Chapter 3
THREE
WEST
All The Places I’ve Never Belonged
Home is a concept I misinterpreted in my early life.
Teenage me thought it meant safety, but ended up running from it before I turned seventeen.
That was when my love-hate relationship with the dysfunctional word was defined by my father’s choice to cast my mother aside as an insufficient punching bag and turn his shitty temper on me.
When she refused to leave, I did, walking away from the version of family that I knew and understood.
And when I found the next thing I thought was family, I stayed until I wore out my welcome there too, sick of living under someone else’s roof, working by someone else’s rules for too long.
All my damn life. Those were the words I threw in Cordell’s face the last time I saw him, right before I stormed out of the ranch house that I helped build but was never created to house a man like me.
My time at Coyote Falls lasted almost as long as my first family, nearly to the calendar day.
Afterward I drifted again, to end up here, right back where I fucking started.
Same shit, different boardroom. Only this time, it’s my pet project I’m about to present. It’s not the only project I have on the go, just the one that’s going to take several months to get started if we get approval today.
My suit jacket stretches far too tight across my shoulders.
For a moment I wonder if I took one of Cordell’s instead of mine from the dusty closet at Coyote Falls before I walked away nearly a year ago, but then I discard the notion.
I would never fit my arms through his skinny tailored silk cut.
Ha. At least that humor would fit the farce of the moment.
The last time I walked into Rand Enterprises, it was with the owner and CEO for his final in-person meeting.
Today, I doubt Cord even knows I’m here. I ban every thought of his temptation of a sister from my mind and focus on the task before me. Even a decade later, I’m as out of place in the boardroom as ever, and this time I’m here without the man himself.
Despite walking away from Coyote Falls by choice months ago, I miss the dust crawling into every crack and crevice, pasted on by a thick layer of sweat after a hard day’s work.
Staying in one place has never been my forte, but something about that patch of shitty dirt and the looming mountain behind the homestead once seemed like home.
Another thing I’ll never admit as I force my features into something more palatable than the customary scowl that got me by at Coyote for over a decade.
That same facade doesn’t fly in the business world. I began my career here as a new college graduate, but now I’ve been out of touch for so long that I forgot my manners. Probably left them somewhere in the brutal switchbacks behind the homestead that match my current mood.
Hell, I almost want to go back there right now, if it will get me away from the eighteen suits, all with bank accounts as big as my best friend’s, staring at me like I’m the least of them in this room.
Shit, they’re probably right. I should not be in this room.
John Lancaster, a friend and my boss for this project, stands off to my side, shuffling papers.
Maybe the PowerPoint presentation at my back doesn’t bother him half as much as it does to me.
Every slide represents a cluttered overload of chatter, social expectation, and overlord hierarchy of why I left Rand—the man and the company—in the first place.
“All right, gents. And… lady.” He nods to the single steel-haired woman seated across the black, mirror-finish table I want to scratch for shits and giggles.
An oversized R personally engraved by my pen would suit the occasion perfectly.
“Mister West has agreed to share his vision for the Archimedes Tower design with us.”
“You mean justification for how we’re spending this year’s profit,” someone, I’m not sure who, says from across the table.
John blows out a breath that puffs his face like an overfed squirrel.
I know that face. It’s the one I used to get when he marked my papers back at college.
The same one that found I’d come up with something so weird and wonderful that he either couldn’t define it or wanted to slap me over the head with it before he grudgingly offered praise.
Sometimes.
I figure this is the latter occasion.
My mentor coughs. Apparently, time has mellowed the professor turned principal architect. There will be no paper-slapping today. “We all know that pollution has been a problem in this state. Mister West has freelanced for us before on many environmental projects. He offers us a way—”
The stakeholders’ eyes glaze over within seconds. We need them for today’s buy-in, but thanks to sitting in on years of Cord’s presentations, I can pitch like a pro, seeing as one taught me how.
