Wyatt (Lucky River Ranch #2)

Prologue

WYATT

Cowboys Cry Too

TWELVE YEARS AGO

Growing up in cattle country, you learn early that gambling is a way of life.

You bet the rain will come and the rattlers won’t bite.

You play the odds and hope you chose the right breed, the right time, the right pasture.

You go all in on the belief that there is honor and goodness in tending to the land and the animals that live off it. The knowledge that it’s all a crapshoot, that the sky can fall at any minute, lives inside your blood. And yet you’re still somehow unprepared for the moment tragedy strikes.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The preacher’s hand lands heavily on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss, son.”

Looking up from my feet, I swallow the ache in my throat and paste on a smile. I might be eighteen, but I still need my parents. I have no idea what we’re gonna do without them.

“Thank you, Reverend Ford. That means a lot to us. ”

How many hundreds of times have we parroted that line this week as friends and neighbors came to check on us here on our family’s ranch?

How many hundreds more will we have to say it tomorrow, the day of our parents’ funeral?

My older brother, Cash, catches my gaze from across the room. Sitting on the lopsided sofa alongside our three younger brothers, he looks as uncomfortable and lost as I feel. I keep waiting for Mom to use whatever sweet treat she just whipped up as bait to lure me to help her in the kitchen, where Shania Twain is playing on Mom’s little portable speaker. But her call never comes.

“I’ve told the city council for years that we need better lighting downtown,” Reverend Ford continues. “You boys need anything, you holler, all right?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for stopping by.”

“Least I can do.” He glances at the sofa and shakes his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “Five of y’all. My goodness.”

“We’ll be all right.”

Aunt Lollie, Mom’s sister, emerges from the kitchen as Reverend Ford makes his way to the front door. She frowns when she sees me. “Wyatt, honey, you need to eat. A neighbor just brought over some fried chicken that looks good.”

My stomach lurches. My mouth fills with a familiar, sour-tasting rush of saliva.

Mom and Dad died on impact after being hit by a car five days ago. They were crossing Main Street on foot when they were run over by an elderly man with an expired license who wasn’t wearing his glasses. My parents were on a rare date night, the two of them able to get out of the house because Aunt Lollie was visiting from California and she’d offered to watch my brothers and me.

Ever since we got the news, just the thought of eating makes me want to puke. But I still manage to keep the smile on my face. My brothers are watching me, and I know if I fall apart, they will too.

My head throbs with the effort of keeping everything—the anger and agony—inside. I do my best to ignore the pain, hardly able to breathe around the lump in my throat.

“I’m okay. Thanks, Aunt Lollie.”

“Honey, you need your strength. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“She’s right,” Cash adds. “Please eat, Wyatt.”

“There’s some of that sheet cake left that I made,” Lollie says.

Cash nods. “And the enchiladas Mrs. Wallace brought over.”

“Those are so good,” Duke says, his voice cracking.

He and Ryder are twins. They’re my youngest brothers—only fourteen years old.

Way too fucking young to lose their parents.

We’re all too young.

My eyes burn, blurring with tears. I blink them away. “That your evil plan, to get me fatter than a pig on Sunday?”

That gets a chuckle from Ryder. The heaviness in my chest lifts before falling back onto my breastbone like a ton of bricks.

“I’m gonna go check on the front pasture. Irrigation was acting funny earlier.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “I won’t be gone for more than a few minutes.”

Lollie looks at me for a long beat. “Don’t go far.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t get into trouble,” Cash calls as I make a beeline for the front door.

“I will!”

Now Ryder and Duke are laughing. Sawyer, who’s two and a half years younger than me, laughs too.

Good. They deserve a little happiness after all the terrible shit that’s gone down this week .

Stepping outside into the warm October evening, I make sure the door is closed behind me before I collapse into a crouch and gasp at the air like a man dying of thirst. Tears leak out of my eyes.

I can’t fucking breathe inside the house.

All week, I’ve been slowly suffocating as I politely greet neighbors bringing food and condolences.

All week, I’ve tried to lift my brothers’ spirits by keeping them busy and making them laugh.

