11
I slow my stride when I reach the Edens. The farmhouse is massive and modern. With a sprawling front porch, gravel drive, and deer antlers over the front door, it screams cowboy chic. What seems like a hundred acres of emerald grass stretch in every direction, framed by dense woods behind the property. In the distance, the lake glitters.
My skin itches and I debate on turning right back around. The black hole hovers. The urge to let it consume me is overwhelming.
As I climb the porch steps, my attention’s drawn to the four men in the front yard. I realize it’s Ford and his brothers. They’re using a bow and arrow to shoot an apple off each other’s heads. Shouts of laughter fill the air.
“Shit show, isn’t it?”
A girl with long caramel hair stands at the front door. Dressed in jeans and a scarlet-colored tank top that matches her lipstick, she’s both beautiful and terrifying. Muscles like whipped ropes. Tattoos over her entire body. A bruise on her cheekbone. She looks built like a brick wall and just as tough.
“What are they doing?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Shortening their life span.” She takes a drag of her cigarette. “We can only hope.”
I can’t help but stare at the men. They’re all tall, beautiful, and rugged. Like they were raised on muscles and dirt. Two of them remind me of grizzly bears, while Ford and another brother remind me of wildcats. True cowboys, from the Stetsons on their heads to the mud on their boots.
“What do they feed the men in Montana?” I muse.
“Idiot pills,” she drawls. “I’m Fallon.”
“Reese.”
Fallon’s hazel eyes skim over me. The corner of her mouth turns up. “So, whose idea was this? Ruby’s or my sister’s?”
“Ruby’s.”
Her laugh is dagger sharp. “You’ll learn, once you meet her, you can’t shake her loose.” An affectionate smile stains her face. “But you won’t want to either. Come in.”
I follow the clomp of her cowboy boots down a hall covered in family photos.
The kitchen is bright and airy, with a lifted deck extending off it that overlooks the backyard. The sliding door is open, offering picture-perfect views of the forest and jagged mountain peaks. Muted country music plays from a speaker.
The scrabble of paws and shuffle of feet catch my attention, and then a dog and a baby are standing in front of me. I can’t decide which one is more adorable.
“This little hellion is Duke,” Fallon says, snagging the baby and tossing him into the air. A scream of laughter erupts from Duke’s mouth. “And that’s Keena.”
I bend down to rub the dog’s ears. “Hi, there.”
The dog tilts her head, listening intently.
A woman pops up from the oven, purple potholders on her hands. “Hi,” she says, flashing a smile that makes her dark eyes sparkle. “Please come in.”
“Thanks for having me. I’m Reese.”
“I’m Dakota.”
“Can I help with anything?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nope. Just relax.”
Fallon groans. “Ugh, figures while the boys play, the women cook like it’s 1950.”
Dakota laughs and reaches for a bottle of wine. “Trust me, they’re not exempt. They get clean-up duty.”
“Hey, assholes,” Fallon shouts from the porch as Dakota fills a wine glass for me. “It’s dinnertime.”
Seconds later, the thunder of boots rattle the porch stairs.
And so begins the meet-and-greets and the familial connect-the-dots. Davis is Ford’s fraternal twin. Fallon and Dakota are sisters. I meet another brother Wyatt and an older man named Stede, who is Dakota and Fallon’s father. Ruby throws her arms around me like we’ve been best friends for years.
“Let’s eat,” Dakota orders after we’ve made introductions.
Chaos ensues as everyone takes food, drink, baby, and dog out onto the patio.
I’m grabbing a bottle of wine when a voice says, “New clothes?”
I smother a smile at the husk of a drawl and glance over at Ford. My gaze tracks over his jeans and charcoal gray T-shirt dusted with dirt. I ignore the smug look on his face despite my overheating heart. “Sure looks like it, Country Boy.”
I wave my hand down my outfit—cut-off shorts, a crochet tank top, and high heels. Reese Austin Lite. Glamorous, but relaxed. I love my heels and jewelry, but it’s so freeing to wear something I picked out.
Thanks to Ford.
He’s given me my first real speck of hope. I have my own checking account. One tiny step toward freedom. But I’m not about to let a man control me. I won’t owe Ford Montgomery anything like I owe Gavin. I’ll pay him back for everything. Even if the way he casually handed me his AMEX today had me swooning.
I finger the gold necklace around my neck. “Although, I don’t know how the necklace got in there.”
He shrugs. “I don’t either.”
I roll my eyes. I’ll never admit how much I love it. It’s the first nice thing someone’s done for me in a long time.
With that, we head to the deck, where Dakota has spread a feast across the long pine table. The view is mesmerizing, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. All woods and lake, with fireflies winking in the air. The sun is a bold orange fireball that makes the world look like it’s burning.
Davis and Dakota sit at each end of the long table, with Duke in a highchair beside his mother. I take my seat, trying to ignore that I’m next to Ford, but his lean body crammed into my space has my senses on overload. His bare arm grazes mine and my skin catches fire. As if he felt it too, Ford clears his throat and adjusts his sitting position.
