1
TWO DAYS LATER
I wake to a hard-on and a phone call.
“Fuck.” I rub my brow, fighting my way through the dream of some soft-eyed blonde grinding her ass against me. Blowing out a hard breath, I pat the sheets, adjust myself.
The phone, however, is still buzzing.
Turning over, I glare at my nightstand. My cell phone falls silent.
With a shake of my head, I decide it’s time to get back to sleep.
And back to my dream girl.
Only the air rushes out of me as a furry dark ball lands on my stomach.
I groan. “Jesus, Mouse.”
The black cat my sister-in-law pawned off on me last year prowls forward. Her big green eyes flicker in the dark. She raises one svelte paw and gives it a lick.
I lift up on my elbows. “Can you not stalk me? I don’t need this shit in my life right now.”
Mouse settles for kneading my stomach. I give her a scratch on the rump as she settles into my side. As annoying as she is, she’s my shadow. A dirty, dumpster-diving garage cat, but I can’t help but love her.
My phone erupts. Mouse launches herself off the bed.
“Fuck,” I blast.
This time, I’m alert.
If someone’s calling at this ungodly hour, something’s wrong.
My family.
The thought causes my heart rate to spike. I snatch up my phone.
“Ford?” The voice comes tinny and harried.
“Wy?” I squint into the dark. “Where are you?”
“Vegas.”
“How’d you do?” I close my eyes. He and Fallon are in Vegas for the PRCA rodeo. “You win?”
A cocky scoff. “What do you think?” Then, “Ford, I got—Listen…I did—stupid.”
“Wy, you’re breaking up. Wyatt?”
The line goes dead. I frown.
These days, the more he and Fallon are together, the dumber his decision making gets. Who fucking knows what he got into? Here’s hoping he still has both legs and his wallet.
Two seconds later, my phone rings again.
“Wyatt?”
“What? No, it’s Grady.”
“Grady?” I blink. Hearing from my little brother is rare these days. He’s a big-time country singer now, always on the road. “Jesus. It’s two in the morning, man.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. Just got done with a show.”
Sleep is canceled, effective immediately. On a sigh, I roll out of bed and cross to the window. My apartment above the garage gives a prime vantage point of the ranch. Even in the dark, the beauty of Runaway Ranch takes a man’s breath away.
“You busy writing songs or chasing women?” I ask my little brother.
Grady chuckles. “Both. Listen…”
My ears pick up the reluctance in his tone. It reminds me of when he was a little boy, and how he’d always get nervous asking me to play baseball with him.
“You need something, kid?”
“I’m gonna send someone your way.”
“What kind of someone?”
Grady hesitates. “Someone who needs help.”
“Great. Just what I need,” I grumble, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed. I flex my right hand, the broken index finger that gives me hell on restless nights. “What about me? I need help from dickhead little brothers who call at two in the fucking morning.”
He laughs, happy. That’s Grady, even getting yelled at.
“I think you’ll survive, Ford.” Grady lowers his voice. “So, will you help her?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I scrub a hand over my face. As much as I moan and grump, my little brother has a heart of gold. If he’s telling me something’s wrong, I listen to him.
“Her name’s Reese Austin. She needs a place to lie low.”
That gets me to cock an eyebrow. “Lie low? Like hide out?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
Mouse nudges her way under my hand. Absentmindedly, I stroke her fur. “You don’t know much do you, kid?”
I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Just give her a place to stay, you asshole. Put her in a chalet.”
That gives me pause. “You’re tellin’ me she’s famous?”
“I’m tellin’ you to just do it.”
I rub my brow, not liking where this is going. Trouble stays in those chalets. Rich, spoiled, pampered celebrities who’ve never been told no in their life.
High-maintenance drama is not up my alley. Never again.
“That’s what I’m getting? Some rich bitch?”
Grady sighs. “You can’t tell anyone she’s there.”
“I ain’t the one, kid.” I don’t need more bullshit in my life. I’ve barely been able to keep myself on a straight line as it is.
“It’s a favor, man. I’ll owe you.”
I consider it. “You’ll owe me double.”
“You got it. She should be there any day now.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Yeah. Don’t let her have any whiskey.”
I chuckle. Someone shouts in the background.
“The bus is here,” Grady drawls. “I gotta go. Thanks for your help with Reese.”
I yawn. “Yeah. Right. Reese.”
“Go back to sleep.”
I snort. The good lord knows I need it.