All week, I’ve pretended like Mom and Dad aren’t really gone. I didn’t lose my mentor, the man who’d taught me everything I know; Dad’s just at the feed store in town, and he’ll be back any minute. Mom’s heart wasn’t pushed out of her chest cavity when she was hit by a car going thirty-plus miles per hour; she’s out watering her garden. The pumpkins are huge this year.

Reaching inside my shirt, I run my thumb along the delicate gold ring that hangs from a chain around my neck. It’s Mom’s wedding band, which I dug out of the ziplock bag filled with her things that we got from the hospital. I don’t know why I took it. I think—maybe I like having a piece of her with me, however small.

Cash is the smart one, and he got into college, no problem, when he graduated high school two years ago. Me, on the other hand? I didn’t even apply to college. I graduated last May, and I’ve been cowboying full time here on Rivers Ranch ever since. Really, I’ve been cowboying since before I could walk. Rivers Ranch has been in my family for over a hundred years, and I’m not sure I ever want to leave.

I just don’t know what my role here should be. Cash is a natural-born leader, and he’s getting his degree, so I never doubted he’d take over as foreman and owner when Dad was ready to hand over the reins. But where does that leave me? How do I put my stamp on my family’s legacy?

What happens now that my parents are gone ?

Mom and Dad were smart, hardworking people who grew into incredible mentors for me. They were my guiding lights my whole life, and now I miss Mom so much that I could scream. Everyone said I take after her in looks and in personality, both of us extroverts. We shared a love of food and books about the Wild West. When she brought home Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder from the library, I climbed in her lap, and together we read my first chapter book. We have so much in common.

Had so much in common.

I look up at the sound of an engine, my hand dropping from the ring. Glancing across the front pasture, I see a truck kicking up a cloud of dust on the dirt road that connects our house to Highway 21.

My heart skips a beat when I see that the truck is a tan Ford F-150. What would John B, our veterinarian, be doing here at this hour? Far as I know, the herd doesn’t need medical attention. Was there some kind of emergency? He already came to offer his condolences earlier this week. Maybe he’s checking in on us?

Rising, I lift my arm and wipe my eyes on my shirt. That’s when I hear it—a vaguely familiar song playing on full blast. It’s coming from the truck.

My heart skips another beat when I recognize the opening notes of “Yellow” by Coldplay.

I’m down the front steps and on the driveway before I know what’s happening. Holding my hand against my forehead, I squint against the light of the fiery sunset and nearly choke on my heart when it leaps into my throat.

Sally . My Sally.

Holy shit, she came.

I watch, pulse drumming, as the truck rounds a curve and heads my way.

Oh, it’s Sally all right. My best friend’s got both hands on the wheel, her long, dark hair flying around her face .

I smile, my chest cracking open. I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my entire life.

She pulls to a stop in front of me, the heat of the engine hitting the front of my legs. She turns down the music and smiles, the dimple in her left cheek popping.

I’m momentarily struck speechless.

She’s here .

When did she get so fucking pretty?

Sally was always a cute girl. But while she’s been away at college, she’s grown into a beautiful woman with big brown eyes and a full, soft-looking mouth. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the heat, and her hair’s gotten longer since she left. Wavy tendrils frame her round face in a halo of brown that burns to gold in the sun.

Or maybe I just didn’t appreciate how pretty she was until she left. I haven’t seen her since mid-August, when her parents moved her into her freshman dorm in Waco.

“Hey.” She holds up a six-pack of Coca-Cola. “I got the Coke. You got the Jack?”

The Cokes are the old-fashioned kind, the ones that come in glass bottles. I see a bottle opener tucked into the red-and-white cardboard holder. We agreed when we were eleven that glass-bottle Cokes tasted better than the ones that came in plastic or aluminum.

A sudden, searing pressure builds behind my eyes and inside my chest.

I clear my throat. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have exams?”

Being the smarty-pants she is, Sally got a full ride to Baylor University, a prestigious college that’s a long drive from Hartsville. She’s got big dreams of becoming a veterinarian like her daddy, and getting good grades is really important to her.

