27. Beck
Beck
“Are you going to give me your hat, or what Beckett Hollis?” Lyla’s voice snaps behind me as I near my truck on the far side of the parking lot of the bar.
I turn to face her, leaning on the handle of the driver’s side door. She’s standing with her hip popped, arms crossed over her chest.
“My days of giving out my hat at the bar are long since over, Lyla,” I answer. I know I had a reputation in my youth, and I won’t deny I was a bit of a player, but those habits died the day I realized every woman I took home was just a feeble attempt at getting over her.
Her mouth quirks up into an adorable smirk. “What if I want you to give it to me?”
“That–” I say, glancing around to make sure no one is out here watching. “–would be a very public display of affection, Trouble.”
Even if Austin wasn’t out at the bar with everyone tonight, the gossip train travels fast in Sage Valley, and if anyone caught sight of me giving Lyla my hat, it would be like setting that train on fire.
“So, you haven’t told Austin,” she says in confirmation.
I reach out to her and pick her hand up, tugging her close to me and tucking us both around the side of my truck.
The night is young yet, so everyone is still inside, the muffled thump of country music beating from inside the building.
Still, if anyone came outside, we’re far enough away that the chances of someone seeing us are slim. Not zero, but slim.
“It’s not exactly easy to find the right time to say, hey, I want to fuck your sister,” I murmur, my hand curling around her waist and finding the small of her back.
“Oh so you do want to fuck me?” She says with a breathy laugh.
“Do you feel how hard you make me just standing so close to me like this?” I say, my cock pressing against her hips as I bring her body closer to mine. “Of course I want to fuck you. I want everything with you.”
“Then maybe…” Lyla looks up at me with a coy smile playing on her lips. “You should find a different way to tell Austin about us. I don’t know if there will ever be a right time to say it like that.”
I let out a laugh of my own and then I use Lyla’s hand to turn her around so she’s facing the bar. I plant a kiss on the place where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Go back inside and celebrate your win with the girls,” I say. “I’ll see you at home, Trouble.”
She throws me a wink over her shoulder before she crosses the parking lot and disappears into the bar.
And god, it’s a hell of a view.
When I pull the truck into the drive, the house is dark except for the porch light glowing next to the front door.
I glance over the property to make sure nothing is amiss, and spot Kenny Rogers, standing under the light post down by the barn.
The way he’s watching me gives me the creeps, even though I know he’s just a goat.
There’s something diabolical about him and the way he’s lit up, shadows cast over his face.
It’s quiet when I step inside the house, and I try not to make too much noise as I take off my chaps and boots, and head upstairs to check on Dad. He’s already in bed, CPAP machine on and whirring softly from behind the door.
I wander downstairs and find a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. I only had a beer at the bar, but after my interaction with Lyla in the parking lot, I need something a little stronger.
I want to tell Austin, I do. But I can’t find the right moment.
Like how I could never find a good moment with Tessa, and I agonized over telling Lyla how I felt.
Maybe Lyla has a point, maybe there won’t be a right moment and I just have to find the least horrifying way to tell Austin that I’ve been secretly in love with his sister for years.
And then there’s the issue of the ranch. If there’s anything that makes me want to drown my sorrows in the bottle it’s the thought of trying to fix the damage that was done during the flood.
The main issue was the barn, where Lyla and I worked to divert the water away from the building.
Despite all our efforts, water still managed to seep into the foundation.
Over time, it will sink and cause bigger issues.
It’ll need some repairs, but it’s not like I have the money sitting around. Not after the fence issue.
I take the bottle of whiskey and a glass into the office, and assess the stack of boxes that Lyla has been systematically sorting through and digitizing. There has to be an insurance policy somewhere in there, although who knows if it’s been renewed recently.
I grab a stack of boxes that don’t look like they’ve been opened yet, and take them over to the chair by the fire to start digging through papers. My shoulder twinges as I set them down, the reminder that I won’t be able to get on the stupid mechanical bull for much longer.
Time flies by, because by the time I check my phone, frustrated and annoyed at not having made any progress, it’s been over an hour.
