8
“S he made it?”
“Oh, she made it all right.” Grunting, I tighten the battery cables on the tractor. “She’s a piece of work.”
“She is.” Over the line, Grady chuckles, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. He sounds affectionate.
A screw twists in my chest. I slam the hood of the tractor down. I’m pissed at myself. Pissed at the way I treated Reese. I’ve never acted like more of an asshole. Savannah’s text triggered emotions I thought I worked through.
But it’s no excuse. I fucked up today.
Ever since she stormed away this afternoon, I’ve had a head full of steam. I can’t get the sight of her tears out of my damn mind. I’m working my way up to an apology, working my way up to telling her she did a great job today.
Bar fights. Little brothers. I thought I knew trouble until Reese landed on the ranch.
“How’s she doin’ on the ranch?” Grady asks.
“I, uh, might have taught her a lesson.”
“What kind of lesson?” He sounds suspicious.
I tug a hand through my hair. “A ranch lesson.”
Grady swears when I finish telling him about today. “Ford, you dickhead. I told you she needs help. Not some asshole screaming at her. She already gets that from her manager.”
My gut twists. I remember the dark circles beneath her eyes the day she first got here. The relief that blanketed her when she saw her chalet.
I should have given that girl some grace, and I didn’t.
There’s a long pause before I ask, “Is that why she’s running?”
Fuck me. I want to know.
“I think so,” Grady admits. “I think she needs a lot of rest. I don’t think she’d be okay if she came back. I think she’d do something…unhealthy.”
I go cold all over. I had pegged Reese Austin as a spoiled brat, but now I’m not so sure.
“She needs a safe place to stay. Maybe a hug.”
“A hug, huh?” My eyes drift to the open garage doors, then beyond them, to the ranch.
Reese.
Grady chuckles. “Just be nice to her. I think she needs it.”
Before I know it, my boots are carrying me across the ranch. “Just say you’re sorry, you asshole,” I grumble to myself. “It ain’t hard. You’re a cowboy. Own it when you’re fucking wrong.”
It’s what my dad told me. What I strived to be. A cowboy. Honest. Loyal. Courageous. Someone who never takes advantage of others or goes back on their word. Something I’ve forgotten these last few years. Losing Savannah, then losing myself, watching my brothers fall in love, it all wore me down.
Mid-internal-pep talk, I see Sam headed toward the staff cabins. He slows his truck to a crawl, and I come to a stop beside his driver’s side window.
“You headed to the chalets?” he asks, one denim-clad arm hanging out the window.
Impatience rattles beneath my skin. “Yeah. I am.”
“Girl’s not there,” he grunts.
“Where the fuck is she?” I growl, my chest rising with each word.
Sam grins. “Took her to Nowhere.”
Less than twenty minutes later, I slam into Nowhere, cursing the atom bomb that is my night. Cursing the blonde bombshell that is Reese Austin. I could be in my garage with my cat, but I’m playing babysitter. Twenty-four hours on the ranch and this girl’s already blown up my world.
Beef cranes his bald head, suspicion furrowing his brow. “Wyatt here?”
“Relax,” I say, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Coast is clear.”
No fighting for me. Not since I put my hand through the jukebox last year.
Beef polishes a glass. “Drink?”
“No.” I sidestep a couple dancing and belly up to the bar. “I’m here for—for someone.”
Beef tosses a waitress a can of Bud, while saying, “You here for Jane?”
“Jane?” I follow his eyeline and see bangles, sharp cheekbones, green eyes.
Reese.
She’s in a booth next to Lionel Wolfington. With a cheesy smile on his face, the asshole looks like he struck gold. Reese looks it, too. Her shimmery gold dress rides so high on her toned thighs I can see her panties.
Nude lace. Fuck me.
I turn to Beef. “How many drinks has she had?”
“Five,” Beef grunts, lifting a wary brow. “Not sure how she’s still standing.”
“I need an order of fries,” I tell Beef. “Now.”
When I glance back over, Lionel’s hand is sliding up, stroking over those long, tan legs.
