Epilogue
“Today is insane,” Lark said, looking around at the barbecue that was set up in the covered arena in honor of the first class to “graduate” from the program at Longhorn.
There were parents, foster parents, parole officers, family and friends. An eclectic group, but considering the group, it seemed right.
“Yeah,” Quinn said, surveying the pandemonium, “it is. But it’s pretty awesome too.”
“I’ve never seen them happier.”
“It’s amazing what a little direction can do. More than that, it’s amazing what love can do.” He looked at Lark, at the diamond ring glittering on her left hand. He’d asked her properly after the clumsy, ringless proposal in her house five months ago.
He’d even gotten her brothers’ blessing. Or he’d at least gotten their promise not to punch him in the face again.
“Love is pretty kick-ass,” she said, beaming at him.
“Yeah.” He managed to look away from her, at everyone scattered around the ranch. At Jill and Sam, who had never looked happier, standing there with Jake, who finally had a home. “Love is pretty kick-ass all right.” He took a deep breath, and made a decision, then and there. “What do you think about moving the wedding up?”
“To when?”
“Summer.”
“But that’s the middle of the next competition season.”
He took a deep breath and looked down at Lark, at the woman who’d become his world over the past few months. The woman who had managed to glue all the broken pieces in him back together. She’d rebuilt him. Made him better. She’d made something that had been the biggest thing in his life seem so very small now. “I don’t think I’m going to compete again,” he said slowly. “At least not this year.”
“But . . . but . . .”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it. And the timing doesn’t feel right. Everything is going so well here. And I just . . . I don’t feel like I need it, Lark. I used to think that if I couldn’t compete . . . there wouldn’t be anything for me. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Everything in my life right now is more important than the circuit. You’re more important.”
“Quinn, I don’t want you to give this up for me.”
“You’ll still love me if I’m not a big rodeo star, right? You aren’t a secret buckle bunny are you?”
“Maybe. Maybe I am.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I have secrets. Secrets only my browser history knows.”
“Mysterious,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I like that. It’s sexy.”
“Yes, well. I try.”
“I just feel like my priorities have changed. I was this guy willing to do anything to get back into the rodeo. Now . . . my life is full, Lark.”
She blinked rapidly, her eyes glittering. “That’s so good to hear. And you know I’m all about marrying you sooner. Even if you’re not a big rodeo star. But I just need to be sure it’s what you want, and not what you think will make me happy, because as long as I have you, there is no unhappy, Quinn.”
“That’s just how I feel. What I do . . . it just doesn’t matter as much, not when I’ve got you. I might go back someday. But for now I think I want to stay here. And do this. Run the ranch. Be with you. Keep you near your family. This feels like my home to me. The first one I’ve ever had. I always felt out of place in my parents’ house. And I just sort of drifted everywhere else. But this place, with you? This is home. I’m not in a big hurry to leave it.”
“Welcome home, Quinn Parker.” Lark hugged him, that way that only she could, the way that made him feel like his heart was going to shatter into a million pieces, then reform, stronger and bigger than ever. “You are an amazing man, do you know that?”
When he’d first met Lark, he was nothing. A man with no home, no family and bad blood. Now he had her. A place to call home. And he knew he wasn’t worthless. Because Lark loved him.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks to you, I actually do.”
Keep reading for a special preview of the next Silver Creek romance from Maisey Yates
UNBROKEN
Available August 2014 from Sensation
“It’s bad form to get drunk at your sister’s wedding, right?”
“Since when has that ever stopped you, Cade?”
Amber Jameson leaned back in the folding chair and then checked to make sure the little purple bow tied to the back hadn’t fallen off and onto the grass. She’d spent too many damn hours tying those things on yesterday.
They were finicky. Finicky flipping ribbons. Almost as finicky as the bride who, while cute as a button under normal circumstances had had a bridezilla flare-up during the decorating yesterday and had gone around micromanaging said ribbon tying.
And placement.
She’d demanded ribbon curls in lengths that were impossible for mere mortals to achieve. If Lark weren’t the little sister Amber had always wanted, she would never have gone along with all of it. Not without attacking her with the scissors she was using to curl ribbons, at least.
