2. Roman
Roman
The cast-iron skillet hisses as I stir onions and garlic through melted butter. Lamb chops brown in the pan beside it, potatoes boil in a small pot, and a loaf of bread warms in the toaster oven. It’s a simple meal, the kind I’ve cooked so many times I don’t have to think about it.
Which is a good thing, since my brain refuses to focus on what I’m doing. I keep seeing those expensive clothes, that designer shoulder bag, and the wrinkle of disgust on Taylor’s face when he looked around the property.
As if the place smelled terrible.
As if he couldn’t wait to leave.
The kitchen door creaks, stealing my attention. Jude steps inside, a tool belt hanging low on his hips and a cordless drill dangling from one hand.
“Got him settled in,” he announces.
I grunt, going back to stirring.
“I could give him a tour later tonight.”
Another grunt. I’m only surprised he took so long to offer.
Jude comes up beside me, sticking his face in my pan. I brush him aside. He reaches for a fork and swipes a chunk of my onions. I shoot him a glare and he chuckles while swallowing. “If you need me, I’ll be at cabin five. I’m going to finish the roof before we lose daylight.”
“Mm.”
“You planning on using actual words today?”
“I just did.”
He snorts. “Put my dinner in the warmer.”
“Don’t fall through the damn roof,” I warn him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the second. The damn daredevil seems to be made of steel.
“No promises.” With a grin, he goes out the back. I let out a slow breath as the screen door slaps shut behind him.
This morning, I woke up in a pretty decent mood—well, decent by my standards.
My brief encounter with Taylor shot my positive mood to hell.
The kid reminds me too much of Lucas. Self-absorbed.
Entitled. The kind of man who thinks the world exists to serve him.
And maybe I’m being unfair, but first impressions are hard to shake, especially when he wears the face of the man who ruined my life.
Twenty-four years.
That’s how long it’s been since Lucas and I spoke. Twenty-four years since my stepbrother sat in my office upstairs and lied right to my face. It took one decision. One betrayal. He walked away richer while I spent the next two decades trying to rebuild what he’d destroyed.
Silver Sage Retreat never fully recovered. Hell, neither did I.
And I’m still surprised that his wife called me last week. The woman hadn’t spoken to me in over two decades, yet somehow she found my number. She’d asked if their son could stay here. My first answer had been no.
Then she’d told me about Lucas.
The fact that my stepbrother is sitting in prison for embezzlement doesn’t surprise me one bit.
People like Lucas always believe they’re too smart to get caught.
Eventually, they do. I must admit, the news tugged on my heartstrings a little, not because of Lucas, but because of what Natasha went through.
I couldn’t imagine raising a kid by myself, and she did it on her own for ten years.
Was that enough to persuade me to get involved? No.
But then she’d offered money. A shitload of it.
Enough to renovate the ranch, replace aging equipment, and keep Silver Sage breathing for another two years. All I had to do was keep an eye on Taylor for three months, and the money would be mine. The offer sounded simple and easy. Yet, I hate myself a little for accepting.
The onions are beginning to brown. I add a splash of beef broth, then turn the fire down.
I wipe my hands on a nearby towel. Reaching for my phone lying beside the coffeemaker, I dial Natasha’s number.
I’ve already made three attempts to reach out since Taylor arrived, and her silence makes me uneasy.
The phone rings until voicemail picks up.
I try again. As I’m about to hang up, the line opens.
“Roman?”
Her voice comes through the chaotic sounds of ringing phones and people talking over each other. “Hold on,” she says, and I grab some veggies from the fridge while I wait for her to find somewhere quiet.
A door soon shuts, and she expels a heavy breath. “Sorry about that.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” I remark.
“Oh, God. You have no idea,” she huffs.
“I probably don’t.” I’m swamped with work from sunup to sundown, but I can’t imagine handling everything on her plate. Balancing her career as a district attorney while running for Congress can’t be easy. I don’t envy her.
It’s still strange hearing her voice again. She sounds nothing like the perky woman who stood beside Lucas at their wedding. Her tone is flat and stripped of energy. “I wanted to let you know that Taylor arrived,” I say.
Her exhale is immediate. “Oh, thank God. I’d planned to check on him, but I have a fundraiser tomorrow and...” She huffs again. “It’s been crazy around here.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Well, I’m not exactly doing it for free.”
“I know, and um...”
A long pause ensues. Puzzled, I remove the phone from my ear to check if she’s still on the line. Her phone number on the screen confirms it. “Natasha?”
“C—can I ask you to do something?”
“Sure.”
“Please don’t tell Taylor about the money.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“He already thinks all I ever do is throw money at our problems.”
“So you’re paying me behind his back.”
“Yes. I want him to believe you offered because he’s family.”
Leaning against the counter, I stare at the steam rising from the saucepan. That earlier uneasiness returns in a rush.
“Roman, please keep this between us. Taylor hasn’t had the best luck with people lately. I don’t want him to feel as if he’s a burden to anyone.”
I rub a hand over my beard. I’m still conflicted, but she’s his mother. If she doesn’t want him to know about the money, then I’ll respect her wish. “Mum’s the word,” I assure her.
“Thank you.”
“And I’ll do my best to keep him alive.”
A small laugh escapes her. “I was hoping for slightly more than that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll send him back in one piece.”
“I appreciate it.”
A question had resurfaced when Taylor showed up earlier. Now that I have his mother on the phone, it’s the perfect time to ask. “Natasha.”
“Yes?”
“You still haven’t told me why he’s really here.”
Silence. Long enough for the unease to spread to the pit of my gut. “He needed a change of scenery.”
“That’s what you said before.”
“It’s the truth.”
“It doesn’t sound like all of it.”
Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is careful. “The city hasn’t been good for him.”
“That’s quite a vague response, Natasha.”
“I...” She trails off. “It’s complicated.”
“He’ll be here for three months. I’d rather know what I’m dealing with.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But it’s Taylor’s story to tell.”
That answer doesn’t satisfy me. Not even close. It would be wise to know what I’m up against. “Did he kill someone?”
“Jesus, no. Of course not.”
“Then—“
“If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I hope that won’t change how you accommodate him,” she replies. “He could learn a thing or two from you, Roman. He will be heading to law school next year, and while he might not need those skills in the courtroom, he could use some toughening up.”
Sighing, I stare out the kitchen window toward the cabins, seeing Jude’s silhouette moving against the graying sky. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Thank you.” I hear the smile in her voice. “You’ve always been a good person, Roman.”
I almost laugh. She doesn’t know me anymore. In fact, she never really did. “I’ll call if anything comes up.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
She hangs up. The kitchen falls silent again except for the burbling of the pots and the hum of the refrigerator. I lower the phone onto the counter. That restless feeling is still there.
When Natasha first explained everything, it had sounded simple enough.
A young man needed a break from the city.
Who wouldn’t? I can’t imagine living among all that excitement.
But after meeting Taylor, after getting a taste of his attitude, hearing that strain in Natasha’s voice convinces me there’s more to the story.
I switch off the burner beneath the pan before the meat burns. Three months. That’s all. I’ll keep the kid safe, collect the money and save the ranch.
Simple.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I hope I haven’t taken on too much.