I press a hand to John’s shoulder. “I’ve got this, old friend. Thank you.” I nod respectfully, picturing each and every one of them wearing chaps. The assless kind, decorated with neon tassels.
My favorite.
Imagining the design I’ve spent hours working on over the past months as I press the clicker through my presentation, I describe the building based on Archimedes’s Claw. It’s a brilliant project, and a perfect pitch. If they don’t want it, I’ll simply take the patent elsewhere.
They won’t say no.
“The outside is covered in glass panels, not so dissimilar to this.” I place my scarred, work-roughened hand flat to the tabletop.
Someone gasps at the desecration of their sterile, pristine altar.
I take perverse pleasure in the handprint I leave behind.
“The solar-panel aspect of the arm catches the sun from approximately eight in the morning during summer seasons and…” I keep talking until my voice creaks, explaining both power collection and consumption, how the design will benefit the city overall.
We have inroads integrated on that front as well.
John worked his not-insubstantial network at Montana U to get us in front of the mayor last week.
This is our last hurdle to pass. Fortunately no one interrupts my pitch.
“That was impressive,” John murmurs as the last of the stakeholders file out of the room near on an hour later. “I’ve never seen them so quiet. They usually behave like a bunch of overprivileged toddlers with their hands in each other’s fruit salad bowls.”
I cough into my fist to suppress a laugh.
“Those toddlers hold the purse strings. And seeing as I’ve managed one for the last decade, I have a good idea of how to sell them their own toys back.
” I shake John’s hand, all too ready to leave the building bearing that same overprivileged toddler’s name emblazoned on everything from the building’s lobby to the wall before me. The giant R beckons like a siren.
I look away, but the damn letter is burned into my retinas.
I left Coyote Falls to earn myself space, and here I am, back again. Different soil, same brand name.
It’s not that Rand Enterprises is the only place that will hire me, but they do have the money that will provide the funding for everything I want outside of working the land with Cord.
Hell, I could ask him and he’d donate the cash without a second’s thought, but it’s not the same as earning it the right way.
And I’m still invested in the endless well of all things Rand.
Fuck me. Every time I try to walk away from him, I’m still wrapped up in his mess.
Only this is my mess, and my show. Not his.
John’s hand still grips mine. I pull free, trying not to visibly wipe the other man’s sweat from my skin. “Tell me how it goes.”
“You know you smoked them.”
I grin, already heading for the door and some form of relative freedom. “I know.”
I knock on Winnie’s door and call out, “Sandwich delivery.” There’s silence inside the townhouse.
I wait, my hand raised, and I bruise my knuckles again.
“Personal sandwich-boy delivery.” That should move her divine tush.
Winnie loves to pretend she doesn’t objectify the male form, but this cowboy knows better.
The door opens a crack. “West? West!” Smaller hands than I expect pull the door all the way open, and a tiny body launches at me. “Ihaventseenyouinsolong,” Sally gushes at me.
“Me either, little Rand.” I pat the top of her head. It only takes a second for my stone heart to fracture before I give in and hug her. Plastic crinkles around her back.
Sally freezes and then slips out of my awkward-as-hell embrace. “Is that food?” She liberates the bag from my hand and dashes for the kitchen, leaving me standing in the doorway like the drifter I am. “Oh. Come in,” she calls in a hushed voice that’s loud enough to wake half the street.
I can’t hold back a grin. The kid is as infectious as her mom. Speaking of… “Where is your mom?” I ask casually. Winnie’s too overprotective to leave Sally alone, even though she’s growing up fast, but with good reason. Their family history doesn’t exactly engender trust in neon lights.
“She’s asleep. Her shift ended two hours ago and she’ll be back on tomorrow night.” Sally pops her head out of the kitchen, beckoning me in. “Don’t worry about the door. We never lock it.”
A growl builds in my chest. I close the townhouse door the moment Sally’s head disappears back into the bowels of the building, and I flick the lock quietly anyway. The girls might not have a sense of security, but I hate that they leave themselves so unprotected.