But then, Lark’s life had been short on frills. Being raised by two brothers and a dad. So Amber supposed she was entitled.
But then, Amber’s life had been short on this kind of thing too, and she didn’t feel at all yearny for it. Nope. Marriage and men and bleah. Not her thing. Not these days.
“It doesn’t usually,” Cade said, leaning back in his chair so that they were sitting at the same angle. “But I thought, since this is for Lark, maybe I should behave.”
She looked at her friend’s profile. Strong, handsome. Square jaw, roughened with dark stubble. Brown eyes that always had a glint of naughty in them. And today was wearing a suit jacket and a tie, along with a black cowboy hat.
Damn, damn, damn he was fine. Sometimes it hit her. Like shitton of bricks, that her best friend was the best looking guy in a five hundred mile radius. Or possibly the world. And it made her feel . . . things she didn’t want to feel.
Then he turned to face her head on and offered her his very best smart-ass Cade smile, and the moment faded out as soon as it hit. Like driving on one of Silver Creek’s fir-lined highways and seeing a sunbeam peek through the trees. A brilliant shaft of light that colored the world gold for just a moment before racing back behind the dark green branches. Just a glimpse, an impression of something she didn’t want to explore.
Like, ever.
“When did she grow up?” Amber asked, looking over at the dance floor where Lark was currently holding onto her new husband, both of them swaying to the music without displaying any particular dancing skills. Quinn was a rough and tumble cowboy type, though he seemed to have a little more rhythm than his new bride. “It makes me feel old,” she continued. “Like an old cliche. Sitting here at her reception looking at this grown-up woman in a wedding gown and thinking . . . how is she not eight years old still?”
“Imagine how I feel,” Cade said, his voice rough.
“Yeah, I know.”
The Mitchells were a part of Amber’s cobbled together family. She didn’t have a lot in the way of people who loved her, so when she found people who were willing to accept her, she clung to them as best as she could.
In her younger years that clinging amounted to some very poor decisions, but she’d matured past that. Especially after she’d realized that her grandma and grandpa weren’t going to just ship her straight back into the system. That they were going to let her stay in Silver Creek.
That she could stay, with them, in their home.
Since then, she’d built herself a solid foundation for her life. And Cade was the cornerstone. Had been since she was fourteen years old. She would never, ever do anything to jeopardize that.
Though, there was nothing wrong with infrequent, secret ogling.
“Are you having empty nest syndrome, Mitchell?” she asked, nudging him with her elbow.
“Me? Oh, hell no. This nest isn’t getting emptier. Maddy runs around like hell on pudgy feet. That little beast cut holes in one of my work shirts the other day with those little plastic handled scissors. And now Cole and Kelsey have the other baby coming in January. Nope, it’s just filling up over here.”
“But Lark’s gone.”
“She’s been gone. She’s been shacking up with that a*shole I now call a brother-in-law for a year.”
She patted his thigh and didn’t notice how hard, and hot and muscular it was beneath those thin dress pants. “I know. But now it’s official.”
“Yep.”
“Emotions don’t bite, Cade. Don’t run from your feels,” she said dryly.
“That’s pretty rich coming from you, missy.”
She made a face at him and earned a smile. “I don’t have to take advice to give it. I’m emotionally stunted and I know it.”
“That’s why we get along so well.”
“I thought it was because I’m such a good pool player,” she said, lifting her beer up from the table and taking a long drink.
“That’s not it. I’m a lot better than you are.”
“Uh huh.”
“What do you think?” he asked. “Wanna dance?”
She eyed Cade. More specifically his leg. The one she hadn’t just patted. “Um . . . really?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Okay, maybe not.” The grooves around his mouth deepened and Amber felt an answering chasm deepen around her heart.
She hated that he couldn’t dance anymore. Hated that the man she knew as being so totally vital and energetic, was hobbled because of a rodeo accident four years ago.
For a long time they’d all blamed Quinn, Lark’s husband, but they found out they’d been mistaken. Hard for Cade to process, as evidenced by the fact that he frequently referred to his new brother-in-law as an a*shole.
