JOSH LET GO of Kelly.
Plainly the attraction between them was still there, banked by time and distance, but very much alive.
“Do you honestly think we would have gotten divorced?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
She nodded, looking composed except for the flush in her cheeks. “It was first love, Josh. Little more than a crush. You’re a few years older than me, but we were both still young. You were trying to make it as a professional rodeo cowboy, while I was tired of the life. Even if we hadn’t faced other challenges, such as having two babies at one time, the odds were stacked against us.”
“First love, young love—what does it matter? I don’t care about the odds. I make my own luck. We should have tried,” he insisted.
She lifted her chin. “I may have been the one who left, but you didn’t come after me, either. As a matter of fact, you didn’t try that hard to convince me to stay. Why, if I meant so much to you? Because you needed to get to your next competition,” she answered for him. “The Dawson Creek Stampede, right?”
“It was the Prince George—” Josh stopped. Each year he learned the Canadian rodeo and bull-riding schedule by heart, along with many of the events in the United States. Some of them overlapped and he had to choose which ones to attend. “Prince George was the next pro rodeo where I competed after we broke up, but needing to get there wasn’t the reason.”
“Then why?”
“You,” he said simply. “You were clear that you didn’t want to see me again.”
“Hardly a surprise when I’d found you passionately kissing another woman.” Kelly held up her hand to stop his protest. “I accept that Doreen initiated it and you hadn’t met her before, but you also weren’t resisting. Since the two of you got married a few weeks later, you must have felt something for her.”
Josh thought about the man he’d been seven years earlier, trying to see things from Kelly’s point of view.
What he saw was less than admirable.
He’d been cockily full of himself, certain he was the best thing to hit professional rodeo since the invention of the saddle. He’d flirted with women at the various events as his due for being one of the upcoming “greats.” Even after falling for Kelly, he’d enjoyed receiving attention from flirtatious autograph seekers.
But one thing was certain—nobody had ever affected him the way Kelly had, either before or since.
He winced as he recalled Doreen hugging his arm to her breasts as Kelly confronted him. Why hadn’t he shaken her away? He’d seen his ex-wife’s sly smile too many times not to know she would have been smirking at her rival—causing trouble had been Doreen’s favorite hobby.
“Doreen was a colossal mistake, no matter how it stacks up,” he admitted. “I should have done more to stop you, but I let my wounded ego get in the way. For a brief time, Doreen puffed me up. Pride is the only reason I didn’t file for divorce within a month. It was an expensive mistake in more ways than one, but I learned my lesson.”
KELLY PURSED HER LIPS.
When they were dating, Josh had seen the future as a glorious adventure, traveling from rodeo to rodeo, each destination crowned by his wins. But as the days and weeks of their courtship had worn on, she’d recognized the shape of their lives would be solely what he wanted. Maybe he would have finally bought a ranch and retired from competition, but maybe not. The risk of slipping into her mother’s shoes had scared her.
Still, she couldn’t deny that jealousy had also played a part. But Doreen had been a symptom, less than a cause. Josh was not only one of the most talented competitors in rodeo circles, he was also a strikingly handsome man. Women had thrown themselves at him. How long would he have resisted temptation? He obviously hadn’t resisted Doreen for long.
“If we’d stayed together, you might feel the same way about our marriage,” she said at length.
“You can’t believe that.”
“I believe we were too immature to succeed at raising the twins on the road.”
Josh massaged the back of his neck. If the expression on his face was anything to go by, he was bothered by what she was saying. It was understandable. How could anyone achieve so much as a competitor without having an unshakable belief in his invincibility at anything and everything? You couldn’t think about failing when poised over the back of a bad-tempered bull, or bareback riding a horse bred for wild bucking.
She let out a breath. “I didn’t plan to talk about this. I was just going for a ride.”
“Will you wait until I get Chocolate Lad ready?” he asked.
Company was the last thing Kelly wanted—especially his company—but she didn’t want to refuse, either. “Why don’t we just take a walk instead?” she suggested.