After I hang up, I sit in the dark. Worry eats at me. What did Grady get himself into? He’s got a good head on his shoulders, sure, but he’s also the baby of the family. Davis and I were long gone before we had a chance to pummel useful common sense into him.
Shaking off my worry, I reach over to my nightstand, unearth a bottle of pills in the drawer and take my med. Might as well. Dawn’s on the horizon.
Flopping into bed, I will my mind to sleep, but it has other ideas. It returns to the dream. That blonde bombshell bouncing on my lap. The pouty part of her pink lips. Fuck. My cock thickens. I give it a quick stroke, then groan.
Christ. I gotta get laid. It’s been two damn years.
Not like it’s ever been a problem. I could have my pick of any woman in town, but I worked my way through them when I first landed here seven years ago. Resurrection girls are bad news. Old hat. These days, it’s all about out-of-town trysts. Getting laid when I’m away at auctions or rodeos. I never worry about the morning-after because I give them a number I don’t plan to answer. It’s easier that way. No strings. No commitments.
Because you’re fucked if you’re not free.
Warmth presses by my side, and sharp claws dig into my bicep.
“Cat,” I growl, but I pet Mouse’s glossy dark fur. “I’m rooting for the dogs, you know,” I tell her. “You lick your own ass. That’s disgusting. You need to be put out of your misery.”
Still, I don’t fight it when Mouse curls up next to me. Her purr is a soothing rumble, and soon I fall back into a restless sleep, cursing little brothers and black cats.
Opening day smells like sunshine and bullshit.
Sunshine because May’s going out with a bang—the best way to kick off the season.
Bullshit because I’m damn tired. After the phone call with Grady, I barely got two hours of sleep before the blast of my alarm hit me.
Coffee cup in hand, I snag my climbing bag from the garage, then head to the UTV parked outside. Mouse leaps onto my seat. She’s got our routine down pat. I fire it up, and as we roar across the field, I take it all in.
Crystal clear views. Snow-dusted mountain tops. Emerald-green pastures. A field of bright yellow sunflowers. Runaway Ranch vans shuttling loads of guests.
I fucking love the morning. I love opening day. Work is busier, chaotic. Our focus isn’t the tedious fixer-upper work we tackle in the winter. It’s putting together activities for tourists who make Runaway Ranch their home for a few weeks during the summer. I stay busy, sunup to sundown.
The ranch is like working for the mob. It kicks your ass until you pay your dues.
The gravel-covered road stretches out in front of me. I set a course for the woods.
As I pass the lodge, I lift a hand to Tina, who opens the lodge doors for a new group of guests.
Runaway Ranch is fully booked. And pretty fucking fancy these days.
We hired new staff, better security. Opened a small general store in honor of the now shuttered Corner Store run by none other than Stede McGraw. Even had uniforms designed, which I refuse to wear. Davis and Charlie can wear their logoed shirts all they want, but I already played a team sport.
A full guest book is a fucking nice problem to have when three years ago we were pissing in the wind trying anything and everything to fill a cabin. My fault with that damn video that made the rounds, effectively ruining our reputation and bringing trouble we didn’t need. But hell, if it weren’t for my mistake, Charlie would never have found Ruby, and we wouldn’t be where we are. She brought our brother back.
But it still stings. Just another tick on the Ford Fucks Up scale.
Look forward, don’t dwell on the past , is what my therapist says. I try to do that.
Especially these days. It’s best to focus on my work and let all the what-ifs go.
Because, man, I love this fucking life of mine.
I slow the UTV as I break through the forest and roll onto the gravel drive leading to Davis and Dakota’s place in the Edens—a mammoth white farmhouse with a wraparound porch, black shutters, and a gabled metal roof.
The lodge and Charlie’s place were always the spot for get-togethers, but once my brother and his wife finished their farmhouse, it became the go-to spot for family shit. Judging from the trucks parked haphazardly in the driveway, everyone’s already gathered. I blame Duke. That kid is baby bait. Too damn cute for his own good.
After throwing the UTV into park, I pat my shoulder and Mouse hops onto it. Then I head for the house.
I duck through the long foyer and enter the kitchen, where I immediately crush a set of blocks and two toy tractors.
“Shit.” I look down and kick at the clutter.
Davis and Dakota’s house is eternally littered with random objects, like they live inside a claw machine. Between raising a baby, running a ranch, and getting Dakota’s bakery ready to open, it’s the frazzled state they’ve lived in for the last year.
