Page 23 of Westin

“I eat my breakfast there, you slob,” Westin complained as he passed Bowie, knocking his stinky sock-covered feet off the table.

“So do I. Makes it taste better, especially when you’re cooking!”

“Screw you!”

Bowie just laughed, but he didn’t put his feet back on the table. Westin crossed to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer, popping the top with the edge of the counter before swallowing half the bottle in one gulp. He finished the thing in a second gulp and grabbed another.

“What’s up with you?” Landry called across the room to him. “You spend all day with the sexy mystery lady and you’re over there drinking like the devil just walked over your grave!”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“Don’t I?” Landry sat up, running his hands over the top of his head. “I wouldn’t mind spending time with a lady instead of loading hay bales on the feeder—that’s for sure!”

“It was my day off. You know that.”

“So? Still would have rather been in your boots today.”

Westin just shook his head, turning away from the boys as he downed the second bottle of beer. The door opened as he tossed the thing in the trash can—hitting it perfect on the first toss—and admitted Clint. He dropped a duffel on the floor as he kicked the door closed with his heel.

“What are you boys still doing up?” he demanded. “The cows are going to be waiting for their breakfast at five sharp. I won’t be going out there with a bunch of half-awake cowboys!”

Bowie switched off the television with the remote as he stood, much to Landry’s dismay. “I’m twenty-eight years old and you’re still bossing me around like I’m five!” he muttered.

“Because I’m the foreman here, Landry.” Clint shoved his brother’s boots off the couch. “Get your ass in your bunk!”

“And what are you doing?” Bowie asked, gesturing toward the duffel bag.

“Just for a few nights,” Clint said, shooting a glance at Westin. “While that girl’s here. Speaking of which—you want to get over to the guest bunkhouse and keep an eye on her until morning? Westin will relieve you at five.”

Westin’s eyebrows rose. “Me? Again?”

“You’re riding fences tomorrow. I figure that’s better than dragging her up to the high pasture to meet the herd.”

“Why does he get to do it again?” Landry asked. “We all signed on to watch over that lady.”

“That lady has a name,” Westin reminded him.

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t know because no one’s letting me anywhere near her!”

“How is she?” Remington asked from his bunk, the book now resting on his chest. “Everything go all right with Miss Dulcie?”

“They’re the best of friends now,” Clint said, snatching up his duffel bag as he crossed the room to one of the empty bunks. He started to unpack his things, his shoulders heavy with the burden of his new reality. As Westin watched, he reminded himself that his own problems could be much worse. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like being torn away from his kid that way.

Westin shrugged out of his jacket and stepped into the bathroom, using the facilities quickly before the others lined up for their toothbrushes. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, looked into his blue eyes and studied his jawline. Could he still see in his reflection what he’d believed he could all these years? Could he still see a family resemblance that his mother had always sworn was there? Or was this whole thing a joke?

Westin wasn’t a man who doubted himself often, but there was something about Rena tonight that made him wonder if perhaps he should. Or maybe it was something about the conversation he’d had with Lea that had screwed him up. There was something about that woman that got under his skin with just a look, a word.

“It’s worth it,” he told himself. “It’s all worth it.”

He just wished he really believed it.

Chapter 5

“This is not what I had in mind when I thought about spending the day with you.”

Lea grabbed the reins of the horse Westin had just lifted her onto and sighed, trying to remember the last time she’d been on a horse. She wasn’t exactly a city girl, not as thoroughly as Westin probably thought she was, but it had been years since she’d visited her grandfather’s farm. Even longer since she’d sat on a horse. She wasn’t sure her thighs could take this.

“Could be worse. You could be helping the boys feed the cattle.”