Submitting to the Cowboy

*Skylar*

This place used to fill me with nothing but adrenaline. The screaming of fans, the sea of purple and gold, the white-hot lights and thrumming music that had me riding a high so intense everything else paled in comparison.

The Staples Center felt like home at one point.

The stadium echoed with my unsteady footsteps as I walked toward the center of the court, my duffle bag hanging loosely on my shoulder. Six months ago, I stood right in that very spot and smiled as I waved my hands in the air, my hair bouncing off my shoulders while the commentators announced what I didn't know would be my last performance as a Laker Girl.

Now the arena was empty, stale, utterly silent.

"It's a career ending injury, Skylar," Coach told me a few weeks ago when I'd come to watch the audition for this year's rookie dancers. "You gotta give something like this more time."

I didn't have time. Being a dancer was all I'd ever known. All I'd ever wanted. One wrong move and it was all over.

All of this had ended. No more lights. No more music.

I'd been cut from the team.

"You okay?" Gabby said somewhere behind me, her voice echoing across the court.

"I'm just taking a minute." I swallowed hard and looked down at my sneakers, squeezing my eyes shut as tears threatened to spill over my lashes.

"We're all going to go grab some drinks with the new girls. You should come. It'd be fun!"

I'd danced with Gabby on this team for three years. We were veterans on the team. There hadn't been many girls who lasted as long as we had.

Following the Los Angeles Lakers from game to game during the NBA season took a toll on everyone. We weren't paid much, pennies compared to the basketball players we cheered for. I'd scrapped by for three years just to stand where I stood now. Just to feel alive. This was my dream, and now I lived my greatest nightmare.

"I–" I cleared my throat, wiping a rogue tear from my cheek before turning to face her and plastering a casual, carefree smile on my face. She still wore her outfit from practice. They'd run drills today, taught the new girls our old cheers and dances. The season didn't start until October, which was three months away, but that didn't matter. I got called in for a meeting with my coach and management. The season would start without me leading the team. They couldn't risk it, not when my knee still clicked and burned during the easiest drills.

They told me it was because they cared about me. I could easily ruin my chances of ever dancing again if I pushed myself too hard, too soon.

I practically begged on my knees for them to reconsider, but it was done. Their minds made up.

I'd lost my spot.

"Couch did say you could audition next year–"

"I know," I replied, forcing a smooth smile on my face even though inside I screamed. "I'll catch up with you later, okay? Carter's taking me out to celebrate me getting back on the team tonight. So... I need to go home to break the news to him."

Gabby gave me a somber smile at the mention of Carter, who I'd met shortly after making the team three years ago. She eyed me, tilting her head which caused her thick black curls to fall over her shoulders.

"How are things with Carter?"

"Great," I replied tightly, forcing the lie from my lips. Carter, the only man I'd ever known intimately. Carter, with his soft blonde hair and strict demeanor. "I think he's going to propose."

Why did I feel like crawling into a hole every time he brought it up?

"Really?" Gabby asked with excitement.

"We're going to Napa this weekend to visit his parents. He has a whole thing planned–dinner, the works."

"Fucking finally! I'm so excited for you," she beamed, taking my hands in hers. "See? Maybe this isn't so bad. You'll be so busy planning your wedding you won't even think about us. Where would you rather be? Stuffed on a bus on the way to Oklahoma City, or sipping white wine in Napa while planning the floral arrangements for your reception?"

I'd rather be on the bus.

"I guess you're right." I gave her my best smile and squeezed her hands. "I'll see you later."

***

I opened the gate leading to the small courtyard in the center of my apartment complex.

Late afternoon sunlight dusted over the scattered, potted, and neglected plants and the fountain that hadn't worked in the two years I'd lived here during the off season.

Raney, my roommate, wouldn't be home right now. She worked across town as a laser technician at some fancy medical spa for the rich and famous. We'd been friends since college and had a running joke called "friend tax". I got her and her long-time boyfriend, Emery, Lakers tickets whenever they had a home game, and she got me discounts on facials and IPL. A win-win.

What would I even say to her? I dreaded it, honestly, having to face the people I loved and tell them I was a failure.

I had no idea what to do now. Two intense knee surgeries put me flat on my back for weeks-–no, months at this point. Physical therapy seemed to only go so far but it sure as hell made a bigger dent in my bank account than it did in repairing the damage to my body.

I could go back to bartending, I guess. A few months from now, when I got the greenlight to start dancing again, I could go back to teaching dance classes a few times a week. I could work my way up to joining the team again.

