Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Dakota
S itting in the passenger seat of this massive beast of a truck, I can’t help but stare at the man beside me, wondering what the fuck happened.
I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did when I came up with the idiotic idea to grab the first stranger in the bar and pretend he was my boyfriend. Of course I had to grab the most high profile, woman-using asshole in town.
Chance fucking Declan.
Even though I’ve never met him before, I know of him. Everyone in Whiskey Falls knows of him. It was big news when he inherited the family ranch last year when his dad passed away. Every paper and gossip rag in town wouldn’t stop talking about the playboy son’s inheritance and what it meant for the town. Not only is the ranch the biggest supplier of cattle in the area, but it also sponsors the local rodeo, which makes up the vast majority of the town’s economy every summer.
“Are you just going to sit there staring at me all night?” His gruff voice rings out from the other side of the cab. I hate how the gruff timbre of his voice makes me press my legs together, fighting the rising heat in my core. I hadn’t realized I was staring, but now that my focus is on him, I find myself unable to stop.
He looks older than I would have imagined, with his tanned face and faint lines around his eyes. His black cowboy hat looks clean, but well-worn. He dons a black button-up shirt and dark denim jeans. He ditched his leather jacket when he got in the truck, which lets me see just how his muscles strain against the fabric of his shirt. He looks like he comes from money while simultaneously showing he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. The perpetual scowl he seems to wear on his face is likely to scare a lot of people off, but not me.
“Just taking in what happened back there.”
“The luck of the draw when you latch onto a random stranger in a bar,” he mutters, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I…” I start, but I’m not sure how to finish the sentence.
I’m not scared of being alone in a bar; that’s never bothered me. What bothers me is Laughlin thinking I’m not over him. I can’t stand the thought that he might think I spend my days pining over him, or incapable of moving on. That’s the farthest from the truth. I’ve never been happier since I kicked his sorry ass to the curb.
“What did you even see in him, anyway?” Chance asks, stealing a glance in my direction. “I don’t know anything about you, but I know what a weasel he is. You don’t seem like the kind to chase after—whatever it is he has.”
I’m at a loss for words, and not because I don’t know how to answer him. It’s because he’s right. I’m not one to follow a guy because of money or status. I couldn’t give two fucks about any of that. What happened with Laughlin just seems to be the first in a long line of bad decisions, such as getting into trucks with strangers after grabbing them in bars.
I mean, what am I doing? I willingly got in with a man I don’t know, all while giving his friend the keys to my car. I don’t do this. This isn’t who I am.
“So, what was it? First love? Family ties? It can’t be that you were blinded by lust because he’s not that good looking, nor do I think he’s good in bed.”
I snicker. I can’t argue with that last point.
“You act like you know him well, but I’ve never heard him mention you. Why is that?” I turn in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m intrigued, even though I have no right to be. The lawyer in me wants to get to the bottom of whatever bad blood lies between the two of them.
“You first,” he growls.
Dammit, there’s that voice again. Goosebumps ripple along my flesh as if he caressed me with his hand instead of his words.
What is happening to me?
I shrug, uncrossing my arms and trying to find my chipped nail polish more interesting. “We, uh, met on a case, actually. He was opposing counsel.”
“You’re a lawyer,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Yes. I work for Hammond Law.” When he doesn’t comment further, I continue. “Once the case was over, he asked me out. At first, he wasn’t anything like the asshat he is today, or he didn’t seem to be, anyway.”
“So, what made you finally see him for who he is?”
“I caught him stealing paperwork from my locked desk at my home. He was trying to help his company’s clients when we opposed them.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chance asks, nearly swerving the truck. “I knew he was low, but I didn’t know he was that l ow.”
“You’re telling me,” I mutter under my breath.
“So, what’s he doing free, then? I’m assuming that’s against the law or something.”
“I didn’t have any proof other than what I saw. He made up some bullshit excuse about finding it and putting it ‘somewhere safe,’ but I didn’t believe him. I always lock up my work when I take it home, especially when I have people over.” I let out a breath, calming the rising anger building within me. “I didn’t know how long he’d been doing it or for which cases. I knew which ones I’d struggled with to gain the upper hand, but since I would never oppose him in a case due to conflict of interest, it wasn’t something I’d even thought about.”
We sit in silence for a breath, letting the weight of my confession settle between us. I carried a lot of guilt. Guilt for myself. Guilt for my clients and my company. Most of all, I wanted to kick my own ass for ever believing in Laughlin or the future I thought we had together.
He never once registered on my asshole-o-meter. Not until the day I caught him with a file in his hand.
Now Chance, I don’t know where he stands on my asshole-o-meter either. I can feel he has potential to be one, but I can’t quite read him. Not yet, and that makes me nervous.
“So, what about you? Where did your hate for Laughlin come from?”
“He tried to take my company to court last year.” Chance’s voice is gruff and low, barely audible over the truck’s engine. “His client made up some bullshit claim that we falsified vet documents after he bought more cattle than he could afford.”