Dakota’s behind the island, cracking eggs one-handed into a bowl. On her hip, Duke. He’s cherub-cheeked, with jet-black hair and chubby fists. “Perfect timing,” she says, bouncing her son. “Uncle Ford’s here.”
I place Mouse on a stool and take him as Dakota passes him off to me. “What’s up, you little monster?”
Even at a year old, the kid’s the tiny terror of Runaway Ranch. He chases horses. Sneaks up on Mouse. Bosses my brother’s Belgian Malinois, Keena. I keep telling Davis he takes after Wyatt, butmy twin refuses to hear it. It scares the shit out of him.
I kiss his cheek and set him on his wobbly feet. He just turned one last week and has mastered the art of walking. “Hey, kid, show me what you got.”
Duke squeals and makes grabby hands for a banana on the island.
“Okay, okay.” I peel it and break the banana in half.
Ruby sweeps through the back door, a basket of flowers in her hands. Her long, rose-gold hair drapes over one slender shoulder. “Hi, Ford,” she breathes, her blue eyes lighting up.
“Hey, Fairy Tale.” After passing the banana down to Duke, I lean over and kiss Ruby’s cheek. Charlie’s wife is made of literal golden sunshine. She can make the saddest person in the world happy.
Giggling, Ruby ruffles Duke’s hair, before moving on to Mouse, giving her a butt scratch for the ages.
For one long second, Duke stares at the banana in his hands, then he does a dramatic deadweight fall. An unholy wail pops out of his mouth.
I stick my hands in my pockets and watch the madness. “Why are you like this, kid?” I say, unfazed.
“What’d you do to him?” Ruby asks, amused.
I pull back slightly and laugh. “I didn’t know I could ruin somebody’s day by serving the banana in half instead of whole.”
Dakota sets a quiche on the island next to a platter of honeybuns and nudges it toward me. With her bakery set to open at the end of the season, we’re all her personal taste testers. “It’s Squish’s world and we’re just living in it.”
“Sad,” a deep voice booms. Davis rushes into the kitchen, his face set with the intense focus only a dad can muster. Keena, at his heels, beelines for Mouse.
My twin flashes me a dry smile. “Bullied by a one-year-old.”
I grin back. “Learns from his father.”
Davis swears as he trips over a monster truck. I smirk. A Marine, Davis runs a tight ship, but Duke’s blown up his neat and orderly world. He loves it.
Davis scoops up his wriggling son. Instantly, the kid quiets and proceeds to squish my brother’s cheeks, babbling away. Davis does his best to look dignified.
“What’s on your schedule today?” he asks.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. My twin’s bossy as hell. In return, I take great enjoyment in pissing him off. We don’t look alike and we’re complete opposites, but he’s my best friend, the fucking thorn in my side and the never-ending conscience in my ear.
“I’m taking a group horseback riding.” I lean over to inspect the tray of biscuits Dakota’s pulled from the oven. “Then tending bar before the welcome toast at the lodge.”
I’ve used the last seven years on the ranch to teach myself odd jobs. I can change a carburetor, mix a perfect martini, and cast the best line ever seen. There’s a reason I live above the garage. I can tinker whenever I want, live my solitary, no-strings life, and when the day is done, kick back with a cold one and a ballgame.
“Fuck. I forgot about that.” Davis looks frazzled. “Can you take a group fishing? We’re short-staffed.”
“On opening day?”
Davis swears as Duke does a free fall in his arms. Before the kid can defy death a second time, Davis tucks him tight against his muscled chest. “Son,” he drawls. “Hold your britches.” To me, he says, “Yeah, well, shit happened.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t,” I say. “I’m headed to the dome.” Nothing comes between me and the mountain.
“What about Charlie?” Davis turns, clocks the room with his sharp gaze, then looks at Ruby. “Where is he?”
Ruby bites her lip.“Someone yelled at me in the parking lot of the market last week and he finally found the truck.”
“Jesus,” Davis mutters, hustling around the island. With one hand, he crams a protein bar in his mouth, with the other, he lifts Duke by his diaper and places him in Ruby’s arms. She smiles and nuzzles his hair.
Davis rolls out his neck and shoulders. “It’s opening day. I’m not getting into this.”
I cross my arms. “So don’t. Not your problem.”
“Yeah, don’t.” Dakota comes up behind my brother. Her hand slides over his shoulder and all the tension in his frame melts away. Not a surprise. Dakota’s the best thing that’s ever happened to my uptight twin.
My brothers drew the rarest of hands when they married their wives. Lucky bastards the both of them.