Everything felt so up in the air now, though. My plan for my life? The life I'd meticulously crafted and planned out since I was just a little girl?

Poof. Gone.

I grumbled incoherently as I stuck my key into the mailbox and pulled out a stack of letters–mostly bills, of course. Medical bills for my surgery and PT. A few things for Raney.

I slid an envelope with a return address to some law firm in Helena, Montana to the top of the stack as I walked upstairs to my apartment. I didn't know anyone in Montana–well, that's a lie. Mom once said she had some distant relatives who used to live there at one point in time. But I'd never met them. I didn't even know their names, or where they lived.

I slid my key into the lock and used my shoulder to open the door as I stared down at the envelope. My name was written clearly in bold, looping scrawl. Skylar Courtney Grant, and then my address here in LA.

I wondered, briefly, if I was getting sued. I chuckled to myself. That would be the cherry on top of my already fucked up day.

"Well, I guess it can't get any worse," I mumbled as I slipped my feet out of my sneakers and turned to place the mail on the kitchen counter.

But I froze, the mail slipping through my fingers. Mail tumbled over my feet as my duffle bag hit the ground with a smack that echoed through the room. It wasn't enough to shield me from the grunts and moans coming from Raney and Carter as they fucked on the couch.

My boyfriend, and my best friend.

Time stood still for a second, the room spinning. My chest tightened painfully, and then my heart cracked.

My mind went totally and completely blank. I felt... nothing. I was too stunned to feel anything. Nothing at all.

I turned away and gathered the mail. I didn't say a word as I walked right past them and into my room. I shut the door, locking it, blocking out their exclamations and bickering while they frantically tried to come up with excuses as to what they were doing.

Carter told me he was going to marry me. We'd laughed about it a few nights ago while at his favorite downtown club. Raney had been there, smiling down at me as she made me promise I'd make her my maid of honor.

They were fucking. They were fucking on my couch. I knew they'd grown close after my injury, but this?

I eyed the door, watching their shadows dart back and forth.

Then I ripped open the letter from Montana, and let myself come completely undone.

*Skylar*

What do you do when you have no job, no money, and ended a three year relationship with the man you were in love with because he fucked your best friend?

"Come on, baby," I urged.

The ticking sound my Chevy Aveo had been making since I left Helena sounded even worse now, and I was nowhere near civilization. The highway stretched for endless miles, nothing but flat, golden plains and sparse pine trees as far as the eye could see.

I was crazy for doing this. In my defense, I had nothing else to lose at this point. A week ago I'd been officially cut from the team, then caught Carter balls deep in Raney, then found out I'd inherited a freakin' ranch in Montana from some distant aunt, or something, who recently passed away.

Perfect timing, really. Apparently a pretty large sum of money came with the inheritance, but all of that had to be taken care of in a little town called Mason Creek.

I had no idea where that was. I'd never heard of it before. According to Maps on my phone, it was tucked up against the Blackfeet Indian Reservation and the Great Bear Wilderness. The map didn't even register the address of the ranch at all, which was just my luck. The lawyer I'd met with had simply smiled at me, and told me Godspeed.

That had left a sour taste in my mouth, to say the least.

I glanced at my reflection in the rear view mirror. Two full days of driving with a stopover in Helena had done it's worst on my appearance. My wine red hair was piled on top of my head in the messiest of buns, and dark circles lined my blue eyes. Despite it all, my eyes were no longer red and bloodshot from crying, which was a relief.

"Turn left in five-hundred feet," the satnav voice on my phone screamed, startling me.

"Shit," I murmured, squinting into the distance for an exit or something, but I saw nothing but open road. It was almost four o'clock, but this stretch of highway was empty. In LA, I would have been fighting for my life in rush hour traffic during this time.

It was just me out here.

"Turn left–"

"Okay, okay," I said through gritted teeth. A slightly bumpy paved road connected directly onto the highway, totally unmarked. "Where the hell am I?"

"Turn left–"

"I did!" I pressed on the screen, trying to recenter myself, but then a horn blared and I yelped, looking up to find a semi-truck pulling a tractor trailer behind it coming down the road. I moved my car to the side as the truck slowed to halt, and an old man leaned out the window.

"You lost, honey?"

"I'm trying to find Mason Creek? I haven't seen any road signs or exits."

"Keep headin' down this road, it's the only thing back there." He tipped his cowboy at me and rolled up his window. I watched as he drove past, my eyes locked on what looked to be cattle riding in the trailer.