They were getting there, but they weren’t exactly best friends yet.
The dude bonding process was not yet complete.
Now they didn’t know quite who to blame, except for a poor kid who’d been paid sabotage the ride. The spike he’d put beneath Cade’s horse’s saddle had only been intended to end the ride faster, not send Cade to the hospital and cause life changing, career ending injuries. Getting hung up on your horse was never a good thing, but when the horse was that spooked? You didn’t walk away. You got carted away on a stretcher.
Quinn got to move on from it all. His name was cleared. He was reinstated into competitions. And the question of who’d sabotaged Cade was left unanswered.
And Cade would never be fixed. Even if they did find out who was behind it, Cade wouldn’t magically be healed, damage undone by justice. That hurt her. Always. Every day.
Because whenever she had a problem Cade was there. He was always trying to fix things for her. Had been since they were in high school. But there was no fixing this for him. And she’d give her own leg to do it. So he could go back to doing what he loved.
She only used her legs to wait tables and help around her grandparents ranch.
She didn’t do anything like Cade. Watching him ride? It had always sent a flash of light down her spine. A spark that lit her up everywhere and sent tingles to places.
It was art with him. Athletic grace, and sheer masculine willpower. Straining muscles, gritted teeth, dirt, sweat and mud flying in the air.
Yeah, that flipped her switches like whoa.
Cade Mitchell on the back of a bucking horse was a truly orgasmic experience.
When he was through with a ride, he always shook. From his hands down to his boots. Adrenaline, he said. She shook too though, and it wasn’t always that.
He scared the hell out of her. Watching his accident during the Vegas championships, on TV in her living room, had been the single most painful moment of her life.
Her best friend, her family, dragged around the arena like a rag doll, white as death and knocking on that door.
In those moments, she’d gotten a look at life without Cade. And it had been a yawning vacuum of empty cold. She’d always known he was important. Right then, she’d realized just how much.
Ironically, she would still give it all to get him back in the saddle, so to speak. Because he loved it. Even though she knew that after that accident she’d sweat off three pounds during those precious seconds he was on the back of one of those beasts.
Small price to pay for allowing him to have his passion. For giving back the ability to dance, however badly, so he they could go out on that wooden floor together on his sister’s wedding day.
But there was no going out on the dance floor for Cade. So they sat at the table and drank beer until the sky turned purple and the candles, strung over the tables in mason jars, lit everything with a pale yellow glow.
“Last dance,” Amber said, knowing that Quinn and Lark would be leaving soon. Off on their honeymoon. “Wanna get out of here?” she asked.
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Hay-ell yeah. What do people come to weddings for but to hook up? Certainly not to see their BFFs little sister tie the knot with a ridiculously handsome cowboy.”
“You think he’s handsome?” Cade asked, eyes narrowed.
She looked back at Quinn and Lark, who were still twined around each other like vines. “Uh, yeah. Have you checked that tat he has on his shoulder? Meow.”
“Hey, he’s my sister’s husband,” he said, grimacing slightly when he said the words.
“Don’t worry, I’m out of the game.”
“I thought we were gonna hook up.”
“Did I say hook up? I meant ‘let’s get out of here so I can whup your ass at pool.’ How about that?”
“Sounds like more fun anyway.”
More fun than watching his little sister ride off into the sunset with a guy that Cade still had a tough time with in some ways. He didn’t say that, but Amber could read Cade’s subtext pretty well. Most often, said subtext was: cheeseburger or breasts. But every so often it was a real, deep emotion that he was never, ever going to show to the public.
Or even to himself.
Which was when she made sure she was on hand to help him out.
“Yep. I’ll even buy you a beer because you look so damn pertty,” she said, tweaking his hat.
“Well, shucks,” he said, that lopsided grin tilting to the left, tilting her stomach along with it. “Let’s get on with it. . . .Can you play pool in that dress?” he asked, indicating her very abnormal and feminine attire.
“If you can play in a tie.”
He reached up and grabbed the knot at the base of his throat and loosened it. “I think I can handle it.”