I can’t help but take him in. His rugged beauty and southern drawl are almost too much. He’s like a cowboy hero plucked from the old country songs I used to sing. Riding the plains, dusty and grizzled. Calloused fingertips. Chiseled jaw.
As we dish our plates, Charlie and Wyatt reach for the same steak. Charlie wins it by throwing an elbow that has Wyatt swearing.
“Only child?” Ford’s voice rumbles.
I flush at being caught gawking. “Yes.”
Wyatt grins. “Yeah, you never had to learn how to curb-stomp someone for the last burger.”
Ford snorts, reaching over the table with those long arms of his to swat his brother across the head. Fallon lifts a brow like obviously that’s my job .
Davis holds up his hands. “Let’s go a night without killing someone.”
“When are you gonna shave this?” Ford asks, gesturing at Wyatt’s mustache.
“Shut up, man,” Wyatt grumbles, shoving at Ford’s arm.
I smile at their boisterous bullshitting.
Ford jerks his chin at Fallon. “What do you think of the new ’stache, cowgirl?”
Wyatt doesn’t look up from his plate, but his coiled shoulders tell me he’s listening.
She tilts her head, contemplating, before saying, “I think he looks like a prepubescent man-child.”
Charlie and Davis snicker.
“Fallon, when are you riding next?” Ruby asks, intercepting the argument before it can bloom.
“August. The Rough Rider Rodeo,” Fallon says, shoveling potatoes onto her fork. Then she shakes her head. “I need to get in shape. I spent months away from riding. I’m soft on form.”
“And hard on everything else,” Wyatt mutters.
The wine glass freezes inches from my lips. The tension between Fallon and Wyatt hangs in the air like a smoke ring. Judging from the averted eyes and clattering utensils, everyone else feels it, too.
Stede puffs his chest up in pride. “My girl’s been training hard.” He pats his daughter’s hand.
“Fallon rides bulls,” Dakota tells me since I must look lost.
“Bulls?” I stare at Fallon. “Wait. I’m confused. I thought that was—”
“Dangerous as fuck?” Wyatt says, sounding smug.
Fallon scoffs, sending him a look sharp enough to cut. “Never let a man who prefers mares tell you anything about your attitude.”
I shake my head, not wanting to come off as rude. “I just didn’t know women could ride bulls.”
Her red lips curve wickedly. “I’m going to be the best.”
“You have to get those migraines under control before you get on the back of a bull,” Davis orders, angling a fork down the table at Fallon. “You can’t ride until then.”
She glares at him. “Watch me.”
“What do you think of the ranch, Reese?” Dakota asks, quickly changing the subject. She lifts a spoonful of peas to Duke’s babbling lips.
I take a sip of my wine, then set down the glass. “I haven’t seen too much of it yet. That’ll change since I’m working here.”
All eyes land on Ford.
He shifts, looking uncomfortable. “I hired her to help this summer.”
Davis glances at Charlie. His stern expression says he hasn’t heard the news. His brown eyes return to Ford. “That a good idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Ruby pipes up, smiling in triumph.
Ford leans back and crosses his arms. “I second that, Fairy Tale.”
“I’ll lie low,” I tell Davis, not wanting to cause trouble or be a burden. “All I want to do is work, make some money.”
As I saw through a hunk of steak, I realize everyone is staring at me. My damn bangles. They keep clanging against the edge of the plate. Even Ford is wincing.
“Sorry,” I say, but I don’t take them off.
Wyatt, scraping up the last of his cornbread, leans in and asks, “Is it true your vocal cords are insured for 1.3 million dollars?”
“Wyatt,” Ford snaps, annoyance clouding his features. “Leave her alone.”
I laugh. “No.” I arch a brow, meet his curious gaze. “They’re worth 3.2.”
Laughs float around the table.
I smile, but nerves have my shoulders up near my ears. Family dynamics like this—loud, casual, happy—are foreign to me. Even though Gavin raised me, we never did this. Birthdays were held in clubs or spent in hotel rooms, alone. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have this. A family. Love. Fitting in.
Something I’m definitely not doing. I’m an outsider looking in on a perfect circle of friends.
“Heard you had some trouble at Nowhere last night,” Davis booms, and Ford and I lock eyes.
“News sure got around fast,” I murmur.
Ford grins like we’re in cahoots. I pretend I hate the feeling. “That’s a small town for you, honey. Big ears, bigger mouths.”
Beside me, Ford stretches out in his seat. Fire licks my body as his elbow sweeps mine. “No trouble,” he tells his brother. “Solved it.”
Davis watches Ford with an indecipherable expression. “I can see that.” He sounds skeptical.
Ford flexes his hand, pride in his voice. “It’s been a while since I busted some knuckles.”
“Could have let me come along,” Wyatt grumps.
Davis crosses his arm, causing his muscles to bulge. “This summer isn’t about trouble. It’s about staying the course.”
Trouble . He’s looking at me.
Fallon flaps her napkin at Davis. “Boo. Boring.”
My gaze falls to Ford’s busted knuckles.
My fault.