A territorial rage consumes me.
I am going to fucking kill him.
“Goddamnit,” Beef mutters as I tear away from the bar.
“Ain’t gotta stay out all night,” Lionel’s saying as I approach them. “Take the party back to my place.”
My fists clench. I doubt he cares that she’s three sheets to the wind.
“Not happening,” I say.
Reese brazenly meets my eyes. Her cheeks are bright pink from alcohol. “Ugh, you.”
“Yeah, ugh , me.” I stare at her. “Stop acting like a brat and get up.”
“Rude.” A smile tilts her lips, and she extends a hand. “This is—”
“I know who he is,” I snap.
Batting her long lashes, Reese curls closer to him. Lionel squeezes her shoulder. She’s fucking with me, but she doesn’t fool me. I catch the flash of panic on her face when Lionel’s hand grips her leg even tighter.
Lionel laughs, the barbed wire tattoo around his neck flexing. “What bug crawled up your ass, Montgomery?”
I glare at him. “Wrong answer, asshole.”
“You’re both boring.” She lifts a hand, causing her bangles to rattle. “I’m going to dance.” With that, she stands and heads to the dance floor.
Lionel looks pissy. “Thanks a lot, Montgomery.”
I jab a finger his way. “You don’t fucking touch that girl.”
His lips curl and he rises to stand.
I turn to go, but before I can walk away, he says, “I know who she is.”
I whip my head to him and slam him back against the wall. “Keep your mouth shut about her.”
If people pull out their phones, it’ll be over. She doesn’t want to be found even if she is doing a piss-poor job at covering her tracks.
“What’s in it for me?”
A muscle clenches in my jaw. I want to hit him, but I can’t. We have a tentative truce with the Wolfingtons. If I fuck that up, I have to deal with Davis.
“Here.” I reach into my pocket, then shove a wad of bills against his chest. “A hundred bucks a day until that girl leaves.”
“Deal.” Lionel’s mouth parts in a sneer. “Although you might want to make sure she doesn’t blow her own cover.”
Letting go of his collar, I follow his gaze and groan. Reese is at the jukebox, swinging her hips to an old Townes Van Zandt song.
“Goddamn it.”
I storm over to her.
“You got a quarter?” she breathes, eyes on the jukebox. I shelled out a pretty penny last year to replace it.
“One song.” I drop it in the slot. “Then we go.”
Ignoring me, Reese selects a number. The bar fills with Loretta Lynn’s melancholy twang.
I lean into her. “Newsflash, honey. Hanna Montana could do a better job at keeping her identity a secret.”
“I don’t care anymore.” She straightens up and stares at me, emerald eyes flashing. “Go,” she says. “No one asked you to come. I have plans to drink, dance, and get drunk.”
“You’re already drunk,” I growl.
Hands on the side of the jukebox, Reese closes her eyes and dances. My cock flexes as she sways her body. Unfortunately, every eye in the bar is on her as well. They can smell fresh blood from miles away.
“Get over here.” Hand on her elbow, I guide her to the bar, forcing my breath to steady. After I settle her on a bar stool, I ask, “How many beers have you had?”
“Nunya.”
“Nunya?”
She laughs. “Nunya business.”
I roll my eyes. “Real mature.” I sit beside her. “You’ve had five beers because Beef over there has been counting.”
“ Traitor ,” she mouths to Beef, who looks offended. The pout of her pillowy lips makes her look simultaneously haughty and innocent.
“Anyone ever told you that you drink too much?”
“Hmmm. Several people and they’re all dead right now.”
I cut her a look. “How were you planning on getting back to the ranch?”
Her lips curve, feline. “I wasn’t.”
If she’s saying it to bait me, it’s working. A primal caveman possessiveness overtakes me. Not to mention my cock’s a tire iron. This girl’s playing a dangerous game of chicken.
“You ain’t gonna be a good-old boys’ girl,” I warn, rubbing my jaw when all I really want to do is punch a hole in the wall. “Not tonight, honey.” I sigh and lean in. “Listen, Reese. These guys aren’t for you.”
