I think it’s only fair to tell you that she always says that. She means it, too, but Mom...Mom’s kind of, I don’t know...optimistic?”

“I don’t care how long you have to stay.” Matt’s gut tightened as he said the words. What was he getting himself into? And what if he needed to get out?

Craig snorted. “We’ll see.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Matt reiterated. Really, what did it matter? So he didn’t have as much privacy as he was used to. Big deal. He had a clean house and someone to talk to. All he had to do now was to find common ground so they could have a conversation. Maybe he’d have to watch that Star Crusher show the kid kept talking about.

* * *

“MONTOYA HAS BRASS, I’ll give him that.” Andie checked her cinch before dropping the stirrup back into place. “I can’t believe he gave it another shot.”

“I’d love to think that he got the message this time,” Liv said, slipping the bit into Beckett’s mouth, “but somehow I don’t think so.” She pulled the headstall up over the horse’s ears and buckled the throatlatch, her fingers clumsy because of nerves. Tonight was her first high-speed practice and she hoped she survived. She’d studied the drill on paper, had practiced alone in the pasture, but felt less than prepared all the same.

“Then to top off a grand day,” she continued, refusing to let the nerves get to her, “Mom called and we’re all meeting in Missoula this Saturday to look for bridesmaid dresses.” Liv had long known the day was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

“Shopping with Shae. How fun.”

“Yes,” Liv said, her voice straining as she tightened the cinch, “I’m so looking forward to it.” She sighed. “It’s not that I hate shopping with Shae or anything. It’s just that I—”

“Hate Shae. I know.”

Liv laughed in spite of herself as she dropped the stirrup. “You know I don’t hate Shae. We’ve had a few close moments.”

“Like when?”

Liv considered. They had never been enemies—just residents of different planets forced to live as sisters. “Once she needed help with a class.” And Liv had helped her, because she’d known how hard it’d been for Shae to ask. She’d helped Shae, helped Matt. Then they’d dumped her and started dating. No one, not even Andie, knew how much that had hurt.

At the time, Liv had simply pretended that, after working closely with Matt, she’d come to realize that he didn’t have much substance. “Not crush-worthy” had been her exact words to Andie. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d cried into her pillow the first time Matt and Shae had gone out.

Wasted time. Wasted tears.

Even though she could look back and shake her head at what had seemed like the end of the world, she also felt vestiges of anger at being so damned used.

Shake it off.

“To be honest,” Liv said, putting a foot in the stirrup and mounting, “I never hated Shae. I was just jealous of her. She seemed so...perfect.” And Liv had felt so far from perfect when they’d lived together. Shae was confident and bossy and on the occasions when she and Liv argued, Liv inevitably backed down—mainly because her mother would insist that she did.

“Shae is perfect,” Andie said airily. “Just ask her.”

Liv smiled fleetingly before saying in a flat, adamant voice, “I don’t want to go tomorrow.” What’s more, she didn’t want to go into the arena right now. “I don’t know why I’m even invited. Shae will pick what she wants whether I’m there or not.”

“Your mother probably insisted.” Andie mounted as she spoke.

“My mother never insists on anything from anyone except me.”

“Then your mother manipulated.”

“That’s probably closer to the truth. Frankly, I wish she hadn’t wasted the effort. Shae’s having a small wedding, but I don’t doubt for one minute that she’s going to bully me into buying the most expensive dress on the rack.”

“But it will be in impeccable taste.”

“No doubt. Am I being too much of a bitch?”

“You’re probably just tired of Shae walking over the top of you.”

“Could be, could be.”

Andie laughed as she gathered her reins. “Well, there’s nothing like an evening thundering around an arena to work out your aggressions.”

The knot in Liv’s stomach, the one she’d been trying to ignore by focusing on the other stresses in her life—Matt, bridal shopping, her father—tightened. “I’ve never done a drill faster than a trot.”

Andie’s eyebrows went up. “That will not happen often with this crew.”

“But—”

“You’ll learn the drills in no time. I did.”

“You were a barrel racer.”

She and Andie turned their horses to follow the other riders to the arena gate. Linda called for attention once all twelve riders were there, and then Andie leaned close to say, “You will screw up. Everyone does. If someone yells at you, ignore it.”

