13
“Y ou’re late.” Davis frowns at Wyatt as he drops his lean frame into a chair in front of the fire pit.
I tip my beer. “Nice of you to join us.”
Wyatt grins at Stede. “Brought you candy, old man,” he says and dumps a shit ton of Hershey bars in Stede’s lap.
Best way to get Stede off the cigarettes—give him candy.
“Take a load off, kid.” Stede hands Wyatt a beer.
Ford and I exchange an eye roll. It’s just like Wyatt to come strolling in late, turn on the charm, and be forgiven.
When Wyatt’s settled, he looks all of us over. “Got into somethin’ tonight.”
“What kind of somethin’?” Ford asks.
“Prank of the century,” he drawls.
Davis sighs.
I sip my beer and watch the fire dance in the firepit. “Gotta tell us now.”
We’re gathered on the front lawn of Stede’s log cabin for Family, our monthly get together with the man who’s become like a surrogate father to all of us.
Now, after a dinner of T-bone steaks and baked potatoes, we sit around the firepit.
With no fire restrictions in place this year, we’re taking advantage any time we can.
Wyatt rubs his hands together. “Rigged up some balloons full of milk. Hooked those babies up in the Wolfingtons’ barn. Won’t know what hit ‘em.”
A round of chuckles erupt from everyone except Davis.
Solemn-faced, Davis shakes his head. “One day ...it’ll go too far, Wy.”
I glance at Davis. He has that same hard-ass look on his face he wore when he caught me and Wyatt sneaking beers down to the river when we were kids. We were too young, we knew better, and he effectively threatened to tan our hides.
“Davis is right,” Stede says. “Their daddy is in prison for shooting someone over a fender bender. Apple don’t fall far from the tree. I wouldn’t mess with what you can’t control.”
“End it,” Davis orders Wyatt. “Now.”
Their glares clash.
“Fine, fuck,” Wyatt says.
Despite his grumble of agreement, I doubt Wyatt will fall in line. My younger brother gives a big middle finger to anyone who tells him what to do, especially Davis.
The crash of the screen door sounds from behind us. Fallon comes storming our way, causing Wyatt to straighten up in his chair.
Nodding at Stede, she says, “I’m off, Daddy. Got a shift.”
Stede takes his daughter’s hand, keeping her by his side. Looks at all of us. “Girl works too much.” Guilt stains the old man’s voice. Guilt because with Stede sick, Fallon’s the one taking the brunt of The Corner Store during her time off from the rodeo.
Fallon shoulders her bag and shrugs. “Someone has to do it.”
Ford kicks his boot up on his knee. “Dakota can’t help?”
A snort comes from Fallon. “No. My big sister’s too busy these days to even think about coming home.” She dips to kiss Stede’s cheek. “Love you, Daddy.”
She slaps the back of Wyatt’s head as she passes by, sashaying her way to the circle of trucks in the gravel driveway.
Ford lifts his brows. “She’s pissed off.”
Wyatt tucks his hands under his armpits. “Don’t look at me.”
Stede sighs. “We haven’t told Dakota about the cancer.”
Davis winces. “Jesus, Stede.”
Stede puts a gnarled hand out. “I don’t want to worry her. And I don’t want her to come home either. She finally got her bakery off the ground. Can’t keep interfering in her life. We all got a lot on our plate.”
“Speaking of plates ...” Ford looks my way. “You wanna tell us about the visit DVL paid you last week?”
All three of my brother’s gazes lock on me.
Between taking a group for a day-long Yellowstone horseback ride and outfitting the horses, it’s the first time I’ve been in the same place with my brothers.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “Valiante sent his cronies. They offered to buy the ranch, and I told ‘em to go fuck themselves. They left.”
Wyatt lifts a disbelieving brow. “That simple?”
“Nah.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I don’t think so. They made some threats. Horses dying. Fires. Shit like that.”
Davis and Ford swear in unison.
“I did some digging with my contact,” Stede tells us. “DVL plays dirty. Resurrection is just another town on their list to destroy.”
I grind my teeth. “I won’t sell the ranch, Stede.”
“You don’t need them showing up at your place again, kid.”
Wyatt’s languid drawl cuts the silence. “What if we did sell it?”
I take a moment to process the weight of what my younger brother just said. Ford and Davis scowl at the question, but I see what Wyatt’s trying to do.
He’s giving me an out. Giving all of us an out.
My chest tightens at the thought.
What if I sold?