Her beautiful face tilts back to look at me. “Oh, and I suppose you know someone who is?”
Yeah. Me.
But I stop myself short of saying it. That would be a big mistake.
Beef sets a beer down, and I level a finger. “You give her one more goddamn drink…”
“Bye,” Reese chirps suddenly. She hops off the bar stool and shoves past me.
I curse and attempt to follow, but Floyd Gunderson blocks my path.
“Selling my ranch, Ford. Sure am.”
“Well, hell, remind me to put in an offer on that.” I put my hands on his shoulders, push him backward. “But right now, I gotta go.”
Craning my neck, I scan the bar for Reese. Thank Christ my brothers aren’t here to witness the shitshow. Lord knows I’d get an earful about how a grown woman is handing me my ass.
My pulse roars in my ears as I spot her clumsily two-stepping with Travis Wheaton, a local rancher. He drives a Cybertruck, so he’s automatically our town’s biggest dipshit. I watch as he leans in close to her, his hand sliding low on her back before gripping her ass.
I don’t fucking think so.
“Fuck this,” I mutter as I stalk across the bar. Reese either came here to try my patience or give me a goddamn heart attack.
I wedge myself between them, breaking Travis’s hold on her ass. I don’t miss the way Reese takes an immediate step back.
“Time to go,” I say, curling my hand around her arm.
Travis lets out a short laugh. “Fuck off, Montgomery. I’m having a conversation with—”
“Jane.” I step closer. “And it doesn’t look like a conversation. It looks like you’re copping a feel. And if you know what’s fucking good for you, you’ll leave her alone.”
Travis holds up his hands. “Whatever, man.”
I glance to my right.
Reese is gone.
I whip around. Christ, where is she now? It’s like trying to chase a cyclone. Wrangling my brothers is a pain in the ass, but this girl makes them look easy.
Travis’s eyes lift, and a laugh erupts from his belly. He elbows one of his cronies. “Get a load of this.”
I follow his gaze and understand why that vein in Davis’s temple always looks like it’s on its last nerve.
Reese is strutting her stuff across the bar top like it’s her own personal stage.
Beef stares up at her, his eyes grazing over her long, long legs.
In any other scenario, I’d probably fight back a smile over the fact this girl doesn’t give a shit. She’s star power incarnate and has my small town slack-jawed and gaping. But she’s in hiding, she’s in trouble, and most importantly, she’s drunk as a goddamn skunk.
I know unhealthy coping mechanisms when I see them. And Reese is a walking red flag.
“Want a drink, Country Boy?” she asks when I reach the bar.
“Get off the bar, Reese,” I order. My gaze travels up her toned thighs to those nude panties. If I can see them, everyone else can. I hate that idea.
She looks down and batsherdark lashes. “Have you ever danced on top of a bar? It’s actually quite fulfilling.”
I grit my teeth, hating my life right now. I’m the fun one, so why does this girl bring out the Davis side of me? Protective. Bossy as fuck.
My fingers dig into the bar top. “One more chance.”
“Or you’ll what?”
“Either I burn the bar down or you come with me.”
She grins. That coy little smile that revs me up. “Burn it down then.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell her she’s a brat, when some random fucker slides his grubby hand up her calf. And then he leans in and licks it.
He licks her fucking leg.
Reese gasps and stumbles backward, her pretty face twisted in disgust.
Motherfucker.
I’ve been good the last goddamn year, and now this guy’s gonna make me start over.
I turn to Beef, rolling up my shirtsleeves. “Who are these assholes?”
“Townies.” Beef shakes his head, even though he and I both know it’s pointless. “Ford. You’re not Wyatt,” he warns. “I just got a new sign.”
I roll my neck out. Flex a fist. “Give me a shot.”
“Ford.”
“Give me a goddamn shot, Beef.”
He does it, and I shoot it back.
Then I glance over at the man. He’s staring up at Reese like he’s already got her in his bed. “Hey, buddy, you like that girl?”