“They’re going to yell at me?” Liv whispered back.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I didn’t sign on for—”

“Ladies!” the woman on the buckskin barked. Liv jumped as if she’d been caught talking during a test.

Get a grip.

Yes, she could do this. It was just different than what she and Beckett were used to. She’d joined the sedate drill team in Billings as a way to meet other horsewomen and to get Beckett back into the arena in a way that didn’t stress him out. They’d both loved the easy-paced practices and leaving the Billings drill team behind had been one of Liv’s regrets. Those easy practices were obviously a thing of the past.

Andie’s eyes were straight ahead, focused on Linda, but she wore that small I’m-not-taking-this-serious smile that made Liv wish she wasn’t, either. Drilling with this bunch would be a great way for her to learn to lighten up. Make some mistakes.

Linda described the strategy for the practice, and Liv had little to no idea what she was talking about. “We’ll do the first run-through at a trot to bring Livvy up to speed.”

Liv send up a silent prayer of thanks and nudged Beckett forward. His ears pricked at the gate, as always, and his eyes rolled a little, but he went in quietly. Linda immediately bellowed at Liv to turn to the left and circle the arena at a fast trot behind Susie, who’d entered just before her. Liv urged Beckett into a trot and did as she was told. Linda continued to yell instructions: follow Andie, pair up with Margo, cut to the center, roll back—roll back? really?—reverse and head to the center. Slide to a stop....

By the time she finished, the back of her shirt was damp and her jaw was tense...but she’d done okay. A couple more times at a trot and she’d be good to go.

“Okay, ready to do it at a canter?” Linda asked.

“No!” Liv ignored the fact that it was a rhetorical question as her survival mechanism kicked in. “Not even close.”

“You’ll do fine,” Susie said.

“Define fine,” Liv muttered, turning Beckett to join the rest of the women as they left the arena.

Liv did not do fine on the next run, but she did survive. Her knee hurt from making a wrong turn and finding herself on a near collision course with Becca. They banged knees as they passed, but at least the horses hadn’t crashed together.

As the practice continued, there was lots of yelling, but none of it, she realized, malicious. Just loud attempts to get her back on course before she creamed someone—again—which wouldn’t have happened if they were trotting.

“Well done,” Linda said as she rode up next to Beckett.

“Really?” Liv asked flatly. “I almost killed Becca.”

Linda waved a dismissive hand as if killing Becca was not a major concern. “But you didn’t. And you catch on fast. You did good for the first time.”

“You didn’t do that good,” Andie said as Linda rode away, making Liv smile.

“Thanks for the reality check.” But actually, now that it was over, Liv did feel a sense of accomplishment. She and Beckett could do this and Beckett seemed to enjoy it more than the slow parade drills—probably because he was born to run. Charging after a calf wasn’t all that different than charging after a teammate who was opening up a gap in the pattern.

“Anytime, my friend. But you know what?”

“Mmm?”

“It’s good to see you stepping out of your comfort zone.”

“You like to watch me suffer?” Andie might be her closest friend, but she had no idea just how much time Liv had spent out of her comfort zone over the past year. Some things Liv just didn’t talk about.

“If I wanted to watch you suffer,” Andie said as they joined the group riding out of the arena, “I’d come along on the shopping trip tomorrow and watch you try to hold your own against Hurricane Shae.”

“Hey,” Susie Barnes said, catching up to Liv and Andie. “Isn’t that Matt Montoya’s horse?”

“My horse,” Liv said automatically.

Susie’s forehead creased. “But...he used to be Matt’s, right? I recognize that spot on his belly, but it took me a while to remember why I knew him.”

“Matt once owned him,” Liv admitted.

Susie smiled. “I knew it. He and Pete rope together sometimes when Matt’s home.” She frowned. “Isn’t this the horse that disappeared?”

Tread lightly. Liv did not want to alienate a team member with a snarky reply. Thankfully she had years of experience repressing true thoughts.

“You know, I don’t really know the history,” she said pleasantly. “He was for sale last year and I bought him.”

“Oh,” Susie said. “I see.” Although she didn’t. “Well, the two of you did great for the first drill.”

“Thanks,” Liv said. “Can’t wait for the next practice.” She might be a little sore and mentally exhausted, but it was going to be a lot more fun than shopping with Shae.