They headed out, the ground awash in silver moonlight. He didn’t say anything for a long while, then looked toward her. “I called my dad yesterday and told him about the boys. He wanted to drive down here immediately. Don’t worry—I talked him out of it.”
Don’t worry?
That was like telling the sun not to rise. She tried to slow her racing pulse. “Maybe Benjamin can come for a visit this winter.”
“As one of Harry’s old friends, or as a grandfather?”
“Some of that depends on what you decide...about what we talked about the other day.”
A long silence followed, punctuated by the lonely cry of a coyote in the distance. “You don’t have to be worried that I know about Casey and Marc,” Josh said at length. “Yeah, I’m upset, but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. Or you. You’re their mother. They’re happy, terrific kids, and Kindred Ranch is their home.”
“It isn’t as simple as that.”
“Trusting me would go a long way to making it simpler.”
Trust him?
Easier said than done.
KELLY WOKE BEFORE dawn the next morning.
Thoughts about the past were nagging her more than usual, because someone new had been added to the mix... Josh’s father. Josh was Benjamin McKeon’s only son, and presumably, the boys were his only grandchildren. It was natural that he’d want to meet them. Benjamin was probably just as upset with her as Josh was for keeping Casey and Marc a secret.
Sensing her mood, Gizmo whined softly and edged up from the foot of the bed to lay his muzzle on her stomach. His long, full tail whipped back and forth as she stroked his head. He was a magnificent animal with his mixed German shepherd and golden retriever ancestry.
It would be convenient to think his suspicion was a sign not to trust Josh, but Gizmo didn’t trust anyone except her. The rest of the world was a giant question mark for him. She was sad to think he might never fully recover from being abandoned and hurt as a puppy, but at least he’d come to her for help after being injured by the barbed wire, instead of running away. He could have died, otherwise.
A few minutes extra in bed was all Kelly would allow herself and she finally threw back the covers. Gizmo eagerly leaped to the floor. Work on a ranch didn’t disappear because it was Sunday, but she tried to keep tasks to a minimum so she could spend as much time as possible with the family. Right now that also meant spending time with Josh...as if she’d been able to avoid him the other days of the week.
GRAMS AND KATHLEEN spent part of the morning returning the borrowed ice cream freezers and slow cookers to their neighbors, getting home in time to share a lunch of leftovers from the barbecue.
“It always tastes better the next day,” Harry declared, patting his stomach after a dessert of brownies and strawberry ice cream.
“Because we have time to enjoy the food, instead of eating a little here and there between serving everyone else,” Kathleen told her husband.
Harry just chuckled.
“Who’s up for a ride?” Granddad asked, pushing back his empty plate. “I need to settle that meal.”
“Me!” Casey and Marc declared simultaneously.
“I have work to do on my rodeo workshop,” Harry explained.
“And I’m going to take a nap,” Kathleen said. Kelly wasn’t surprised. Her mother didn’t enjoy riding as much as the rest of the family and rarely went unless Harry was there, as well.
“How about you, Grams?” Kelly asked.
“I need to review my plans for the chili cook-off. The rest of you go and enjoy yourselves.”
In the end, it was Granddad, Josh, Kelly and the boys who rode out toward the higher hills.
“Josh, do you know there’s a carnival this week, too?” Marc asked.
“I saw it on the schedule of events in the rodeo program.”
“We don’t care about the carnival rides,” Marc added quickly. “But Grandpa Liam buys us corn dogs and cotton candy.”
“And snow cones,” Casey reminded his brother.
“Yup, snow cones loaded with lots of sugar and bright colors,” Kelly said wryly.
“Mom gets funnel cakes,” Marc volunteered. “They’re fried and hot and yummy. She has strawberries and extra whipped cream on top. Oh, and chocolate syrup.”
“Is that so?” Josh grinned. “Extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Sounds like Harry and the boys aren’t the only ones with a taste for rich food.”