His ugly face grins at me. “Yeah, man, she’s got a real nice p—”
I fucking punch him. My knuckles shatter his jaw, and I grin at the satisfying crunch of bone. He stumbles back and hits the ground.
Reese gasps. “Ford, what—”
Screams pierce the air. The music from the jukebox has kicked into some frenetic country song. I glance behind me and realize a new fight has broken out.
I’m shoved forward into the bar. Reese screams and drops to her knees, blonde hair tumbling wildly around her face. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the bar top.
“Don’t move,” I tell her. She’s safe where she is. I don’t want anyone trampling her.
My heart beats hard. I love a goddamn fight as much as Saturday night.
Beef has the fire extinguisher out. He catches a townie in the face with a harsh spray of foam. A taller guy nearly catches me in the jaw when I turn my head, but I grab him by his shirt and shove him into the wall. I spin around and take in the chaos.
My heart ratchets up its beat.
There are too many people crowding our space, throwing things.
I have to get Reese out of here. That lone thought takes over my brain.
I don’t think twice. I grab Reese around the waist and pull her off the bar. Toss her over my shoulder.
She shoves at my back, making huffy little sounds of protests. “What are you doing?”
“Protecting you, princess.” I hate the way she feels against me. Soft, warm skin. The curve of her hip on my shoulder. Her sharp nails digging into my arm. It’s sensory overload on my libido.
Reese squirms. “Put me down.” Then she screams. “Oh my god! Watch out!”
When I see a leather jacket-clad biker incoming, I greet him with an arm bar. He lands flat on his back, groaning. Reese yelps, jerking in my arms as I whip around. I slide my hand over her ass to keep her steady as I maneuver us through the crowd.
“You want me to put you down or get you out of here in one piece?” I grin because she can’t see me. Feisty little thing. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go,” she yells. “Go!”
I take a trained breath and muscle my way through the chaos. By the time we make it outside, she’s quiet. Or passed out. I can’t tell.
Dick aching, I slide her down my body until her heels touch the pavement. My hands stay on her hips. I hate to let her go. Hate to have her anywhere except my arms.
For one long second, we stare at each other, our faces inches apart. Too close, not close enough. The air is so taut, so electric, I can feel it buzzing from her to me. A live wire of want.
Normally, I’d chase this girl. But I’m not a prince and I don’t have a white horse. I’m a cowboy with baggage. I’m born to run. There’s no sunset in this future.
With a sharp gasp, Reese pushes away from me. She teeters on her heels, and then her eyes roll back as her legs buckle.
I catch her around the waist. “Whoa. Easy, easy.”
Face pressed against my chest, she moans and grips my shirt, trying to pull herself up. “I drank too much.”
I choke down a quiet laugh. “Honey, you drank a saloon.”
I lift her in my arms and carry her through the parking lot. When we reach the truck, I gently settle her in the passenger seat. After buckling her seatbelt, I climb in beside her and lower the windows. She sits there, emotionless, blonde hair like a halo around her head.
I dig under the seat and find a bottle of Gatorade. I hold it out. “Drink this.”
She sniffs.
Fuck. If she cries…
When her focus returns to me, silver lines her eyes. “You didn’t have to come and get me,” she whispers, accepting the Gatorade. “I would have found my way back.”
I turn out of the parking lot, leaving the bright neon of Nowhere in my rearview mirror. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Do you ever think about what someone could do to you when you drink?”
Reese chugs the Gatorade and wipes her lips with an exaggerated gusto that makes me smile. She leans her head back against the seat. “I just wanted to dance. No one likes me here. Especially after today.”
“Nothing wrong with dancing. What’s wrong is those guys with their hands all over you.” I shake my head, back to irritated. “You threw a glass of water in my face for calling you honey , but you let Lionel Wolfington put his fucking paws all over you.”
Her lower lip trembles. “It doesn’t matter what they do to me. Everyone’s already done their worst.”
A chill goes through me. The way this girl talks.
“You shouldn’t let people touch you without your permission.” I still want to kill that creep who licked her leg. Disinfect it the second I get her back to the ranch.