* * *

DINNER AT MATT’S parents’ ranch was canceled on Friday due to an unexpected storm that delayed his mother’s flight home from Las Vegas, where she’d been visiting her best friend from college. Matt was beyond grateful.

Not only was he avoiding an uncomfortable family dinner, but Craig also wouldn’t have to watch Matt and his father stiffly interact. Craig was an astute kid, and Matt was certain he’d key in on the dynamic between him and his dad—and he’d also ask questions. Questions Matt didn’t feel like hearing or dealing with.

“So what are we going to eat?” Craig asked upon receiving word that they would be staying home for supper.

Craig might be a fourteen-year-old cleaning wonder, but he wasn’t much of a cook. Unfortunately, neither was Matt, but one of them had to put food on the table. When he was alone, Matt usually grazed or ate out. When he did cook for himself, he fried up steaks or burgers, dumped some lettuce out of a bag and called it a salad. On special occasions he might bake a potato.

Right now, though, he was out of steak, burgers and potatoes.

“I think we should go out for a pizza,” Craig announced. “I’ll buy.”

Matt didn’t think that was a bad idea—the pizza part, not Craig buying.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“We’re going out for pizza?” Craig asked, springing up off the sofa. Matt remembered when he used to be able to move like that. Hell, he’d give just about anything to be able to move like that again. Almost thirty-one years old and he felt like he was sixty-one. Or older.

But he’d get it back. Soon.

“We’re going to the grocery store. We’ll stock up on some frozen pizza and whatever else you like to eat.”

“Mom gave you money, right?”

Matt grunted and hoped it sounded like an affirmative. He was in a lot better shape financially than Willa. “Can I drive?” Craig asked as they walked to the truck.

“Sure. In about a year and a half.”

“Mom lets me drive all the time.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“Once I was the designated driver when her designated driver failed in his designated task.”

Matt smiled without looking at the kid. Craig’s use of vocabulary slayed him.

“So what shall we get?” he asked a half hour later as Craig pulled a cart out of the line.

“We start with some real cereal.”

“Wheaties aren’t real?”

Craig shook his head and grabbed a box of Cap’n Crunch.

“Would your mother approve?”

“She practically has stock in the company. Check her purse. You’ll find a plastic bag full of the Cap’n.” Craig looked over his glasses. “For emergencies, of course.”

“Of course,” Matt said, adding a box of Wheaties to the cart. “What else?”

Craig led him through the aisles. In addition to his usual staples—steak, hamburger, salami, bread, eggs, milk, cheese, Pop-Tarts—Matt bought crackers and peanut butter, chocolate milk, frozen pizzas...lots of frozen pizzas...Hot Pockets, frozen dinners and a watermelon. Willa was allergic and never bought watermelon, so Matt gave in and bought a melon that the two of them would never get eaten. Not alone anyway.

“Is this everything?” Matt asked before they got to the checkout stand, a bit in awe of the sheer amount of food in the cart—most of it of the snack variety.

Craig’s expression changed. “Did Mom give you enough money?”

“More than I need,” Matt said. “I was being literal. I hate shopping and don’t want to come back.”

“If you let me drive—”

Matt just shook his head and started for the nearest checkout stand, wishing he’d seen that Dirk Benson, the assistant manager of the store, was behind the register before he’d pushed the cart to the stand.

“Hey, Dirk,” he said, pulling out the wallet he wouldn’t be needing for a while, what with the amount of food Dirk was going to ring up.

Dirk called for backup, aka a courtesy clerk, and started sliding items over the scanner. He was almost done when he asked, “So what’s going on with you and Ryan Madison?”

And just when Matt thought he was going to get out of there without an inquisition. He should have known better. Dirk’s son had rodeoed with Matt and Dirk and took local rodeo very seriously.

“In what way?” Matt asked, knowing full well in what way, but not wanting to talk about it in front of the kid.

“In the way that he did a lot better than you did at the NFR last year, what with him qualifying and all.”

Matt nodded congenially, determined not to let the guy get to him. Dirk had never forgiven Matt for being a better athlete than his own son. Add to that the fact that Dirk’s kid and Ryan had buddied up in college and, yeah, Dirk was no Matt Montoya fan.

“And now he’s pretty close to qualifying again and even though you’ve got a lot more earnings, doesn’t look like you’ll be adding to them.”

Matt smiled tightly, then swiped his card with a quick motion that he hoped conveyed his feelings, as in...shut up, Dirk.

