Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
D AKOTA
I let my shoulders fall in defeat, putting one foot in front of the other as I walk toward the main house. I feel ridiculous. Like I’m letting Hazel and everyone down. That whatever I’ve done wrong attracted enough of his attention that he feels like he has to intercede. By the time I get inside the house and take off my boots, I feel like collapsing into a pile on the couch. The cool breeze on my overly heated skin is a relief, even if I don’t want to admit it.
“Come on.” He looks at me, a hint of pity in his eyes as he reads my expression and takes my hand. He leads me to the kitchen and pats one of the stools at the island counter. “Sit.”
I do as I’m told. The lure of modern conveniences like chairs and A/C is too much for me to fight right now. Maybe after a few minutes. I lean over, pressing my arms to the cool quartz counter. He makes his way around the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the fridge before he slides it in front of me.
“Drink,” he commands. “But not too fast.” He points at it and then me before he heads to the fridge again.
I take a sip and then a few gulps while his back is turned before I set the glass down again. The cool water feels good on my tongue and my parched throat. Yelling rules and directions to everyone all day has nearly stolen my voice. Even worse than the bar does.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice husky from tightness in my vocal cords, and I clear my throat.
“Making you a plate.” He pulls out various leftovers from earlier in the day, fruit and mini sandwiches along with a couple of appetizers, and arranges them on a piece of the Stockton family stoneware. The set Ramsey’s mother had handed down to Hazel when they got married the first time. He sets it down on the counter with a napkin and fork. “You’re gonna eat and drink this while I watch. No running off.” He reaches down and snatches my phone from my pocket. “No taking calls. No texting. Nothing.”
“They’ll notice I’m gone any minute and be worried.”
“Aspen’s got it under control, and Levi’s helping her.”
“You roped your siblings in on this?”
“They do what I say when they know I need the help.”
I frown at the fact that several people dropped what they were doing just so I could eat a snack.
“This is silly,” I protest while I take a bite.
“What’s silly is you not making time to eat or drink while you run yourself ragged. It’s hot out there. I hope you at least put sunscreen on this morning,” he grumbles as he takes the stool next to me and turns it toward mine before he sits .
“Okay, Dad ,” I grouch, popping another strawberry into my mouth.
“I thought it was Daddy?” He smirks when I risk a glance over at him.
“You only get Daddy when you’re being good to me.” I shift my eyes back to my food and nip off a bite of my sandwich like it’s his head.
“I’m good to you all the time, sweetheart. You just sometimes like to do things that aren’t good for you.”
“This again.” I sigh. “I’ve told you. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. But sometimes you don’t have to.” He takes a strawberry and dips it into some of the sweet fruit dip he piled on the plate and holds it out for me. I go to reach for it, but he grabs my wrist and presses it to my lips. I look between him and the fruit and take a bite. “See? Not so hard,” he remarks as I chew the bite slowly, studying his face.
“Torture,” I say as I take the second bite, and he drops the stem to the plate along with my wrist. I’m not about to admit it, but the surge of carbs into my system does seem to be helping my brain function properly again. I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of tears and ready to snap a man’s neck all at the same time. “Is this your thing then? Bossing women around and telling them when to eat and what to do?” It’s more curiosity than admonishment at this point, and I do my best to make sure he hears it in my tone.
“Nah. I don’t care what women do. You’re grown and entitled to your choices,” he says, dipping another strawberry in the fruit dip and bringing it to his tongue. “But I care what belongs to me is well taken care of. Especially when I spend a lot of time and energy trying to make things right.” He gives me a pointed look.
“And you decide what that looks like? ”
“Only when you stop making smart decisions and start putting yourself needlessly in harm’s way. Then I might step in from time to time.” He states it bluntly. “Last I checked, you were reaping a whole lot of benefits from my interference, without many downsides.”
“Dealing with you isn’t a downside?” I tease him, letting the smile break on my lips for him to see as he studies my face.
He smirks and looks down at the counter for a moment before his lashes lift and his eyes meet mine again, holding me with a steady gaze. “Not by the way your body reacts to me. The way your cheeks flush… Fuck. That’s my favorite part, honestly, because you don’t blush for anything.”
I can feel the heat of another flush rising up my neck at the accusation, and I’m keen to get out of his line of sight before it happens. I don’t want to have to watch that self-satisfied grin grow on his face. I grab the plate and go to stand to take it to the sink, but he stops me, his palm on my wrist.
“Finish the last strawberry.” He nods to what’s left on my plate. I take it and dunk it into the remaining dip before I pop it into my mouth, biting off the stem and putting it back on the plate. He takes the plate from me and walks it back to the sink, washing it off and tucking it into the dishwasher with the rest of the dishes waiting their turn. He still respects the house like his mama will turn up any minute, and it’s another one for the list of things I like about him.
“Thank you,” I say softly while his back’s turned. “I was hungrier than I thought.”
“Looked like you were gonna collapse out there.”
“You could have just told me to eat. Or brought me a snack. I’m not sure it required a kidnapping.”
“Oh yeah. That part was for me.” He leans back against the counter, his arms braced on either side of him. “And Anson.” The new surge of energy has me imagining things we could do in this house before everyone gets back. Until my brain catches up on the “Anson” part of his statement, and I frown.
“Anson?” I ask, trying to figure out how he fits into this puzzle.