There’s a text notification from a number I still haven’t saved. I haven’t wanted to save it. Most of the messages like this that have come through I’ve sent to trash, haven’t even opened them. But tonight, I’m feeling desperate enough that I do.
(403)-958-2758
Hi Beck. Dave McKevitt here. Following up on my last message about the estimate I sent. Haven’t heard back from you. I think I could get you $3M for the 50 acres on the township side of your property. There are a few developers interested.
I blink a few times to make sure I’m reading that number correctly. That’s not even for the whole property, only the corner by the main road leading into town. It would still leave me with a sizeable amount of land to run the business, and top up my bank account nicely.
I could get a lot done around here with three million.
But the thought of selling, of parcelling off the land, not to mention having to stare at a housing development that would do nothing but bring more people to Sage Valley, feels like selling out.
It feels like a betrayal to my family and my hometown.
But I need to weigh all my options thoroughly, and while I don’t like it, this is an option.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I refill my drink and take a long sip before typing a message back.
I’d be interested in talking more.
It’s not a yes. It’s not a no. It’s an open door, and an opportunity to find out what my choices are.
A noise at the door startles me, and I find Lyla standing with her hip leaning against the door jamb.
Her legs are a mile long in those strappy black heels she’s got on, her jeans showing off the generous curve of her hip.
But it’s the black satin camisole she’s wearing that I haven’t stopped thinking about.
The way it hangs over her full tits, the way I could easily push the strap down her shoulder and reveal them.
“Hey, uh, isn’t this my job?” Lyla asks, taking slow steps into the room and letting the door snick shut behind her as her heels clack against the hardwood. She stands with her back to the large wooden desk, and leans against it.
“I need to submit an insurance claim for the flood damage, I figured I’d start looking for the policy.” I stand and take a few steps towards her.
“Can I at least help?” she asks.
I come closer to her, her body drawing me in like we’re opposite sides of a magnet. “Nah,” I say. “I could use a little distraction, anyway.”
The memory of her body pressed up against mine in the parking lot earlier has had me in a chokehold ever since I got home. My hands find her waist as if that’s where they are meant to be, my mouth finds hers like she’s my North Star.
I skate my lips over her jaw, down the delicate skin of her neck.
She tips her head back and lets out a soft whimper that just about has me falling to my knees.
I don’t fall, though. I lower myself down to the floor in front of her, and work at the tiny clasps of her shoes until I have them both undone and I slide them off.
Rising again, I lift her so she’s perched sitting on the desk, meeting my eye level. Her arms come up to circle my neck, drawing me down to her. Her mouth meets mine in a kiss, her back arching at the contact.
“You were so sexy riding that bull tonight,” I groan against her mouth, remembering the way her hips rocked back and forth, moving with the machine, rolling in a way that had everyone hypnotized.
It made me so fucking jealous, that everyone got to see her up there, that it wasn’t just a private show for me.
“I had to walk away before I did something stupid.”
She wraps her legs around my waist, pressing her hips into me and grinding against me as if she knows exactly what I enjoyed about watching her tonight.
“So that’s why you really left early,” she says between kisses, smiling against my mouth.
I dip my face down to brush my lips next nipping at her lobe. “You got me,” I breathe into the shell of her ear, goosebumps scattering across her skin.
I fucking love it, the physical reaction she has to me.
“You want to know what was even sexier?” I ask, my hand finding the swell of her breast, her nipple peaked through the thin satin.
“Mhmm,” she moans.
“When you said you might want to stay in Sage Valley,” I answer.
She pulls back now, those deep brown irises searching my face. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Of course I do,” I breathe. “I never wanted you to leave the first time around.”
“So what was with all the wear the hat, ride the cowboy business?”
I sense a hint of jealousy in her tone, and it sparks something within me, a small bit of satisfaction I know I shouldn’t have. But I can’t help it, having Lyla feel even the smallest bit possessive over me is a high I can’t explain.
I drop my head so my forehead rests on her shoulder, letting out a long exhale before looking up at her again.
“I was trying to move on, Lyla. I dated and slept around a bit, all in an attempt to move on, to stop thinking about you,” I explain.
“And Tessa?”