Chapter Fifteen
The day of the next town hall meeting saw Bix careening around King’s Crest like a windmill. And Daughtry wishing that he
could calm down his physical reaction to it. She was...
She was really something.
And he had already made his decisions about her last night. When they had been shrouded in moonlight.
When they had been wrapped in magic, and the kind of need that he had never experienced before. But then he’d found sanity
at the end. Maybe.
Because then he had gone back home, and out the back to dig around the yard and find a present just for her. One he wanted
to give her today, but not until after she had given the speech.
And now all he could do was sit back and watch her exploding with energy as she breathed new life into this place. Into everything
she did.
“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, going into the outbuilding, and bristling when he saw Michael there.
“No,” said Bix. “We’ve got it.”
He didn’t like that. He didn’t want Bix to be beholden to him, but he also wanted to be the only one that helped her. And
that was pretty ridiculous behavior.
He didn’t act on it, though, and that was the crucial thing that made him a little bit less of a dick. Maybe.
So he went back to some of the finish work he was doing on the barn, and did his best to pretend he wasn’t mostly watching
Bix.
She ran across the parking lot in front of the outbuilding she was using to brew, her skirt flying up and revealing more leg
than he imagined she realized.
No, it wasn’t only her physical beauty that held him in thrall. But sometimes, for a moment, it was.
She had great legs. She had great everything.
And he knew that he wasn’t in a great space to put himself in proximity to her today.
But when it was time for them to all go over to the town hall, he found himself claiming Bix as his passenger a little bit
more aggressively than necessary.
She was in a dress again, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she had on a little bit of lip gloss and some shimmering eye shadow.
“I got some makeup from your sister,” she said. “I thought that it made me look a little bit more... serious or something.”
She looked glittery. Shiny and far too pretty.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” she said. “How do I look?”
He couldn’t look directly at her. That was the thing.
“You look good, Bix.”
“Thanks, Daughtry. You could try and make it sound like I’m not torturing you.”
He’d like to pretend nothing tortured him. Being tortured would require... caring.
Sex for him had always been casual. And there was nothing casual in how he felt for Bix; that was the problem. She was special, and he didn’t know what to do with special. Particularly because the feelings he would need to handle her well and proper were also feelings he felt the need to build a fence around.
But she wasn’t a symbol; she was a woman. And it was impossible for him to deny that now.
“You’re going to do great,” he said, deciding to sidestep the tension that was building between them.
“I know that, Sheriff,” she said.
They pulled up to the barn, and Bix hopped out, and he watched her skirt along the edges of the different people there. He
could see her confidence growing, but it wasn’t all the way there yet.
He moved to join his own family, and had the strangest feeling creep over him.
They weren’t really any different. They didn’t know how to join people. Landry was the closest to figuring that out. Arizona
was a close second, though she was still prickly as hell.
Justice, Denver and Daughtry didn’t really know how to do anything but stick to themselves.
And apparently adopt strays. He was struck by the parallels between himself and his brothers. He hadn’t really noticed them
before.
He wondered if this was their twisted attempts at making a new family. He knew why Denver felt beholden to the Patrick girls.
He’d been there when their father died.
He didn’t quite understand the connection between Justice and Rue.
It was some kind of deep caring that had started back when they were kids.
As for himself? He had wanted to help Bix, because he felt like his work as a police officer functionally meant nothing if
he didn’t move to help a person in need too.
It was more than that now. It wasn’t about atonement, really. What he’d said to her hadn’t been honest.
Maybe this was friendship.
Except he was attracted to her.
One thing he knew: he was just as feral as she was.
That much was clear.
They all were.
And then Michael came over to stand next to Bix. He grinned, and was saying something encouraging to her. And Daughtry wanted
to punch him in the teeth.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
For all his sense of law and order, for all he carried a badge. For all that he was Daughtry King, he didn’t want that guy
being nice to Bix. He wanted to be nice to her. He wanted to be the one encouraging her, and he wanted his encouragement to
be the most important encouragement.
You’re a dick.
His father’s lingering narcissism made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut. Because that was exactly the kind of thing
his father would’ve thought.
It was exactly what he wanted. For his children to revere only him. For his wife to want only him.
It was disgusting.
And he didn’t want to be that.
He also wanted to break Michael’s teeth.
Because Bix made him the most feral version of himself, and if that wasn’t reason enough to keep distant, he didn’t know what
was.