Kelly gave him a reproving look. “Don’t rub it in. I only eat funnel cake during rodeo week.”
“I’m glad my knee is working better,” Granddad said, rescuing her. He patted Thunder’s neck. They’d seen over two decades together. In good weather the aging horse spent most of his time grazing in a field behind the barns, with only Granddad taking him out for gentle rides.
“Grandpa Liam hurt his knee jumping down a rabbit hole,” Marc told Josh. “He was chasing a rabbit with a pocket watch.”
The corners of Josh’s mouth twitched. “A rabbit with a pocket watch?”
Though Granddad remained uncomfortable around Josh, he chuckled. “That sounded better than admitting I was clumsy. It wasn’t the first time my knee got torn up, and the doc decided I should have a replacement. Modern medicine is a marvel. Boys, let’s see if the homestead cabin got through the winter.”
The twins eagerly urged their horses forward, leaving Josh alone with Kelly.
“I’m old news to them,” Josh said resignedly. “They’d rather check on an ancient cabin than ride with me.”
Kelly felt a strange impulse to comfort him. “They’re still excited about you. They just have the normal short attention span of six-year-olds. Besides, don’t you want them to like you as a regular person, instead of as a star?”
“Of course. I just want to catch up with the...er, get to know them better.”
Catch up with the time we lost?
Kelly thought that was what he’d started to say. It was nice that he didn’t try to flay her with guilt every second. Maybe she should have handled things differently when she discovered she was pregnant, but the thought of telling him and his new wife that his ex-girlfriend was having a baby...?
She shuddered.
It would have been ugly, no matter how it turned out. So between the ups and downs of pregnancy hormones, her mother’s continued fragile health and her ire with Josh for marrying someone else so quickly, she’d stayed silent.
Ironically, having a grandchild on the way had given Kathleen a new lease on life. She still traveled with Harry during the summer, but she’d remained at home for over a year after the twins were born, helping out. And she insisted on being the one to take Casey and Marc back and forth to school.
“I need to get something straight,” Josh said after a few minutes. “You used to do barrel racing, and your grandmother takes part in the chili cook-off every year?”
Kelly sent him a sideways glance. “Yes.”
“And your mom enters the annual patchwork quilt competition during rodeo week. She showed me her ribbons the other day.”
Kelly was suspicious, unsure of where Josh was going with his comments. Her mother took a quiet pride in her patchwork quilts and often won a ribbon at the annual contest. “Mom makes most of the patchwork quilts we use. The ones in the bunkhouse are hers. Patchwork is one of the few original American art forms, and she’s an expert.”
Josh shifted in his saddle. “That’s how we got onto the subject. She brought out fresh towels and sheets and mentioned the name of the pattern on the bed I’m using. She’s hoping for the Best of Show award this year.”
“That’s right. What are you getting at?”
“Just that Harry isn’t the only one in the family who enjoys competing. Obviously the Flannigans have a competitive spirit, as well.”
Kelly narrowed her eyes, annoyed. While Josh had a valid point, competing wasn’t a driving force for the Flannigans the way it was for him and her father.
“There’s a difference between enjoying a contest, hoping to win, and having it be the most important thing in the world, along with the next contest and the next and the hundredth one after that. Are you trying to convince me that it’s normal for a father to travel forty or fifty thousand miles a year to rodeos, popping in once or twice a year to play daddy?” she asked.
“I told you, I’m not on the road as much as I used to be.”
“You still travel plenty. And you have a ranch to look after, in another country.”
“I can’t move McKeon’s Choice to Montana, Kelly.”
“Of course not, but you have to take it into consideration.”
Kelly focused on the familiar hills ahead of them, her heart aching. She couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation the previous night. Josh was convinced they would have made it as a couple, despite the challenges. He might be right. The rush of first love could have turned into something deep and enduring.
If it had...?
She lifted her chin.
