Chapter 26
maverick
Earl flags us down before I’ve even cut the engine. His face is tight, jaw working like he’s chewing gravel.
“We’re fucked,” he announces flatly.
Aria’s already out of the truck.
I follow as Earl leads us toward the old John Deere 5075E, parked crooked near the diesel tank.
Nadine is standing by it, hands on her hips. She nods her greeting.
Earl climbs up, unscrews the fuel cap, and tips a jug toward me.
I sniff and nearly gag.
“Hell,” I mutter. “That’s sugar.”
“Jesus.” Aria’s face drains of color.
“Wouldn’t even turn over this morning,” Earl says grimly. “Whoever did this, they knew their shit. Tank was locked. Had to use a crowbar and a siphon. Probably did it after we shut down last night.”
I glance at Aria, who’s steadying herself like someone who’s bracing for a punch. “How bad?”
Earl doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Sugar’s probably already in the fuel pump and the injectors. We’re talkin’ full flush, replacement parts, maybe a new pump. That machine ain’t movin’ for at least two days.”
Aria closes her eyes for a moment. “We need that tractor.”
“Yeah,” Nadine agrees. “We’ve got orchard rows that need mowing before the next rain. And we gotta start turning the alfalfa field today or tomorrow, or it won’t dry right.”
Aria nods tightly. “Okay. We prioritize the herd—the auction’s in two days. The orchard can wait. The alfalfa—” she presses her fingers to her temple—“Shit.”
“Hey,” I say gently, stepping in close. “Go take your migraine meds. Now.”
Her eyes flick to mine, surprise flashing behind the pain. I reach up, brushing a curl off her cheek. “Go on. We’ve got it.”
She hesitates but then nods and turns back toward the house. “Earl, Tomas, Wes—start with the herd prep. Nadine, I’m sorry about the—”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” Nadine lays a hand on Aria’s shoulder. “You’ve done damn near the impossible already. We’ll make it work.”
Once Aria disappears into the house, I turn to Earl.
“You, Tomas, and Wes take the herd. I’m bringing down our 5070 and a rotary rake.
Zane and two of our hands will be here by”—I pause to look at my watch and calculate how much time Zane will need to get everything together—“ten. We’ll get the orchard done and the pasture dragged. ”
“You sure?” Earl asks. “You’ve got your own operation.”
“I’m sure. We’re not lettin’ Longhorn go down because someone thinks sabotage is a strategy.”
“First time she’s had someone in her corner who can actually back it up,” Nadine says quietly.
Earl gives a rare nod. “You’re a good man, Maverick.”
I shake my head. “I’m not a damn saint. Just not lettin’ her sink while I’ve got a rope.”
I step aside, pull out my phone, and call Zane. He answers on the first ring.
“Load the 5070 and the rake. Bring the toolbox and a couple of hands to Longhorn. We’ve got sugar in a diesel tank and a rancher who needs help.”
After I finish the call, I go into the house to check on Aria. She’s gripping the banister, her face pale and drawn.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, slipping an arm around her waist.
She doesn’t argue—just leans into me. She’s barely upright.
I carry her to the couch in the piano room.
“You take your pill?”
“Didn’t make it upstairs,” she croaks out.
The migraine is hitting her hard. It’s the stress.
I go get her pills from her nightstand, grab her a glass of water, and sit with her until she swallows them.
“Lie back,” I tell her, gently tugging off her boots. “You’re done for the day.”
“I need to—”
“You already have,” I cut in. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
She opens her mouth, but I stop her with a look.
“Do you trust me?”
“I do. But you’ve got your own ranch—”
“I’ve also got people I care about. Let me take care of you.”
She winces and nods, slumping back against the cushions.
I pull the curtains, dimming the light until the room is soft and quiet. Then I find Vera.
“Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her get up until she’s steady.”
“Want me to run her through a field sobriety test?” Vera asks, half-joking.
“Damn right. Touch-the-nose, walk-the-line, all of it.”
As predicted, by ten, two Kincaid Farms trucks roll into Longhorn.
Zane’s behind the wheel of the first, hauling the 5070M and the rake.
Our two youngest hands, Grady and Luis, jump down from the second truck with the toolkit.
“Feels like we should start flyin’ the Longhorn brand,” Zane teases as we unload the Deere.
“We’ll get you a hat,” I deadpan.
He eyes the house. “She’s the one.” It’s not a question.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says, and we get to work.
Zane oversees the equipment while Nadine fuels up the tractor and gets moving on the alfalfa field.
I check every line and bolt myself—no one’s catching us twice. Not today.
By noon, we’ve got the alfalfa rows cut and turned, and the orchard halfway cleared.
I glance toward the house.
Aria’s trust in me, her letting me take care of her precious ranch, is momentous, and I feel the responsibility of it. I know I won’t let her down.
Aria doesn’t wake until close to three, emerging from the house with her hair tousled, her face still pale, but her expression one of stunned disbelief as she watches the Kincaid men working side-by-side with her crew.
She walks toward me slowly.
“What’s all this?”
I brush sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “Wasn’t gonna let one piece of shit with a sugar bottle wreck your schedule.”
Her eyes brim, but she holds the emotion in check, lips pressed tight. After a moment, she admits, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” I tell her. “Just finish getting better.”
She glances over at Zane, who’s talking with Tomas near the barn.
“Your people came for you,” she says.
“No,” I correct her. “We came for you.”
And that’s when she finally lets herself lean into me—just a little—her head tipping for half a second against my chest. I wrap my arm around her, hold her close.
She raises her head, goes on tiptoe, and kisses my lips. “Thank you.”
“You can do better than that,” I tease.
She kisses me again, long, slow, and touches her tongue to mine.
When we hear whistles and hoots from my crew and hers, she pulls away, blushing.
I pat her backside as I kiss her nose. “Get goin’. I know you’re dyin’ to know how things stand.”
She nods, smiles. She’s radiant. Beautiful. Her eyes are clear. Not troubled. Not hurting.
I watch her walk toward Nadine to get an update on the hay, and my chest aches in a strange, unfamiliar way—and it feels damn good.
Whenever I’m with her, I feel like I’m home.
Zane’s right. She’s the one.