Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,28
without people, a life where she sat hunched over her desk for hours and hours at a time. Computer, books, online articles, writing. It wasn’t meant to be punitive, but it had begun to feel that way. Just spending time with the Wyatts had made her realize how much she missed family and friends… people.
But Beck wasn’t hers, and Billy had been April’s, and Erika did need to settle back in to her routine. She needed to ask Billy just when they should make the break and how. Because, clearly, she wouldn’t get anything done that she needed done here, while trying to survive on the peripheral of Billy Wyatt’s life.
*
Billy didn’t think he’d ever ridden worse. Not even a full second on the bronc and he was thrown off, landing unceremoniously on his butt. He picked himself up, grabbed his hat, brushed off his dusty backside, and headed for the wooden gate. That was a disappointment. He wouldn’t place for money, not in that event. He needed to do better next event. A lot better.
Fellow cowboys patted him on the shoulder as he passed, giving him the same encouragement he gave others. This was a competitive sport, but the guys were mostly class acts. There were a few donkeys out there, but he had a lot of friends in the sport, not counting his best friends, his brothers.
Now he just needed to get his head right, and get his attention back, not easy after the blowup with Erika.
He rarely got angry, and he almost never lost his cool, but she’d pushed his buttons this morning, and he was still riled up.
He wasn’t here because he had nothing to do. He was here because this was his job, and how he made money, and the last thing he needed was some prissy prim shrink-wannabe telling him what he needed to do.
He knew what he needed to do, and it was provide for his son. He wasn’t going solo anymore. He was a father. A family man. And he was going to make sure his son could do whatever he wanted in life, including going to college. College was expensive. Graduate school was probably even more. Billy was determined that Beck would get every opportunity in the world, from going to college, to med school or law school. His son would be given tremendous support to make sure he’d always succeed and he didn’t need Erika hovering over his shoulder telling him everything he needed to do.
Maybe it was time she moved on.
He appreciated her help but he’d find a way to manage from now on.
Chapter Five
Erika wasn’t surprised when Billy showed up on her motel doorstep late in the day. He wasn’t smiling, either, and she thought it was the first time she’d ever seen him truly angry.
She’d replayed their argument at the fairgrounds over and over in her head, and thought Billy had been incredibly arrogant and rude, but she hadn’t been very diplomatic, either. She was about to apologize when he launched into a verbal firestorm, blaming her for his terrible day. Apparently, he hadn’t had that bad of a day in years. It was embarrassing and this was exactly why he needed time to mentally prepare for his events. He couldn’t afford to make stupid mistakes, and he couldn’t be worrying about Erika and Beck just before he climbed on the back of a bronc or bull.
She listened to him in silence until he abruptly stopped talking. But even after he’d finished, tension filled the room, a hum of hostility that she could feel all the way to her bones. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?” she asked, tone icy.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand that your time before you compete is sacred—”
“You’re deliberately provoking me.”
“No. I’m not. I don’t like fighting, and I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Good, because I grew up fist fighting with kids at school, as well as my brothers, but I don’t argue with women—”
“There. That. Why do you say it like ‘Argue with women’? You make it sound like we’re an entirely different species.”
“I was just raised not to be disrespectful, and I try not to be.”
She stepped outside the motel room, not wanting to subject Beck to their quarrel. “You have a very shallow idea of gallantry. I’d far rather a man be straight with me than hold my arm as I cross the street because he thinks I’m weak.”