Thoughts like that were no different from wishing for the moon. They’d met because he was a rodeo contestant, the same as her father. And they had broken up for the same reason. Before getting involved with him, she should have paid more attention to the toll that she and her mother had both paid for a life with Harry Beaumont.
“Josh, there are so many things I admire about Harry, but putting family first isn’t one of his virtues,” Kelly said finally. “As his daughter, I know how that feels. Can you blame me for wanting to keep my sons from knowing they come last, the way I always knew?”
Emotions churned in Josh’s face, but he didn’t say anything else.
Kelly swallowed and looked away. She didn’t want to hurt him. Her wounded feelings over Doreen had long since faded, but she needed to protect Casey and Marc. A stable childhood wasn’t solely about having a home to count on. It was also about the people around them.
How would the boys feel going months on end without seeing Josh? It was doubtful he would be more attentive than Harry unless he made a real commitment to fatherhood. Life on the road was demanding.
An exciting, absentee dad might be all right for Casey and Marc, but what if it wasn’t?
BETSY WAS LOOKING forward to her next days off.
She and Grant had finished painting the exterior fence of the rodeo grounds, but the committee was still calling for volunteers. It was exciting to watch everything coming together. So after drinking tea with Mrs. Mapleton each afternoon, she went over to see how much progress had been made and to help if needed.
Twice Grant was at the rodeo grounds as well, and on both occasions someone asked if she’d lend a hand with the task he’d been given, claiming they made a good team.
The mechanic had only needed a day to finish the remaining repairs on her van and she’d been driving it to the rodeo grounds to get there faster. As soon as she arrived on Thursday, one of the coordinators waved her over.
“Are you interested in filling holes in the ground where the carnival sets up?” Simon Shaw asked.
She grinned. “Sure.”
“Terrific.” He handed her a baseball bat and she raised her eyebrows. “Use it to tamp the new dirt into the holes. Dr. Latham has a shovel and wheelbarrow of dirt. He’s over there.”
Grant looked startled when she walked over, swinging the bat. “What are you doing here?”
“The same thing you are, the same thing you were doing the other times I’ve been here. Helping. They asked me to pound the dirt into the holes after you’ve filled them.”
“I’ve been doing that with the heel of my work boot.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
Grant scowled. “You know what’s happening, don’t you?”
“Yes. They’re matchmaking. It’s sweet.”
Betsy had suspected the rodeo organizers were trying to pair the two of them up. Obviously Grant didn’t think it was a great idea, but what was the harm? They knew they were incompatible. Besides, she enjoyed teasing him.
His continued grim face made her smile. “Don’t be so stuffy. This should be part of what you like about having a longtime home in a small town—folks wanting to play a part in your life.”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me stuffy.”
“But it isn’t the only time I’ve thought it.”
His scowl deepened. “What other times?”
“For one, when you saw my van the other day.”
“Oh.”
GRANT HADN’T REALIZED his reaction to the battered van had been so obvious. How could someone travel the country in such a dilapidated vehicle? The wonder wasn’t that it had broken down in Shelton, but that it hadn’t quit working a long time ago.
Betsy crooked a finger at him. “You haven’t seen the inside. Let me appall you further.”
Though he wasn’t sure what to expect, the interior of the van was an eye-opener. Outside the body was dented, with mismatched and chipped paint; inside it was tidy and organized. There were USB ports to charge her camera and other electronic equipment, along with a place to work and cook, a marine bath and a foldaway bed. It was a pleasant, modernized mini home.
“You must have gotten the USB ports installed aftermarket,” he said. “Both my trucks have USB connections, but your van was made before they started putting them into vehicles.”
“The ports might not be necessary with all the adaptive technology today,” Betsy explained, “but I had a friend in college who enjoys trying new things as much as I do. We got a manual from the library and taught ourselves. I’ve had all the work checked by a mechanic, though. I didn’t want my equipment blowing up or anything. This also isn’t the original motor—it was rebuilt a couple of years after I started traveling around.”
“You didn’t do that, too?”