“There’s a big purse for the challenge,” Dirk continued. “And Madison will probably win.” He blinked innocently at Matt. “What with you being injured and all.”

“Don’t write me off.” Matt shoved his wallet deep into his back pocket and rearranged two of the bags that were balanced precariously on top of the load in the cart.

“You saying you’ll be able to come back in time?”

“Take it however you want,” Matt said as he loaded the last bag—the one Dirk had missed because he’d been so busy talking. And yes, he’d be back. He had a month and a half.

“What’s he talking about?” Craig asked as they walked through the automatic doors and he tried to keep up with Matt, who was moving pretty good despite his knee.

“Nothing.”

“Sounded like something.”

“Sounding like something and being something are not the same thing,” Matt muttered.

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

Matt hit the unlock button on his keys. “Who’s cooking tonight?”

“I cooked last night.”

“Pop-Tarts don’t count.”

“I can’t cook.”

“As I see it, you have all day to learn. Maybe a little internet research. We got a lot to work with here.”

“What are you going to do while I research recipes?”

“Practice.” He spent hours every day roping a dummy from both the ground and horseback. Next week he’d start roping calves again.

“For your big comeback?”

Matt exhaled. “Yeah. For my big comeback.”

* * *

“I DIDN’T EXPECT you to get home so late.” Tim slowly got up from his chair as Liv walked through the front door. He was trying hard to look normal, but wasn’t quite succeeding. Pain pinched his features.

Liv hadn’t had a chance to talk to him before she’d left for practice, since he’d still been on the baler proving himself to be hale and hearty, so she’d made dinner and left it in the warming oven, loaded Beckett and left. It had taken everything she had not to march across the hayfield and rap on the tractor door to tell her father that he’d made his point—he was getting better—and he didn’t need to kill himself to prove it.

But she hadn’t. Maybe once he got the hay knocked down, he’d set a more reasonable pace. One thing she knew for certain was that if she made a big deal, or continued to make a big deal, then her father’s stubbornness would kick into overdrive.

“Did you eat?” Liv asked, walking past him and into the kitchen. The dishes were done and the food was put away. She turned back to find her father standing in the doorway, looking pale. “Don’t do the kitchen stuff,” she said sternly. “That’s my job.”

“I’m used to doing the kitchen stuff.”

“Well, then there’s no reason we can’t switch off for the day. I’ll handle the hay and you can take care of the cooking.”

Haying wasn’t rocket science, but Tim had always insisted on doing it himself. When she was younger, Liv had thought Tim did everything around the ranch because he had an old-fashioned notion of men’s and women’s work, but now she suspected it was because he didn’t like to delegate. He was a man who depended on himself and only himself—end of story. He’d let her work by his side, which he had done while she’d stayed with him, finding it a way they could spend time together but not have to talk. But he flat out refused to let her take over operations.

“I’ll do the field work.”

Liv leaned back against the counter, folding her arms over her chest as she studied the closed-off man standing near the table.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked flatly. Liv was not a fan of direct confrontation, thanks to all those years of training from her mother, but she’d just spent an entire evening out of her comfort zone, so a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

“How am I feeling?” Tim asked stonily. Liv couldn’t say his barriers went up, because with her father they were never truly down, but he wasn’t in any hurry to answer. It was as if he hoped that if he stared her down long enough, she’d say, “Oh, never mind.” She didn’t, even though it was tempting, and he finally said, “Tired, after a day on the tractor. I think that’s understandable.”

Liv sighed, but before she could clarify that she meant overall, not just today, Tim said, “What did Matt want yesterday?”

The sudden change of topic had the exact effect that Tim had no doubt been hoping for. “How’d you know he stopped by?” she asked. She certainly hadn’t told him.

“Walter told me when he came to borrow the auger.”

Walter lived directly across the county road from the Bailey Ranch and filled his hours watching the coming and goings of his neighbors—when he wasn’t borrowing stuff from them or doing odd jobs.

Liv gave a small shrug. “He wanted the same thing as last time and I think he got the point this time.”

“Well, if he didn’t—”

Liv pushed off from the counter. “I can handle Matt. It isn’t like he can do much about the Beckett situation.”

“I don’t want him harassing you, like that other guy that you didn’t want to tell me about.”

