Chapter 10

The phone dragged Shawnee out of the depths of her afternoon siesta. She picked up and mumbled a profanity by way of greeting.

“Hello to you, too, sunshine,” Tori chirped, intentionally, obnoxiously perky. “Look who’s splashed all over the Internet now.”

“What? Why?”

“That video of you and Cole riding to the rescue hit the national AP wire.” Tori faked a Hollywood drawl. “You’re famous, baby.”

Shawnee groaned and flopped over onto her back. “Oh God.”

“Yeah. Nice roping, by the way. Next thing I know, you’ll decide you’re too good for me.”

“I always have been, princess. I just take pity on the poor little rich girl.”

“Right. Violet talked to Cole and Tyrell first thing this morning to be sure they knew how to deal with any follow-up publicity or safety questions. Needless to say, she’s thrilled with the exposure. But if I didn’t know you and Cole better…”

“There is nothing going on there.” But damn her and her big mouth. J.P. was roping at tonight’s rodeo. Had he seen that bullshit, too? “It was just some dinky little local station. No one outside of Podunk County should’ve heard that interview.”

“The Internet sees all. Especially if you don’t want it to. You should know that by now, hanging around me.”

“Your daddy was supposed to be president,” Shawnee grumbled. “Mine is a bum. And it was just a joke.”

One she’d been sure Cole wouldn’t appreciate, but he hadn’t said a word. Not last night during chores. Not this morning while they worked the stock. Not even the usual what the hell is wrong with you? glare. If anything, he seemed almost cheerful. Probably because Violet was happy with him for a change. And granted, Cole didn’t always get the joke—another manifestation of his autism, Violet said. His brain took everything literally. But Shawnee hadn’t exactly been subtle.

“I sure hope J.P.’s got a good sense of humor,” Tori said.

Of course he did. Didn’t he? With the language thing it wasn’t like they sat around telling each other jokes. He laughed a lot, though. That must mean something.

Shawnee checked the clock. Only an hour and a half before she had to saddle up for the evening performance. “I’ve got to shower and primp. J.P.’s gonna be here by six.”

He’d let her know via one of his infrequent texts, their primary means of communication because his roping partner could act as translator. Phone calls were a complete waste of air space. She knew how to say Hello and How are you? J.P. could manage about a dozen other common words and phrases, though he was getting better all the time. But between them, they could muddle through her explanation about the interview.

Shawnee crawled down out of the king-sized bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. “It’s not like J.P. and I are going steady.”

But they weren’t sleeping with other people, either. Despite what some of the pearl-clutchers might say, her standards were high. When she found a man who met them, she gave him her full attention for as long as they were both enjoying themselves, and asked that he do the same. She huffed out a breath. “J.P. is too laid-back to get upset about some stupid, smart-ass remark.”

“Uh-huh. You may be underestimating the fragility of the male ego.”

Shawnee rolled her eyes even though Tori wasn’t there to appreciate the effect. “Whatever. I have to go. I have plans for the evening, and I will have to shave my legs for this.”

There was nothing like her favorite Brazilian to distract her from Cole, his unexpected smiles, and the way he’d snuck that arm around her. A very strong, muscular arm, attached to a whole lot of hard male body.

But she wasn’t thinking about Cole, dammit.

The shower only took ten minutes. Drying her hair was another matter. She stuffed it into a ponytail holder still damp, then dressed and took extra time with her makeup, even though she’d sweat most of it off before the end of the rodeo. She only had fifteen minutes to spare by the time she threaded her way through the maze of pickups and trailers in search of J.P. When she spotted his long, lanky frame, she broke into a grin. It really was good to see him. As she approached, he pulled a saddle out of the trailer and swung it onto his horse.

“Olá, handsome!”

He glanced at her over the horse’s back, but instead of the usual grin, his expression went stony. He ducked his head, tugging at the cinches.

“J.P.?” She stopped a few feet away, her heart sinking. “Como ce ta?” How are you?

His chin snapped up and he glowered at her, speaking so low and fast she couldn’t catch a syllable let alone a word, but she could guess. She held her hands out, palms down, making an easy, now motion. “That interview wasn’t what it looked like.”

“You say…ele é o melhor?”

She had no clue what he’d said, but it must have something to do with Cole. “I was kidding. Ha ha ha!”

“Not funny to me. But others—” He flung an arm wide to indicate all of the cowboys milling around, many shooting curious glances their direction. “They laugh.”

Oh hell. “I didn’t mean—”

He cut her off with another stream of agitated Portuguese.

“J.P., if you’ll just listen—”

When she took a step toward him, he spat a few emphatic words at her, then stomped off around the end of the trailer.

“I don’t even know what that means,” she called helplessly after him.

“He say there is nothing to talk about,” a voice said behind her.

She swung around to face the cowboy who lounged against the fender of a nearby trailer, arms crossed, dimples winking even though he wasn’t really smiling. “Marcus! Thank God. Can you please help me explain?”

“He won’t listen. All day, people ask why his woman says another man is the best.” Marcus waggled his eyebrows. “They say Cole is very big man, you know?”

Shawnee gave a muffled shriek of frustration. “No! I do not. Because there is nothing going on between me and Cole.”

“Doesn’t matter. Once the talk goes out…” He made a gesture like trying to catch words and stuff them in his mouth.

“I was being a smart-ass!”

“When someone is an ass, they aren’t always so smart.”

“You’re telling me.”

He did one of those Brazilian shrugs that could have meant anything from whatever to fuck off and die.

Shawnee resisted the urge to shake him. “He’s really not going to talk to me?”

“No.”

“Not ever?”

Another inscrutable shrug, this time with a hint of a smile. “J.P. usually don’t stay mad a long time.”

Well, thank the Lord for small favors. She asked Marcus for a piece of paper and help translating a message. She left the paper tucked between the coils of the rope that J.P. had slung over his saddle horn. One single word.

Desculpe.

I’m sorry. Unless Marcus was screwing with her, in which case who knew what it said?

She stomped over to where the Jacobs Livestock rigs were parked. The pickup horses were already tied to Cole’s trailer, so she grabbed a brush and attacked Salty’s mane.

Cole stepped out of the living quarters, watched for a moment, then said, “You might want to go easy there. Salty’s been known to bite if you irritate him.”

“So have I,” she muttered, but she took more care as she combed Salty’s forelock. Cole tossed her a spray bottle of detangler and she worked it through Salty’s long, flowing tail until every strand glistened. The repetitive movement took some of the edge off her jagged emotions, but with every stroke, her brain repeated—

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

So that reporter had jabbed the humongous red button labeled Ace Pickett. Right on cue, Shawnee had gone off and J.P., a genuinely nice guy, had been hurt and embarrassed.

And Cole…

Taking potshots at him around the crew was one thing. Trash talk was the rodeo way. But making a spectacle all over television and cyberspace? She gritted her teeth and turned to face him. “I guess I owe you an apology, too.”

He gave her one of his patented blank looks as he untied his horse.

“For yesterday,” she clarified. “The interview. I shouldn’t have said…um, you know.”

“That I’m the best?” He paused, frowning. “You didn’t mean it?”

“Well, sure. The first part. You are the best with the horses, but the rest…” Dammit. He just kept staring at her like he couldn’t fathom what she was talking about. “I practically announced that we’re having sex!”

“Yeah.”

She could actually feel her eyes bulging. “But we’re not…we don’t…it doesn’t bother you?”

He tilted his head a fraction, looking thoughtful. Then he shrugged. “Guess not.”

And for the second time in fifteen minutes, a man walked away and left Shawnee sputtering.