Down Home Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ His own marriage might have been an unmitigated disaster but he respected the institution too much to go sticking his dick where it didn’t belong.

      Just as they were approaching the house, the front door jerked open and out came a very stormy-looking Violet, wearing black leggings, a plain gray T-shirt, and a hoodie with only the bottom zipped, the hood up over her hair. She stomped down the stairs and stopped in front of Cain, seeming surprised momentarily as she very nearly ran into him. “Where were you?” she asked, expression furious.

      “I was out doing my job,” he said, trying to keep his tone measured, even though he could sense that this was about to become a fight.

      “Well, I’m late to my job,” she said, nearly shouting. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

      “I didn’t know you were opening this morning, Violet,” he said, much more patiently than the situation warranted, he felt. “And it’s your responsibility to set your own alarm.”

      “I did,” she said. “But it didn’t go off.”

      “Technology failure,” he returned, “that’s not my fault. But if you head over to the truck I’ll get ready to drive you over.”

      “You should have been around, instead of out playing cowboy, or whatever the hell you’re doing.”

      He couldn’t do much of anything but stare at the little viper whose diapers he had once changed. “Playing cowboy? This is my job. This is our legacy.”

      “No. We had a ranch in Texas. And I know you sold it for a crap ton of money. You don’t have to work here, you’re just choosing to work here. Because I guess you really like being too busy to do anything for me.”

      “That’s it. Get into the truck before we both say something we’re going to regret,” he said, grinding his teeth together.

      “No. I mean, I’m going to get into the truck,” she said. “Because I’m late for work. But not because you told me to.”

      “Violet. At this point, I don’t give a damn why you get in the truck, but you need to do it. And you need to shut your mouth for about thirty seconds and then think very carefully about the next thing you let come out of it. I’m going inside to get coffee. Wait for me.”

      Alex didn’t say anything as the two of them headed into the house. And he continued to say nothing as Cain went over and poured himself a travel mug full of coffee.

      “No comment?” Cain asked finally, because surely his younger brother, who had a smart remark for everything, had a smart remark for this.

      “No comment at all. Except that teenagers are hell. I should remember, seeing as I was one of the worst.”

      “She overslept, and somehow I’m the bad guy.”

      Alex laughed. “I have a feeling at this point you could buy her a pony and be the bad guy.”

      “Too fucking true,” he grumbled, feeling seriously aggrieved as he strode out of the kitchen and made his way out to the truck, where Violet was waiting, her arms crossed, her expression the physical embodiment of the storm cloud.

      He jerked the driver’s side door open and got in, starting the engine with a little more violence than was strictly necessary.

      They began the drive toward town in silence, and Cain told himself to keep it that way. To keep his temper in check. Because Violet was a teenager, and she was testing boundaries. Because she was angry, because ever since they had left Texas she had felt disenfranchised and stuff because she’d had to leave her friends behind. So it wasn’t about him. It really wasn’t. It was about the change. And he needed to remember that.

      That lasted all of ten minutes.

      “You think I did this for me?” he asked. “You think that I sold everything I spent your entire life building because I thought it would be hilarious to start over somewhere? Just for fun?”

      “I think you’d rather work yourself to death than sit in the same room with me for more than five seconds.”

      “I sat in a truck with you from Texas to Oregon, I don’t think that’s the real issue here. That was a long-ass drive, Violet. I didn’t avoid that, did I?”

      “Whatever,” she said, propping her chin up on her hand and staring out the window.

      He was so mad at her, and he wanted to leave her on the side of the road. But suddenly he was overwhelmed by the urge to laugh. Because the drama was just a little too much, and a whole lot familiar. He could remember doing the exact same thing at Violet’s age. Of course, when he’d been angry at his mother it was because she had stayed out all night at the casino and gone home with a strange man.

      Violet had no freaking idea how good she had it.

      “We were dying there,” he said, his tone rough. “Waiting for her to come back. And I wasn’t going to wait anymore.”

      “You didn’t ask me.”

      He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “No. I didn’t. This isn’t a democracy, this is a dictatorship. I wasn’t taking votes.”

      She made that horrible, cat-hacking-up-a-hair-ball sound that teenagers made when they just couldn’t even with you.

      And after that, he let it rest. Because he did have to take her to work, not leave her on the side of the road.

      “I’m going to get in trouble,” Violet said when they pulled up in front of Pie in the Sky. And in that moment, she sounded so young, so small, and so defeated he just couldn’t be mad anymore.

      “No, you aren’t. Alison seems nice. She’ll understand that your alarm didn’t go off. It was a mistake. It happens.”

      She looked up at him then, her eyes suspiciously bright, the expression in them pleading. But she wasn’t going to ask for his help, of course not. She was just going to sit there looking miserable until he offered it. And of course he was going to offer it. Because dammit, it felt good to have her need him.

      Usually, he had no idea what in the hell he could do for her. But this, he could do.

      “Come on. I’ll walk you inside.”

      The fact that she didn’t argue with him confirmed his suspicions about the fact that she did want his help. As soon as they entered the bakery Violet scampered behind the counter, grabbing an apron as she went, disappearing into the kitchen. A few seconds later, Alison appeared.

      She was wearing much the same thing she’d worn yesterday, all that red hair piled on top of her head again. She looked up, pausing, her expression like someone who had been hit by a truck. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were here,” she said, reaching up and patting her hair, then dropping her hand quickly and smoothing her apron in what looked like a nervous, fluttery motion.

      He affected her. He made her nervous. Well. Hell.

      “I figured I would walk Violet in. I know she’s late.”

      Alison frowned. “Right. I put her to work on cupcake duty. I really needed the help this morning.”

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