4. Avery
Chapter 4
Avery
Seated on the couch in the living room, I couldn’t help feeling like a teenager awaiting the moment when I was officially grounded. Dad stood with his arms crossed, feet planted apart, lips set in a grim line. Birdie perched on the edge of an armchair, fingers twisted in her lap, directing a concerned look in Dad’s direction.
“What is this bastard’s name?” he demanded.
“Isaac Farley.”
“Was he the one who called the other day?” Birdie asked.
She made a valiant attempt to hide the guilt she must be feeling, but it seeped into her words anyway.
“You couldn’t have known who he was,” I replied.
“If you had warned us in the first place,” Dad said. “We would have made sure you never got that call.”
I tamped down my initial reaction to bristle. He had a point. I just hated to admit it. And it made me nervous to think about putting Birdie and Dad in the line of fire where Isaac was involved. I had hoped to leave this problem behind in California after graduating college. I hated the idea that it was spilling over into my personal life, tainting my family, especially when Birdie and Dad hadn’t even been married for a year yet.
Birdie moved to sit beside me on the couch and clasped my hand.
“Avery, are you okay? This sounds so stressful.”
“I’m fine,” I said, mustering a smile to put her at ease. “All things considered.”
I left out the part about how freaked I felt after seeing Isaac at the bakery. He was just…sitting there. So casually reading the paper and sipping his coffee. I don’t think he noticed me—I couldn’t be sure, since everything was a blur after that—but he was here. Miles and miles away from California. In Ash Ridge.
Since it was a small town, he would have no trouble tracking down where I lived. My father was practically a celebrity around here, with hundreds of acres to his name. All Isaac had to do was ask anyone on the street for directions right to my front door.
Fuck, this was a mess.
“We’ll take this to the police,” Dad said, pulling his phone from his pocket.
I shook my head.
“I already talked to them when I was in college. Didn’t do any good.”
“Well, this is Ash Ridge, not California. I can pull some strings. The local sheriff owes me a favor anyway. Every time you leave this house, I want Bowen with you. No negotiations. Is that clear?”
For a split second, I wanted to be selfish. I felt safe in Bowen’s presence, knowing he would do everything in his power to protect me. He’d been doing that for my entire life.
I remembered learning to ride as a little girl, with Bowen’s hand on my back, strong and steady to prevent me from slipping out of the saddle.
I remembered getting lost in the mountains when I was thirteen. My horse had been spooked by a rattlesnake in the underbrush, and took off, knocking me to the ground. Bowen found me, blue-lipped and shivering in the frigid November, on the verge of hypothermia. He bundled me into his coat and rubbed my arms in an effort to generate some heat on the ride back home.
I remembered my first broken heart at fifteen, hiding in the stall with my horse as I cried my eyes out. When Bowen knocked at the stall door, I furiously tried to swipe my tears away. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. I needed to have a backbone of steel like my dad did. Getting caught crying over a stupid boy was weak.
But Bowen simply sat beside me, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.
Your secret is safe with me, he had whispered.
I brushed an invisible speck of dirt on my jeans now. As tempting as it was to think of Bowen acting like my watchdog 24/7, that wasn’t his job.
“Dad,” I said. “Bowen is your foreman. Not my bodyguard. Or my babysitter.”
“It’s not babysitting. You’re a grown woman. And since you’re part of this ranch, it fits Bowen’s job description to keep an eye on you.”
Birdie patted my hand.
“It’s just a precaution, Avery. If nothing happens, then there’s no harm done. Better to play it safe than sorry. Besides, it gives us peace of mind, knowing that you’re safe.”
“Exactly,” Dad said. “I’ll get the sheriff down here and you can tell him everything.”
I sighed, admitting defeat. A small voice in the back of my head chastised me for overreacting. Isaac never laid a finger on me. Maybe he didn’t mean any harm.
When I rose from the couch to leave, Dad covered the phone with a sharp glance in my direction.
“Where are you going?”
Oh, boy. If this was any indication of what my life would be like now, I would go stir-crazy in a heartbeat. I was supposed to be gaining more freedom at twenty-five years old. Instead, my father looked like he was ready to put me under house arrest. I knew he was worried, and I loved him for taking care of me, but he had to find a balance before he smothered me.
“To the porch, for some fresh air,” I replied. “Bowen said he would wait for me while I came in and talked to you.”
“If he’s not there—”
“I know, I’ll come right back inside.”
Dad’s gaze flicked over me. A muscle flexed in his jaw. That was the look of a stubborn man who was doing everything in his power to bite his tongue.