Last week, I was so sure of my answer. Sell? Fucking never. It’s our ranch. It’s my life. We’d let the town down if we sold. A strip mall, a casino, or worse, a Wal-Mart eating up the rugged Montana mountainside makes me sick to my stomach.
But what if my brothers want out? What if this summer goes to shit and we’re forced to sell? We’re already in the red and without a successful season, it’s unlikely we’ll be around to see next year.
I don’t like being backed into a corner. I got everyone into this mess, and it’s my responsibility to get them out.
I’ve never felt so goddamn helpless or pissed off.
“Charlie?” Ford begins in his soft southern drawl. “What are you thinking?”
I stare into the fire, my grip on the beer bottle tightening. “Not sure yet.”
“When nothing goes right, go left,” Stede says, his face crinkling in a wise grin. “You’re working on a solution, son.”
“That’s the hope.”
Ford’s cell phone lights up and he shows me the screen. The first single square on our Instagram account is a photo of the Runaway Ranch gate entry sign backdropped against brilliant, indigo sky. The caption reads Welcome to Runaway Ranch.
Current follower count: 150.
An image of Ruby earlier this week pops into my mind. She had been all over the ranch interviewing our staff and hired hands. I caught her at the lobby bar on her laptop clicking away a storm, her pretty face intent and focused.
She’s determined, something I appreciate. Out on the ridge, I believed her when she said she’d save the ranch. But as I sit here with my brothers and Stede McGraw, I’m not so sure.
“This gonna save us, C?” Ford looks doubtful.
I close my eyes, not in the mood for my older brother’s criticism. “Hell, if I know.”
What I know is if we can’t pay back our loan, we default. Our small knit community is out of a job.
The thought cuts right through my heart. Gives me more stress than I can damn near take.
I drain the last of my beer. A mistake. The liquid settles heavy in my belly. “I’m headed out. I’ll catch y’all on another day.”
“See ya, man.” Wyatt gives me a nod, his eyes asking me if I’m okay.
“Enjoy the fire. Last cool night before it gets hot.” I clap his shoulder as I pass him and head for my truck.
Silver moonlight shines through the evergreens lining the two-lane country roads as I drive back to the ranch. The cool night air sweeps away my worries from Stede’s place, saving them for another time.
It’s late, nearing eleven, when I pull up the long drive to my cabin. I slow for a figure crossing the road.
Illuminated in the glow of the headlights is Ruby. She’s barefoot, in a white tank top and cut-off blue jean shorts that show off her long legs. Balanced on her hip is a mesh laundry bag we give to guests.
I frown.
What the fuck is she doing out here?
The ranch is safe, but still. I don’t want her walking around by herself this late at night.
I pull my truck up beside Ruby. In the moonlight, she looks even more beautiful. “Working on the night shift?”
Seeing me, she comes to the driver’s side window. “I haven’t done laundry since I got here,” she says, flashing a dazzling smile. Then she laughs and backs away from the window. “So, you might want to keep your distance.”
I chuckle. Ruby could be covered in cow shit and I’d still do a double-take.
“Come up to the house and do it,” I tell her. “I don’t want you walkin’ out here by yourself.”
She hesitates and glances down at her laundry. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”
“I’m sure,” I promise.
I park the truck at the house and hop out. When Ruby reaches my side, I take the laundry bag. She follows me up the porch and into the cabin. Her bare feet slap the hardwood floors and after I flip on a light, I realize what a goddamn bad move I’ve just made.
My breath hitches. She’s stunning. Moonlight, harsh kitchen light, bar neon, Ruby Bloom blooms. She’s tied her rose-gold hair back in a little white ribbon, and for some reason, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Follow me,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “It’s down the hall.”
I show her the laundry room, where the detergent and dryer sheets are located, and hustle out of there. She doesn’t need me hovering while she sorts her clothes. And I don’t need to see more of her underwear.
Purple panties .
Pink with polka dots.
I tear a hand through my hair, the thought going straight to my dick.
This was a fucking terrible idea.
I retreat to the kitchen and snag a beer from the fridge. On second thought, I grab another one and head to the living room, situated just off the kitchen.
I set the beers on the driftwood coffee table and drop down on the large leather sofa.
When she finally returns, Ruby perches opposite me on one of the two leather recliners.
Her slender form leans forward, the scoop neck of her tank top dipping low to display full, creamy breasts.
“I only have one load. It shouldn’t take long, so you can do your own thing. You don’t have to babysit me.”
“It’s no problem. Brought you a beer if you want it.”
Her lower lip pulls between her teeth, hesitation on her face. Then she reaches for it and takes a tiny sip. “Thanks.”
“You don’t drink?” I ask.