A smile spreads on his face. “I think he’s sweet on Bristol. Or at least has a weak spot for her, despite what he says. He wants her to win that vacation, and you and your new boyfriend are being ruthless out there today.”
“Oh shoot. I wasn’t even thinking about that. Hayden and I are just both… competitive, I guess.” I stumble over my words. It was competitiveness, but I also felt like I needed to prove a point. One I’m regretting a little now that I’m sitting here with the less ego-driven and more thoughtful side of this man.
“I noticed how competitive you two were being.” Grant raises a brow.
“He knows.” I decide to admit defeat.
“How?”
“Because I didn’t have these covered early this morning when we ran into each other in the kitchen.” I untie the bandana I’d tied around my neck and let it drop, revealing the marks left on my skin.
He grins at his handiwork, propelling himself off the edge of the counter behind him and leaning over the island to get a closer look. His grin only gets wider as his thumb brushes softly over my skin.
“Good. That’s what he gets for touching you.” But then his brows knit together. “He got a death wish today, then?”
“He has his own… complication. He’s just trying to make it look like he’s moved on. Taking some photos and videos for socials,” I explain.
“Ah.” He nods his understanding. “I guess I won’t snap his neck then.”
“I heard you tried to last night at poker. ”
He rolls his eyes to the side. “Everyone’s exaggerating the reality.”
“Your temper is pretty frightening.”
“You’ve never seen my temper.” He shakes his head. “Not the real one.”
“I only get the irritation?”
“You only get the concern.” He stands straight again. “Speaking of. Drink the rest of the water. I’d tell you to take a nap, but I’m sure you’ll fight me on it.”
“I’m better now. If I grab a Coke or an energy drink, I’ll be all right.” I grab one from the fridge drawer and crack it open, wandering over to the island and leaning back on it next to him. “One of the best riders and ropers in the state, huh?”
He scrubs a hand over his face like he regrets mentioning it. “It was a long time ago.”
“How long ago? Because imagining you as some rough and tumble cowboy…” I smile and let my eyes fall over him. As gorgeous as this man is in a three-piece, this dressed down version of him is doing things for me a suit never could. I can only imagine how many hearts he broke.
“Before I came to terms with reality, I wanted to be a bronc rider. Wanted to do the rodeo circuit and earn my money that way, away from all this. Thought I was gonna make a million dollars and ride off into the sunset with some cute barrel racer. All the na?ve, romantic ideals you have when you’re young enough to still believe in them.”
I blink at him as I try to picture him in that scenario. “This sounds like an entirely different man than the one I know.”
“Because I wasn’t a man. I was a kid.” He turns his back toward me and pulls down the collar at the back of his shirt to reveal the start of a tattoo. I reach up and tug it down further and see the words Born to Ride inscribed on his skin in faded black ink. “Mom about died when she saw it, and my dad took the time to explain to me what I was really born to do.”
I trace my fingers over the ink, and it feels like a rare glimpse beyond his walls. One I’m grateful for.
“Well, judging by today, you would have been amazing at it. Selfishly, I’m a little glad you didn’t get the wraparound porch and sunset with the barrel racer though.” I say the words quietly as my fingers brush up the back of his neck, and I circle to his front, setting my drink down on the counter in the process.
He looks at me warily, but I slowly put a hand to his chest, and he doesn’t stop me. I raise onto my tiptoes, kissing the side of his cheek, the roughness of his short beard against my lips.
“Thank you. I’m sorry for what I said when I was hangry.”
“You’re forgiven.” His voice is low and deep, and my hand slips down his chest.
“Anything I can do to make up for it?” I give him my best sorry-I-was-a brat, doe-eyed look, and his lips move to speak when the screen door squeals on its hinges. We both move to separate ourselves, and he straightens his shirt as we look up to see his sister standing there. Her eyes dart between us, but she doesn’t say a word.
“They’re on their way back up.” She looks at Grant and then turns to me. “Is your headache improved, or would you like me to play hostess until dinner?” Her words are plain, but I don’t miss the way she watches me like a hawk.
“I’m good. Just having some Coke to get my energy back up.” I hold the can up like it’s a plausible defense for whatever part of that she saw or heard.
“I’ll get out of your hair and go check on my brothers.” Grant grabs his hat off the hook where he left it and tears out the door like I’ve singed his clothes.
Aspen is silent for a moment, like she’s waiting for him to get out of earshot, and then she looks up at me, studying me quietly and glancing back at the door where Grant’s disappeared.
“What you two do is none of my business. You’re a grown woman, and he’s getting the silver highlights to show for all his time—however young he might still think he is.” She smiles a little to herself before she continues. “But you need to know underneath all those thick layers of armor is a very broken man, with a big heart that’s barely held together by fraying threads. Because he’s let anyone and everyone take a stab if it meant protecting the rest of this family and yours.” She turns back to meet my eyes, the amusement in hers gone, and the bright green reflecting the sunlight pouring in from the window when she speaks again. “You’re one of the few he might let reach under it all, and if he does, and you do anything other than help hold it together…” She shakes her head and makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “I’ll make sure he’s not the only one bleeding out from it. Do we understand each other?”
“We do.” I nod, coming to the fast realization that the Stockton women are every bit as terrifying as the men when they want to be.
“Wonderful.” She smiles brightly and tucks her long, dark-brown, braided hair back over her shoulder. “Hazel said we could start getting drinks ready for dinner and let Kit know that she and Grace can bring it over from the inn. Do you know where the chafing dishes are?”