Guilt crests over me. I refill my glass again, blinking when I realize the wine’s almost gone. I look up to find Charlie studying me over his beer bottle.
Something hot and molten courses through my veins.
I’m nothing but trouble. I’m not worth it. I never have been.
Part of the problem is Ford Montgomery. He’s a nice guy. Too nice. I barely know him, and I feel closer to him than any member of my glam squad or even Gavin.
It’s dangerous being around him. I came to the ranch to rest and be alone, not hang out with this mechanic-slash-cowboy. Getting close is not an option. He doesn’t need to know anything about me other than Reese Austin, a country superstar.
The real me is too real. Too many secrets.
As if hearing my inside thoughts and deciding to throw a wrench into the mix, Stede glances at me. “You were in the western, right, sweetheart? Hell or High Water ?”
Oh no.
My stomach sinks. The last thing I want to do is talk about that movie. But politeness wins out, so I say, “I was.”
Stede grins. He’s a handsome old man with hazel eyes that mirror Fallon’s. “I knew the trainer who worked with her on it,” he tells the table. “We rode together back in Deadwood.”
Fallon perks up. “You know how to ride, Reese?”
“No,” I reply softly. “It was a long time ago.”
“Sure, you do,” Charlie says, a grin on his bearded face. “That rooftop horse scene?” He whistles. “You jumped into that pool like a pro.”
My heart races. Too many bad memories.
That ice-cold pool.
Being so exhausted that I could barely stand up, let alone act.
Gavin taking my wrists and a length of leather. Saying, “ Let me help you. ”
“Hell yeah,” Wyatt says. “If you want to ride on the ranch, you say the word. I’ll saddle up—”
“No,” I suddenly snap. “I fucking hate horses.”
Silence.
Shit.
The look on Ford’s face tells me I should have kept it to myself.
This nice family and all I’ve done is offended them.
“Well.” Stede gives a good-natured chuckle. “I appreciate old-fashioned honesty.”
Honesty. Right. More like foot in my mouth.
“Does anyone want pie?” Dakota asks, sounding nervous.
All I want is to get out of there. The wine and the medication I took earlier sit heavy in my stomach. I feel drowsy and off, the way I feel before I go on stage. Numb, inside and out.
I feel judged, inside and out. Even if they don’t know what they see—I do.
That sixteen-year-old girl who went to Muirwood.
The spoiled country singer who drinks too much.
The lost cause who can’t get her life together, let alone her own money.
My heart pounds, tears at the back of my eyes.
“Peach. Reese?”
Blinking, I shake my head. “Sorry. What?”
Standing, Dakota gives me a kind smile. “Peach pie. Ford called me up, said you like it, so I made one especially for you.”
My face flushes.
Ruby giggles.
Again, all eyes, including mine, land on Ford.
He slumps so far down in his chair, the floor could swallow him. “You know,” he drawls with a hint of pink on his cheeks, “I told you that in confidence, Koty.”
Dakota scoffs. “Not in my kitchen.”
A chirping sound fills the air, and Charlie tenses, glancing down at the watch on his wrist.
“Shit,” Wyatt swears.
Eyes wide, Ruby turns to her husband, a silent conversation happening between them. Suddenly, she goes limp. But Charlie’s there, quickly catching her up in his arms as she sags against his chest.
“What—” I look at Ford. Around the table. Though they wear worried faces, they sit still and watchful.
“It’s okay,” he says, his eyes tracking Charlie’s movement as he carries Ruby into the house.
“She has a heart condition,” Ford explains. I tilt my head back to meet his fathomless amber eyes. “She faints sometimes. Once or twice a year. My brother’s got it handled.” He stares after Charlie for a long moment, a muscle working in his sharp jaw, then he tosses his napkin on his plate, his expression considerably darkened.
Quietly, quickly, pie forgotten, everyone stands and begins clearing the table. Keena dives for the leftovers as Davis takes Duke inside for bed.
“No, please,” Dakota says, waving me off when I reach for a bowl. “You’re a guest.”
I nod, not wanting to cause more trouble, and hang back. When I’m alone on the deck, I turn to face the Montana wilderness. Playing with my necklace, I watch the hole above me shimmer. A sort of melancholia overcomes me. Why am I here? Does it matter? At the end of the summer, I’ll go back to Gavin. Sing my shit songs and shake my ass. Watch everyone pretend they’re glad I exist.
Sometimes it feels overwhelming to be alive.
Fallon appears and hands me a glass of whiskey. “He’s grumpy because you’re pretty.”
“Who?”
“Ford.”
I gulp my drink. Great. Just what I need, an angry mechanic with a grudge.
Fallon follows my gaze out into the backyard. She sips her whiskey, looking thoughtful. “What’s it like to leave everything behind and just go?”
I snort. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”
“God,” she says with a faux shudder. “If one more fucked up thing happens around this godforsaken place, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
I cut her a quick look. Her hard mask slips for a brief second, and I see the panic on her face. It’s breathtaking. It’s sadness and despair.
It’s exactly how I felt all those years ago.