Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Reese
G rabbing Chowder’s carrier, I head for the front door, pausing in the vestibule. Should I ring the bell or walk in? Apparently, they’re expecting me, but it seems rude to barge in uninvited.
“Screw it,” I mutter, pressing the bell.
Within moments, my sister opens the door, an excited squeal bursting out of her. “Reese! You’re here! And… you’re filthy. Did you walk here?”
I roll my eyes and push a dusty hank of hair from my face. “My suitcase decided to launch itself like a missile. Knocked me flat on my ass.”
“Sure. Likely story.” Piper steps aside, motioning me in. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up before you meet Capri.”
“Good idea. Can’t imagine meeting anyone else looking like this.”
“Who else have you met?”
“This cowboy outside. He’s apparently a cat whisperer, because Chowder loved him immediately.”
“Ah, that man is many things, sis.” Piper arches a brow, clearly filing that away for later gossip.
She leads me down a wide hall paneled in warm pine, the air faintly scented with lavender polish. At the end of the corridor, she stops at a door and pushes it open.
“Come on in. This is your suite.”
I step inside, my eyes widening. “It’s lovely.”
The suite is almost as large as my New York apartment.
Sunlight spills through gauzy curtains onto a wide bed dressed in a quilt patterned with soft blues and greens.
A pair of mismatched armchairs sit angled near a stone fireplace, and shelves line one wall, already dotted with books, mugs, and tiny plants.
A braided rug softens the hardwood floor, while against the opposite wall sits a small but cozy couch facing a flat-screen TV.
The kind of space made for curling up after a long day.
The whole suite hums with a quiet, lived-in charm that sets me at ease.
“And the bathroom, which you desperately need, is through there.” Piper gestures toward a door on the far side. “Dress comfortably.”
I glance at her, suddenly aware of how long it’s been since I really looked at my sister. Her skin glows with sun, her curves look fuller, and her smile is brighter than I’ve seen it in years. This place has been good for her.
“How does Oregon comfortable compare to New York comfortable?” I ask, trying to mask the sudden lump in my throat.
“Sweats are fine.”
“To meet my new boss?”
Piper rolls her eyes. “Trust me, Capri won’t give a crap what you’re wearing. She knows you just drove across the country.” She reaches for Chowder’s carrier. “Give him to me.”
“You’ve never met him—he can be a little temperamental.”
She smirks and takes the carrier. “All the more reason. Time to get acquainted with my nephew.”
Despite myself, a laugh slips out. “Good luck. He holds grudges.”
“Perfect,” Piper says, already marching down the hall with Chowder in tow. “He’ll fit right in.”
So much for making introductions.
Twenty minutes later, after a gloriously hot shower, I creep down the hallway toward Capri’s office.
My stomach knots as I pause outside the door Piper pointed out earlier—second on the left, can’t miss it.
Here we go. Showtime, Reese.
A low, cool voice drifts through the wood moments after I knock. “Come in.”
I shove the door open and step into a sleek office, leather and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Behind a walnut desk sits an ice-blonde woman, all elegant posture and razor-sharp gaze. “Capri?”
“That’s me,” she replies. “Which means you must be Reese.”
“Guilty.”
“Come in. Have a seat. We expected you yesterday.”
“Blizzard in the Rockies held me up.” I sink into a leather wingback chair, acutely aware of her eyes following every movement. “Thank you for this opportunity, and for allowing me to take it on such short notice.”
“Piper said you were perfect for the job.” She clears her throat, motioning at me. “You two are sisters? You look nothing alike.”
“That’s because I’m adopted.”
Piper is the spitting image of our mother, while I resemble people I’ve never met.
That’s been the story of my life, Piper glowing like the sun, tall and curvy with honey-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, while I’ve always been the moon with pale skin, dark hair, and eyes just a touch too large for my liking.
Piper leapt. I calculated. She risked. I played safe.
At least until now.
Capri leans forward, a smirk curving her dark-pink lips. “Don’t tell Piper I said so, but you’re far prettier.”
“Now I know you’re lying.” I giggle, expecting a grin in return.
Her mouth hardens into a thin line. “I don’t lie, Reese. Not my style.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Sorry. Poor attempt at levity. If you’d seen me a half hour ago, you would have disagreed with that assessment.”
One perfectly arched brow lifts. “Why is that?”
“I was covered from head to toe in dust. Courtesy of a runaway suitcase. Thankfully, a very kind cowboy set me to rights.”
Capri’s smirk softens. “Feel better?”