The door swings open. Charlie strides in with a squirrelly-looking smile and a crazed glint in his eye.
Davis pivots from Dakota. Frowns. “Let me see your knuckles,” he orders.
Charlie rolls his eyes but sticks both fists out.
Davis scrutinizes Charlie’s knuckles. I do too, but mostly to know how proud of him I should be.
When it comes to our younger siblings, my twin and I play good cop, bad cop. He’s the hands-on type. Me? I only pull the big brother card when there’s imminent danger of death.
Satisfied, Davis nods and turns back to his wife.
While Davis isn’t looking, Charlie, proud as hell, takes a busted windshield wiper out of the back pocket of his jeans and sets it on the kitchen table.
Ruby squeaks and covers Duke’s eyes.
“Fucker had it coming,” Charlie says to me in a low voice.
I snicker. “Who was it?” I feel for the poor bastard on the other end of Charlie’s wrath.
“Clyde Krenshaw.”
“Charlie,” Ruby gasps.
“What’re you two bellyaching over?” Davis asks, eyes narrowing.
“Nothing,” we reply in unison, earning us a glare. Irritating Davis is always gratifying.
“Well, while you two are having the time of your lives laughing over whoever’s ass Charlie beat…” Davis glances at Charlie. “We’re short-staffed.”
Charlie’s face turns professional. “Wyatt gets back tonight. We’ll put him to work.”
That reminds me.
“Speaking of little brothers,” I say, and all eyes land on me. “Heard from Grady last night. Two in the damn morning.”
Dakota snaps off the oven. “He okay?”
“He’s sending someone to the ranch.” I shrug carelessly. “Some big-shot country singer. Wants her to stay in a chalet.”
Both Davis and Charlie look unhappy.
We all know what that means. More work. Ridiculous demands.
For a second, I’m half tempted to tell my twin it’s his problem, but the dark circles under his eyes tell me Duke’s kept him up again. I don’t have the heart to be an asshole.
“I’ll handle it,” I say. “Whatever it is.”
Mouse hisses and swipes a paw at Keena, who launches into a series of frenzied barks. Like Fallon and Wyatt, their peace is tentative and wary.
Eyes on the animals, Davis sighs and holds up a big hand. “For one summer, I’d like to steer clear of fucking messes.”
“Okay, you grumps,” Dakota says, pulling a bottle of champagne from the fridge. Her brown eyes glow with amusement. “No more negative vibes.”
As Ruby pours and hands out glasses of champagne, I slap Charlie on the back. “C’mon, give us a pep talk no one asked for.”
Charlie grumbles, but he grins as he takes Ruby’s hand and pulls her forward for his speech.
A tightness fills my chest as I lift my glass and look around the kitchen.
I love this ranch. I love my brothers. My sisters-in-law. My family.
And last year I almost fucked it all up.
All because I was an angry asshole.
I put down Charlie and Ruby’s relationship. I fucked with Wyatt and his feelings for Fallon. I said bullshit words about Dakota. Fucking with my twin’s relationship was my rock bottom. I could have lost it all. I should have.
Ford, if you ain’t happy with your life, fix it , Davis had said.
So I did.
I put my ass back in therapy. Being a jackass might have worked twenty years ago in the major leagues, but alienating my family was a long overdue wake-up call.
Since then, I’ve tried to do less. Less drinking, less women, less fighting.
Because when I do more, it reminds me of everything I lost. Everything I want. And don’t have.
“Ford?” Davis meets my eyes and grins. “You good, brother?”
Shaking myself from my daze, I grin back. “Damn good.”
Everyone clinks their glasses together, and I choke down the bubbly liquid with a grimace. The only one who doesn’t cheers is Ruby. Instead, she stares longingly at Duke, now cradled in Dakota’s arms.
I nudge her shoulder. “You okay, Fairy Tale?”
“I’m okay.” A thick sheen coats her bright blue eyes. She swallows, then blurts, “I have to go to the garden.”
She’s out the door before anyone can say anything else.
Charlie runs a hand through his thick brown hair. “Fuck,” he swears, and then his boots are stomping out of the house after his wife.
A pang lights along my sternum. Davis clears his throat before turning back to Dakota and Duke.
This is the kind of situation that has me looking for an early exit.
Plucking Mouse from the floor, I flip a wave to Davis and Dakota.
As soon as I step outside, I breathe easier.
Dogs and cats and wives and kids. Everyone’s world is loud except mine.