I think of the way she acted tonight. The way she accepted their hands all over her body. Something tells me it’s part of her job. And it bothers me. A fucking lot.
“You did.” She sits up, turning to laser me with a look of devastation. “You lassoed me.”
I flex my fingers on the steering wheel. “You’re right. I did.”
Tonight is on me. All of it. I miscalculated how much of an asshole I was to her. If I had known she was on the precipice of something this dark, I never would have pushed her. Goddamn it.
Her expression twists, caught somewhere between hope, pain, and suspicion. “Is that an apology?”
“Yeah.” I look her straight in the eyes. “It is. I’m sorry, Reese. I never should have done that to you.”
She doesn’t reply, just turns her head toward the passenger window. Cool night air fills the truck and neither of us speaks. Soon I’m turning onto the old county road.
I reach over and flip the radio to my favorite station. A warbling voice croons through the speakers.
“Conway Twitty.”
I glance over at her, surprised she’s still awake. I expected her to pass out the second her head hit the seat.
Eyes closed, she says, “I love old country songs. My parents and I used to sing ’em at the bars when I was a kid.” A soft, hollow nostalgia fills her voice.
“That’s what you did before you were famous?”
“Travelin’ band.” She smiles. “We played in dive bars across the south. That’s how we made our money. When we needed more, my daddy made guitars. We made something out of nothing.”
I pass the ranch, not wanting to slow the conversation. She’s drunk, but she’s finally opening up.
“What about school?”
“Mmm, homeschooled.” She cracks an eye. “That explains me, right?”
I chuckle. “An encyclopedia couldn’t explain you.”
Wistfulness clouds her voice. “The peach trees were my only friends. I’d sing to them, and we’d talk for hours.”
“Where’d you grow up, honey?”
“Georgia.”
I almost steer the truck off the goddamn road. Another tick on the asshole meter. All this time, I assumed she was faking her accent.
That fucking faint drawl. Blonde. Southern. Beautiful. A lethal combination for me.
“A small town outside of Atlanta. We had a peach farm.”
“I’m from Wildheart.”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“How’d you end up in LA? In…”
“The bowels of hell?” She doesn’t look at me, just wraps her arms around her waist. “My parents gave me to Gavin.”
I shake my head like I’ve heard her wrong. “You wanna say that again?”
She shrugs like it’s obvious. “He saw me singing in a dive bar and offered my parents the chance to make a star out of me. We needed the money and they…they turned me over. Like I didn’t matter.”
My head spins. They gave away their own fucking kid?
I swallow the boulder in my throat. “Shit—Reese…”
“It doesn’t matter, Ford. No one wanted me then, no wants me now.”
It’s a throwaway comment, but something about it twists my gut.
“It’s good with Gavin. At least it was.” Her shoulders sag as if defeated. “Back when I liked my life.”
“Is that what you’re doing here? New life?”
“Something like that. Maybe I’ll be plain Jane, and I’ll matter to someone out there in the wilds of Montana.”
I soften when I glance over at her. She stares out the window, her wild curls fanned out over the passenger seat. “Nothin’ plain about you, honey.”
“I wish there was,” she murmurs. “Sometimes I feel so far from the little girl on that Georgia farm singing country songs with her mama and daddy just to earn a buck. Sometimes I feel so…so…”
“Lonely?”
“Lost,” she says.
My stomach bottoms out. Instinct bellows at me to ask more, to comfort her, but she’s quiet, her eyes closed, so I leave it at that.
I turn toward the ranch at last, my truck rattling down the long gravel road. Despite telling myself she should go back to her chalet, I head for my place.
I park and exit the truck. The night settles around me as I cross to the passenger door, leaning over to unbuckle her seat belt.
She opens her huge green eyes and looks up at me. We’re close. Inches apart. Her long lashes bat, and her gaze lowers to my lips.
“Hi, Country Boy,” she whispers.
I should hate the nickname—hate what it does to me. How it carves me into fucking pieces, making my heart still and sped up at the same time.