“Two visits are not exactly harassment.” And she wished Tim didn’t know about “that other guy.” The only reason he did know was because Greg had the chutzpah to call Tim looking for her after she’d stopped answering his calls.

Her father raised one eyebrow and she took his point. After Matt’s first visit, during which she’d taken a firm stand, there was little call for a second. At least not in person. Phoning would have done just as well, but Matt had probably figured he’d be more persuasive in person. And he was, but Liv was not falling for it.

“If he starts harassing me, I’ll let you know.” She didn’t like lying to her father, but she wasn’t going to let him fight her battles, either. “By the way, I’m going to Missoula tomorrow to shop with Mom and Shae.”

“All that way to shop? Why doesn’t your mother meet you in a more central locale, like Butte? Surely you could shop there.”

Tim and Vivian had been divorced for almost twenty years and there was no lingering bitterness between them. In fact, Liv had never noticed any bitterness whatsoever. Even her mother, who clung to people with a death grip, changing as necessary to please them, had come to realize that she couldn’t change enough to stay married to Tim. He was a man who had difficulty allaying fears, reaffirming his commitment, saying the words “I love you,” and Vivian was a woman who needed those reassurances. Often. It hadn’t hurt that she’d married David McArthur within a year of divorcing Tim.

“The wedding, Dad. We’re shopping for bridesmaid dresses and Shae wants to shop in Missoula.”

“Right. The wedding. I forgot about that.” The words were barely out when a yawn seemed to catch him by surprise. Liv pretended not to notice, folding a dish towel before hanging it. He’d had a long day proving he was on the mend. She only hoped it didn’t send him into a relapse.

“Shae has promised to keep it a small affair.” Tim cocked his head as if waiting for the punch line. “Reed, her fiancé, is the sensible type.” Liv read her father’s face and smiled. “Yeah. I know. What’s he doing with Shae? Opposites attract, I guess.”

Silence hung between them for a second and Liv had a strong feeling that they were both thinking the same thing. That opposite thing hadn’t worked out so well with him and her mother.

“Reed is a good guy and smart. He knows what he’s doing.” Liv pushed a few strands of hair away from her face, grimacing at how stiff it was from arena dust.

“Let’s hope” was all Tim said. He seemed to be growing paler before her eyes, reminding her of how far she’d been sidetracked from the issue of his health. Even though she wanted to take him by the front of his shirt and shake him, demand that he tell her what was going on with him, she figured right now a full frontal assault would do more harm than good.

She was going to have to wait. Wait and worry. Then maybe in another couple of days try again if he was still doing his impression of the walking dead.

“I’m going to bed, Dad,” she finally said, well aware of the relief that flickered across his stern features, there then gone. “Why don’t you do the same?”

“I will.”

Of course he would. Just as soon as she did.

CHAPTER FIVE

LIV PULLED OFF her ball cap as she walked into the bathroom and then released her hair from the elastic band. It barely moved. Her former drill team had never stirred up so much dust during a practice, but then her old drill team hadn’t ridden hell-bent for election during practice, either.

She waited a moment at the sink, studying her dusty reflection, wondering how long Tim was going to stay up to make his point. A long time, apparently.

Finally, after she’d shucked off her dirty clothing and was about to crank on the shower, she heard her father walk down the hall toward his room at the far end of the house. His door closed and the house fell silent.

Thank goodness.

Liv turned on the water and a few minutes later stepped under the spray, letting it beat on her, washing dust out of her hair and, hopefully, working tension out of her shoulders. Murky water swirled around her feet before going down the drain, but the stiffness in her shoulders barely abated.

Stress. Oh, yes. Her perpetual friend, back with a bit more force than usual after drill practice and the unsuccessful confrontation with her father. Add to that the shopping trip tomorrow, starting a new job in a few days and Matt trying to finagle her horse away from her and no wonder her muscles were seized up.

She rolled her shoulders under the spray, closing her eyes and making a conscious effort to relax. She could deal with this stuff—even if most of it took her well out of her comfort zone.

Liv sighed as she reached for the shampoo. Maybe in a year or two it would be easy. Or easier. Right now it was a constant effort to hold her own, not take the easy way out and become invisible and/or compliant. She just wasn’t certain how much was enough when it came to standing your ground.