When she called me after hearing the news about my parents, Sally said she was buried in preparing for some midterms she had coming up. It didn’t sound like she’d be able to make it to the funeral.

She tilts her head. “I’m here to get you drunk. Obviously.”

“Off my own liquor?” Now I’m grinning, too, despite the emotion clogging my windpipe.

Sally dropped everything to be here.

She dropped everything for me.

Her eyes dance as they search my face. “I know you have some hidden around here somewhere.”

“I do.” I reach for the handle and open the door. “Your exams—please don’t tell me you?—”

“Got them moved to next week on account of the major family emergency my best friend is having. Yup.”

I climb into the truck and pull the door shut behind me. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nah.” She playfully lifts a shoulder before pulling on the gearshift to put the truck in drive. “But I did, so now you have to tell me where your stash is.”

“Usual spot.” I point in the direction of the hay barn.

We’re quiet as the truck bumps over the uneven road. The rifle John B keeps tucked underneath the front bench clanks against the heel of my boot. I reach down and carefully set it farther back so that it stays put.

For a minute, I feel normal again. I can pretend life is the same as it was a year ago. Sally’s here. It’s Friday night. We’re gonna get buzzed and listen to music and talk shit about our high-school teachers. Life is simple. A little boring, sure, but good overall.

I can’t stop looking at her. I’ve missed this girl like crazy. Just being with her, not even talking—neither of us feels the need to fill the silence—makes me feel safe. Like I can finally relax.

Finally let my guard down.

She drives to the back of the barn. I jump out of the truck and dig a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a pack of Marlboros out from underneath the seat of Dad’s old tractor.

My chest twists. He was alive when I hid my stash here last weekend.

Now he’s not, and I don’t know how to process that. Accept it. Because I refuse to believe the strongest, biggest, most capable man I know could die in the snap of a finger, just like that.

Sniffling, I don’t bother to hide my tears as I climb back into the truck, the cigarettes tucked inside my pocket, the whiskey held underneath my arm.

Placing the whiskey between my knees, I wait for Sally to put the truck in drive again.

Instead, she turns to me and wraps me in a tight, warm bear hug. It ain’t the polite kind of hug I’ve shared this week with people like Lollie and Reverend Ford.

This hug is fierce—her face buried in my shoulder, her arms clasped around my neck. I can smell the flowery scent of her lotion, the same kind she’s used for as long as I can remember.

Anyone else hugged me this way, it’d be awkward.

With Sally, it’s just what I need.

I open the floodgates and let out the sob I’ve been holding for…Christ, feels like forever.

“I’m so sorry, Wyatt.” Her raspy voice is muffled against my shirt. “So, so sorry. I haven’t stopped thinking about you or your brothers. I love you, and I feel—my God, I’m hurting so much for y’all. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I cry harder. Part of me is embarrassed to lose it like this. Tears and snot are everywhere.

Sally, though, just tightens her grip on me. I cry, and she cries, and we hold each other for what feels like a small eternity in the front seat of her daddy’s truck.

Outside the open windows, birds chirp, and a breeze rattles the yellowing leaves on the giant old oaks that border a nearby pasture. A cow lows in the distance. The earthy smell of hay fills the air.

I don’t get how the world can be the same as it ever was, but life as I know it is over. Dad is gone. Mom is gone , and now I’m struggling to figure out what the hell I’ll do without her.

When I’m finally able to breathe again, I pull back, sopping up tears with the pad of my thumb. “Sorry.”

“Stop that shit.” Sally wipes her eyes too. “Cry all you want with me. I promise I’m not going anywhere—mostly because you’re the one with the liquor and I need a drink after my long-ass drive.”

I let out a bark of laughter. “Using and abusing your best friend? Shameful.”

“Told you college wouldn’t change me.”

I laugh again, my heart swelling to fill my chest. At home, I make everybody else laugh. Nice change of pace to be the one laughing.

Having a good time feels so effortless when I’m with her. I don’t have to put on a show or pretend to be something I’m not.

I can be myself, be a mess, and she won’t bat an eye.

Speaking of messes, my nose is running. I wipe it on my sleeve, but that doesn’t help much.