“But can you handle me?” she asked, quirking her brow.
“I guess we’ll see.”
***
The Saloon, so named because it had been around since that was the usual name for a place where drinking and carousing occurred, was packed. Not so much because it was a Sunday night, but because there was no other nightlife in Silver Creek. Nothing beyond a music festival that ran through the summer and attracted mainly the grey-hairs who only lived in town seasonally.
Not that Cade needed much of a nightlife. Not considering he hadn’t done any real ‘going out’ since his accident. Not considering that, even if he did, he couldn’t dance.
He didn’t know why he’d asked Amber to dance at Lark’s wedding.
Ah, shit. Lark was married. That made him feel . . . well, it made him feel. And that was just something he hadn’t been prepared for.
But she was his baby sister, and dammit, no matter how un-sentimental he wanted to be about it, he and Cole had practically raised her. Which really made Amber closer to the truth than he wanted to admit.
He had empty nest syndrome. A thirty-two year old single man with commitment issues . . . and empty nest syndrome. As if he wasn’t enough of a dysfunctional gimp-bag already.
He wandered up to the bar behind Amber and settled in next to her, his forearms resting on the wooden surface. Scarred from years of use and misuse. Bottles broken in brawls and Lord knew what else.
There was a story on the menus about a shootout between a sheriff and an outlaw that had resulted in the outlaw giving up the ghost on that very bar top.
The Saloon was filled with history. And Cade had spent too many nights in it over the past four years. Just soaking in the alcohol haze and absorbing the hormones of those more up to the challenge of getting laid than he was.
He’d become pathetic. And he didn’t have it in him to change it.
“Two Buds, please,” Amber said, leaning over the counter and catching the bartender’s attention a lot quicker than Cade would have.
“I wanted a hard cider,” he said. In truth, he would really like to have something that would knock him on his ass, but he tried to save the pitiful drunk trick for the privacy of his own home. In case he got maudlin.
“Too bad,” she said.
He was glad she was here. Because there was nothing she hadn’t been there for. Every hard thing he’d ever had to cope with. Finding out about his father’s affair, his mother’s death, his father’s death . . . his accident. Lark’s wedding.
Amber Jameson had been there for every-damn-thing.
“Beer me,” he said, once she had the bottles in hand.
“Try again. I don’t speak frat bro.”
“Amber,” he said, giving her his very best plaintive look.
“Fine. I pity you. Drown your sorrows in the way society has dictated men ought. Much healthier than expression genuine emotion.”
“Can I interest you in a friendly game of pool wherein I use your sad, pathetic skills at stick handling to make me feel more like a man?”
She arched a brow. “Sure, honey, if you think hitting balls into a pocket will make you feel more like a man.”
“I do,” he said, getting up from the bar and heading to the table.
Amber picked up a cue and started chalking the end. “Your balls are mine, Mitchell,” she said, the light in her eyes utterly wicked.
“Whose balls haven’t been yours?”
That taunt didn’t come from Cade’s mouth, and it had him on edge instantly.
Mike Steele. Standard, grade A douche who worked at the mill. They’d all gone to high school together, but he’d never been too big of an ass. He was drunk tonight though, and hanging out with two other guys from high school who fell on the wrong side of the douche spectrum.
And for some reason, they were interested in letting their asswipe flags fly.
Cade opened his mouth to tell them to back down but Amber had already whirled around, the end of the pool cue smacking sharply on the floor, the tip held up by her face.
“Can I help you, Mike?” she asked.
“Just saying, is all,” he said, his words slurred.
“Maybe you should just say a little clearer,” she said, “because I didn’t quite take your meaning.”
“He’s just sayin,” douche number two said, “you’re like the town mare. We’ve all had a ride.”
Cade saw red. Death and destruction flashed before his eyes, but Amber barely blinked.
“Come on now,” Amber said, her tone completely cool, “official rules say there’s no score if the cowboy can’t stay on for a full eight seconds. And if I recall right . . . you didn’t.”
“You stupid slut . . .”