The lawyer I'd spoken to said the town was as small as they come. I had no concept of what he meant, not after growing up in California and touring from big city to big city with the Lakers. Sure, we'd pass little towns here and there, but we'd never stop long enough to even get out and stretch our legs.

I drove for another ten winding miles until I passed the first house, then a few miles later I passed another one. Ranches. Sprawling properties of the deepest golds and greens I'd ever seen, and beyond that?

Mountains rose in the distance in shades of slate gray and emerald green. I gasped, leaning forward with my chest pressed to the steering wheel as I looked up and saw nothing but blue sky, not a skyscraper in sight to block the view.

Ten minutes later I popped out of the sweeping, rolling landscape and smack dab in a tiny little town. I blinked, unsure what to do or where to go. There wasn't even a stoplight.

A single road led through the town, a mix of paved and gravel roads leading off it at odd angles. The buildings on the main–and the only–commercial street were close together and looked like something out of the old western films my dad used to love.

I passed a post office, a small medical clinic, and general store before I saw the bank I'd been told to visit to pick up the keys to what would be my new home.

I pulled my car to the curb, turning off the ignition as I looked around. Men dressed in denim-on-denim walked by, covered in dust. Most of them wore cowboy hats, which were also covered in dust and other grime. A few people glanced at me as I grabbed my purse and got out of the car. Some of their stares lingered a while, drifting over my white tanktop and athletic shorts.

I locked my car and winced as it beeped rapidly, which drew the stares of a group of men getting into a large truck nearby. I tried to smile but failed miserably, instead pretending to look for something in the depths of my purse as I hurried toward the bank.

"It's closed on Mondays," a female voice said nearby, the words laced with both whiskey and honey. I turned toward it and froze.

"Oh," I said quietly. "Shit."

"Shit," she parroted, her mouth stretching into a cat-like smile as she looked me up and down. "You're not from around here." She crossed her arms over her chest as she continued to inspect me.

She leaned against the bed of her truck, which was full of baskets of produce and flowers like I'd never seen before. Her long black hair was pin straight and thick, falling all the way down her waist.

"You're right," I admitted, shyness taking over as I stared at her. Her skin was a deep bronze, and her eyes were bright and russet in the afterlight sunlight.

She was hands down the most strikingly beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life.

"I'm Danica," she smiled, straight white teeth gleaming.

"Skylar," I replied, smiling back. "Uhm, actually, are you a local?"

"That depends on who you ask," she grinned, shrugging casually. "Why? Are you looking for someone?"

I walked toward her, pulling the piece of paper with the estate information out of my purse. "I'm looking for this property."

She eyed me curiously before taking the paper from my hand and scanning it. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then met mine with a quizzical expression. "The Courtney Ranch?"

"Yeah."

She looked me over with an appraising gaze. "Are you a Courtney?"

"I am, I mean, my mom was, I think. I inherited the place. It was a surprise, honestly. I never knew the woman who lived there."

"Oh, girl," she breathed, handing me back the paper while shaking her head. "Nobody has lived there in over twenty years."

I opened my mouth to say there had to be some mistake, but then shut it, pursing my lips. Twenty years? No one had lived there for twenty years?

I had no idea what the place even looked like, but the letter had the single lifetime in the implosion of life as I knew it, so I hung on.

But twenty years? I felt a little sick to my stomach all of a sudden.

Danica noticed the shift in my expression and gave me a sympathetic smile. "Where'd you come from?"

"California." The word whispered over the slight, warm breeze. "I thought–"

"Oh, fuck me," she hissed, kicking off of her truck and crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive position. I turned my head to follow her gaze and saw a truck parked across the street in front of a stout wooden building with the word BAR painted on a piece of plywood over the porch. A man walked toward us, his smile as bright as the sun as he set his sights on Danica. "Grady James, you better not be coming over here to harrass me–"

"I came over to say hi, Danica. Jesus, I thought we were friends?"

"Suck my dick, Grady," she deadpanned, glancing at me with what I was sure was her signature feline grin.

"Oh, I would if you had one," he rasped. "I'd swing for the other team in a heartbeat–Oh, shit!" He nearly jumped out of his cowboy boots. "Who–"

"This is my new friend Skylar," Danica smiled with a slight wave in my direction. "Skylar Courtney."

Deep green eyes met mine, fanned by golden lashes. Grady was handsome, I'd give him that. Even if he currently looked like a deer in the headlights. Softly curling blonde hair peaked out from beneath his cowboy hat as he looked me up and down. Then he looked back at Danica, tilting his head in confusion. "Courtney? What–"

"Aren't you going to say hi?" she snapped.

