And the last concussion was all Maisy’s fault.
She knew Sawyer jumped into the arena for one reason and one reason only: the possibility that she could be pregnant with his child.
Now she couldn’t tell him the truth. If he found out about the trick she’d played on him, he would hate her. And not just hate her, but also think she was a mean-spirited prankster just like her father. While she knew she didn’t have a chance with Sawyer—he’d made that perfectly clear—she still couldn’t stand the thought of him despising her. He was the one rodeo cowboy who respected her. And damned if she didn’t want to keep his respect.
It was only one little white lie. If the rumors were right, he’d had sex with plenty of women. What difference would it make if he thought he’d had sex with her? Especially when he no longer had to worry about her being pregnant.
But all her justification didn’t make Maisy feel any less guilty when Sawyer turned his grayish-blue gaze on her.
“Maisy wants to look around your land for her daddy,” Chester said.
Sawyer’s face registered surprise. “Don’t you think you should let Lincoln and Dixie do that?”
“I plan to. I just thought I would do a little looking on my own.”
“If Lincoln and Dixie haven’t found anything, I doubt that you can.”
She doubted it too, but she had to try. Her daddy seemed to be calling to her from his grave. If she could find him and give him a proper burial, maybe his haunting would cease. It was a silly thought, but one she couldn’t seem to shake. Chester seemed to understand.
“It’s something she just needs to do, boy,” he said. “In fact, you should just let her park her trailer there for a few days. That way, she doesn’t have to drive all the way out here from town.”
Sawyer hesitated for only a second before he shrugged. “That’s okay with me. Stay there as long as you want. I’m not doing anything with the land.”
“You should be,” Chester grumbled before he turned and headed to the barn.
When he was gone, Sawyer sat down in the rocker next to Maisy’s. “I think he’s hoping I’ll build myself a house like most of the other boys. But that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful place to build a home.”
“I don’t need a home.”
The comment surprised her. “Everyone needs a place to call home, Sawyer.”
“Really? Where’s your home?”
It was a good question. She would say Odessa, but the place she’d been born had never felt much like home. She loved her mama and step-daddy, but she had no friends there. Growing up, she’d been a loner. Girls didn’t like her because she wanted to play boy games. And boys didn’t like her because she beat them at those games. She hadn’t had a real friend before coming to Simple.
But Simple couldn’t be her home. The townsfolk were nice, but she didn’t doubt for a second they still thought of her as that mean Sam Sweeney’s daughter. If they ever found out about the prank she’d pulled on Sawyer, they’d really think it.
“I guess I don’t have a home either,” she said. “But I’d like one. Being on the road can be lonely.”
In the last few months, the loneliness had become almost too much to bear. She had never been depressed a day in her life, but, recently, she’d struggled to keep a smile on her face and a positive outlook on life. She was winning rodeos, but Sawyer was right—there was no money in women’s roughstock. The small purses she won didn’t even cover her expenses and rodeo fees. So between rodeos, she had to work odd jobs to make ends meet. With working and training, she had no time for a social life. Which probably explained why when she’d seen Sawyer sitting alone at a table in the hotel bar, she’d felt like she’d won the lottery.
“So let me guess,” Sawyer cut into her thoughts. “You dream about owning some ranch that you already have a name for. Sweet Magnolia Ranch. Lucky Star Ranch. Heavenly Horse Ranch.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Heavenly Horse Ranch? I think I can come up with a better name than that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out. I’d use my last name, but Sweeney doesn’t have a ring to it. Dawson is a great name for a ranch. Or has one of your relatives already nabbed that?”
“No one in my family is a rancher. In fact, my parents are thoroughly disappointed I became a rodeo cowboy. I was their golden boy. The one who was supposed to fulfill all their doctor, lawyer, billionaire dreams. Instead, I fulfilled all their worst nightmares. Which is why I ended up at a boy’s ranch.”
She’d heard stories about why the bad boys had been sent to the Double Diamond ranch. Cru Cassidy got sent here for raising hell at his orphanage. Logan McCord for stealing cars. Holden Lancaster for getting kicked out of his private school. Val Sterling for flooding his school library. And Lincoln Hayes for getting into fights. But she hadn’t heard what Sawyer had done.
“What did you do to get sent here?”
“The better question is what didn’t I do? I was a pretty rowdy teenager.” He took the cup of coffee from her and took a sip. He grimaced. “Damn, Chester still makes the worst coffee ever.” He handed her back the cup, then hesitated as his gaze lowered to the front of her shirt. She glanced down to see if she’d spilled coffee on it, but the shirt was clean. When she looked back up, Sawyer was staring out at the ranch.
“You’re not getting off that easy,” she said. “I want details. What kind of rowdy things?”
He shrugged. “I drank my dad’s whiskey and then filled the bottle up with water. I took my mom’s car for a joyride without a license and ran into the neighbor’s mailbox on the way home. I caught a bunch of grasshoppers and put them in my dad’s shed so they all jumped out when he opened the door and almost gave him a heart attack. Mattie laughed so hard he peed his pants.” A smile tipped the corners of his perfect lips.
“Mattie?” she asked.
Sawyer’s smile faded. “My twin brother.”
“You have a twin brother? I don’t remember hearing about him coming to the ranch.”
“He didn’t come here. He was the good kid.”
His wording took her by surprise. Obviously, Sawyer believed his brother was the good kid and he was the bad one. She didn’t know why that bothered her so much. Maybe because she had fought against labels all her life.
“Sorry, but the things you did don’t sound all that bad to me,” she said. “It sounds like you were a typical teenager, not a troubled teen who needed to be shipped off to a boys’ ranch.”
“It wasn’t punishment. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Once again, his gaze lowered to her chest. Since she didn’t have great boobs, she figured he was trying to read the front of her t-shirt. Which was impossible with her sling covering half of it.
“Have a Willie Nice Day,” she said.
He lifted his gaze. “What?”
“My t-shirt. It’s a picture of Willie Nelson and says “Have a Willie Nice Day.’”
“Ahh.” He got up from the chair. “I think I’ll go get dressed and help Chester in the barn.” He started to head for the door, but then stopped and turned back to her. “About what happened the other night . . . it was a big mistake. We’re friends, Maze. Right?”