“If I knew that much about repairs, I wouldn’t have needed a mechanic to fix my latest problems,” Betsy said wryly. “I let someone else do the engine because I was learning to fly.”
Of course.
“You have a pilot’s license?”
“Just for small private planes, though I’m also instrument rated.”
Grant fought the urge to scratch his head. Betsy had mentioned college and now he knew she had a pilot’s license. She seemed able to do anything and was interested in everything, but she preferred an itinerant lifestyle, picking up whatever work came her way.
She also thought he was stuffy, which might be closer to the truth than he wanted to admit.
“I like your home,” he said. “Where did you get the van?”
“It belonged to my dad.” Betsy patted the side. “We’d take off on Saturdays and see how far we could get before having to turn around and go home. That usually wasn’t far, because we’d see a museum or something and have to check it out.”
“But you enjoyed the journey.”
She flashed a brilliant smile. “It was always great. Dad also couldn’t pass a bookshop without stopping. He loved holding a book in his hands. They’re nice, but I prefer e-readers. That way I have thousands of volumes available and don’t crowd myself.”
“An e-reader is even smaller than most novels, much less one of my textbooks from veterinary school. It cost me a fortune to move my medical library to Shelton.”
Betsy nodded. “A huge amount is available online, some for free. Even magazines are going electronic, though I still see plenty of them in grocery stores.” She seemed to hesitate. “Uh, I sell freelance travel articles to the A.C. Globetrotter. That’s a biweekly online travel magazine. My writing isn’t high literature, but it helps with expenses and building my overseas travel account. I got a payment the other day and used it for repairs to the van.”
The hint of vulnerability in her face made Grant ashamed of himself. She was so confident and vibrant, he hated knowing he might be responsible for dimming either quality, however briefly.
“That’s amazing,” he said. “I compose case notes, but no one would read them unless they’re another veterinarian.”
“Do you use big words?”
“Well, when I treat one of my patients for eating too much, or something they shouldn’t have, it’s called a ‘dietary indiscretion.’”
He was relieved to see her brighten.
“Big enough, but still fun,” she declared.
Plainly fun was Betsy’s byword, along with learning new things and collecting experiences. He would have to look up the articles she’d written for A.C. Globetrotter.
“Medical terminology usually doesn’t amuse people,” Grant admitted, “but my clients love that one. By the way, have you ever considered getting a dog to travel with you? It would be both company and protection.”
A longing expression filled her hazel eyes. “I’d love to, but what would I do when I go overseas? I couldn’t bear to put a dog in a kennel for months and months or just give it away. That would mean I was abandoning family.”
Grant instantly wanted to kiss her.
He’d rescued too many animals who’d been left behind when they became inconvenient. Not as much in Shelton, but in the places where he’d done his training. Most of his rescues had found other homes, but one of the dogs and two cats had moved twice with him. Chester, his black Labrador, was gone now of extreme old age. Luckily Scout and Carlo were still serenading him with purrs and happy meows.
“I should have thought of that,” he said. “You’re smart to think ahead.”
“Hey, guys,” someone called from the gate, “are you arguing or smooching over there? We’re taking bets on which one.”
“Neither,” Grant shouted back as Betsy clasped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing now with merriment. “I guess we’d better get back to work,” he told her.
“I guess.”
POUNDING DIRT INTO holes was harder than Betsy had expected, but she understood wanting to even out the surface as much as possible. They wouldn’t want anyone spraining an ankle walking around the carnival.
Rodeo week would begin in ten days and the excitement was building in Shelton.
Leonard was confident that he had a lock on the chili contest, partly because of the increased number of visitors expected—strangers who wouldn’t know Susannah Flannigan. The grand prize was awarded when a cook won both a first-place ribbon from the judges and was voted most popular by the public. His tactic this year was to make a habanero salsa for the more daring voters.
Betsy wasn’t so certain about the salsa. Once upon a time she’d eaten a raw habanero on a dare—a decision she questioned to this day. But at least he didn’t plan to use ghost peppers or Carolina reapers, both of which were scarily hot.
