33
“W yatt, you snap another flower, I’m going to wring your fool neck.”
Charlie stomps across the floorboards and snatches the bouquet before Wyatt can unceremoniously dump it in a vase. I smother a smile as I watch my brother prowl around the Lodge like some birthday bodyguard.
Wyatt lets out an annoyed laugh and looks at me. “He been actin’ like this all week?”
I lift a brow, hitching fingers through my belt loops, content to watch the madness. “Pretty much.”
Between getting the ranch ready to open to guests in less than a month, and actual ranch work, Charlie pulled together a surprise birthday party for Ruby.
My brother’s gone all out. Everywhere you look, there are flowers and feminine touches to the big masculine lodge.
Light yellow streamers and gold twinkle lights.
Balloons. Colorful linens with sunflowers.
We moved the big table from the chow hall into the main room.
The margarita maker sitting on the bar was Wyatt’s idea, an impromptu rental from Zeke’s hardware.
Wyatt swears when the crepe paper gets tangled around his hands. I pull out my knife and slice off the end of a ribbon.
“Look, I don’t know what the big deal is,” Wyatt complains. “Ruby’s had birthdays before. She’s had cake. She’s had flowers.”
“She needs this,” Charlie says, fluffing the flowers with more violence than necessary.
My eyes flicker to Charlie. “Everything okay?”
A muscle jerks in his jaw. “We had an appointment with Ruby’s cardiologist. He still thinks even with the procedure…it’s not a good idea for her to have kids.”
Wyatt’s face sobers. “Fuck. Sorry, man. I’m just a dumb shit who doesn’t know anything.”
“You knew that,” I say to Charlie.
“Yeah,” Charlie says. “I did. We both did. But I think she thought…” He breaks off, brow creasing, then clears his throat. “How’s the cake coming?”
I clap my brother on the shoulder, feeling for him. “Cake will be ready, Charlie. Dakota’s on it. Relax.”
The mouthwatering fragrance of vanilla and sugar fills the entire lodge.
Wyatt looks around. “Where is Fairy Tale, anyway?”
“Sent her out for soil for the garden,” Charlie says.
“You sure she’s comin’ back?”
Charlie glares at him. “Help me or get your ass out of here.”
“You do it like this,” Wyatt grouses and jerks the string of lights away from Charlie.
I roll my eyes, letting my brothers argue.
Wanting to give one last look over the ranch, I walk away, pass Dakota in the kitchen, and exit the front door.
Bright May sunlight filters through the clouds.
Crybaby Falls will soon receive the melt-off from the snow-dusted peaks of Meadow Mountain.
Already, it’s unreasonably warm. If it keeps up at this pace, it’ll be boiling by the time June rolls around.
In three weeks, the first batch of guests will arrive.
Runaway Ranch is ready.
Still, there’s a nagging feeling in my gut as I scan the ranch.
But there’s nothing. It eats at me and I don’t know why.
The familiar rumble of Fallon’s engine catches my ear. She circles her old Chevy around the parking lot, lets it sputter to a stop, and hops out.
I sigh. One more woman I have to wrangle.
“Need an extra hand?” I ask, coming to a stop beside her truck.
She shakes her head, plucks a purple-wrapped present from the passenger side seat. “I got it.”
“Where’s Stede?”
“Cattle drive in Bixby. He finally feels good enough after chemo, so he couldn’t pass up this chance. He sends his regrets.”
“Can’t keep him down.”
“No, you can’t.” Pride shines in her hazel eyes. “Not my daddy.”
Hefting the package on her hip, she takes a step toward the lodge, but I put a hand out, stopping her. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”
She sighs. Shields her eyes against the sun as she looks up at me. “Let me guess. Dakota squealed.”
“You’re riding bulls, Fallon. Why?”
“Ugh, don’t go all overprotective-old-school-cowboy on me,” she says testily.
“It’s not safe,” I tell her gruffly. “If my brother were doing it, I’d sit him down, too.”
Her nervous gaze flicks to the lodge. “This doesn’t involve you, Davis. Or Wyatt.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It involves me.” I nod her way. “You’re Dakota’s little sister. I promised your father I’d look out for you, and I intend to do that. No matter how much you want to fuss and fight.”
She stares off into the distance, caramel hair whipped by the wind, expression unreadable. “And what about Dakota?”
“What?”
“What about my sister?” she demands. “She’s pregnant. She’s staying in Resurrection. What are you doing with her?”
I scowl, wondering when she turned the interrogation tables on me. “I’d prefer to talk about you,” I mutter, gripping the back of my neck.
The explanation’s simple. I love Dakota. Always have. There will never be another, and loving her is as natural as breathing. She’s everything.
