Rough Stock (9 page)

Seth watched as Sawyer met her gaze straight on, seemingly unintimidated by Cassidy’s knockout good looks and haughty air. “Maybe I’m getting a head start on the night,” he drawled.

“You’re not even going to check?” she asked, swirling her glass in her hand.

Sawyer put his pool cue down and leaned closer to her.

Seth saw Cassidy’s breath hitch slightly, the only indication that she wasn’t quite as calm, cool, and collected as she seemed.

“If it were really unzipped,” Sawyer told her, “I’d feel a cold breeze on my dick, especially standing this close to
you
, Princess.”

Normally Seth would’ve intervened. It wasn’t right to insult women, not even Cassidy Conroy. But Cassidy, unbelievably, looked like she was enjoying the exchange, despite her raised eyebrows at his brother’s harsh words. A slight smile played on her lips.

She took a sip of her drink and glanced at Seth then turned her gaze back to Sawyer. “Just the three musketeers tonight?”

Sawyer grinned. “Why? You need us to call in a few more guys?”

“
Sawyer
,” Seth snapped. That was a step too far.

Cassidy must have thought so as well because she turned on her heel without a word and walked away.

“Jesus, Sawyer,” Seth hissed.

Sawyer shrugged, and Seth might have taken it for a dismissal if it hadn’t been for the gleam in his brother’s eyes as he watched Cassidy move on to greener pastures.

“That was rude,” Seth chastised.

“She’s tough,” replied Sawyer, eyes never leaving her retreating form. “Like a guy,” he mused. “Like one of us.”

Seth was surprised to see something like…grudging admiration in Sawyer’s gaze. For Cassidy Conroy? It was hard to believe.

After Cassidy’s quick departure, another girl, younger, blond and blue eyed, started making her way to their table. Sawyer elbowed Court, but for all his earlier posturing, Court turned his nose up at her. This one was wearing a skirt too short for the cold spring night and a shirt that she apparently wasn’t quite old enough to button accurately. Her cleavage spilled out of the top like ten pounds of grain in a five-pound sack.

She wasn’t Seth’s type, to be sure, but it was surprising that Court didn’t sweep her off to the dance floor then out to the parking lot after the song.

“Hi!” she said brightly.

Sawyer gave her a polite smile, but Court didn’t even greet her at all.

She twisted one lock of hair around her finger, looking confused. “Want to dance?” she asked Court.

Amazingly, he merely shrugged. “Maybe later,” he told her then turned away.

The girl pouted then moved away from them, casting a disappointed look over her shoulder.

Sawyer stared at Court. “Are you playing some kind of screwed-up version of hard to get? ’Cause I don’t think that’s required.” He eyed the girl as she shuffled away. “And if you make it too complicated for her, it’ll go right over her bleached-blond head.”

Court scowled. “She’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Oh yeah? Well, what’s that, then?” Sawyer prompted, but Court didn’t reply. Sawyer turned to Seth. “What about you? You gonna break that monk streak you’ve been working so hard at for so long?”

Seth rolled his eyes. “I’m not a monk. I’m just busy.”

“Uh-huh,” Sawyer drawled as he gestured to the dance floor. “You’d better get out there, before all the women are taken.”

Seth looked past his brother and scanned the bar for any potential dance partners. He passed up more than a few before his eyes settled on a woman at the bar. He couldn’t see much of her face, because she was ordering a shot, it seemed. He liked a woman who passed up fruity drinks and went straight for the real deal. She had long, beautiful brown hair that fell past her shoulders. No part of him felt like a monk as he took in the rest of her, curvy hips, long legs, a waist he could wrap his hands around while they danced—to start with.

His shot was drained and his beer was at its dregs, so he abandoned them both on the pretense of getting another round. He sidestepped two-steppers as he wove his way toward the woman. With each passing moment, it felt like the bar was getting more and more heated. The crush of people suddenly annoyed him. He’d rather talk to her alone. He came up behind her just as she set her empty shot glass down on the bar. She turned and ran into him, elbowing him in the torso.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” she said, stumbling back.