“Much,” I admit. “It’s been a tiring five days.”
“A long haul. What are you running from, Reese?”
“A life that didn’t suit me.” The truth slips out before I can censor it, startling me almost as much as it does her.
She studies me, before nodding slowly. “I did that once myself. That’s how I wound up in Tangled Vines. A series of poor decisions that led to an excellent outcome. What has Piper told you about your duties here at the ranch?”
“Honestly? Not a thing, except that I’m filling in for a nurse with some kind of emergency. I assume, since it’s a ranch, I’ll be patching up cuts and scrapes, maybe the occasional sprain or broken bone?”
A smirk dances across Capri’s face. “We’re not that kind of ranch.”
My stomach dips at her words. “What kind of ranch are you?”
Please don’t say cult. Or pyramid scheme. Or free-love commune.
Capri runs a hand over her brow. “Oh, dear. Leave it to Piper.”
“What kind of ranch is this?” I repeat, dread prickling at the base of my neck.
“The Rockin’ Rodeo Ranch makes dreams come true. At least, that was our slogan for a while. Our current tagline is ‘XXX at the RRR.’”
Dear God, what rabbit hole have I stumbled into?
“You’re a…” I fumble, not sure how to phrase it without sounding judgmental.
“A house of ill repute, according to some. A place of legends, according to others. My favorite? Whorehouse .” She scowls, tapping her pen against the desk. “God, I hate that term . Piper didn’t mention any of this to you?”
“Not a word.”
Although we’re having a serious conversation later. Trust me on that.
Capri’s expression shutters. “Sorry to make you come all this way. I presume you’ll be leaving at first light.”
I never planned on working in a brothel, but my back goes up at her assumption.
I don’t want to return to New York, or to Vander, with my tail between my legs.
“Am I no longer welcome here?”
Her eyes flicker, surprised. “You’re most welcome. I assumed you wouldn’t be interested in the position once you learned the truth.”
“I don’t care what people do, so long as no one is getting hurt.
” I lean forward, brushing my fingers along the edge of her polished desk.
“My ex-fiancé was the picture of respectability, and he cheated on me constantly. I walked out six days ago—left him standing in the housewares department after smashing a thousand dollars’ worth of overpriced china.
Honestly? It’s their fault for charging five hundred a plate. ”
Capri stills, then tips her head back and laughs—low, throaty, full of approval. “Now that’s an exit. Dramatic flair and a hefty bill? I like your style.”
“I need this chance, Capri. I don’t care how you make your money, although I’ll admit you shocked the hell out of me. All I need to know is that I’ll be safe and I’ll be paid.”
“Yes, to both.” A wry smile tugs at her lips. “As for your ex-fiancé, he sounds much like my ex-husband. Pieces of shit wrapped in three-piece suits.”
“They should exchange numbers. Maybe start a support group.”
This time her laugh is genuine, softer. “Most definitely.”
“So, what does my job entail?”
“Caring for the staff and the clients. It’s cushier than you’d expect—monthly checkups, STD testing, contraception management. Minor injuries. Anything serious goes straight to the local hospital.”
I blink. “Wouldn’t that raise questions? How do you keep the cops from sniffing around?”
“Might have something to do with the fact that I financed half their emergency department with ranch money.”
“Well done, you.” I mean it. I like this woman immensely. She’s sharp, unflinching, but beneath the steel I sense something fiercely protective.
“You’ll stay here in the house with the rest of the staff.
Four days a week, mostly evenings. You’re on call only if something truly terrible happens.
Meals from the kitchen are included—better than any restaurant, trust me.
On days off, you’re free to do as you please.
Tangled Vines has bars, shops, and plenty to keep you busy. And the ranch has its own diversions.”
I bite my tongue against the hundred questions spinning in my head. “Sounds perfect. How many residents do you have?”
“Ten, both men and women. Dorian”—she gestures to a framed photo of a striking man on her desk—“was our star attraction, but he’s stepped back from the physical side of things. These days he escorts clients to galas and dinners but leaves the bedsheets untouched.”
“Interesting. I always thought escorting automatically meant… more. To be fair, I know nothing about the industry.”
“Each resident decides their boundaries. Dorian is stringent about his, but Griffin,” Capri continues, tapping her manicured nails against the desk, “is quickly becoming every woman’s dream. Isn’t that right, Griffin?”
Her sly smile shifts past me, gaze aimed over my shoulder.
I don’t want to turn around. Because I already know. That low drawl, those blue eyes, that chiseled jawline. My stomach sinks before I pivot.
