Dynomite: A Stepbrother Cowboy Romance by Layla Wolfe

For example, I wasn’t too worried about her hocking one down the middle of my face anymore. It hadn’t been too long ago I’d thought of her as a “bottle blonde filly.” Now our connection went deeper, and I could let my guard down with her a little. Just a little. “Don’t really care anymore whether I shoot myself.”
    “Now, you don’t want to be going and saying that.” My words had the empty ring of platitude. Anyone would say that. I had to go farther, to prove we were blood now, sort of. “I’d stop you before you’d do anything like that, bless your heart. You’re just depressed because your mama passed. As anyone would be,” I quickly added.
    She ignored my words. “Give me one of those cigs.”
    I had a pack rolled up in the sleeve of my T-shirt. It was a way to show off my inked sleeve, but now I was glad I had them. Suddenly I wanted to satisfy her every need. I had somehow, somewhere along the way, started to fall for her. She wasn’t my type at all. I liked them gritty, street-smart, and sassy. This chick was an ice queen to the core. Miss Squarepants was hooky—handy with her horns. But now she’d softened up, pulled in her horns. I might be able to see a different side to her.
    We smoked like the teenagers we were, and a cig had never been so satisfying. She blew out a stream of smoke, studying it. “Sequoia has nothing but good things to say about you. He seems to worship you.”
    “That he does,” I had to admit. “Goes to show you. He’s studying to be a half-wit.”
    She actually smiled at my description of the Cahuilla wannabe rodeo star. “I like him, always have. I wish he wouldn’t drink so much because it’s especially bad for Indians. I’ve seen him stay on a real tough honker for thirty seconds. He could be good if he’d just dial back the booze.”
    “You can lead a horse to water…”
    “Your mom’s a lush too. My dad never drank so much until Sadie moved in. Now there are vodka bottles everywhere.”
    “No one’s twisting his arm. And you don’t know what goes on in other people’s hearts either, April. My mom’s a very unhappy woman.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. Telling this stranger—a somewhat rival of mine—vulnerable details about my mother? I instantly wished I could take it back. “I mean, she was until she married your dad. Let’s let them have their happiness. They have to have their reasons for marrying.”
    She snorted smoke. “Yeah. To increase their ranching power, their names. Your mom got half your dad’s ranch, I presume?” I had to nod slightly. “You see? It’s all calculated. Everything’s a business concern.”
    I said, “You do know they was fucking around together at the Heartland Pro Rodeo Championships in Waco before your mom even expired?”
    Again, I was instantly sorry I’d said that. April’s eyes glazed over like donuts, and she dropped her lit smoke to the ground. I had to stamp on it to prevent her from starting a fire.
    “Ah,” I said lamely, “I take it you didn’t know.”
    “No,” she whispered. “But it makes fucking sense.”
    I stomped on my cig, too. “Yeah. I actually ran across them doing it by the catch pens at Waco. Do you remember the steer roping championships in Amarillo? That’s when the officials had to warn them to stop macking on each other in public.”
    “No…” she said distantly, looking at a spot about three miles over my shoulder.
    I had to change the subject. “Look. I heard that Lawson Willard moron is going to Harvard.” I snorted. “Guess they’ll take anyone these days. But what’re you going to do?” I really wanted to know who her man would be once Willard split.
    She took it the wrong way. She thought I cared about her education. “I’m waitlisted for several schools, but I doubt I’ll get into any of them. They keep you on pins and needles. I can’t take it anymore. There’s just too much pressure on me from every angle.” Her distant eyes