Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)

“Ky, can I borrow some clothes? I don’t need barbecue sauce on my scrubs.”


“There’s a basket of my stuff on top of the dryer. Pick anything but the Broncos jerseys.”

“No self-respecting Cowboys fan would be caught dead wearing one anyway,” Boone shot back.

“At least you’re consistent,” I said to Boone.

“Meaning what?” he said warily.

I smirked. “Your taste in football teams is as crappy as your taste in music.”

His gaze lingered a bit too long on the Cardinals team logo stretched across my chest before his eyes met mine. “Back atcha, babe.”

Mase and Ky were sitting at the dining room table when I noticed Hayden hadn’t moved. “Hey, sweetie. Would you like me to fix you a plate? And if you promise not to spill, maybe next time you can sit at the grownups table with the rest of us.”

Ky and Mase laughed. Anton said something about a sippy cup.

“Piss off, all of you.”

“Seriously, hop-along; what do you want?”

“Some of all of it.”

After I loaded his plate, I took it into the dining room.

Back in the kitchen, I stood next to Boone watching him play Jenga with a pile of ribs. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Promise you won’t watch me eat, McKay.”

“I’ve seen you eat.”

“Not like this you haven’t.”

Just like that, I was thrown back to the times I’d ended up cooking for him, when I’d figured out he’d probably never had enough to eat. His appetite had gone beyond typical teenage boy eat-everything-in-sight hunger to real hunger. “This ain’t my first Meat-topia, soldier boy. See if you can keep up.”

Boone bypassed my potato salad, so I said, “Hold on,” and spooned some on his plate.

“What is this?”

“German potato salad. Try it.”

He squinted at the pile. “Isn’t potato salad supposed to be…yellow? And have…potatoes in it?”

“Not all potato salad is yellow. It looks a little brown because I didn’t have red onions or Yukon gold potatoes, but it tastes awesome.”

“What else is in it?” he said suspiciously, like I’d attempted to sneak in zucchini.

“Bacon, caramelized onion, mint and sauerkraut.”

“You always did mix some weird shit together but it ended up tasting good.” Boone came to a full stop when he saw the pan of brownies. “What is that?”

“My all-access pass to Meat-topia. Salted caramel brownies baked on top of chocolate chip cookie bars and finished with marshmallows, coconut, M&Ms, mini peanut butter cups and raspberry buttercream frosting.”

“Hearing that description, my blood sugar just shot up fifty points.”

“You have to try the brownies,” Mase said. “You’ve never tasted anything so good.”

Boone’s gaze hooked mine. “You want me to taste your goodies, Sierra? Lick up some of that cream like a man starved for such sweetness?”

Heat shot down my center straight between my legs.

A devilish smile curled his lips.

Anton had outdone himself with the ribs. The guys were stuffed to the point I thought I might have to roll them into the den for the football game. They rallied long enough to help tidy the kitchen and direct me on where to put the tiny amount of leftovers.

Kyler grabbed the dishrag out of my hand. “I didn’t invite you over to eat with us and expect you to do the dishes as payment.”

“I know that. I just ate too much and if I sit in front of the TV I’ll fall into a food coma. So you go watch the game and I’ll be in when I’m done out here.”

“You sure? You’ve been looking forward to this game all week.”

I hip-checked him. “Oh, I’ll be in to put you Denver Donkey lovers in your places when the jeers about the Cards stomping them gets too annoying.”

“You wish.” He held out his hand. “Standard bet, no points spared?”

“None needed,” I said and shook it.

“I’ll put twenty on the Cardinals,” Boone said from behind me.

“Sweet. Easy money. You coming in to watch the game?” Ky asked him.

“I’ll help Sierra finish the dishes.” After Kyler left, Boone said, “Wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash.”

“They do have a dishwasher.”

“Which is already full of dirty dishes.” I paused to stack the plates. “I checked.”

Boone waited until I was elbow-deep in soapy water before he said, “I am sorry. I should’ve been honest with you about how long I’ll be in Phoenix. I should’ve told you I needed a place to live. Totally fucking stupid on my part to skate around all that stuff.”

I waited for him to tack on a “but”…but he didn’t. I set a soapy plate in the empty side of the sink and said, “Why did you lie?”

He rinsed it. Dried it. “Fear, maybe? I don’t fucking know.”