And sure enough—there he is.
The cowboy from earlier leans in the doorway, hat gone now, revealing tousled dark locks that look like impatient fingers have tugged them.
Just-fucked hair.
God help me.
No wonder he was stiff with that silk-draped woman in the Mercedes. She’s not a girlfriend. She’s a client.
The realization crashes through me, making my skin prickle. Of course. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever met—and he’s off-limits.
Figures.
“You’re Griffin.” My tongue trips over the words, bitter in my mouth.
“I am.” His voice is even, but I see the tension lining his jaw, the way his lips press tight.
Seems he doesn’t enjoy this any more than I do.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves, our gazes locked.
But I force myself up, extending my hand. “Nice to meet you again, Griffin. At least now I know your name. Seemed unfair you knew Chowder’s, and he didn’t know yours.”
His palm engulfs mine, warm and steady. Then comes the grin—the one that sucker-punches the air right out of my chest. “Where is he, anyway?”
“His aunt stole him. I may never see him again.”
A chuckle rumbles from his chest. His thumb glides over the back of my hand, tender, before he catches himself and pulls away. “I’m glad to officially meet you, Reese. I’ve been waiting for you—” he clears his throat, correcting, “I mean, we’ve been waiting for you.”
My skin flushes hot, because his slip doesn’t sound like an accident.
His eyes skim over me—damp hair curling at my jaw, glasses perched on my nose, clean clothes replacing the dust-caked sweats. Something flickers there, too quick to pin down, before his mouth crooks.
“I was right.”
My brows lift. “About what?”
“That you’re beautiful. Always were.”
His words blindside me, because I can’t let them mean what they sound like. Not now that I know what he does for a living. Not after I’ve sworn off men, especially ones who come with a built-in do not touch sign.
But the way he’s looking at me, like I’ve just derailed him without trying?
Yeah, that’s going to be a problem.
Capri interrupts the moment, motioning between the two of us. “Since you two get on so well, will you give Reese the grand tour of the house and grounds? Unless you have a client this evening?”
There goes that muscle twitch in Griffin’s jaw again. “I did, but she changed her mind. Went with Tim instead.”
“Did she? Sorry, love,” Capri soothes, patting his arm. “But this gives you time to get to know Reese better. A fair tradeoff, wouldn’t you say?”
“I got very lucky with my end of the deal.” Griffin’s eyes warm as they study my face.
And once again, I’m blushing. How many times is that in the last hour? I’ve lost count.
“I’ll take you on the tour, and then we’ll get some food. Does that work for you, belleza?”
I have no idea what he just called me, but if my gut is right, it’s a term of appreciation. Spoken by a very charming—and very off-limits—man.
I wave my hand, dismissing his offer. “Piper can show me around. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“She’s working this evening,” Capri cuts in. “I promise you’re in safe hands with Griffin. He’s a true gentleman.”
Right. A true gentleman who happens to screw women for money. More like a smooth gentleman.
But Piper’s working. She’s busy, entertaining clients.
Oof.
Not the kind of thought I want to linger on—though not for the reason Capri might think.
At least Piper’s doing it as a job.
The salesgirls? They fucked my fiancé for free.
I glance up, realizing I’ve been standing stock still for an undisclosed number of seconds. Whoops.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Griffin murmurs, as if reading my mind, “but I’d love to give you the grand tour. Get to know you a bit more. Your choice.”
He holds out his hand, palm up. Calloused. Strong. Dangerous. “Let me prove that not all men are a total waste of oxygen.”
My gaze darts to his, searching for how much he knows about me.
Or worse, how much he sees .
“It’s been a rough week,” I admit, my voice low. “Preceded by five rough years.”
Tension flickers across his face, but his voice remains gentle. “Maybe some wine, food, and good company will help. Road grub is terrible.”
“Have you ever eaten a gas station hot dog?”
“No.”
“Don’t. It’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”
Griffin’s laugh rolls out, deep and warm, dimples flashing. “I appreciate the advice. Now, let me give you some of mine. The chef here, Geraldine, makes the greatest cornbread this side of the Mississippi.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Doesn’t it? But you only get some as part of the tour.” He bites his lip—probably a well-worn move—but something about it reads boyish instead of practiced. Innocent.
And that’s the problem. He’s supposed to be untouchable. But right now, he feels anything but.
“What do you say?” Griffin extends his hand again.
This time I let my fingers slip into his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Because it feels right. Too right.