And then Cade did step in, his fist connecting with the side of the other man’s jaw. And damn it felt good. He hadn’t punched anyone since . . . well, since he’d broken his brother-in-law’s nose a year ago.
He was worried the other two goons might round on him but they were too drunk to maintain a thought that went in a straight line, so they didn’t seem to key into the fact that Cade had just laid their buddy out flat.
“Hey!” Allen, the bartender shouted, “Cade could you not bust faces in my bar?”
“Tell these a*sholes not to run their misogynistic mouths in your bar.” He looked around at all the people who were staring at him, agape. “Yeah. Ten dollar word, I just raised the IQ of the entire room,” Cade shouted.
“Oh, Cade, for heaven’s sake,” Amber said. “Knock it off.”
“He said . . .”
“Like I haven’t heard it before?”
“I’m not going to listen to it.”
“There’s no point. And I don’t need you to step in save me. I just wanted to play pool. Now you punched him and we have to go so he doesn’t call the cops on you.”
“I know the cops.”
“So what? Now I’m a spectacle, so thanks.”
“Are you . . . are you pissed at me for punching a guy who called you a . . .”
“Yes! I am pissed at you! Outside,” she said. “Now.”
They walked out the swinging front door of the bar and into the dirt and gravel parking lot. Dust hung in the air, clinging to the smell of hose water and hay and mingling together to create its own unique scent of summer.
“What did I do? He was the one . . .”
She turned to face him, her cheeks red, her blue eyes glittering. “He’s not worth it. He’s got half a brain and a tiny peen. And all you needed to do was just let it go. I don’t need attention called to shit like that, Cade.”
“What do you mean ‘shit like that’? As in, it happens frequently?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never . . .”
“Because they’re normally too sober to do it in front of you. Why do you think I have no friends other than you?”
“Because I’m all you need?” he asked, knowing full well that wasn’t true.
“Because I came into town with a bang, no pun intended, seventeen years ago and no one can forget it. Because a lot of the guys from high school I . . . and now as far as the women are concerned I’m that skank their husband screwed under the bleachers during free period.”
The blood was pounding in his ears, his heart racing. “I don’t think of you that way.”
“I know. But I didn’t have sex with your husband.”
A laugh rushed out of him, awkward and angry. “Obviously that will never be a problem I have with you. And it’s not like you slept with their husbands after they were married.”
“Granted. But it doesn’t seem to matter.”
“Who cares about that high school BS, anyway?”
“Everyone,” she said. “Everyone but you. Which is why we’re friends.”
“I did a lot of stupid things in high school. Nobody gives me crap.”
“That’s because you were never naked with them. Guys are dumb about that stuff,” she said, the lines around her mouth curving downward. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, Cade.”
“It does.”
“No. It doesn’t. And don’t go punching people for me anymore.”
“Come on . . . you liked it a little.”
The previously noted grooves at the covers of her lips turned up a bit. “Fine. A little bit. But only because he so had it coming.”
“He really did.”
“I wonder if any of your former flames are going to come up and accuse you of being a manwhore.”
“Nah,” he said, “they won’t. But only because they don’t want anyone to know they slept with me. That guy’s just pissed cuz he’s not going there again.”
“I’m going to go ahead and take that as a compliment.”
“I would never mean it as anything else.”
“I know,” she said looking down at her thumbnail. “I’m not the same person I was then.”
“Sure you are. You’re just more emotionally well-adjusted.”
That earned him a smile. “Is that what you call this? Shooting pool, drinking beer, bar fights?”
“If it’s not well-adjusted then we’re both screwed.”
“I think we’re screwed.”
“Good thing we’re screwed together then.” He slung his arm over her shoulder and they started walking back to her truck, the gravel shifting underneath his boots with each step.
“I guess so.” She pulled away from him and rounded to the driver’s side, climbing up inside the cab and turning the engine over.
He got in behind her, slowly. Pissed that just climbing into a truck made him conscious of his limitations. Made him see the bad kind of stars, not the orgasmic kind, lightning bolts of pain shooting up his thigh and crawling up his back, stabbing right at the center of his spine.