“Not locking the door. That’s a country thing.” I take the half a chicken salad on ciabatta Sally offers, and I lean against the doorway while she hoists herself up to perch on the kitchen counter.
“Yeah? I musta gotten it from Uncle Cord,” she mumbles through a mouthful of food.
“Maybe,” I agree.
“I miss the ranch. Haven’t been back in a while.” Sally swallows a mouthful large enough to choke her.
I watch carefully, but she keeps breathing. “Yeah? Me neither.”
“Cord’s been busy with Lanie.” Sally eyeballs me as though she expects me to impart state secrets.
I snort. “No chance, Rand girl. I’ve got nothing good to share.”
“Huh. Too bad.” She finishes her sandwich in a massive bite and hops off the counter. Holding out the plate with the other whole sandwich on it, she waves it about like she’s calling a hound for dinner.
I take another bite of mine and wait. A moment later, Winnie walks into the kitchen, a robe dangling from one shoulder, the hem just long enough to cover her ass in her boy shorts.
Her hair sticks out at all angles, and when she turns to me, her undershirt barely passes as a shirt, or maybe a crop top.
“Why are you here?” Dark circles hang under her eyes.
“Thanks for feeding us, West.” Sally hugs me, her thin arms barely making it around my waist.
I pat her back and look up at Winnie as she dashes away. “Kid’s got the sort of energy your family is famous for.”
She grimaces and tucks her butt against the counter nearest the coffee machine. “Right now, I don’t have the energy to yawn. Shit coffee?”
“Please.”
I’m not a snob like her brother, who only drinks the stuff his fancy machine grinds itself.
When she fumbles with the too-tight lid on the tin of instant granules, I cross the room that I swear shrinks with both of us in it.
Winnie glares at me and grabs a teaspoon, intent on doing it all for herself.
I let her, right until she nearly slices her hand on a piece of wayward foil.
Then I flick the lid with my key, placing it on the counter.
“Done.” I pocket my keys and place my half sandwich next to hers, one bite taken out of it. “That was meant to be yours, so have both, okay?” I turn to leave her, but her fingers snag the rolled sleeve of my shirt.
“Why did you come here?” she whispers.
I’d put it down to exhaustion—from her social life and work hours—but when I turn back to face her, unable to leave without answering, the pain that laces across her face triggers alarm bells.
The same ones that drew me here tonight in the first place.
“I thought you might need a little extra care, Winnie,” I murmur, catching her hands in mine. The teaspoon sits between us, an innocuous bystander in a conversation for two.
She frowns, like that’s not something she’s considered before. “But why would you do that?”
My thumbs rub across the back of her hands, rough from her job, rough from looking after Sally single-handedly.
This woman works her ass off every damn day and I respect the hell out of her for that.
I just don’t want to see her so exhausted because she doesn’t have time to sleep with everything else.
“Because I wanted to.” I shrug. “I know you won’t take the help your brother gives you.”
“That money is for Sally when she gets older. I keep her inheritance away in the trust like I’m supposed to.”
I risk brushing her hair back off her face, resting the heel of my palm on her cheek. She freezes but then leans into the touch. My heart bounces a little harder in my chest. “You’re supposed to look after your daughter, Winnie. And he wants the best for you too.”
“He’s an asshole,” she grumbles, though there’s no heat in her complaint.
“He is,” I agree.
She looks up at me. “I thought we never agreed on anything.”
“We can have that one thing.” I squeeze her hands. “If you’re gonna burn the candle at both ends, I’m gonna be there to catch you before you fall.”
Her breath hitches, and pressure returns my grasp.
I smirk, knowing I’ve gotten to her. Pulling away, I lean in close enough to brush my lips over her ear when I speak. “Eat the sandwiches, Rand.”
I’m halfway out of her townhouse when she calls me back. “That’s two things!”
I grin to myself and step out into the night.