5. Arizona
CHAPTER FIVE
Arizona
I should’ve left at least an hour ago. Probably two.
Instead, I’m sitting beside a bonfire at Dusty Spur Ranch with a beer in my hand, listening to Willy Kane explain why raccoons are secretly running an organized crime ring.
“It’s the hands,” he says, gesturing with complete confidence. “Nobody trusts those little grabby hands.”
“They don’t have hands,” Red says from across the fire.
Willy points at him. “That’s exactly what a raccoon sympathizer would say.”
“They have paws.”
“They have agendas.”
Across the fire, Emmett rubs a hand over his face. “Please don’t start this again.”
Willy swivels toward him. “Emmett knows.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
Emmett groans.
“You hear that, Arizona? That’s the sound of a guilty man.”
I laugh hard enough that I nearly spill my beer.
Willy catches it and points triumphantly. “Thank you. Finally, somebody around here appreciates investigative journalism.”
“You’ve never investigated anything in your life,” Red says.
“I once spent three weeks trying to figure out who kept stealing my beef jerky.”
“That was Sadie.”
“I know that now.”
Dinner turned into this without me noticing.
One minute I was meeting everyone at the ranch, trying to remember names and pretending I wasn’t surprised to discover my one night stand apparently came with an entire found family attached.
The next, I’d spent hours eating barbecue, listening to stories, and becoming far more invested than I should be in the mysterious disappearance of Kevin the Frog.
Apparently Kevin remains a sensitive subject.
“Maybe he moved away,” I offer.
Sadie, who’s curled up on a blanket near Emmett’s boots, gasps dramatically. “I knew it.”
“You knew it?” Emmett asks.
“He wanted adventure.”
I nod. “Some frogs are like that.”
“Exactly.”
Emmett points at both of us. “You two aren’t turning Kevin into some kind of amphibian outlaw.”
Sadie looks horrified. “No! Kevin’s a good frog.”
Willy leans forward. “Depends. Tax fraud?”
Sadie shakes her head. “What’s that?”
Willy blinks. “Uh…”
“Never mind,” Emmett says quickly.
I nearly choke laughing. The kid is ridiculous and completely adorable.
The fire throws golden light across the yard while the mountains rise dark beyond the fences. Laughter bounces around the circle. Somebody opens another beer. Horses shift in the distance near the pasture.
My eyes dart around the fire and find themselves locked on to another gaze.
Red.
My stomach does that irritating little flip again.
He’s never the loudest person in a room or the center of attention. Half the time he barely says anything at all.
But he’s always paying attention.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, making my pulse stumble.
I look away. Pathetic.
A few minutes later, Sadie reminds me that it’s bedtime. “You promised a song.”
I smile, adjust the guitar, and brush my fingers across the strings. The first few notes drift through the ranch yard, and gradually the conversation around the fire starts to die off.
Not because anybody asks it to, but because that’s what music does. People stop talking. They listen.
Sadie practically melts against me, pleased with herself.
Across the fire, Emmett watches his daughter with a look that catches me off guard. There’s a softness in his expression that wasn’t there when I met him at the rodeo grounds earlier.
The awkward, blushing cowboy is still there, but now I can see the dad too. The man who notices when Sadie’s getting tired. The man who automatically reaches over to tuck a blanket around her legs without interrupting the conversation he’s having with Willy.
It’s sweet.
Dangerously sweet.
When the song ends, Sadie twists around. “Another one.”
I laugh. “You don’t believe in easing people into requests, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Fair enough.”
The second song earns a yawn halfway through the chorus.
By the third, she’s fighting sleep so hard it’s almost painful to watch. Her eyes keep drifting closed before snapping open again every time she remembers she’s supposed to be awake.
Eventually she abandons the battle altogether and crawls into Emmett’s lap.
Victory.
Emmett settles an arm around her automatically. “Thanks. I’ll get her to bed now.”
I rise to my feet, taking the hint. “I should probably get going.”
“Or,” Willy starts, “you could stay.”
“I have to get some sleep tonight.”
“I’ll… sing another song.”
Emmett groans. “That’s not helping your argument.”
“It’s actively making it worse,” I tell him.
Willy looks personally offended by this feedback.
I laugh as I collect my guitar and sling the strap over my shoulder.
Around the fire, everyone starts offering goodnights and promises that they’ll see me around town. Before I can escape, Red rises from his spot near the fence and brushes dust from his jeans.
“I’ll walk you out.”
My stomach decides to become a problem.
The walk to my truck isn’t far. Unfortunately, awareness has a way of stretching distances.
Neither of us says much at first, which is ridiculous.
We’ve already slept together. People who have seen each other naked shouldn’t suddenly struggle through a thirty yard walk.
And yet here we are.
I clear my throat. “So.”
Beside me, Red glances over. “So.”
