Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
OLIVIA
T he bar is loud with a vibrant hum of conversation as people continue to trickle in through the doors—people I’ve never seen here before and I can’t imagine would be here under normal circumstances. And though I’d like to believe that most of them are here for the right reasons, I know in my heart their presence isn’t so much about supporting Brooks as it is being here to witness this moment for the Bennetts.
It grates against me, witnessing them being treated like zoo animals to ogle and whisper about. No wonder Rhett has had such a hard time feeling accepted by anyone other than those who share his last name. I understand how it would be difficult for him to extend trust, and I feel even more honored that he’s giving me that trust.
It’s what has me sneaking kisses when I think no one’s looking—nothing indecent, but enough to remind him that I’m here. That he’s cared for and respected and not for the entertainment of others. Even holding back, each kiss sends a wave of heat through me. Each brush of his hand against mine and the deep rumble of his voice sends a thrill dipping through my stomach. And it’s this— this fire that burns too hot and bright between us, like even if we had forever to let it burn, it still couldn’t possibly be enough.
About an hour into the celebration, my mom and Mark stroll through the doors hand in hand. Despite the nature of the evening, Mom is glowing, and it settles something long-aching inside my chest. To see her happy like this is something I wasn’t ever sure would be possible. She smiles when she spots me, tugging Mark our way.
“Hi, honey,” she says as she hugs me.
“Hi, Mom. Thanks for coming.” I came clean to her about Rhett after he and I talked. She handled it well. Told me I had her full support in all things—especially when it came to the heart. I can tell she’s a teensy bit worried about me dating a Bennett, but I know Rhett will prove himself with time.
She pulls away, eyes drifting to Rhett beside me. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’m so sorry for your loss, Rhett,” she says, pulling him in for a hug of equal measure in care and affection, like she’s hugged him a million times before.
I’m surprised when he doesn’t hesitate to let her. “Thank you, Miss Danvers,” he says. “It means a lot to me . . . to my family.”
“I was so sorry to hear the news,” Mark says next, shaking Rhett’s hand before pressing a kiss to my cheek. He looks back at Rhett. “And I’m sorry I didn’t know Melody well, but I can only imagine the pain your family must be experiencing. I’m hoping it’s okay for me to stop by your ranch in the morning—I’ve prepared some meals for you all, in case it helps.”
Rhett’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. “You did?”
Mark’s smile is sad and soft. “Of course. No one should be worrying about groceries or cooking at a time like this. It’s the least I could do.”
Rhett nods, emotion thickening his words. “Thank you, sir. That means more to us than you know.”
The door opens again, and this time Mayor Moore walks in. From where he stands nearby, I see Wells notice too. He leans in to say something quietly to Layla beside him before turning to make his way toward the man looking around the bar.
On some distant instinct, I search for Brooks and find him seated at a table with all three of his sons and his parents. They’ve kept to themselves for the majority of the evening, and I have a feeling Brooks’s brothers are running a quiet interference on anyone who may want to approach their table, instead taking condolences on his behalf.
When I face the front of the bar again, Wells is shaking Mayor Moore’s hand, though the interaction looks rather stiff.
“We’re going to get a drink,” Mom says, pulling my attention back to her, “but please let us know if there’s anything we can do.”
Rhett nods and I smile as they walk away. He turns to me when they’re out of earshot. “That was incredibly nice of the chef,” he murmurs, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Your mom must be treating him well.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. “Quite possibly the last thing I want to think about, but thanks.”
His smile widens. But somewhere a voice rises, drawing our focus back toward Wells and the mayor.
There’s another man beside Mayor Moore now, an older man who looks strikingly familiar with his pale eyes and dark hair. Rhett curses under his breath before he turns to where Kasey’s making drinks behind the bar, letting out a low whistle to get his attention. When he looks up, Rhett dips his head toward the man and Kasey’s gaze turns that direction before a deep frown etches into his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching for Rhett.
