A Cowboy's Pride

“Cream? Sugar?” Boyd held up a pitcher of foamy, fresh milk.

“Do you have skim milk? Artificial sweetener?” she asked with a sigh. After failing to zipper Jennifer’s rose sheath, Katlynn vowed to lose five pounds on this trip.

“No. But I could run to the store.”

“She’ll survive without fake sugar,” Cole asserted, folding muscular arms even a personal trainer would envy. “And a few extra calories would do her some good.”

Was he calling her skinny? She was a size six—practically obese in her industry, hence the necessary evil of slimming undergarments. Speaking of which, she shifted in her seat to alleviate their cruel pinch.

“I’ll just have it black.” She sucked on another cherry, the action seeming to fascinate an intently staring Cole.

“Cole? Want a cup?”

“I’ll fix it.” He snagged a cup out of the cupboard and banged it down on the counter. As he added a generous amount of cream, his lips twisted in a sardonic grin aimed her way.

“Hope it’s not too plain for you.” Boyd handed over the coffee then seated himself beside her.

She sipped her drink, enjoying the rich, unvarnished flavor, so different than her usual nonfat latte with a caramel drizzle. Boyd’s concerned face relaxed at her smile and nod.

“Really good, Mr. Loveland. Best cup I’ve had in years.”

“Well, now...” Boyd cleared his throat gruffly, looking embarrassed, then switched topics. “Glad to have you back home. We’ve missed seeing you around the place. Haven’t we, Cole?”

“You’re back to film a show about my family?” he asked instead of answering his father.

Her eyes lingered on his body as he leaned against the counter—tall, broad and thick with muscle. Cole was dressed in jeans, a thermal shirt and a down vest, pretty much the same thing he’d always worn, if memory served. And her memory seemed to be disturbingly clear where Cole Loveland was concerned.

She gave herself a little shake followed by a coffee chaser.

Get it together. You’re a professional. Not a high school girl crushing on the homecoming king.

Not anymore.

“You’ve heard of my show, Scandalous History...?” How strange to talk to Cole again, to drink coffee and behave civilly, like she’d never been in his arms, kissed those lips, cried those tears.

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations...

Cole shrugged, and the simple motion communicated one simple truth. She was as irrelevant to his world as ever. Well. Fine, then, since her world had outgrown his.

“Like I told your father,” she said smoothly, drawing on her vocal training to sound strong, assured, impervious, as if breathing the same air as her ex had no residual effect. “We do investigative reports about American history.”

“Where’s the scandalous part come in?” Cole sauntered back to the table and grabbed his seat.

Her muscles tensed. Boyd rushed to her defense. “No harm in speculating about old news—it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“Most of your subjects are dead, correct?”

At her nod, Cole turned to his father. “Our situation’s different.”

Concern spiked. Was Cole thinking about his mother and the media frenzy? “No one will be harmed because of the show.”

“Katlynn’s only focusing on the feud.” Boyd dropped more sugar into his coffee. His spoon clanked against the mug’s sides as he stirred.

“What guarantee do we have?”

She met Cole’s direct stare head-on, determined to win him over for her show’s sake. “My word.”

“You gave me your word once before,” he said slowly as though the words were razor blades, slashing his mouth as he released them. They cut her deep, too. “I haven’t forgotten how that worked out.”

“Neither have I.”

Boyd’s eyes flicked between them in the tense silence. “That’s water under the bridge, kids.”

A muscle jumped in Cole’s jaw, and she carefully pried her clenched fingers from her mug handle.

Boyd was right. Their broken engagement was yesterday’s news. Not worth covering. Or revisiting. No matter how the journalist in her wished to excavate their history for the answer to a basic question:

Why hadn’t he loved her enough?

“Katie-Lynn? What are you doing here?” A tall, dark-haired man dressed in a tan sheriff’s uniform appeared at the bottom of the stairs leading from the second-floor bedrooms. In three giant strides, Cole’s younger brother and Carbondale’s local sheriff, Travis, swept her into his arms for a tight hug.

“She goes by Katlynn now,” Cole said.

“Your father gave my show permission to shoot some episodes about your feud with the Cades.” She eased away and grinned up at Travis extra wide, since it seemed to get under a fidgeting Cole’s skin.

“Scandalous History, right?”

At her nod, Travis turned to his father. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Wanted Cole to know first.”

Travis’s broad smile fell and his chiseled features, slightly more refined than Cole’s, sobered. “Right.” He shot his brooding older brother a long look before heading to the coffee machine. “What’ve you learned so far?”

“We’re still in preliminary stages, so I don’t know much beyond what I grew up hearing. I plan on interviewing family members, consulting with local historians and digging through old town records for land surveys and such.”

“Will that clear up our water rights dispute?” Cole asked.

She remembered the restrictions keeping the Lovelands’ ranch on the brink of bankruptcy back in high school. “It’s something I’m going to investigate.”

“I’ll see if the sheriff’s office has anything.” Travis poured himself a cup of coffee and drank it black, his hip propped against the counter.

“That’d be a big help. Thanks.” Katlynn settled back in her chair and peered at the three handsome men. Lovelands were legendary for their incredible good looks and their willingness to lend a hand when needed. They were strong, principled men of action few dared to cross. “Would any of you know if correspondence between Maggie Cade and Everett Loveland exists? Letters? A journal Everett might have kept?”

Boyd shook his head slowly. “Not that I know of, but you’re welcome to check through the house and property.”

“We’ve also got cabins that once housed ranch hands. Some haven’t been occupied in decades.” Travis drained his mug and rinsed his cup. “If Maggie and Everett met in private, one of those might have been the spot.”

“A lover’s nest...” Boyd mused.