He settled into the seat and let out a long breath. For a second there he’d felt ten foot tall and bullet proof. Punching that jackass in the face.
He didn’t want to know what that said about him. But maybe it didn’t matter since he was back to feeling roughly six foot three and vulnerable to being trampled on by a horse.
Which he was.
He held onto the handle just above the passenger window and leaned out, shutting the heavy truck door.
“Do you feel like a man now?” she asked, maneuvering the truck out of the lot and onto the cracked, two lane road that led back to Elk Haven Stables.
“I’m riding bitch in your Ford, how much of a man could I possibly feel like?”
“Would you like me to throw you a raw steak when we get back to your place?”
“No. Tuck me in and read me a bedtime story.”
“Aw, poor baby.” She leaned over and put her hand on his thigh. Second time that night. Weird, but he seemed to be keeping a ticker on ‘number of times her fingers caressed him’ that evening.
“She’s married and off on her honeymoon,” he said, resting his elbow out the truck window.
“Yeah. What do you think they’re doing right now?”
He whipped his head around to face her. “Playing Scrabble.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
He had no frickin’ idea what the kids were calling it these days. He hadn’t had it for four years. Four. Years. He half expected the League of Players to come and confiscate his dick after so much time off.
He grimaced. His thoughts had taken an unsanctioned turn. He didn’t like to think about his celibacy. His sister on her honeymoon was honestly preferable.
“Word games. In flannel pajamas,” he growled.
“Fine, Cade, whatever works for you.” She cleared her throat. “I bet Quinn got a triple word score.”
“No!” he said. “I punched a guy for you, don’t torment me.”
“You deserve it. You’ve given her enough hell.”
“I have not,” he said. “I’ve been a steadying and wonderful influence. Godlike, in many ways.”
“In what way?”
“I have to think of examples.”
“No, I believe you.”
“She turned out in spite of me,” he said, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m well aware of that. Kind of amazing that Cole and I were able to turn her into a functional human being. Or maybe she just did . . . anyway.”
“Either way, you should be proud.”
“Damn. I am an empty-nester.”
“As you pointed out, you still have Cole.”
“Oh, yes.” Never mind that living in his older brother’s domain was suffocating as hell. Cole was a great guy, but when it came to the ranch, which they all owned equal stake in, he could be a control freak.
And Cade was usually happy to be in the backseat on decisions, because he liked to be a silent investor, so to speak. He’d put money into the ranch from his wins on the circuit, reaped profit in return, had a place to crash at when he was home, and mainly got to live on the road.
Now he was home. All the time. And having a brother who thought of himself as his boss, didn’t really do a lot to help with their sibling rivalry.
Cade had been fine for a while, playing the dumbass and in general drifting along with whatever Cole said.
But now that this was starting to look like it was going to be his life . . . like he was never getting back in the saddle in a serious way . . . well, now he was starting to realize he was going to have to make a new success for himself.
Otherwise his glory days would be perpetually behind him. And never in front of him. Ever again.
What a nice thought that was.
“I only drank half a beer and I’m starting to get philosophical and shit,” he said.
“Uh oh, better get you home then. I wouldn’t want to embarrass either of us by being present for this.”
“You really are a good friend,” he said.
She looked at him and smiled. “The best.”
“Pretty much the only one I have.”
“Because you’re surly.”
“Am I?” he asked.
“You just a punched a guy in the face for offending you, so yeah, I’d say.”
“I think it was noble of me,” he said.
“Noble and godlike in one conversation. If this is your version of being a sad drunk then I’d hate to be exposed to your ego when you’re feeling sober and upbeat.”
“You’ll be around me in that state tomorrow. Because now I owe you a game of pool.”
“I don’t know, I think I owe you for defending my honor. I didn’t need it defended, but nonetheless, I appreciate you risking bruised knuckles for me.”
“Anything for you,” he said. “You know that.”
“Oooh, dangerous promise, Cade Mitchell. You never know what I might ask of you.”
“I’ve known you for seventeen years and you haven’t shocked me yet.”
“That smacks of a challenge,” she said, giving him an impish smile. “You know I can’t resist a challenge.