“Should we go for a swim?” I ask without thinking. “Weather’s kinda perfect, and I need to get all this snot off of me.”

“You do.” Sally scrunches up her nose. “It’s bad.”

I tug a hand through my hair. “Gee, thanks.”

“What? I’m just being honest. I’d love to go for a swim, but I didn’t bring my suit.”

I shrug, ignoring the press of heat in my center at the idea of seeing Sally’s bra and panties. I’ve seen her in a bikini plenty of times. This won’t be any different, right?

“We’ll just go in our underwear. I promise I won’t look. ”

Her eyes catch on my mouth before she quickly looks away. “Now who’s being shameful?”

“Please? C’mon, Sally. My parents just died.”

“See?” She scoffs, even as she puts the truck in drive. “Shameful.”

Smiling, I reach for one of the Cokes. “I’ll take care of our drinks.”

Sally turns up the music, and together we belt out off-pitch lyrics to Coldplay as we head across the ranch. She parks in our usual spot on a bluff overlooking the river and kills the engine. The clean, cool scent of the water fills my head as I hand Sally a bottle of Coke. I drank a few sips of it on the drive over to make room for the whiskey. I was careful not to pour too much into Sally’s bottle; she likes to get her buzz on, but she hates feeling out of control.

I make a mental note to text Sawyer or, if he doesn’t answer, Cash. One of them will give us a ride home so no one’s drinking and driving.

Sally sips her drink and falls back into her seat with a sigh of contentment. “I’ve missed this.”

The view through the windshield is spectacular, especially at this time of day. The Colorado River winds its way through the Hill Country landscape, a thick blue-green ribbon of quiet, slow-moving water. It reflects the light of the dying sun, which sets the sky on fire in shades of pink and orange, tinged with purple at the edges.

A hazy half-moon is just visible above our heads.

“Ain’t been the same around here without you.” The Jack Daniel’s hits my bloodstream. Maybe that’s why I’m suddenly aware of the throb in my lips.

Sally lifts her hips and tugs at her teeny-tiny denim shorts, adjusting the hem so it doesn’t ride up. My eyes graze over her bare thighs. Her skin is milky white, a startling contrast to my own. Mom used to joke her sons were born tan. We have a lifetime spent outdoors in the South Texas sun to thank for that.

Sally, though, spent most of her time indoors, studying so she could make her plans for the future happen. Reason number five million why I can’t be checking her out like this. My life is here in Hartsville. Hers is gonna be in some big, fancy place where all the big, fancy jobs are.

And, yeah, Sally is also my best friend. Has been since she punched Billy Hanover in the face for bullying me in second grade. I’m no genius like her, but even I know the friendship we have is special. As her friend, I’d never want to hold her back or keep her from chasing her dreams.

I need her now more than ever. Which means I absolutely, positively can’t fuck this up by wanting her like that .

Like I very much want to down this Jack and Coke and get to swimming so I can pull her against me in the water. Wrap her legs around my waist?—

Stop.

Reaching for the pack of Marlboros, I ask, “School still goin’ okay?”

“School’s going great. My classes are anyway. I love my professors.”

“But?”

“But I still feel pretty homesick sometimes.”

“You do have deep roots here. I get that.” I put a cigarette in my mouth and dig a lighter out of my pocket.

She furrows her brow. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since all the cool kids started doing it.”

“Gross.”

My thumb stills on the strike of the lighter. I meet her eyes. “This really gonna bother you?”

“Yes, you killing yourself one cancer stick at a time really does bother me.”

There’s a catch in my chest. Sally cares . Now that my parents are gone, she might be the only person in the world who cares about me so deeply. So sincerely.

I pluck the cigarette out of my mouth and put it back in the pack. My hand shakes a little. What the fuck?

I’m gripped by the acute need for space. Air. Downing the rest of my drink, I put the empty glass in the cupholder and reach for the door. “I’m goin’ in.”

Her eyes follow me as I hop out of the truck and reach over my head for my shirt collar.

She sticks her head out the window. “You’re not getting, like, totally naked, are you?”

“Nah.” I yank off my shirt and smirk. “Just mostly.”

