Chapter 14
I’m definitely overdressed for this party.
I wasn’t way earlier, when the crowd was thin and the sun still hung high in the sky. But as the evening deepens and more people roll in, the vibe shifts. Now I understand what Jackson meant about no one drinking until the gates closed.
Even Lee and Pace disappeared for an hour during the so-called “casual” pool party to help the Black Diamond ranchers wrap up for the day. And now that everything’s done, the real party has started.
And by “real,” I mean barely controlled chaos.
People lounge around the massive pool, drinks in hand, music thumping low through hidden speakers. Boots have been traded for bare feet, denim shorts for bikinis—or nothing at all. The mood has gone from easygoing to unfiltered. Wild.
Too wild.
I shift uncomfortably as more girls wade into the pool, topless and unbothered, their laughter sharp and flirtatious. Their eyes flick toward the men clustered nearby, hungry and playful. There’s nothing modest about it. And clearly, no one minds.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jackson murmurs beside me, his voice low with amusement. He must notice how rigid I’ve gone, arms crossed like a shield over my chest.
“Doubt it,” I reply under my breath.
He chuckles, and I can feel his eyes lingering on me, like I’m some puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out yet.
Before he can say anything else, a tall blonde with legs for days and a body that belongs on the cover of a swimsuit calendar glides up to us. She doesn’t acknowledge me. Not even a glance.
“There you are,” she purrs, voice syrupy and sweet. Without hesitation, she presses herself into Jackson’s side and leans in, lips brushing his like they’ve done it a hundred times.
His hand finds her waist automatically.
I look away. It’s an intimate moment I don’t want to witness.
Not because I’m into Jackson. Hell no. He is nowhere near the type of man I would go after.
He’s all playboy. No, intimacy often makes me uncomfortable.
Maybe it’s because I wasn’t held enough as a child, who knows?
Nudity and sex aren’t something new to me.
I’m not a virgin, but I am also not very experienced.
Most people think because my mom was a stripper, I’m comfortable with public displays of affection or how I must have sex all the time. News flash, a stripper mother doesn’t mean any of that shit.
At all.
“Peyton, this is Laura,” Lee introduces us, then guides me away from the couple. “Let’s go find you an actual drink, sis. I can only take so much groping from them.”
At least Lee is wanting to stay by my side. Pace disappeared pretty much as soon as we arrived, and I haven’t seen Colter since I walked away from him earlier. Besides Lee, Jackson is the only one I know, and he is now otherwise occupied.
“What are you wanting?” Lee asks.
“Oh, umm…another lemonade is fine.”
Lee’s scrunches his eyebrows but gives the bartender my drink order while he gets a whiskey, neat. “You’d like the whiskey. Our Kentucky counterparts own a distillery. Some of the best you’ll get in the south.”
I shake my head. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Why not?” Lee asks when he hands me my cup.
“When your mother is an addict, you learn to stay away from things like drinking.” Because her addiction is what killed her.
It might not have been the alcohol which did it, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t drink.
My mother was a mean drunk. Especially if she were also high.
Same for the men she brought around. I can’t count how many times I had to place my dresser in front of my bedroom door while I was home to protect myself from not only her newest junky boyfriends, but also her.
I have more than my fair share of scars.
The problem is, I couldn’t stop loving her. She was my mother. The woman who, when sober, was the most stunning mother a girl could ask for. Those moments never lasted very long, but I cherished them when they came around.
“Right…” Lee coughs awkwardly before taking a sip of his whiskey. “Sorry. Dad told us, I just…”
I shrug. What’s done is done. “It’s okay.”
Lee clenches his jaw but doesn’t say anything more.
My gaze turns back to Jackson, who is talking to Laura. She has her body flush against his, tilting her head back to look up at him, a smile on her face. Her hair hangs in thick, luscious blonde waves down her back.
“Be careful with Laura,” Lee warns me, drawing my attention back to him. “If she thinks you are trying to poach him, she can get nasty.”
Poaching is the last thing on my list of things I want to do this summer or at all. Jackson is a playboy, and I don’t want anything from him. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, men like him don’t want in for the long run.
