CHAPTER 75

jackson

M y last few weeks at home were quiet and uneventful thankfully. West wasn’t himself, but if I was being honest, I wasn’t sure who West was at his core. I wasn’t sure he knew either.

I just stayed ever-present and ever-vigilant. I didn’t push boundaries or push for more. Fingers on my pulse and late-night conversations became our norm. I had a feeling we’d done too much too fast, even if West would never admit that out loud.

I didn’t need him to either. Backing off and letting him come to me was easier. The only thing I kept consistent was a simple kiss when we woke up and when we went to sleep.

I also wasn’t blind to him drinking again, but that was a battle I couldn’t fight. Instead, I stuck close to him and used leaving him in three weeks as an excuse as to why I didn’t intervene. I wasn’t an idiot. There was no way in hell that West was joining me on the circuit. He struggled with a small-town atmosphere and the tiny ranch aspect. The wild nature of the rodeo would be too much for him .

Besides, his jumps and jitters had returned in the last week, and I saw him making an effort to go to meetings. He found his way there, which was all that mattered. He had to want it. I couldn’t do that for him.

“All right, as always Mickey is in charge,” I was saying. I leaned against the fence with my arms crossed and my hat dropped on a post. It was my last day on the ranch before I left for the season. The last day was always the most nerve-wracking. I had a good team, even if they were a pain in my ass sometimes. Leaving my business with the lot of them always hit hard, especially with how close I was to losing everything. “He’s got my number—so do you—if shit hits the fan. This year is crucial, which I know puts a lot of pressure on all of you. I wish I could say I’ll pay you more, but right now I can’t. Once I can sell off land in eight months, I’ll make sure everyone is squared away and then some.”

Even if it meant my debt wasn’t covered. For as much as I bitched at them, the guys I hired were good. They’d done a lot of extra shit to make sure I didn’t go under sooner. They weren’t privy to just how bad shit was, but they weren’t ignorant to it either. They deserved a lot more than I could give them and I felt bad about that as their boss.

“I mean, you could do us all a favor and win this year,” Peter commented with a cocky grin. He earned a few laughs from the other guys while I scowled.

“Get your asses back to work,” I snapped. As they made their leave, I called after them, “Remember, if you have any issues with the horses, you go to West. He’ll be good to handle that shit.”

“You got it, boss!”

“You’ll be good to handle that shit, right?” I turned to West, who was standing behind me twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

“My stables, my horses, my rules,” West murmured. “How long are you gone again?”

“Until fall. If I do well enough, it could be longer than that.”

He made a sound but said nothing else. I would’ve given fucking anything to know what he was thinking. We weren’t talking about me leaving. He always shut down on me. The not knowing how he felt or what would happen with us was fucking awful.

Not knowing if he’d be here when I got back was worse.

“You’re with me this afternoon,” I told West, changing the topic to something I wanted to talk about.

“What the hell did I do now?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m taking you on a date.”

“Are these your fucking dress shoes?” West hollered from his bedroom. I grinned to myself. I had a plan—or a loose plan in case it didn’t go over well with West—but ranch clothes weren’t going to cut it, and I knew West didn’t have anything else. All of that led me to buy him dress clothes and leave them in his room.

“Yeah, figured you wouldn’t want me buying you a pair,” I said loud enough to be heard as I put together Tess’s dinner so Mickey wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“You know, when I used to fucking call you Bigfoot, I thought it was a joke. I didn’t know you had feet this goddamn big,” he told me.

“You were the one with the big fucking feet,” I retorted. Anything else I had to say was lost as he walked into the room. Fuck me sideways, West cleaned up real well. He ditched the dress pants for a pair of clean jeans that hugged his strong thighs and I could guarantee made his ass look good. A black dress shirt looked tailored for his muscular form, stretching across his broad shoulders and hugging his tapered waist. He’d trimmed down his wild beard and brushed back his hair—though, I was a fan of how it curled around his ears. And in true West fashion, he wore his boots.

“I ain’t wearing the clown shoes,” he said as he finished rolling up his sleeves.

I cleared my throat to regain my bearings.

“Yeah, that works,” I replied. Yeah, that worked real fucking well. I took a long moment to think depressing thoughts. Dress pants would not hide my rising hard-on and that wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. It wasn’t the impression I wanted to give West.

“You good there, cowboy?” His lips quirked slightly .

“I’m good. But if you’re not wearing dress pants, neither am I.” There was no way in hell I was lasting in these goddamn dress pants. Not with him over there looking like walking temptation.