Her eyes flick over my bare torso before locking on mine. She holds my gaze for a beat too long.

And I hold hers for another beat, and another, my skin suddenly feeling two sizes too tight.

Even from several feet away, I feel the heat passing between us.

I tell myself I’m imagining it. Sally doesn’t want me that way. She’s too smart. Too ambitious. Small-town cowboys don’t turn her on.

I blame the grief and the alcohol for all the mixed-up shit happening inside me right now.

Her eyes finally flick to the gold chain on my chest. She frowns. “Is that?—”

“Mom’s ring. Yeah.” I reach up and poke my pinkie through the circlet of gold. It’s so small it doesn’t even get past my first knuckle. “I liked—I needed—I had to keep her close. Sounds weird?—”

“It’s not weird. It’s sweet.” Sally’s throat works on a swallow.

Of course she’d say that.

Of course she’d understand.

I’m more than a little self-conscious as I head for the rope swing dangling from a tree on the top of the bluff. I quickly toe off my shoes and lose my jeans so that I’m wearing only my boxers.

Then I grab the rope, step back, and take a running leap over the edge.

My heart thunders inside my chest as I swing out over the water. The familiar way my stomach dips has me laughing and hollering like an idiot. I hear Sally laugh, too, right before I let go of the rope and drop into the river.

The water hits me in a cold, bracing rush. I’m instantly alive, reveling in the pleasure of spreading my arms and legs and just being . I float in a starfish pose for several heartbeats and let myself sink, the chain around my neck catching on my lips.

Down here, it’s just me and my heartbeat. No hollowed-out numbness. No pain. No thought other than, this feels good .

When my lungs start to burn, I kick up to the surface. I shake my hair out of my eyes. The sun has set, but the blue tinge in the air still glows with subtle light.

I immediately look for Sally up on the bluff, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“You coming?” I shout. “Water is perfect.”

“Close your eyes,” she shouts back.

I notice the rope is pulled taut toward the bank. She must’ve grabbed it, and now she’s waiting her turn to take the leap.

Did she strip too? Or did she do the smart thing—she always does the smart thing—and keep her clothes on?

“They’re closed,” I lie.

“You promise?”

“No.”

“ Wyatt .”

“All right, all right.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “They’re closed.”

A moment of silence. Then a high, happy shout, a sound that hits me square in the chest .

Can’t help it. I open my eyes and see Sally falling through the air, her face split into a smile.

My stomach seizes when I see she’s only in panties and a bra.

They’re white. Innocent-looking enough.

But then she turns a little, and I see the curve of her ass cheek.

A thong. I nearly bite off my tongue.

Sally is wearing a fucking thong. And while it might be white, it’s edged in lace. Same as the bra.

My dick pulses.

Holy God, am I getting hard for Sally?

I absolutely cannot get hard for Sally. What is wrong with me today? Why can’t I get a grip on, well, everything? My body, my feelings, my thoughts? This was a bad idea.

Our eyes meet just before she hits the water.

Or maybe this was the best idea ever.

“Wyatt, you liar—” she yells, the sound cutting off when she plunges beneath the surface.

My pulse drums an unsteady beat as I wait for her to reappear.

I wait.

And wait.

A flare of panic ignites in my center. Kicking my feet, I turn in the water, frantically looking for her. “Sally? This isn’t funny. Sally! Where— oompf!”

Hands find my stomach and push hard, sending me skidding through the water. Sally’s head breaks the surface a couple of feet away, her brown eyes on fire.

“What was that for?” I sputter.

“Being a shithead.” She splashes me. “What happened to not looking?”

I splash back. “I…was just making sure you were okay.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.” I splash her again .

She shakes her head, her body undulating in time to the strokes of her arms in the water. “Why are you like this?”

“Because.”

Sally grins. “Because you miss me?”

More than you know . “Sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

“You miss me?” I’m vaguely aware this conversation is starting to feel flirty. Which is confusing. And awesome. And confusing.

Have Sally and I always flirted and I didn’t know it? Or is this new?

“Sometimes,” she replies, lips twitching.

I’m gripped by the sudden, fierce urge to kiss her.