Seth caught her in his arms to keep her from falling. “That’s all right, darlin’. Maybe we could head over the dance floor and—Oh, shit.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide. They were brown, much like his own, and yes, they were as gorgeous as the rest of her. But they belonged to a face he recognized now that he could see it fully.

Rowan Archer.

Everything in Seth warred at once. His mouth wanted hers, to taste her tequila-lime lips. His body wanted to stay pressed up against hers, maybe without clothes.

Definitely without clothes.

He’d had too much to drink, he decided, and pushed her gently away.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

Rowan was a kid—at least that’s what his memory was of her. Long, blunt-cut hair, skinny and shy. It was an image totally at odds with the woman in front of him. Wavy, thick tresses, lips that had curved into a smile just seconds ago, and hips…

He wiped the back of his neck with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, for so much more than she could possibly guess.

“I…I thought you’d be out,” she stammered. “On the range. It’s spring.”

“Me?” Seth blurted out like a dumbass. “You thought I’d be…?” But no,
idiot
, he scolded himself silently. She didn’t think he would be out on the range. She meant them, all of them, the Barlows…she meant Court.

Like the Devil himself, Court appeared at the mere thought of his name, fitting for someone so in love with himself. He came up beside them, reached out and grabbed Rowan, forcing Seth to take a step back.

“Rowan?!” Court cried as he tried to pull her to him. “What are you doing here?”

Rowan blinked a few times, as though she’d seen a ghost, and then jerked back suddenly.

Court didn’t release her, though. “I can’t believe—”

“Let go!” she demanded, still pulling away. The bar was behind her, though, and she had nowhere to go.

“Rowan, listen,” Court said excitedly, moving in when she wouldn’t come to him. “I want to talk to you. I want to—”

“Stop,” she hissed and twisted away from him.

“Listen, damn it,” Court snapped. “If we could just find a quiet place to talk. I’ve
missed
you, Rowan.”

She stared at him. “Missed me?
Missed me
? Is that why you called so many times since we broke up? Oh, wait.”

Court shook his head. “I just…I…look, there’s no reason we can’t—”

Rowan glared at him. “There’s no
we
!” she fired back. “Let go!”

But Court wouldn’t be swayed. “I just—”

“
No!
” Rowan shouted.

All around them, bar patrons hushed, like a flock of animals sensing danger.

At that word, Seth finally sprang forward, caught Court’s wrist in a vise grip, and pulled his little brother away. “Knock it off,” he growled in Court’s ear. “Let her go.”

Court ignored him, and Seth ended up inadvertently pulling Rowan nearly off her feet when Court wouldn’t release her arm.

“Let. Her. Go,” Seth growled and forcibly peeled Court’s hand away.

Rowan looked at them like an animal just freed from a trap. She squeezed her way past Seth and fled for the door.

“God damn it!” Court yelled, shooting daggers at Seth with his eyes. “Butt out! This is nothing to do with you! You let her get away!”

Seth’s jaw twitched. “You’re not stalking a deer, Court,” he replied, recalling the look in her eyes just before she’d taken off toward the door.

Sawyer appeared and pushed Court back toward the bar while passing Seth’s jacket to him. “Ease up, man,” Sawyer told Court and flagged the bartender down for another round with the flick of his finger.

Satisfied Court was well and truly wrangled, for the moment, Seth turned and headed outside. He found Rowan in the parking lot, dragging in lungfuls of chilled air, looking for all the world like she was about to cry.

All residual horniness was sapped right out of him as he saw her bewildered, pained face under the street lamp. “Rowan,” he called out gently, like she was a calf who’d wandered too far from safety.

Her head whipped around, and she looked at Seth, then behind him, no doubt making sure Court hadn’t followed them out. “I’m fine,” she finally said. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” She waved him away, but she didn’t look fine. She definitely did not look fine.

Seth got close enough to snag the sleeve of her shirt. She gasped a little. “How’s your arm?” he asked, his own hand circling her wrist gently.

“It’s fine,” she repeated, like it was a mantra.

In the light, he saw a cut on her palm. Court hadn’t caused it, but Seth was sorry to see it, anyway.