I take a drink of my lemonade. “She doesn’t have anything to worry about,” I assure him. “Jackson Shaw isn’t my type and even if he was, I have bigger things on my plate than worrying about a man. Plus, have you seen her? She’s a bombshell.”
“And you aren’t?”
I roll my eyes. He’s technically my brother and supposed to have my back. Of course he is going to tell me I look good.
“Lee.” A gorgeous brunette walks up with nothing but a blue thong bikini bottom on and perfectly tan skin. She wraps her arms around Lee, her bare chest pressing up against him. I shift on my feet awkwardly. “You didn’t come to find me like you promised.”
Lee gives her a small smile. “I’ve been busy.”
The girls dark eyes cut to me, her gaze quickly assessing me as if I am competition. “Not sure she’s worth being busy for. Leave her and come swim with me.”
“It wouldn’t be very nice to leave my own sister when she doesn’t know anyone here.”
The smile on the girl’s face falls when he tells her we’re related. “Oh.” She recovers quickly and pops her smile back in place. “I’m sure she can come swim as well.”
“I’m good,” I say, taking another drink of lemonade, wishing for the first time in a while it was something stronger.
The girl huffs but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she leans up to whisper in Lee’s ear before walking away toward the pool, her ass shaking as she goes.
Lee lets out a long sigh. “Sucks great dick, but fuck, she is clingy.”
I nearly snort my drink. Lee leads me over to a small set of chairs.
We sit there for a while, neither of us talking, just enjoying the companionable silence.
Every now and then someone stops to chat with Lee, and he introduces me.
Everyone seems curious about the new Denver addition.
Like I am some kind of fascinating anomaly.
Sometime later, Jackson wanders over, a smile on his face.
“Where’s Laura?” Lee asks.
Jackson shrugs. “Wandered off somewhere.”
Lee nods and stands, holding his hand out for my drink. “You want another lemonade?”
“Sure,” I tell him. “Thanks.”
Lee heads off toward the bartender, and Jackson takes no time at all to steal his seat.
“What do you think so far?” Jackson asks curiously. He has his own glass of amber liquid.
I shrug. “I’ve never been to a pool party before,” I admit. “Seems like a lot of nudity.”
Jackson laughs. “You’ve never been to a pool party?” he asks incredulously. Like the concept is foreign to him, and it probably is. This is someone who grew up in wealth and privilege. Not a fifth-floor walkup above a Chinese dry cleaner.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“That’s crazy.”
I shrug again. Crazy for him, maybe.
“Lee!”
I hear Lee groan from behind me as he comes back with our drinks.
“What?” he growls as Pace comes barreling toward us with Colter in tow, an angry look on his face.
“Grab your fucking phone,” Pace snarls. “I need you in the house, now.”
“Busy, bro,” Lee replies cooly, but I can see the angry lines on his forehead.
“Now, Lee,” Colter orders from behind Pace. “You too, Jackson. Let’s go before my men clear this party out.”
“Yes, sir,” Lee sobers up immediately, the snark and impatience in his voice gone as he hands me my drink, the liquid sloshing over the edge. “Coming.”
Colter stands there, his face expressionless as he waits for Lee and his brother to make their way inside the house.
His jaw clenches when Jackson leans down to tell me he’ll be right back.
Then I’m alone and for a moment, without Colter’s heated stare, I feel as if I can breathe again.
I let my gaze wander, taking in everything around me. The family ambience of earlier has given way to a den of gold tinted sin.
Being alone gives my brain time to overthink everything, and the longer I sit here, the more I realize how different I am from everyone else.
Around the pool, girls toss their heads back in laughter, water glistening off bronzed skin and surgically perfected curves.
Bikinis are optional, and self-consciousness doesn’t seem to exist here.
They move like they belong—like they’ve always belonged—with flirtatious smiles and practiced ease, eager to please, to be seen, to be wanted.
And the men? They eat it up. Grinning, laid-back, wealthy in every way that matters here—money, charm, status.
Carefree playboys who’ve never had to choose between paying the electric bill or buying groceries.
Who’ve never patched a hole in their shoe with duct tape or shoved a dresser in front of a door to feel safe at night.
I sip my lemonade and force myself to stay still, even as my insides twist.