The water was turning cold by the time she turned off the faucet, and her shoulders felt only slightly better. She put on her threadbare flannel pajamas and headed to her bedroom, combing her hair with a large wooden comb as she walked. Liv did not own a blow-dryer—hers had given up the ghost shortly before she moved home and she had yet to replace it—so instead of trying to sleep, she propped herself up against the headboard and started reading her new patients’ case files as her hair dried. Shopping with her mother and Shae meant having hair that didn’t look as if it had been slept on wet. It would be amusing to see their expressions if she showed up with bent hair, but Liv couldn’t do it.

She finally closed the last file close to midnight and snuggled down into the sheets, closed her eyes. And realized she was nowhere near being ready to sleep.

Was her dad asleep? A few nights ago she’d heard him pacing his room, but it was silent tonight.

She flopped over onto her side.

Was she up to watching her mother fall all over herself tomorrow trying to make Shae’s special day even more special? She hated seeing her mom doing everything in her power to keep Shae happy, because she knew why she was doing it—to please David, her husband and Shae’s father.

Liv pulled in a breath, closed her eyes even tighter.

Would Matt make yet another attempt to get her horse? And if he did, how was she going to handle it without upsetting Tim? She’d think of something.

Liv rolled onto her back, resolutely tried to close off the racing thoughts, then after another ten minutes, gave up. How many nights had she spent like this over the past year and a half? Awake and wondering, worrying?

Too many after breaking up with Greg.

Liv pulled the flashlight out from under her bed and silently left her room, creeping down the hall to the mudroom where she eased her feet into her barn shoes. When she left the house, she didn’t quite shut the heavy door behind her. Her father had excellent hearing and the last thing she wanted was for him to get up to investigate the sound of the front door closing.

Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she crossed the driveway, the sound unusually loud in the stillness of the night. Once inside the barn, out of view of her father’s window, Liv turned on the flashlight and grabbed a brush out of the grooming box. Beckett’s stall was empty, so she headed for the rear man door, clicking off the flashlight as she went.

Beckett, familiar with the late-night ritual, nickered softly as Liv started across the pasture to where he stood under the Russian olive tree, moonlight bathing his back. He ambled over to meet her halfway and then stopped, obligingly turning his side toward her, waiting for the grooming to begin.

Liv started on his neck, following each flick of the brush with a stroke of her hand. She worked her way over the healed saddle sores on his withers and lower back, now evident only by the white hairs that covered the scars. It still angered her to think about his wounds. Did Matt think a horse was just a tool to be used and abused for his benefit? Did he even care that the saddle he was using didn’t fit or that Beckett’s mouth had been injured from too large of a bit and the way Matt had handled him?

Liv gritted her teeth, the brush flying over Beckett’s coat in quick, agitated movements before she suddenly stopped and leaned against the horse, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhaled deeply. A moment later, Liv set the brush on the ground and started working the tangles out of Beckett’s mane with her fingers. The gelding pulled in a deep breath and then exhaled. A horsey sigh, which Liv echoed. Beckett didn’t like having his mane untangled, but he endured, as he’d endured his abuse.

Now Matt wanted the horse back. Fat chance. If he was stupid enough to come back a third time, Tim would not be the one dealing with him. No. She didn’t want anyone dealing with Matt Montoya except for herself. Andie and Tim...they meant well, but Liv would fight this battle alone. This was one area where she had no qualms about standing her ground.

Once she’d finished with the mane, she ran her hand over Beckett’s nose and the horse pushed against it, snuffling for a treat. She had nothing, but smiled as she ruffled his mane, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his solid muscles.

If it hadn’t been for Beckett needing to be rescued, she may not have realized how closely she’d been mirroring her mother’s behavior, or how damaging that could be, until it was too late.

Vivian’s one need in life was to have a man to keep her secure, and in order to hang on to her man, she would become indispensible so they would keep her. Don’t make waves, Liv.

And Liv hadn’t. She’d been the picture of compliance and cooperation for most of her life. Until the situation with Greg had come to a head.

Something inside of her had snapped after he’d essentially told her to choose him or a horse. In a life-changing moment of clarity, Liv had said she chose the horse. She could still see the shocked expression on Greg’s handsome face, feel the twist of her gut as she’d realized what she’d just done. Then he’d laughed. A reprieve, a chance to pretend she’d been making a joke.