“I think I remember Laughlin talking about that. He just said it was a big case that would solidify his shot at becoming partner.” I remember the conversations while he’d been working on the trial. Of course, he’d made it sound like he was fighting a big company who took advantage of the ‘little guy.’ I’d been convinced he was doing the right thing, standing up for those who had been taken advantage of.
Now I wonder just how many cases Laughlin had fought that were bogus or exaggerated to benefit him or his client.
“He didn’t win. It didn’t take our lawyers very long to prove that his client was the one that falsified the documents and did a piss-poor job at trying to hide it.”
“Did you ever find out why?” My curiosity is getting the best of me. The version of events Laughlin had fed me were vastly different.
“His ranch was going under, and he thought I’d be his best chance at a quick buck. He probably thought I’d just pay him to go away or settle out of court, but that’s not how I roll. I know my company, and I know we do everything top of the line. We don’t cut corners.” Chance speaks passionately, grinding the words through his teeth in disgust. “Little did he know, I would go to the ends of the Earth to protect my ranch and my family name.”
“I’d say you did a good job, then. I remember Laughlin was pissed when they lost. Of course, he didn’t go into why.”
I don’t hate that Laughlin had been taken down that way. He deserved it if what Chance said was true. I remember how mad he was when he came home after the trial. He brooded about it for weeks. I could barely stand to be around him at the time, but being a lawyer, I know how easy it is to take cases personally, especially when you pour months, even years, into a trial.
But now that I know what really happened, I know it was more of a blow to his ego than him not being able to help someone.
Jackass.
“Of course not. My lawyer made him look like a child in court. I’ve never seen a judge so angry. Chastised him like he was fresh out of law school.” Chance chuckles as he pulls off the back road and onto the ranch grounds. I am almost distracted by the unlikely sound from the gruff man, but I can’t take my attention away from the sight in front of me. Imposing large, black steel gates meet us with a ‘WCR’ standing proudly in the middle.
Chance slows, and when he crawls the truck to just in front of the gate, it begins to open. We sit in silence as we watch the drive appear in front of us. I keep my gaze through the windshield as we pull up to the front of a large farmhouse. It’s been years since I’d been to the ranch, only coming when I first moved to Whiskey Falls and my friend insisted I come to a rodeo event the town had put on. Since that time, I’d forgotten how large the house was. Now I’m wondering if Chance lives in this massive house alone.
The thought leaves me a little sad. Such a big house and no one to share it with.
Or maybe he has quite a few someones to share it with. I’ve heard the rumours around town and saw the pictures online. It doesn’t seem like Chance Delcan is ever hurting for company.
So why is he insisting on spending time with me?
I don’t get a chance to ask. As soon as he stops the truck and hops out, he leaves me alone with my questions. I watch him as he rounds the front of the truck, stopping next to my car as Wyatt parks next to us.
I know I need an SUV or a truck for the climate here, but I like my little silver Mercedes. It’s one of the few luxuries I’ve allowed myself since graduating law school, but I still can’t help but stifle a laugh as I watch Wyatt unfold his large frame from my small car. I wonder if he’s ever been in a vehicle so small.
The scowl on his face tells me that even if he has, he hated every second of it. The petty woman inside of me smiles, knowing that his ride was just as uncomfortable as mine.
I watch as Chance says a few words to him. I can’t hear what they are, but I can tell by the look on Wyatt’s face he doesn’t like it. He spares me a strained look over Chance’s shoulder before stalking off to the side of the house. Chance’s shoulders slump before he turns back to me and opens the door.
There’s something about his movement that makes the anger rise within me. I don’t know if it’s the smirk that riddles his face as he stands in front of me, or the way he’s acting like a gentleman, opening my door when I know he’s not, but there’s something that’s setting me off.
Jumping down, I grind my fists into my hips and I glare up at him. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’m not going to be another one of your conquests. Thank you for saving me back there, but your services are no longer required. I’ll just take my keys and go.”
“No,” he says simply.
“What do you mean ‘no?’”
He takes a step toward me, crowding me against his truck. My heart rate kicks up. Not because I’m scared. For some reason, I know I’m physically safe with him, even though he’s a stranger to me. Even though I’m deserted behind the gates of his sprawling ranch, where no one but his lackey can hear me scream. No, my heart rate kicks up for the same reason my core is on fire. For the same reason my breath is getting shallow, my palms sweaty. I don’t know what it is about being close to this man that sets my body off, but it does. And right now, it’s on fire.
He leans in, his palms on either side of my head as he lowers his face, the stubble of his cheek rubbing against the sensitive skin of my neck. Cedar and cinnamon surround me. I have to force myself not to close my eyes and give in to the temptation of burying my nose into his shirt. My chest brushes against his with every breath, causing bittersweet friction against my now-hard nipples.
“I said—no,” he growls, brushing his lips against my cheek. “Now, follow me inside and we can talk about what happens from here.”
“What do you mean ‘what happens from here?’”
“It means—I have a proposition for you.”