"Hi," he practically barked, barely looking at me as he stepped toward Danica. "Does Ben–"

"I was just about to take her up to see her new property," Danica cut in, smirking at Grady.

"You were?" I said, but neither of them were looking at me.

"Danica–"

"We'll come down to the bar later, Grady, okay? You owe me a beer for kicking your ass at pool the other night anyway." She turned to me, tilting her head toward my car. "There's no fucking way you're getting that thing up the road that leads to the ranch. Hop in, I'll give you a ride."

"Danica, wait," Grady ground out, squaring his shoulders.

"Bye, Grady," she grinned, wiggling her fingers at him. He gaped after us as I walked to the passenger side of her truck and hopped in without hesitation. I was truly along for the ride at this point with a total stranger.

Something felt off, though. Unease rippled over my skin as I turned my head to watch Grady fade into the distance as Danica sped off, kicking dust in her wake.

"Why was he so surprised by my last name? And who's Ben–"

"The Courtney's founded this town over a hundred years ago," she said in a low voice over the hum of the music coming from her radio. "You're a celebrity."

For whatever reason, that didn't make me feel the least bit welcome.

"And don't worry about Ben," she whispered, irritation lacing the mystery man's name. I wasn't sure she meant for me to hear it, and when I glanced at her I noticed her eyes had gone a shade darker than they had been before.

"Who is he?"

"If you're a Courtney, then Ben Lawson is your rival. Welcome to Mason Creek, Skylar. It's all downhill from here."

*Skylar*

A gravel road led high out of town over rolling hills that opened out to sweeping views of nothing but grassland.

Before long the road forked and we continued to climb higher, and higher, until the truck bounded along a road shaded by pines taller than most of the buildings we'd passed on the fifteen-minute drive out of town.

"I haven't been up here in years," Danica admitted. "I forgot how gnarly this road is."

Truely, we bounced all over the place as the road stretched ahead of us. Eventually a dilapidated wooden fence appeared and began to run alongside us, just beyond the treeline.

"This is it," she said, more to herself than to me as she rolled down her window, warm midsummer air breezing into her truck and tousling our hair.

I couldn't help but gasp. A two-story house with a gabled tin roof rose before us, windows glinting in the now setting sun. The walls were once white but had chipped and grayed with age and disrepair. A large barn towered in the distance, gray and falling in on itself. Beyond it the plains that stretched out into a wide valley. I could see for miles, and miles.

"Holy shit," I murmured.

"Holy shit is right. I can't believe this place is still standing."

I didn't ask what she meant by that. I couldn't form words if I tried.

This was... mine.

She threw the truck in park and stepped out. I followed, breathing deeply. Fresh, warm air touched my cheeks as I waded through waist deep grasses toward the front porch, Danica walking ahead of me. "You really inherited this place?"

"I did, but they made it sound like someone had lived here recently."

She said nothing as she stepped onto the sturdy, but incredibly creaky, front porch. The house looked to be in decent enough shape despite the wear and tear on the exterior. The roof, however, was extremely rusted and disintegrating in patches. I looked up through a hole in the porch roof, seeing nothing but deep blue sky.

"I don't have the keys yet. I'm supposed to pick those up from the bank in town when I get the estate squared away."

"We can still poke around, if you want," she replied, looking over at me. "I didn't mean to like, I don't know, barge in on you like that back in town and steal this moment from you. I just... Grady is a little... Well, he's Grady. He would've trapped us and peppered us both with questions."

"He didn't seem thrilled about me at all," I chuckled as I followed her around the corner of the porch. The porch wrapped around the whole house. I wanted to pick her brain about why Grady's face had twisted into a scowl, and then panic, at the mention of the name Courtney, but Danica moved on, her fingers trailing over the peeling paint on the siding.

We peered in the windows. Old furniture sat covered in dust, untouched for two decades if Danica was correct, which it sure as hell looked like she had been.

I glanced over my shoulder and stopped, peering between the pines.

"Is that a house over there?"

"Yep," she sighed, sucking her lower lip between her teeth before letting go with a pop. "That's the Lawson place."

The other house was pretty far away, from what I could tell, but rose above us on a steep hill. There was a tower of sorts on the side, its windows catching the sunset.

"It's called the Hawthorne Ranch, and it's one of the biggest in the state," she began, testing the railing before leaning on it. "It wraps around Mason Creek and touches the reservation on the far side, and the rest of it is all wilderness. His place butts up against yours."

