Chapter 18
Jake
I slam my truck door and stare at the Rusty Nail’s weathered sign, wondering why I agreed to this. The parking lot’s packed with trucks and SUVs, most with Wolfcreek Ranch staff inside, blowing off steam. Friday night tradition, they call it.
A tradition I’ve avoided for four years.
But Cole wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You can’t keep hiding on that mountain forever,” he’d said while we were fixing the fence line yesterday. “Besides, everyone’s gonna be there. Even the MacGallans.”
That last part is why I’m here, though I’d never admit it, not to Cole, not to anyone.
I push through the heavy wooden door into a wall of warmth, laughter, and Merle Haggard from the jukebox.
The place is packed, Christmas lights strung haphazardly across the ceiling, adding a festive glow to the usual dim atmosphere.
I spot Cole at the bar and make my way over, nodding at the locals who recognize me.
“Thought you might chicken out,” Cole grins, sliding a beer my way. “Glad to see you still remember how to socialize.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I grumble, taking a long pull from the bottle. “One drink, then I’m heading back.”
“Sure you are,” he says, not believing me for a second. His eyes drift toward the back of the bar. “They’re over there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I follow his gaze, trying to appear casual.
The MacGallans have commandeered the large corner booth —the one with a good view of the small dance floor.
The small-town gossip has me guessing which is which.
Kane, I know, and his girlfriend with the choppy haircut.
The tall redhead—Kat, and the shorter plump lady, Wren, I think— the dark-haired one who’s always taking photos, and the tall guy who looks like he belongs in a boardroom, not a country bar.
And Ella. My heart does that stupid thing it always does when I see her.
She’s laughing at something one of them just said, her head thrown back, hair catching the colored lights. She’s wearing a simple green sweater that brings out the amber flecks in her eyes, jeans that hug curves I’ve tried not to notice for four years. Tried and failed.
“You’re staring,” Cole observes dryly.
“I’m not,” I lie, taking another drink. “Just surprised to see her here. She doesn’t usually come to these things.”
“Four years she’s lived here, and you still don’t know how to talk to her like a normal person,” he sighs, shaking his head. “It’s painful to watch, man.”
I scowl at him. “We talk. We’re neighbors.”
“Yeah, and that’s all you’ve been, because you walk around like you’ve got a stick up your ass whenever she’s within fifty feet.”
He’s not wrong, which makes it worse. Four years of polite nods, brief conversations about property lines and broken fences. Four years of keeping my distance because that’s what she seemed to want—space, privacy, a simple life with her daughter away from complications.
Complications like me.
“They left the kid at home,” Cole continues, watching me carefully. “Helen’s watching her. Just in case you were wondering.”
I wasn’t, but the information settled in my mind anyway. Ella rarely leaves Nora with anyone. She must trust these siblings of hers more than I realized if she’s letting her guard down enough for a night out.
“Good for her,” I say neutrally. “She deserves a break.”
Cole rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his head. “For Christ’s sake, Jake. Go say hello at least. Be a human being for once.”
Before I can argue, he’s signaling the bartender for another round. “Two more beers, and whatever that table in the corner is drinking.”
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Helping your sorry ass,” he replies cheerfully. “You can thank me at the wedding.”
“There’s not going to be a—” I start, but he’s already moving away, carrying a tray of drinks toward the MacGallan table.
“Shit,” I mutter, having no choice but to follow or look like even more of an antisocial jackass than usual.
As we approach, Kane notices us first, his eyes narrowing slightly before recognition kicks in. “Brennan,” he nods. “Cole.”
“Thought you folks could use a refill,” Cole says, setting the tray down with a flourish. “Jake’s buying.”
I shoot him a death glare that he completely ignores.
“That’s very kind,” the tall one—Declan, if I’m not mistaken—says smoothly. “Join us?”
Cole immediately slides in beside the redhead, leaving the only open space next to Ella. The bastard planned this.
“Thanks,” I manage, sitting down awkwardly, hyper-aware of Ella’s presence beside me. She smells like vanilla and something floral, subtle but intoxicating.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says, turning those eyes on me. “You’re not exactly a Rusty Nail regular.”
“Cole’s idea,” I admit. “Said I needed to remember what other humans look like.”
Her lips quirk into a small smile. “Well, we’re glad you came. Aren’t we?” She glances around the table, and her siblings murmur agreement, though Kane still watches me with that measuring look.
After she introduces everyone, the conversation flows surprisingly easily after that, helped along by Cole’s knack for drawing people out and the alcohol loosening everyone up a bit.
I learn that Kat’s a social media consultant, Wren’s in publishing, and Lana designs video games.
The dark-haired one—Mia—is a food blogger, which explains the constant photo-taking.