“Hi.” I stroke the sweaty hair off her brow.
My chest hitches. Up close, guard down, she’s stunning.
“I’ll carry you,” I say, snapping out of the hungry trance.
She giggles and lifts her arms. “Carry away.” I move closer, an arm wrapping around her slender waist. She smells like petrichor and peaches. Sadness and light. The juxtaposition has me off kilter for a minute.
Then her velvety arms slip around my neck.
I cradle her featherlight form in my arms. The full moon illuminates our trek to the garage. Carefully, I climb the steps up to my apartment. Inside, I set her down gently on my bed. A black shadow scurries across the bedroom. Mouse.
Reese blinks, tilts her head. “Why are we at your place?”
I feel slightly sick to my stomach that it was this easy to get her up here. That anyone could have taken advantage of her.
“I don’t want you alone.” I set a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand. “See? We got the good stuff.”
With curious eyes, she sniffs the air. “Your place is a garage.”
“I live above it. Makes the working day easier.”
Kneeling, I slip off her heels and do my best to ignore her silky skin, her pink-painted toes. I eye her sequined dress doubtfully. “You want to sleep in something that’s not scratchy as fuck?” I ask, hating myself.
When she arches a suspicious brow, I lift a hand. “Ain’t tryin’ to get you naked, honey, just gettin’ you comfortable.” I grab a clean T-shirt from a drawer. “I won’t look.”
She nods.
“Arms up, baby.”
I reach for the hem of her dress, lifting it off. I avert my eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of her lace panties. The gentle curve of her creamy, full breasts.
Fuck.
Still, hands-to-myself isn’t hard. She’s drunk. There’s no other option. I’d cut my dick off before I ever took advantage of a woman like that.
I shove the T-shirt over her blonde head. A soft, sexy moan pulls from her lips as my fingertips sweep over her thighs, and I grit my teeth.
“There,” I say thickly.
Mouse sits there, silently judging me and my fat fucking erection. I’m so hard it hurts to move.
“No. Not the bracelets,” she murmurs when I reach for her bangles. “They’re solid gold. Stolen from pirates.”
I sink onto the edge of the bed beside her. “Whatever you say.”
Reese groans, her green eyes swimming.
“Room spinning?”
“Yes.”
“Feel like you’re going to puke?”
She gulps. “Yes.”
I grab the trash can. “Here.”
“No,” she whines, shoving it away. “I don’t want to puke in a trash can.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. “You can do it, princess. I’ll hold your hair, and you let it rip.”
She pouts. “I can’t.”
I grin. “Have faith in me, honey. I got you.”
Her eyes fly open, and she lurches forward. I catch her around the waist, bring the can up to her mouth. She leans over and wretches.
I hold her up, feeling the wrack of her slender frame as she gets it all out of her. “Good girl,” I soothe, rubbing her back. “Keep going.”
She does, and when she’s finished, Reese flops on the bed with an exaggerated sigh. “I like your bed. It’s fluffy. Like a cloud from the sky.” Then her eyelids flutter shut, and she passes out cold.
Christ.
Mouse hops on the bed. Her paws find Reese’s flat stomach and knead.
Grady’s words fill my mind.
Just be nice to her. I think she needs it.
Seems like no one has been nice to this girl her entire life.
Frowning, I battle a rush of unease as I cover her bare legs with a blanket. Even in sleep, sadness stains her stunning face. I don’t like tonight—Reese, raw and on edge. The hollow vault of her voice. The pain in her eyes. It reminds me of…
I stare down at her, and a thousand memories I want to forget well up inside of me.
Curled up on my bed, bawling my fucking eyes out because I had lost Savannah.
The stifling silence that fell over the crowd as paramedics carried that kid out of the stadium.
Contemplating a bottle of pills before Davis called and told me to get to the ranch.
The past makes my pulse race as I sit in the chair beside the bed. Exhaling hard, I shove a hand through my hair and grip the back of my neck.
And then a sight worse than my memories hits me.
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life is in my bed.
Wearing my goddamn jersey.