I grin. “Well, this is an exceptional conversation we’re having.”
That finally earns a laugh.
His laugh rolls through me, and there it is again, that irritating little reaction I keep having around him.
I wish I could blame the beer. Or the stars.
Or the fact that I’ve spent most of the evening surrounded by people who seem determined to make me feel welcome.
Unfortunately, the problem is Red.
When we reach my truck, I hook my guitar into the cab and turn back toward him.
Red’s looking at me in that way he has sometimes. Like he’s seeing more than he’s saying.
My pulse starts acting ridiculous.
Again.
I should probably be embarrassed by how this man affects me after knowing him for roughly twenty-four hours, but embarrassment has never been one of my stronger qualities.
So instead, I take a small step closer.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
The look hits me like a match finding dry grass.
Last night rushes back all at once. His hands in my hair and the scrape of his beard against my skin. The way he looked at me afterward, like neither of us regretted a single second of it.
I know that look. I’ve seen it before.
It’s usually followed by kissing.
I fully expect him to close the distance. Part of me is already leaning into it.
But just as rapidly, everything shifts. The change is there in the way his shoulders tighten. The way his expression closes off. Like he’s caught himself wanting something he doesn’t think he should.
Confusion hits me. “Red?”
His jaw flexes.
When he finally speaks, he sounds annoyed about something. The problem is that I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed with me or himself.
“You’re trouble, Arizona.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “That’s hardly breaking news.”
“I’m serious.”
The smile fades from my face.
Last night he couldn’t get enough of me. Tonight he’s walked me to my truck, looked at me like he wanted to kiss me, and then abruptly changed his mind.
The math isn’t mathing.
“Okay…” I say carefully.
Red drags a hand across the back of his neck before shaking his head. “Get home safe.”
Before I can ask another question, he’s already stepping away.
I watch him head back toward the house, irritation replacing confusion with surprising speed.
Because what exactly was that? Twenty-four hours ago we were tearing each other’s clothes off in his truck. Tonight he’s acting like standing too close to me is a bad idea.
Men are strange.
Cowboys are stranger.
And Red Bronson might be operating under an entirely different set of laws than the rest of the human population.
Daisy answers before the second ring finishes. “You met a man.”
I pull the truck door shut and stare at my phone. “Hello to you too.”
“I’m serious. You only call this late when you’ve either met a man or acquired a stray animal you weren’t planning to keep.”
“That’s a weirdly specific system.”
“It’s never been wrong.”
I laugh despite myself and toss my guitar onto the passenger seat. “Fine. It’s a man.”
“I knew it.”
The satisfaction in her voice is immediate.
Daisy loves being right almost as much as she loves making fun of me, which is unfortunate because she inherited both talents naturally.
I start the truck and pull onto the ranch road while she waits for me to continue. “You gonna tell me about him or am I supposed to use my psychic powers?”
“Please don’t,” I groan.
“So he’s hot.”
I sigh. “That’s your first conclusion?”
“You called me at ten o’clock at night.”
“Fair.”
“He’s hot.”
“Unfortunately.”
The road stretches ahead beneath the headlights while pine trees blur past on either side. Behind me, Dusty Spur Ranch disappears into the darkness.
“So?” Daisy asks. “What happened?”
I tell her. Most of it, anyway.
I leave out the details that would permanently destroy my ability to make eye contact with my younger sister ever again.
The second I finish explaining, she lets out a dramatic gasp. “Wow…”
I roll my eyes. “Can we stay focused? Everything was fine. We had a great night. Dinner was fun. Everybody was fun. Then he walked me to my truck and got weird.”
That finally gets her attention. “Define weird.”
“He looked like he was about to kiss me.”
“And?”
“And then he didn’t.”
The line goes silent for a beat. “That’s it?”
I grip the steering wheel. “That’s it?”
“Arizona, you called me like somebody died.”
“He practically did.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Emotionally.”
“Still no.”
I can’t help laughing.
Daisy’s always been annoyingly good at cutting through my nonsense. “So he almost kissed you and then changed his mind.”
“Yes.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“Did he act like a jerk?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Did he tell you to leave him alone forever?”
“No.”
“Then who cares?”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” The answer comes so quickly it catches me off guard. “I mean, who cares?”
I scoff. “Clearly I care.”
“Why?”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Daisy pounces. “Exactly. You’re leaving soon. You never stay in one place long, and then you’ll never see him again. If he wants to be weird, let him be weird.”
I roll my eyes. “Helpful.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“You had fun, right?”
I think about dinner. About Willy’s ridiculous stories. About Emmett trying and failing not to smile at his daughter.
About Red watching over everyone while pretending he wasn’t.
“Yeah.”
“Then enjoy the hot cowboy.”
I groan. “Goodnight, Daisy.”
She laughs. “Night, Arizona. Try not to accidentally fall in love.”