"So, this Ben guy is my neighbor?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"What about over there?" I pointed to the other side of what was now, incredibly, and possibly stupidly, my property. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do with all of this land. She followed my outstretched arm to the east.

"You got roughly five miles of property here under the Courtney name, and then you have the Hollis Ranch to the east," she said with a hint of disdain.

"Does everyone hate each other here?" I asked with a short laugh, noticing the way her expression shifted.

"No, just you three."

"Why?"

I followed her off the porch and toward what looked to be a garage.

"Should we go inside?" she smiled, ignoring my question completely.

"It looks like it's about to fall over on itself!"

"There might be some spare keys in there to the house," she shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

It wasn't hard to get into the garage. The bay door slid up into the ceiling with a screech that startled the birds from the trees, but neither of us took a moment to look around.

"Oh, my God," Danica and I said at the same time, and then looked at each other.

She stepped forward and pulled off the tarp that covered what could only be a truck, and we both went still and silent.

"You are the luckiest bitch I've ever met," Danica breathed, choking on a shocked laugh. "This is a 1986 Ford F-250."

"I have no idea what that means," I croaked, shocked into near silence as my eyes roved over the pristine cherry red paint and lifted tires.

Keys jingled to my left and I turned, finding Danica grinning from ear to ear. "Found the keys. I bet it still runs. I have a gas can in my truck."

***

"Just pin it to the bulletin board in the bar when we get there," Danica said, her arms sticking out the window as we bounced toward town in her truck. "That's the best place to catch someone's attention."

I chewed my lip as I wrote a note meant for any contractors in town who wanted some work. We were headed to the bar now, her truck bouncing and trembling as we coasted down the long stretch of gnarled, steep gravel road toward town.

"Is this stupid?" I asked abruptly as I scribbled on the piece of paper I'd laid across her dashboard.

"You selling everything you've ever owned and leaving what sounds like a stellar life behind?" she laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, it's dumb as shit. But you hit the jackpot with that truck, at least."

"It's one car. It's not like I can live in that thing–"

"Well, that's why you're going to find someone who can fix up the house and you'll never have to go back to California again," she cut in, glancing over at me with a smirk.

I'd spent the last hour telling her about what happened and how I ended up here on a whim. I liked Danica. She was dry and sarcastic and a damn good time. She had someone coming up to the house to tow my truck back to her place so she could work on it and get it running.

Danica and I hit it off immediately, but I knew there was something really strange about not only this town, but the family of mine who'd lived here once. I didn't want to push it. She'd offered to let me stay with her tonight, so I didn't have to fight for a room at the single motel in town. I could get all of that sorted tomorrow when the bank opened.

Which was exactly what I told myself as we pulled along the curb in front of the bar.

"This town is mostly just cowboys," she mused, twirling her hair over her finger as I wrote my name and phone number on the paper. "But some of them know their way around a toolbox."

I followed her into the bar feeling completely out of place. A narrow hallway separated the front door and the inside of the bar, and she walked ahead of me, mentioning that she was going to get us some drinks while I hung what I knew was only my lifeline in this place on the bulletin board along the wood paneled wall.

If no one could help me fix up the house, what the hell would I do?

I found a spare tack and placed the paper right in the center of the board where nobody would miss it. I stepped back to admire my choice of placement and to give myself a minute to decide if I actually wanted to go through with this when the door opened and almost hit me in the face.

I turned around but didn't have time to move out of the way before what felt like a brick wall slammed into me.

I yelped, shoving hard against the chest of a man who towered over my 5'5' frame with ease. He stood so close I could smell a faint hint of woodsy cologne on his black shirt. His shadow engulfed me completely, and he didn't move when I tried to get past him. In fact, he caged me in, one of his large hands resting flat on the bulletin board.

"Hey–" I squeaked, trying to shove him away.

I looked up and went still. His eyes–the color of honey–were fixed on the piece of paper I'd just pinned the board. Pieces of dark brown hair fell over his forehead beneath a worn leather cowboy hat nearly the same dark shade as his shirt.

He slowly looked down at me and all I wanted to do was fade into the wall behind me and disappear when our eyes locked.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he scanned my face like he was memorizing it, counting the freckles over the bridge of my nose and the gentle curve of my lips.

A chill licked up and down my spine.

I'd never seen a man like him before in my life.

He held my gaze as he pushed away from the wall, then gave me his back before he disappeared into the crowded bar.