“And what about you, Jake?” Declan asks during a lull. “Cole mentioned you have the neighboring property?”
“That’s right,” I nod. “About two thousand acres to the north. Mostly forest, some grazing land.”
“Jake raises horses,” Ella adds. “The best in the county.”
I glance at her, surprised she knows that, let alone would mention it. “Just a small operation. Nothing fancy.”
“He’s being modest,” Cole interjects. “His Appaloosas win ribbons all over the place. Got a breeding program that has people driving in from the States.”
“I didn’t know you were a horseman,” Kane says, his interest seemingly genuine now. “We should talk. The stock at Wolfcreek could use some fresh bloodlines.”
Before I can respond, the band in the corner—three local guys with more enthusiasm than talent—starts tuning up. The floor clears for dancing, and Cole immediately pulls one of the redheads—Kat—to her feet.
“Come on, city girl. Let me show you how we do it in the country.”
She laughs, following him willingly. “Fair warning: I have two left feet, no shame, and a boyfriend that likes to kill people for sport.”
Cole burst out laughing at the last bit. But the more time I spent with the family, the more it made me wonder.
Kane and his girlfriend, Kori, along with Lana and the tall guy across the bar who’s been eyeing her all night, headed to the dancefloor. Wren excuses herself to the restroom, leaving me suddenly alone with Ella and Declan.
“I should check on Nora,” Ella says, pulling out her phone. “Just to make sure she’s settled.”
Declan gives her an understanding nod. “Tell Helen we won’t be late.”
When she steps away to make the call, Declan turns his full attention on me. His gaze is calculating, assessing in a way that makes me think he doesn’t miss much.
“So,” he says conversationally, “how long have you been in love with my sister?”
I choke on my beer, coughing while he watches with mild amusement. “I don’t—that’s not—”
“Save it,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “I’ve been reading people for a living for twenty years. You’re not exactly subtle.”
I set my bottle down carefully. “We’re neighbors. That’s all.”
“By your choice or hers?” he asks, hitting uncomfortably close to the mark.
I stare at the table, debating how honest to be with this man I barely know. Something about his direct approach breaks through my usual defenses.
“Mine, I guess,” I admit. “She made it clear from day one she wasn’t looking for... complications. She has Nora to think about.”
Declan nods thoughtfully. “She’s been on her own a long time. Protecting Nora is second nature to her.”
“As it should be,” I say firmly. “That kid deserves the world.”
His expression softens slightly. “You know her well? Nora?”
“Not really,” I shrug. “See her around town sometimes. At the bakery, the bookstore. She’s a good kid. Smart. Funny.” I don’t mention the times I’ve watched from a distance as Ella and Nora walk Scout in the meadow between our properties, their laughter carrying on the wind.
“Ella thinks someone’s watching them,” Declan says abruptly, his voice low. “Has been for a while. You notice anything unusual around their place? Strangers asking questions?”
The question catches me off guard, but I think of the unfamiliar car I spotted on the back road last week. The footprints in the snow near Ella’s cottage didn’t belong to her or Nora.
“Maybe,” I say carefully. “Why?”
Before he can answer, Ella returns, tucking her phone away. “Nora’s fine. Already in bed with a book.”
Declan stands smoothly, the intensity of the previous moment gone. “I’m going to grab another round. Same for everyone?”
When he’s gone, Ella turns to me with a curious expression. “What were you two talking about? You look... unsettled.”
“Nothing important,” I lie. “Just ranch business.”
She doesn’t believe me—I can tell by the slight furrow between her brows—but she doesn’t press.
“Dance with me,” I say suddenly, the words out before I can stop them.
Her eyes widen in surprise. “What?”
I’m already regretting it, but there’s no backing down now. “Dance. With me. If you want to, I mean.”
For a moment, I think she’ll refuse, make some excuse about checking on Nora again. Instead, she smiles—a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.
“I’d like that,” she says softly.
The band has switched to a slower song, something with a gentle sway that doesn’t require fancy footwork, thank God. I lead her to the edge of the floor, hyper-aware of her hand in mine, the warmth of her beside me.
“I should warn you,” I say as I tentatively place my hand at her waist, “I haven’t danced in years. Might step on your toes.”
“I’ll risk it,” she replies, her hand settling lightly on my shoulder.
We move together awkwardly at first, finding our rhythm. She’s small against me, the top of her head barely reaching my chin. I breathe in the scent of her hair, trying to memorize this moment.
“You surprised me tonight,” she says after a while.
“How’s that?”
“Coming here. Talking to everyone.” She glances up at me. “You’re usually so...”
“Antisocial?” I supply.
She laughs softly. “I was going to say reserved.”
“That’s a nicer word for it.”