But Fallon isn’t waiting for my answer. She jabs a nail into my chest, staring coolly back at me. “You hurt her, and I run my truck through your lodge.” She shrugs. “It’s already red, so your blood won’t make a difference.”
I fight the smile ghosting my lips. “Is it you or me giving the lecture?”
“Screw my daddy liking you. I like you. So, you might as well buy the ring.”
“Already got it.”
Her eyes widen, and she gnaws on her bottom lip like she’s considering whether to believe me. “Show me.”
My stomach in knots, I pull the ring out of my pocket. A round diamond solitaire with tiny diamonds on the side. I bought it yesterday in Bozeman with Ford along as moral support.
“What do you think?” Though my voice stays steady, a nervousness I’ve never felt before courses through my veins. But it’s not at the thought of asking Dakota to marry me. It’s at the thought of her becoming my wife.
Fallon’s silent for a long beat, but a smile tips her lips. “It’s not big enough. But…she’ll love it.”
I rough a hand over my hair, go on. “I love Dakota. I’ve loved her the last six years and haven’t stopped. I don’t need time. I don’t want to date her. I want to marry her and make her son mine.”
“Well,” Fallon sniffs. A bright sheen coats her eyes. “I guess you’re all kind of chivalrous, aren’t you?”
I chuckle, shake my head. “I want to be good with you, Fallon. Because you’re family. You will be family.”
A long silence falls, and we stare out at the ranch. Across the sky, a golden eagle soars through cotton ball clouds.
“I’m riding because I want to, Davis,” Fallon says, breaking the quiet. Her face is angled toward the sun, away from me. “I want to be as good as Stede. I want to get out of Resurrection.”
I nod, thinking of what Dakota told me about Fallon’s broken dreams. Battered and bruised isn’t enough to scare Fallon away from what she wants. I can’t stop her. Or the yearning in her eyes. Fallon’s a raging river that no man can divert.
I close the space between us and curl my hands around her shoulders.
Surprise creases her face as I turn her toward me.
“Let me break it down for you, Fallon. There’s simply only so much time until you’re hurt.
No matter how good you think you can ride.
It’s inevitable.” I look her in the eyes and say softly, “You’ll get hurt. Maybe die.”
She nods slowly. “I understand.”
“Okay. Make sure you do.” I take the present from her hands and head toward the lodge.
“Davis, wait.” She follows, her lower lip pulled between her front teeth. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
I arch a brow. “Anyone mean Wyatt?” At her silence, I say, “He’ll find out. Sooner or later.”
“Will he be angry?” she asks, her eyes unguarded.
“I couldn’t tell you, honey. I don’t know.”
With that, I leave Fallon. She has her own demons to battle. Whether she listens to me or not, I said my peace. And I’ll be there for anything else she needs, whatever happens.
My boots carry me straight for the kitchen.
My truth north.
My girl.
Dakota’s putting the finishing touches on Ruby’s cake. Beautifully piped buttercream sunflowers unfurl over the cake like a blooming garden.
My heart pounds against my chest.
With her hourglass figure and bump riding low on her belly, Dakota’s fucking flawless. That pregnancy glow surrounds her like a halo. She shimmies around the kitchen in a sexy little dress that stops mid-thigh, and all I want to do is slide it up her curves and see what she’s got on underneath.
“What do you think?”
I stride toward her. “Think it’s the carrot cake to crush all carrot cakes.”
Dakota squints at the cake, lips pursed. “You think?”
“Baby, Ruby’s gonna lose her damn mind.” Which is what I’m close to doing.
“Think you can sacrifice one of those muscles to have a slice?” she teases.
I band my arms high around her waist and ease her back possessively against me. Sugar, milk, cream. Her scent goes straight to my cock, and it flexes.
“Think I wish I were that apron wrapped around your hips.”
“Goddamn it, Davis,” she swears as the cake rocks. “If you make this cake fall, I’ll kill you,” she growls, shoving sweaty hair off her brow. Her face flashes fierce, that no-bullshit look she gets when someone’s in her kitchen. Fuck, it turns me on.
I take her arm and haul her back toward the pantry.
“Davis,” she gasps, shoving at my chest, but I see the flames of excitement leaping into her eyes. “Everyone’s out there.”
“We got thirty minutes,” I rough against her throat, pulling her into the pantry. “Ford’s always late. Wyatt’s hanging a pinata, and who’s to say Charlie and Ruby ain’t doing this same damn thing.”
The corners of her red lips turn up. “You’re playin’ reckless, Hotshot.”
“With you, baby, always.”
Our bodies slam together like rockets, hearts screaming, nerves on fire.
Blindly, I press her up against the door, kissing her deep and hard. No need for lights. I know Dakota in the dark. Every inch, every curve of her body. Mine.
I drag the top of her dress down, kneading her breast in my rough grip. “Fuck, Davis,” she moans.