Before I can process that—before I can drown myself so I don’t do something very, very stupid—Sally does it for me. Drowns me, that is. She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down. She rises out of the water as I fight her, laughter bubbling up the sides of my rib cage.

The last thing I see before I let her push me under is her nipples poking through her bra.

Bless .

I hear her laughing, too, and despite the terror I feel over the possibility of falling for my best friend out of the blue, I’m filled with this blindingly warm sensation. Trying not to suck in lungfuls of water, I picture a literal sun bursting to life inside me.

That’s how it feels, being touched by Sally. Laughing with her.

Being loved by her.

Without thinking, I wrap my hands around her waist and pull her down with me. Her body feels solid and soft.

So fucking soft.

I wait for her to push me away, to unhook my fingers from around her middle.

She doesn’t .

In fact, she puts her hands on my waist, her pinkies curling around my hips. My body lights up at the contact, but we don’t go any further.

Instead, we hold each other underneath the water for a beat. And another. I kick my feet to keep us from going too deep.

The quiet is soothing, even if the desire pounding through me is anything but.

Even if the creeping knowledge that something’s changed between us, that some big shift just happened, won’t quit looping through my head.

Just when I’m about to burst with the need for air, Sally uses her hands to gently push me up to the surface. I don’t need the help, but I take it anyway, keeping my hands on her so I can take her with me.

We’re both breathing hard when we emerge from the water. The light catches on Sally’s eyelashes, the fullness of her lips.

There’s a sudden, sharp drop in my chest. She’s so damn beautiful.

“I do miss you,” I blurt. “All the fucking time, Sally. I worry you’ll forget about me. I’m happy you’re living your dream—don’t get me wrong. But life…it’s suddenly all so different, you know? My parents died. And right now, with you, is the first time I feel like I might not die too.”

She blinks, her eyes getting misty. Her hands move up, dropping from my torso so she can wrap her arms around my neck. We kick, our legs brushing underneath the water as she pulls me in for a hug.

My brain short-circuits at the feel of her tits pressed against my chest.

My heart stops beating at the feel of her warm tears leaking onto my shoulder.

“You’re not gonna die,” she says thickly. “I won’t let you. I miss you too, Wyatt. Sometimes…God, at school, it gets lo nely, and I find myself wanting to be back on the ranch with you so badly that I can’t sleep.”

My pulse is going apeshit at the idea that Sally has missed me as much as I’ve missed her. Guess part of me really did worry she’d forget about me. That she’d fall in love with some asshole frat guy and never come back.

“You need to sleep if you’re gonna ace your classes, Sal.” My voice is different. It’s deeper. Rougher.

Sally pulls back, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she searches my face. “I’m doing just fine in that department. Which is why my professors let me move my exams.”

“You really didn’t have to come.”

“You really think I’d leave you alone to face this?”

Everything inside me melts. I squeeze her harder, resisting the urge to press my lips to her throat. “You’re like sunshine, you know? Sounds cheesy, but it’s true. I always feel so much better when you’re around.”

Her swallow is audible. “I’ll be your sunshine anytime, Wyatt.”

I should end this conversation right now. Thank her for her kindness and get dressed. Get her home safe. The cold water’s burned off my buzz; I’m fine to drive.

But when I try to unwrap my arms from around her body, I can’t.

When I try to tell her we need to go, I don’t. The words refuse to come out of my mouth.

My entire being rebels at the thought of letting this girl go. Every single one of my cells screams at me to keep her here, to make her mine.

That’s when I know I’m in love with her.

Could be the grief talking. Could be the feel of her body wrapped up in mine.

But in my heart of hearts, I know that somehow, over the course of an hour, maybe less, I’ve fallen in love with my best friend. Or maybe I’ve been in love with her all along, and the realization is only hitting me now.

And because I’m in love with her, I have to let her go.

So I don’t lean in and kiss her.

I don’t throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of the water and lay her down in the back seat of the truck.

I don’t tell her how I feel.

I don’t do any of that.

Instead, I paste on a smile and pry my hands off her waist.

“C’mon, Sunshine,” I say. “It’s getting dark. Let’s get you home.”