He had a gift for Bix, anyway. The kind of sentimental bullshit he wouldn’t normally do.
But he knew her. And that was a hell of a thing. Different.
He liked Andrea, but he didn’t know her.
Not really. Bix had shared things with him, and he had watched her grow and change.
And now that asshole was talking to her.
She said they were just friends.
That could change, though. It could. And if it did, then what the hell did that mean for him? For her?
You should be happy about it. It’s the kind of normal that she thinks she wants.
And that was when he realized, really, truly, that this wasn’t altruism for him. Not anymore.
He’d wanted it to be.
But it wasn’t.
That was just a fact.
He was a hell of a lot more complicated than that.
It was longing and possession; it was this intense desire to understand somebody, to feel close to them when he never had
before.
It was admiration. The kind that went down bone-deep.
Something he wasn’t entirely certain he understood.
And it was important to him that he understand his motivations. Because they’d been lost before, and so had he. Because for a lot of years, he’d been absolutely certain of everything he did, and why. And with her, there were things he couldn’t explain. He didn’t like it. He also knew there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Because here he was. Right then, everything felt uncertain. The whole damned world. And it made him wonder if he was wrong. About himself, about everything. About the facade of certainty that had surrounded him for all this time.
Right then, he felt like he didn’t know anything.
All because he was watching Bix talk to some other man. He’d never been jealous a day in his life. Not until the other day.
Had he had stayed in his gut and grown and changed and lingered, in spite of what she had told him.
It made him feel like... like an asshole. An out-of-control asshole. And he hated every single thing about it.
But she was his. How was it fucking fair that Michael got to come in and—
What the hell is wrong with you?
They all got seated for the meeting, with Bix by his side, and he was grateful for that, but Michael was on her other side,
and he didn’t like that at all.
He knew that Michael was part of the brewing initiative, and therefore it was actually reasonable, but he didn’t care for
it.
Sawyer Garrett got up and gave an introduction, along with the minutes, and then they got an update from Fia on the farm store, followed by a good report from Gus McCloud on the goings-on at McCloud’s Landing.
“Elizabeth is training three new therapists at the ranch, getting prepared for her maternity leave, and we have a full roster
for the summer.”
He looked over at Gus’s sister-in-law Elizabeth, who was sitting there next to Brody holding his hand, with his other hand
resting protectively over her stomach. Brody was raising Elizabeth’s son from her first marriage, and this was the first one
for the two of them. It was amazing to him, the domesticity all around him. But even for Landry, who had his child now, and
who had gotten things together with Fia, it wasn’t typical.
It hadn’t been a smooth road.
Not at all.
But then, everybody else was a little bit different than the King family. The way that they had managed to make connections
with each other even before they were all in relationships spoke volumes. As did the continued isolation of his own family.
Denver had a point about Daughtry being the only one to work off the ranch. He was actually the only person in any of the
families to have a job away from Four Corners. But the thing about Denver was that he didn’t have any alliances within their
alliance. Yes, he had been part of putting the collective together, but even while he tried to improve the image of the King
family by working with best practices and building a better reputation as a rancher—and not a loan shark—he didn’t have close
friendships on the ranch. They kept to their own.
It was the stark difference between the Kings and everybody else.
And, he supposed, it was a stark difference between him and everyone.
But this ranch, this place, it was the source of nothing but feeling. And it was better for him to spread some of that out,
rather than consolidate all of it here.
He’d loved this ranch once. With everything. Had wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps. To carry on
the legacy of the King family until he’d understood that the legacy was broken.
Then it was Denver’s turn to speak, and he knew that Bix would follow shortly after.
She began to vibrate with barely contained energy beside him as Denver went up to the front of the room. He put his hand on
her knee, to still her movements, but a crack of electricity went between their skin. She looked at him, her blue eyes wide.
Color stained her cheeks. She had made it pretty clear she felt that all too. That she’d been jealous. And he was doing his
level best to throw barriers up in the way of it. He wasn’t sure why. He had a lot of pretty excuses, but while he was looking
into her eyes just now, he couldn’t quite figure out what they were.
But his brain didn’t let them get to that place. Maybe because there were too many revelations rolling around in there already.
And anyway, then Denver was talking.
“My new brewing manager, Bix Carpenter, is going to give a presentation about her plans, and has a business proposition for
all of you.”
