Page 59 of Taming the Wild Cowboy

“Maybe he didn’t know.”

“He knew before he died.” Jordan frowned at his glass again. “My mom worked for a grocery store and Jared Leonard cowboyed when he wasn’t stealing cattle. It makes sense for them to be a couple, even if it was only for a night or two. Finding out that my real father was some rich business guy from out of the area … that doesn’t make sense.” Jordan glanced up. “Was I fucking named after the guy? Carl Jordan? I had to have been.”

“Looks like it.”

Jordan picked up his drink, then put it back down again. “Why?”

“No easy answer there.” And Trev wasn’t putting forth hypotheses. “You may never know.” But he was glad they’d taken the cork out of this bottle. This was a lot of shit for his brother to be packing around.

Jordan picked up the glass again and this time he drank. “I couldn’t find much about Carl Jordan online other than the usual stuff. He married but not until after I was born. He bought the parcel of land I inherited before I was born, but only by a year.”

Jordan was regaining his composure as he recited his findings. He smiled grimly when he said, “Yeah. I’ll probably never know. But I can tell you one thing.” He leveled a serious gaze at Trev. “I want to fucking rid myself of that property as soon as I can. Once probate is over, it’s going on the market. I never want to set foot on the place.”

Trev raised his glass. “Amen to that.”

Chapter Twelve

Maclyn stirred, reaching out a lazy hand for the man sleeping beside her. When her fingers brushed over empty sheets her eyes opened, and then she remembered. She was alone because she’d chosen to be alone.

She pressed her face into the pillow, drew in his scent as she fought an unwarranted sense of loss. Waking up this way was better. No one to disappoint. No one to disappoint you.

Mac pushed the covers back and got out of bed, pulling on socks to protect her feet from the cold floor before opening the door to let Raisin outside. The rain had stopped, but the mud lived on. She rubbed the back of her neck, pushing up her hair and holding it as she regarded her still-wet jacket lying on the wood planks next to Trev’s mucky jeans and wet shirt.

Yeah … she’d have to get those back to him.

She dropped her hand, letting her hair fall. Was she about to burn another bridge in order to keep her autonomy?

If you burn too many, you’ll have nowhere to go.

Did she even need to strike a match? Trev understood. He’d promised not to hem her in.

He also knew parts of her background that she rarely shared. And why did she rarely share any part of herself anymore? Because she didn’t want to give someone the ability to hurt her. Better to be cool and distant.

Yet she’d shared with Trev.

Ten minutes later she sat at the table with her morning coffee, pretending to herself that the little house didn’t feel empty. That she was fine being alone, which was, after all, her preferred state. She caught a movement through the gauze curtain and pushed it aside to see Trev heading to the barn. No … not Trev. The elusive Jordan was back.

She hadn’t seen the middle Matthews brother since their rodeo days, when he’d been a bona fide head-turner with his lean muscular build, wavy dark hair, and dazzling smile. Some thought that he was hotter than Trev. They were wrong, of course.

If Jordan was back to stay, then Trev was free to leave. And he would. He had new job responsibilities. A different life. He might not like the job, and he might not want to admit to having changed from being the guy who lived only for the next big rodeo to someone who took responsibility seriously, but he was that man.

It was Saturday. Technically her day off. She’d never taken the day off before because she preferred to stay busy, but today, after feeding her horses and making certain there were no calving emergencies, she was going to take off.

Are you dodging a certain cowboy?

Maybe … until she straightened out a few things in her head and dealt with the Brooke situation. But Brooke and job possibilities were not at the forefront of her thoughts as she made breakfast.

Sex without strings was great in theory, when none of those pesky unseen circumstances or unpredictable emotions came into play. But what happened when no-strings-attached sex caused you to realize that you really cared for the guy? That deep feelings had snuck up on you when you weren’t looking? That your fear you were falling for him became reality?

Do. Not. Go. There.

Half an hour later, after feeding her horses and hanging Trev’s wet clothes over the shower rod for him to collect later, Maclyn gave up. Her brain was going there. Not only that, it refused to leave.

Emotional consequences were setting in and her first instinct was to try to outrun them.

Or outwait them. If she could keep her cool during Trev’s last days on the Tree Fork, keep her hands to herself, then maybe, once he was back on his job, she could get a grip. Rebuild her defenses.

He promised not to hem you in. You’re worrying about nothing.