She hadn’t felt even a flicker of temptation to recant, which was in itself stunning because until that point she’d considered herself to be madly in love with the man. Maybe she was in love, she’d told herself. Maybe they just needed time to work this out.

Or maybe she’d finally realized that she’d allowed herself to be manipulated and controlled for way too long.

Minutes later Liv had been in her car, driving away, well aware that Greg expected her to return in short order with an apology and the admission that he was right.

Didn’t happen.

But not because Liv wasn’t tempted. Part of her was hopeful they’d work things out. Part of her was outraged that Greg hadn’t discussed the matter—he’d made a decree. She told herself that their relationship would ultimately be better because she had taken her stand. After all, she needed a say in things. But when she told her mother what had happened, Vivian had been horrified. Give up the horse. Go back.

Another of those clarifying moments.

Two days later, Greg called and essentially asked Liv if she’d come to her senses. His tone was gentle and teasing, but the message was still there—do as I say. The difference was that now Liv heard the message, whereas before she hadn’t—or if she had, she’d chosen to ignore it. Liv told him once again that she chose the horse and hung up, her hands shaking, as she wondered if she were giving up her chance for happiness. They were so perfect together...because Liv never asserted herself. She was cooperative, agreeable, didn’t rock the boat...

Greg called back the next day and told her she could keep the horse. He hadn’t realized how important it was to her.

This time it wasn’t so difficult to hang up. It’d taken him three days to “realize” that she was serious and the horse was important to her? Then give his permission for her to buy Beckett? Why did she need his permission? They weren’t yet married.

Liv felt so damned stupid for having not seen the warning signs of a controlling relationship a long time before. And then, when Greg’s campaign to win her back began, Liv became more and more aware of the bullet she’d dodged.

He started off nicely enough, flowers with a note. A stuffed horse left on her desk at work with a please-forgive-me card.

Liv stayed strong. He called. He met her in unexpected places. He even cajoled her into dinner and Liv had gone, thinking that maybe she could convince him she was serious. They were over. But he needed someone compliant in his life and Liv had fit the bill. He was not giving up.

Everywhere she went, Liv expected to run into Greg, to the point that she’d considered a restraining order. When she’d heard word he’d gone out on a date with another woman, she’d been thrilled, until he’d phoned to tell her that no one compared to her. She shuddered to think about it.

If it hadn’t been for Beckett—caring for him, grooming him, riding him, pouring out her guts to him—she didn’t know if she would have made it through those long months. Beckett had helped her stay strong when Greg had pushed his hardest.

And then it struck her.

It wasn’t the stress of wedding shopping or her father’s health that was keeping her awake, or even fear of losing Beckett. It was Matt—Matt, who was behaving just like Greg, refusing to take no for an answer. Pushing.

Déjà vu all over again. She was not going to tolerate a replay of the Greg months. This time it might be over a horse instead of her future, but she didn’t care. Matt was pushing and she was instinctively protecting herself. And rightly so—especially after he’d indicated the situation wasn’t yet concluded to his satisfaction.

“Yes, it is, Montoya.” Beckett’s ear flicked back as Liv spoke. The situation was over and if Matt showed up again, she’d make good on her threat to call the sheriff.

Finally she patted the horse on the rump and headed back to the house, picking her way across the field in the moonlight. The front door was slightly ajar, just as she’d left it, and Liv slipped inside, holding her breath as the heavy oak made a distinctive scraping noise just before the latch caught.

Liv held perfectly still for a few long seconds, her hand still on the doorknob. Then, when no sound came from her father’s room, she walked silently down the hall.

She yawned as she got into bed, hoping now that she’d figured out what was bothering that she could sleep.

It was her last conscious thought.

* * *

LIV OVERSLEPT.

She would have slept even longer if her father hadn’t knocked on her door and asked if she wanted him to fuel up her car before she left. Liv grabbed the clock, which she’d turned toward the wall the night before, and yelped when she saw the time.

“Liv?” Tim called through the door.

“Uh, yes. Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Thanks to a lack of early-morning traffic and highway patrol officers, Liv arrived at Malinda’s Bridal Boutique only a few minutes after it had opened. She was not surprised to find her mother and Shae already at the racks.

Liv fended off the associate with a quick I’m-with-them gesture, then started across the highly polished parquet floor, feeling awkward, as if arriving at a party late after everyone else had already settled in. As she approached, Shae held up a dress, said something, and her mother laughed, her need-to-please agreeable laugh. Excellent.