Bix stood up, a folder clutched to her chest. And he didn’t care that everybody was watching. He reached up and took her hand, and squeezed it once. “You’re going to do great.”
She let out a slow breath, and released her hand from his without any real urgency, and then she walked up to the front of
the room, and took her position on the stage. “My name is Bix, and I’ve been working on King’s Crest for two months now. I’ve
met a lot of you. What you probably don’t know about me is that Daughtry found me in the woods. I’m not kidding. I was homeless,
and he gave me a job. He is maybe the first person ever to believe in me.”
He felt blindsided by what she was saying. He hadn’t expected that.
“The whole family has been so supportive of me, and of my taking on this venture. And because of them, because of the way they believed in me, we ended up getting together this brewery. We are in the process of making a custom beer for King’s Crest. And inspired by all of the hard work that goes into this ranch, what I would like to propose is that we also make a beer for each of your ranches. Now, we would need an investment from each of you. And I understand that we’ve already asked for that recently. I was here at the last meeting. But I think it’s going to be worth it. I really believe that it’s going to make something special. Something different. And I know that I opened this by letting you all know that I’m a rescue. But I do know a thing or two about making alcohol. That’s actually what I was doing in the woods. You can’t arrest me for it, Daughtry. You don’t have any proof.”
In spite of himself, he laughed, and so did everybody else.
“This is what we would need as a starting investment.” She went on to make her presentation, and he felt... bizarrely proud.
Not so much of himself, because no matter that she tried to give him credit, it was her. He was proud of her.
“We’ll invest,” said Fia King—formerly Sullivan—and it surprised him that Fia was the first to put her hat in, even though
she was with Landry. She liked to remind Landry of the time he had told her that the budget was the budget, and there was
nothing that could be done to move it.
She’d felt personally attacked by that, considering she was the one asking for a budget increase. But then, at the time, everything
between her and Landry had been a full-on personal attack. Things had cooled down, though she was still opinionated, which
was why he was surprised she hadn’t made them sweat a little bit.
“I’m in,” said Sawyer.
“Count us in too,” said Gus.
Well. That was the kind of thing that made him wonder... Made him wonder if maybe everybody else felt a little more connected
to them then he realized. Or maybe not. It didn’t really matter. Or maybe it did.
Because it had made this venture a bigger success than it would’ve been. And it was giving Bix a win.
Though, who could possibly fail to be moved by Bix’s story, he didn’t know. And hell, maybe that was the real genius in her sharing it. Maybe it was about her, and if it was, he was glad enough of that. Because she deserved it. She really did.
He could see her draw up with triumph. Her joy at winning palpable.
There was no more business after that, and she swept down from the stage, and right to him.
“I did it,” she said.
“You did,” he said.
He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to pull her up right off her feet and spin her in a circle. But that was the
kind of thing other people did. People who indulged themselves. People who let their emotions lead. And that could never be
him. Not ever. But Bix was beaming, and he wanted to capture part of it. She was like a sunbeam, and he wanted to bask in
her.
Wanted to keep that joy rolling. Because... as frightened as she’d been when he’d first met her, she burned bright now.
It was all things that had been there already. He knew that. “I’m starving,” she said.
He laughed. Because that was Bix.
“All right. Go get your food. After that I have a present for you.”
“A present?” She looked so excited that he felt a little bit bad. Because as presents went, it was a lame one. But he had thought that it might be meaningful. Or maybe it wouldn’t be. She would do with it exactly what she’d said she would. But, that would be fair, he supposed.
“Get your food first.”
“No,” she said. “I want my present.”
“You are a little brat,” he said. “It’s in my truck.”
“All right. Let’s go to the truck.”
They walked out of the barn, and to where he had parked, just on the outskirts of the gathering. They could hear the din of
conversation, the pop of the bonfire. Their makeshift ranch band was beginning to play, jugs, banjos and lap steels going
strong along with some pretty decent harmonies.
He reached into the bed of the truck, and took out a hefty, large brick. He had painted “Bix” across it in white paint. “Here.
It’s a brick. Because you have one now.”
She held it in her hands, stared at it. She looked up at him. “Thanks.” She sounded stunned.
“Yeah. Well. You have that now. To take with you wherever you go.”