“How many people enter the chili cook-off?” she asked Grant.
“Usually between fifteen to twenty. Maybe more this year. You won’t want to eat chili for a month after sampling all of them. Will the Hot Diggity Dog Café be closed that day?”
“Leonard has already told us it’s a paid holiday, along with a couple of other days that week. I can’t believe how devoted he is to the cook-off and rodeo in general.”
“Along with a whole bunch of other chili chefs. He and Susannah Flannigan usually take first and second place.”
Hmm. Susannah Flannigan was Kelly Beaumont’s grandmother, and the Flannigan/ Beaumont family had provided the volunteers’ barbecue last Saturday. The food had been delicious, but Betsy would have enjoyed it more if she hadn’t realized her feelings for Grant were growing. It shouldn’t matter. She was leaving Shelton sooner or later, but it was hard knowing there wasn’t any chance he’d reciprocate.
She sighed.
Yearning practically oozed from Grant when he looked at Kelly Beaumont. Betsy didn’t blame him. After all, she was a footloose wanderer, while Kelly belonged to a founding family of Shelton. She’d be the ideal wife for a man determined to plant his roots deep in Shelton County. Not to mention which, Kelly seemed like a genuinely nice person.
But Betsy had news for Grant—he should have sealed the deal before Josh McKeon had shown up. The electricity between Kelly and Josh was unmistakable.
ON SATURDAY EVENING before the start of the Shelton Rodeo Daze, Josh sat in the Kindred Ranch bunkhouse, stewing. He and Kelly weren’t any closer to agreeing about his future with Casey and Marc, and it was turning him into an insomniac. Even at his worst, he’d never had trouble sleeping.
He knew Kelly was taking a turn in the foaling barn that night. School had ended the day before and she’d agreed to the twins bunking out there with her. Susannah had chuckled and called it a slumber party. In return, Marc declared slumber parties were for girls and that they were just helping Mom. Casey hadn’t cared what it was called. He’d just run to get his sleeping bag.
Josh jumped to his feet. He didn’t care what it was called, either; he wanted to be there, too.
A single, low light was on inside the barn. He stepped through the open door and, from the shadows, saw Kelly sitting at the far end on a pile of straw, talking with the boys. Casey was cuddled close, her arm around him, while Marc lay on his stomach nearby, knees bent and feet waving in the air.
Gizmo and Lark turned their heads in Josh’s direction, alert to the faintest sound, but didn’t bark. At least they’d gotten to know him well enough for that.
“Mom, tell us about Uncle Patrick,” Casey asked. “Grandpa Liam was awful sad when he showed us the me...memral buckles.”
“Memorial buckles,” Kelly said softly. “The buckles are to remind people about his brother, who died in a war. They were twins, the same as you and Marc.”
Marc rolled until he lay next to her, as well. “Grandpa Liam says his brother was a hero.”
She smoothed his hair. “That’s right. Granddad was given a medal, too. He just doesn’t show it to anyone.”
“But Grandpa Harry shows us the stuff he wins at rodeos.”
“War is different from a rodeo, Marc. Uncle Patrick was killed saving two other soldiers. Granddad misses him, and he wants other people to remember his brother and how special he was. So every year we have a silversmith make buckles for the top all-around Shelton County winners in the different rodeo divisions.”
Marc stuck his lip out. “That means Josh can’t get one.”
Despite the low light, Josh could see the faint smile on Kelly’s face. “No, but there are the All-Around Best Cowboy and Cowgirl Saddles sponsored by the Shelton Ranching Association. There’s a good chance he’ll win one in the adult division.”
“Do the saddles remember somebody?” Casey asked, yawning.
She chuckled. “Nope, they’re just saddles. Now crawl into your sleeping bags and close your eyes. I’ll wake you up if Lady Sadie starts having her foal.”
They reluctantly complied.