“It’s just the porch, Grady,” Birdie said softly. “And there are cowboys everywhere. I doubt this…Farley boy…would be stupid enough to approach our Avery in broad daylight.”
Thank God for Birdie. Reluctantly, Dad grunted in agreement and waved me off as he returned to his phone call. I gave Birdie’s hand a squeeze of appreciation before I ducked out the door.
I spotted Bowen seated on a bench at the far end of the porch, with his elbows resting on his knees. My heart skipped at the sight of him. No matter what happened in my life—the divorce of my parents, going on my first date, graduating high school, going to college, my father’s second marriage—I could always depend on Bowen to remain as reliable as the mountain range in the distance. Steady, strong, and willing to offer his shoulder to lean on.
“How did it go?” he asked.
I shrugged and plopped onto the bench beside him, keeping a careful few inches of space between us. All I wanted to do was tuck myself under his arm, close my eyes, and breathe. But I feared the slightest accidental brush of physical contact would make me burst into flames.
“Don’t be surprised if my dad decides to build a tower and lock me in it.”
“If I had a daughter, I’d probably feel the same way.” Bowen paused, then added, “I know you didn’t want to tell him, and I forced your hand. You can cuss me out if that would make you feel better.”
I breathed a faint laugh.
“I’m not mad at you. I might not like it, but I realize it was the right thing to do. Besides, you’re under strict orders—where I go, you go. Kiss your personal space goodbye because that’s a thing of the past. I’m sure you’ll be sick of me within forty-eight hours.”
Bowen glanced at me from beneath the brim of his hat.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
My stomach somersaulted and I tore my gaze away. Clearing my throat, I gestured at the barn.
“I could use a ride to clear my head. Are you up for it?”
Bowen straightened his back, deliberating. I tried not to stare at the way his palm rubbed along his muscled thigh.
“That depends. Is this an excuse to ditch me?”
I snorted.
“Bowen, you let me win every race we’ve ever had. I can see you pulling back. You’re not fooling anyone. There’s no way I could out-ride you.”
A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You beat me fair and square, every time. Now, go inside and tell your father we’re headed out. I’ll get the horses saddled. Meet me at the barn.”
After relaying the message to Dad—riddled with profuse reassurances that yes, Bowen would be with me, and yes, we weren’t going very far, and yes, we would be back in time to talk to the sheriff—I was finally free to go.
As I stepped out onto the porch, I stopped dead in my tracks. Isaac sat on the steps, hunched over a scrawny twig, digging at it with a pocket knife. He didn’t appear to be whittling it into any kind of shape or form. Merely gouging at the wood until it weakened and snapped in his grip before he tossed it aside.
“Hey, Avery.” His grin turned my blood to ice in my veins. “Thought I’d stop by so we could chat, like old times.”
“Isaac,” I said, my voice strained. “Get the hell out of here.”
He clucked his tongue.
“Not very hospitable of you, baby.”
Bowen came striding up from the barn, eyes dark and menacing.
“Trust me, you little prick, you have no idea what being inhospitable looks like. But if you don’t haul your ass off this property in the next thirty seconds, I will tattoo the definition of it on your pathetic hide.”
Isaac scrambled to his feet. He tried to laugh off Bowen’s threat, but it came out high and reedy. Bowen stomped up the porch steps, staring Isaac down. Then he put himself between me and Isaac like a wall of muscle.
“I don’t see you moving,” Bowen said.
“Well, I’m in the middle of a conversation—” Isaac started.
“Cody!”
I flinched at Bowen’s booming voice. He was usually so soft-spoken and patient. Even when the ranch hands were rowdy and acting up, he rarely yelled.
Cody darted out of the barn and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust, holding his hat on his head with one hand.
“Yeah?”
“Bring me the branding iron.”
Isaac made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Cody looked confused for a second.
“We’re not branding any cattle, are we? I don’t have the fire going—”
“Don’t need it to be hot,” Bowen called back. He lowered his voice and added for Isaac’s ears alone, “Cold iron will crack open a skull just fine.”
A heartbeat of silence hung in the air.
Then Isaac gradually began to retreat, kicking at a rock with his battered sneaker. It skidded away into the grass.
“Maybe we can chat another time, Avery.”
“If you even breathe in her direction, you’ll be coughing up your bloody teeth for a week,” Bowen replied.
Jesus Christ, why was that so hot?
Isaac sniffed and pressed his lips tightly shut, but he said nothing more as he walked away, sulking. After he’d climbed into his car hidden beneath an outcropping of willow trees by the driveway, I finally dared to release a sigh of relief.
That wouldn’t be the last I saw of Isaac. This was only the beginning.