“That,” he mutters darkly, “is my uncle.” He moves toward the men as Kasey rounds the bar, and nerves grip tight. I follow him as he cuts a path toward his youngest brother, his eyes fastened to the man who shares his coloring. “Can I help you?” Rhett asks, not too kindly.
The man’s eyes flare as he takes Rhett in with a sweeping glance. “I was hoping to give condolences to my eldest nephew, but Wells here says it’s not possible. I’m trying not to be offended,” he chuffs. “Is this how you welcome family?”
Rhett laughs. “Family? Considering we haven’t seen or heard from you since we were knee-high to a grasshopper, I don’t really think you get to play the family card right now, Huck.”
Kasey reaches Wells and Rhett, and I realize they’re blocking the man’s—Huck’s—view from the table where Brooks and their parents sit. I wonder if they’re hiding Brooks, or if it’s Mr. Bennett they’re worried about.
Huck’s eyes grow cold. “Fine,” he says with a distant smile as he briefly looks at Mayor Moore. The mayor simply shrugs, eyes glinting as if he’s in on some secret. “You want to keep it to business? I can do that.” He pulls a rolled piece of paper from the back pocket of his worn jeans and flattens it against his chest before handing it to Rhett. “Consider this an unofficial notice.”
“Kasey?” Wells asks warily.
Huck smiles. “My lawyer is filing that same paperwork now, and I assume you’ll receive an official notice in the next few days.”
“Notice of what?” Wells asks, looking from his uncle to his brother.
Kasey presses his lips together, frustration on full display. “Of our uncle trying to take the ranch from us.”
Wells frowns, looking back to Huck. “You can’t do that,” he says simply.
But Huck’s smile only widens. “Indeed I can. Please pay Brooks my respects,” he says, turning to head back out through the door.
Rhett is hot on his trail. “You come in here again,” he growls, “and I will tear you apart with my bare fucking hands.”
“Is that a threat?” the mayor cuts in, looking at Rhett with disdain.
Rhett shoots him an icy glare.
“Enough,” Kasey snaps, pointing a finger toward the door. “This is not the time or place. Our family is grieving. You need to go. Now.”
We all watch as the men turn to walk out the door, traces of dark twin smiles on their faces.
“Motherfucker,” Wells says, looking back toward the door, like he might be able to curse his uncle from where he stands.
“Asshole,” Rhett agrees, looking down at the paper.
“He’s not going to get it,” Kasey says. “The ranch. He’s not going to get it.” It’s almost a relief to hear him sound so sure.
“We have the cash now, right?” Wells asks.
Kasey shoots Rhett a glare.
“What?” Rhett shrugs. “You’re the one who gave him a gun and brought him to Rustler Ranch.”
“ You’re the fucking reason I had to,” Kasey seethes.
“Guys,” Wells says, throwing his hands between them. “Not now.”
“We’ve got this,” Rhett tells Kasey. He lowers his voice before adding, “We just need a lawyer.”
Kasey only frowns, the confidence he held already gone again.
Suddenly the doors to the bar burst open, revealing a tall, slender woman with long dark hair that cascades around her beautiful tanned skin. Her deep brown eyes scan the room, looking at each of us as a smile slowly grows from her plump lips. Golden bracelets around her wrist jangle together as she steps into the bar, her stiletto boots clacking against the worn hardwood floor.
My first thought is that she’s a tourist who must have taken a wrong turn into Saddlebrook Falls—based on her manicured nails and stylish clothes, her tastes are far too expensive to have landed here on purpose. But then I see the way her eyes brighten when they land on Kasey, and I turn to find him standing so still it’s as if he’s paralyzed. His eyes are wide with fear, like he’s seeing a ghost.
“Kasey,” she says as she saunters toward him.
“Ava?” he asks, shock written on every feature of his face.
And then it hits me. Ava Jones. The sheriff’s daughter.
“Looks like a party’s already started,” Ava says, sweeping her gaze around the room full of people before her eyes glue back to Kasey and she leans in to whisper, “I heard somebody’s in need of a wife?”