“Barbed wire,” she told him. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. Tetanus shot?” he asked, also avoiding the obvious topic.

She nodded. “I’m a nurse.”

“That’s right.” Seth had heard she was a nurse. He’d heard she’d moved to Cheyenne, gotten pregnant by some doctor there. He vaguely remembered the whispers at church. He caught himself checking for a ring on her finger and wasn’t sure how he felt about not finding one.

She seemed embarrassed, tugging her hand away and avoiding his gaze.

He let go.

Reluctantly.

Rowan shivered in the gust of wind, and Seth slipped off his fleece-lined denim jacket. He held it out to her, but she didn’t take it. Instead, her eyes slipped past him, toward the bar.

“I left my coat inside.”

“Put this on while I get it.”

She hesitated.

“Rowan,” he said firmly, a trick he learned from Walker.

If you acted like the boss, you were the boss.

She finally took it from him and shrugged it on, giving him a wan smile as she tugged it closed in front of herself. She looked smaller now, outside here in the biting cold. As Seth watched, her lower lip quivered, and he knew it wasn’t from the chill. Instinctively, he reached behind himself and drew out his handkerchief.

As soon as she saw it, she started shaking her head, pushing his hand away. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine again,” Seth ordered.

Startled, Rowan looked up at him.

“You’re not fine, Rowan. And I’m damn sorry my hot-headed brother roughed you up in there, but you’re not fine. So stop saying that you are.”

For a moment, Seth thought she was not only going to stop saying fine but she was going to stop saying anything at all. But then her lips parted and words tumbled out so fast that he barely had enough time to piece them together. He caught
father
,
heart attack
,
hospital, surgery
. When she finally took a break and came up for air, he said, “Well, that’s…well, that’s a whole lot to deal with, sweetheart.”

“Oh God!” she gasped, having finally caught her breath. “Here I am whining when
your
dad died. Oh, Seth, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I made this all about me! God! I didn’t even think!”

Seth shook his head. “I don’t have a monopoly on suffering, Rowan. And it’s not a contest, either.” He touched the lapel of the jacket, because it seemed more appropriate than touching
her
. “How is he? How’s your dad doing?”

She sighed. “He’s stable. He should be out of the hospital next week.”

He frowned at her. “You’re not staying all the way out there alone, are you?”

“No!” she said quickly. “No. I mean, my sister, Emma, and her husband. They’re…they’re…helping. I mean, we’re all doing what we have to.”

She was a bundle of nerves, and Seth assumed she was bone-tired. It was a long drive from Cheyenne, even under the best circumstances. And coming home to a family crisis, well, that was never easy for anyone.

“Rowan!” someone called.

Seth turned to see Rowan’s older sister running toward them. She was eyeing Seth warily as she darted around him.

“Oh my God!” Emma cried. “Are you okay? Oh my God! I came back from the bathroom and you were gone. Someone said something about Court. Oh my God!”

“It’s fine!” Rowan snapped, cutting Emma off abruptly.

Seth scowled. There was that word again.

“It’s all fine. He wanted to talk. I said no. It’s fine.”

Emma turned on Seth immediately. “You tell your brother to stay away from my sister!” she demanded, jabbing her finger at Seth.

Rowan was less prickly about it but no less insistent. “Please,” she practically begged Seth. “Please, just keep him away. It’s…it’s hard enough right now. I can’t…I just can’t.”

Seth was already nodding, remembering how badly Court had treated her when they’d been dating. Sawyer had told him just enough to leave a sour taste in Seth’s mouth. It wasn’t surprising that she didn’t want to deal with him now. Or ever again. “All right. I’ll talk to him. I’ll keep him reined in. I promise.”

Tears sprang to her eyes again. Damn. Seth hated to see a woman cry. Even though she’d rejected it, he pressed the handkerchief into her hand again. “I’ll take care of it, Rowan,” he vowed.

Emma was pushing Rowan toward the car, leaving Seth standing under the street light, watching them go. It wasn’t until they drove away that another gust of wind reminded him she’d taken his jacket with her.

‡