She nodded. Her eyes were glassy, and he could see that she was trying to push the emotion down. Hell. He wanted to push his
own emotion down. And he wanted to reach out and hold her. Wanted to pull her against his body and tilt her face up so that
he could look at all that emotion in her eyes.
He wanted to drown in it.
He wanted to let go of this new lifetime of restraint, and give it all to her. Everything. Everything he’d ever felt, everything
he hadn’t let himself feel.
And that was some dangerous shit.
“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
“What I want you to know is that I’m not actually giving you the brick. You made the brick.”
“With ingredients that I got from King’s Crest.”
“I guess so.”
“Listen, I know I’m amazing. But if I can acknowledge that, I need you to admit you helped.”
“That sounds a fair trade.”
“Thank you, Daughtry.” She held tightly to the brick, looked from it to him. He felt scalded, inside and out.
“You can put it back in the truck.”
She laughed. “Thank you. Because I didn’t want to carry a brick around for the whole rest of the night.”
“I didn’t figure.”
She opened up the truck door, and put it firmly on the floorboards on the passenger side. “I don’t want anyone stealing my
brick. Bastards be everywhere.”
He wanted to laugh. He found he couldn’t. “That is true.”
They walked together back toward the party. “You’re a liar, though,” he said.
“Am I?”
“Yes. Because a while ago you told me that if you had a brick you would smash my face with it.”
“Things change. People do too.”
“I guess so.”
“Yeah. Now I think I might just use the brick. You know to build things, rather than as a weapon. I’m tired of fighting. I
really have been enjoying living.”
She looked up at him. “Dance with me,” she said, her voice a whisper.
He knew that it was an invitation to more. He knew that it was up to him to say no. But he couldn’t think of why, not now. And he didn’t especially want to.
So he took her hand, and led her to the bonfire. And spun her beneath all those showers of sparks. He held her close, and
it felt different this time than when they had danced a month ago. She felt soft and warm in his arms. She felt like a woman.
Strong and vital and filled with color and life. Not a fragile creature, or an object of pity. But wholly herself.
Not mired in the difficult things she’d been through, but transcendent.
She was the kind of feel-good story that everybody wanted to hear.
But she was more than a feel-good story. She was complicated. And he liked that about her.
Maybe you’re allowed to be complicated too.
With her beneath his hands, he sure as hell wanted to be.
He wanted to forget every safeguard he’d installed in his soul. He wanted to change the rules he’d made years ago. Rearrange
it all so he could justify what he wanted from her, with her.
He could remember so clearly how he’d decided to help her that day because he’d wanted to make a difference.
He hadn’t counted on her making a difference in him.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she whispered.
She took his hand, and this time she was the one that led him away. They melted into the trees, walked in the darkness. Her
skin was soft, warm.
“I don’t need a lecture on all that you can’t give me,” she said. “All I need to know is if you want me or not.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“It can be. Thank you for the brick. But you know eventually I’m going to have to lay it down somewhere else. Like I said
to you, I know that I’m going to have to take care of myself someday. I’m not asking you for anything permanent. But I want...”
Just then, they came out from the trees, to stand in the middle of the field. The sky was velvet black, the stars glittering
up ahead.
“I want stardust, Sheriff. Just a little bit. A dusting for right now. Because when you finally have a brick, you can start
wanting something more.” She turned to him. “I’ve always just wanted to survive. That’s it. I didn’t worry about what felt
good, I worried about what sustained me. I was wary of men, because I knew that in the wrong situations they could have too
much power over me. But that’s not you. And I knew that, from the beginning. When I clocked you as a whole big sexy problem,
Daughtry King. Because I certainly didn’t want to have feelings for a cop. For a man who had so much power over my situation.
But you never took advantage of it. I trust you. And I think more to the point I trust myself. Because I have seen some things.
And I have known some really shitty men. And you’re not one of them. I’m not sure you know that. Not really.”
He touched her cheek. “I’ve done some pretty shitty things, Bix.”
“Me too. Remember the time I robbed an old lady?”
“You didn’t exactly rob her.”
“Whatever. The point stands.” She took a hard breath. “I think we should have a little stardust, you and me. A handful even.
Something magic. Because this feels magic to me.”
She looked up. He could see the stars reflected in her eyes.
He was done fighting. Himself, and everything else.
And he didn’t need to be asked again. Right there beneath the stars, he pulled Bix Carpenter into his arms, and kissed her
with all the feeling he pretended he didn’t have.