I don’t belong here.
Not because I’m still wearing shorts and a tank top while everyone else is half-naked, but because I don’t know how to be effortless. I don’t know how to exist in a world where survival isn’t the goal.
I’ve spent my life clawing for stability, hoarding small victories like they were gold. I don’t know how to let go. I don’t know how to laugh like these girls do. Open, airy, and careless.
They weren’t raised the way I was.
They’ve never had to watch their mother sell herself for a fix. Never had to grow up too fast or hide bruises or lie to social workers.
They belong here.
I don’t.
A high, scornful laugh cuts through the noise like glass shattering.
“Well, well,” a voice sneers behind me. “They really let anyone in these days.”
I turn slowly, already knowing who it is.
Laura, the one who had dressed me down like I was competition, stands there in her white bikini that barely covers anything, her hair somehow still perfect even though the rest of us have long since melted into the heat.
Her expression is sharp enough to slice through steel, and her smile is all venom and glitter.
She glances over her shoulder, smirking at the two imitation Barbies at her side, then steps closer. “You know, I was wondering what the big fuss was about. New girl from the city. Long-lost daughter. Tragic past. Blah blah blah.”
I raise an eyebrow but don’t speak.
That only seems to embolden her.
“I mean, it makes sense now.” Her gaze rakes over me like she’s inspecting a piece of furniture someone left on the curb. “You’ve got that… ‘pity daughter no one wants’ look down to a science. Maybe if you cried more, you’d really sell it.”
Being bullied isn’t something new to me. When you have a stripper crack addict mother and you attend a public school, you grow a pretty thick skin. I take a slow sip of my lemonade, letting the silence stretch long enough to make her uncomfortable.
But she recovers fast.
“You can play the innocent act with the boys all you want,” she continues, her tone suddenly syrupy. “They love a charity case. Especially Jackson. He has this thing for broken toys.”
Ah.
There it is.
The real reason.
“Feeling territorial?” I ask calmly, setting my drink down. “Or bored because Jackson found someone with an actual personality?”
Her nostrils flare, but she smiles like it doesn’t bother her. Like she didn’t twitch at the mention of his name.
“Oh, honey. I’m not threatened by you. You’re a tourist in all this. A temporary sideshow before real life kicks back in.”
I tilt my head. “You sure? Because you seem pretty rattled for someone who’s not threatened.”
Laura’s smile drops. “Watch yourself, street rat. You’re not as untouchable as you think. Just because the boss is letting you hang around doesn’t mean you belong here.”
I stand slowly, the chair scraping back across the flagstone. The air between us tightens.
“I don’t belong anywhere, Laura,” I say softly, stepping in close enough she can smell the sweat and dust still clinging to me from the barn. “But it also means I don’t have anything to lose. Can you say the same?”
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t respond.
And then a voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“That’s enough.”
Colter.
I glance over and find him standing a few feet away, arms crossed, expression stone cold. He’s not looking at me.
He’s looking at her.
Laura’s mask cracks for half a second. Long enough for me to see the flicker of embarrassment and fury.
“Come now,” she says, turning her body slightly toward him, one hand going to her hip. “I was just saying hi.”
Colter’s eyes don’t soften. “Say hi somewhere else.”
Laura hesitates, then flips her hair over her shoulder and gives me one last glare before strutting off toward the pool like she didn’t try to gut me in broad daylight.
I watch her go, then turn to Colter.
He’s still staring.
I cross my arms. “You always swoop in like that? Or are you pitying the poor orphan girl?”
His jaw ticks.
“That what you think this is?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to think with you. One minute you’re cold. The next, you’re… whatever that was.”
He takes a step closer, then another, until there’s barely a foot of space between us. His voice drops low, almost a whisper.
“That was me not letting her get away with treating you like shit.”
“Why?” I ask, honestly. “Why do you care?”
Colter doesn’t answer right away. His eyes search mine, like he’s looking for a crack in the wall I’ve spent years building.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Gritty.
“Because whether you like it or not, you’re one of us now.”
My stomach twists. His words should feel like safety. Belonging.
But it sounds a lot more like a warning.
And I’m not sure which part scares me more.