“You’re here,” her mother said to Liv, beaming as she reached out to hug her while still holding a beaded oyster-colored dress in one hand. “Right on time.”

Shae smiled and also gave Liv a perfunctory hug, enveloping her in a subtle cloud of fragrance. “Glad you could make it.” She pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder, and Liv couldn’t help but notice how perfectly cut it was.

“Me, too.” Liv had no illusions as to why she was in Shae’s wedding—because it wouldn’t look right if she weren’t. She and Shae were sisters, after all. Stepsisters, but they’d lived together since they were fourteen and should have been closer than they were.

It was hard to be close to someone who intimidated you, however, and from day one, Shae had intimidated Liv—because Liv had allowed herself to be intimidated. She and Shae had little in common, valued different things, and Shae was so very popular while Liv was not. Of course she’d been intimidated.

Their only common ground was that their parents were married, which added to the problem. Vivian wanted her husband happy and her husband’s children happy, so on the occasions when Shae and Liv had disagreed, Liv eventually backed down. For her mother.

To add to the tension, Shae, under coercion, had made a few futile attempts to include Liv in her social activities, but neither had been comfortable with that, so eventually they settled into living parallel lives in the bedroom they shared. There’d been moments when they’d acted like sisters—shared a secret or two, groused about a teacher—but for the most part it was every girl for herself.

“This is the preshop,” Vivian explained, as if Liv weren’t already aware.

“Yes,” Shae said, hanging a pink silk dress. “You can imagine what a free-for-all this would be with seven bridesmaids giving their opinions.”

“We’re going to narrow it down to three choices today,” Vivian said, rejoining the hunt.

Seven bridesmaids? “I thought Reed wanted a small wedding,” Liv said as she casually flipped through a few dresses, wincing at the price tags and realizing that it would be almost impossible for her to come up with seven friends to serve as bridesmaids—not unless she included Beckett and her father.

Shae laughed, that confident yet somehow seductive laugh that Liv envied and had occasionally tried to emulate with little success. “Reed doesn’t know what he wants.”

“He seemed like he knew what he wanted last time I talked to him,” Liv said conversationally. They’d had a fairly decent discussion at the family Easter Sunday dinner. Liv liked Shae’s fiancé, a handsome, mild-mannered guy who still had a backbone. Shae had made a good catch there.

Shae’s smile shifted slightly. “We’ve talked and he’s beginning to see things my way. After all, you only get married once.”

“Unless you’re one of the seventy-five percent of divorcées who remarry,” Liv muttered.

“How on earth do you know that statistic?” Shae asked in the same voice she’d used when Liv had actually known the answers to the questions on the history exams in high school.

“I made it up.”

Shae laughed. A real laugh. Then she turned back to the racks and pulled out a pale green sheath. “How about this?”

“Not bad,” Liv murmured. Except for that six-hundred-dollar price tag. Surely Shae wouldn’t do that to her seven friends. Liv glanced over at her mother and recognized the frozen smile, the make-Shae-happy look.

Shae looked at the price tag. “Wow.”

Liv held her breath.

Shae shrugged and put the dress back on the rack, looking over her shoulder at Vivian as she did so. “This is a possibility.”

Liv felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. Really? A six-hundred-dollar possibility? She made an effort to bite her tongue—for her mother’s sake. This was not a matter of Greg or Matt trying to control her. This was Shae. Shae who always got her way.

After two more racks, Shae turned to Liv and Vivian. “Shall we move on to the next place and see what else we can find?”

“Please,” Liv said with feeling, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. “I think we should explore all options,” she added on a more upbeat note. Vivian’s frown relaxed.

At lunch, Shae shook her head as she dipped a tea bag into a cup of hot water. “I think it’s pretty obvious that it’s impossible to find a decent dress for under three hundred.”

“Can you find something you can tolerate?” Liv asked. She’d seen more expensive dresses than she wanted to think about in the past three hours. Each place they went hammered home the point that the wedding industry was all about spending as much as possible to celebrate what? A union that may or may not last? It was a shameful exploitation of a solemn occasion and Shae was plunging in with both feet, practically shouting, “Here I am! Take my money and provide me with an illusion that has nothing to do with reality!”

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