Kelly kissed them and Josh ached as he watched Casey hug her neck and Marc give her a quick peck on the cheek. One of his few memories of his mom was the nightly ritual of being tucked into bed...of feeling reassured that all was right in the world.
More of Josh’s anger at not being told about the twins trickled away, along with the lingering distrust that such an important secret had been kept from him. Kelly had done what she thought was best at the time. The important thing was that his sons had a great mother, protective, but still able to let them be kids. It was something he’d have to learn as a father.
Kelly watched the boys for a few minutes, then stretched and went over to one of the stalls, Gizmo at her heels. A horse thrust its head over the gate and nuzzled her.
“Josh, it’s all right to come in,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulder. “Casey and Marc can sleep through practically anything.”
He let out a rueful laugh. Little got past her. She must have spotted the dogs’ reactions earlier. He walked over to admire the brown-and-white mare.
“I’ve been meaning to ask how you ended up with Lady Sadie,” he murmured. “She’s the only pinto on Kindred Ranch.”
“Actually, she’s a registered American Paint. I found her at an auction—a yearling in awful shape—originally bought as a hobby horse by people who knew nothing about equine care. The other buyers weren’t interested in nursing her back to health, but I wanted her to have a chance. This is her first foal.”
Once again, Kelly’s soft heart was revealing itself. Many ranchers wouldn’t have taken the risk of buying a horse in poor condition, however low the price, but compassion tempered her practicality. And in the end, she’d gotten a fine animal.
“How did she test for genetic issues?” he asked.
Kelly rubbed Lady Sadie’s nose. “Clean bill of health. I bred her with a neighbor’s Paint, which has also been tested. She should have a beautiful, healthy baby. It’s been an education. I’ve never worked with the breed before, but she’s swift, agile, turns quickly—”
“Perfect for barrel racing,” Josh interjected, though as soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to groan. Since Kelly believed he didn’t care about anything except competing, he shouldn’t add fuel to the fire.
“I’ve never tried.” Kelly’s tone was dry. “But I’m sure she’d perform well with the right rider.”
“And working cattle, too,” he added belatedly.
“I already know that. Are you mentally gearing up for the rodeo?”
“To be honest, I haven’t thought about it that much.”
She cocked her head. “At least you’ll have some real competition. Several well-known contestants have registered, though none with your win record. You’re still the star of the event.”
Josh didn’t say anything for a long minute, unsure of how to take her comments. Being a star had been important to him for a long time—after all, it meant more prize money. But not here in Shelton. He wasn’t sure it would ever be as important to him again.
What was it about Kelly?
She’d always challenged him, even as a skinny, half-grown kid with serious eyes and a book in her hands. And now she was making him take a hard look at his life. He’d gotten his dream, to own a ranch. Yet he was still competing, still winning big money, and his father ran McKeon’s Choice, not him.
So how was he different from Harry, aside from the amount of prize earnings each of them had earned?
While the Kindred Ranch cowhands were friendly with Harry, they admired and respected Kelly. She was the boss. She worked as hard as they did and made good, evenhanded decisions. Would his employees at McKeon’s Choice feel the same about him? Sure, he’d debated the best way to balance his father’s needs with his own once he was living full-time on the ranch, but when was he actually going to do it?
Josh reached out to touch a lock of Kelly’s hair. It curled around his finger, soft as silk. She was a fascinating combination of rancher, mother and desirable femininity. Letting her go may have been the worst mistake of his life.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Kelly whispered.
“The past and the present.”
“The boys?”
“Partly.”
Her eyelids flickered and she moved backward, almost imperceptibly, possibly sensing how much he wanted to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she said. “This isn’t the time.”
Josh glanced at his sleeping sons. However much he wanted them to know he was their father, he didn’t want it to happen by accident. “Mostly I’m hoping the rodeo will be as successful as everyone thinks it’ll be. It helps the town, which means it helps Casey and Marc. As for the rest? Being a celebrity isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“You used to enjoy the attention.”
“Maybe I’ve grown up since then.”
He wished he could tell if she believed him.