5
L eave. Go somewhere else. Anywhere but here.
It was a prick move, saying those words to that girl last night. Even now, in the morning’s stillness, they’re rattling around in my head as I stride down Main Street.
I don’t know why I said them. I don’t know why I cared. If she stays or goes, it’s no skin off my back.
Which is a fucking bullshit lie and I know it.
I care because she got a reaction out of me.
When I held her in my arms, the feel of her small frame and silky skin was like a shock of adrenaline to my bloodstream.
My blood ignited with fire. When I set her on her feet, my cock could’ve punched through drywall.
I wanted more, and I had to fight the urge to pull her into my arms and keep her there.
I wanted to protect her.
It pisses me off.
I cared and I can’t. The only people who get my worry are my brothers and my little sister. Not some bright-eyed, fresh-faced girl who looks like sunshine and smells like strawberries.
Leave. Go somewhere else.
Damn it. I was an asshole.
I’m also an idiot.
There was something about her. Something infuriatingly adorable. Sure, she looked like she climbed out of a fairy tale, but it wasn’t just that. It was what happened last night. The entire world was falling apart around us, and she was smiling.
Fucking smiling. Like she had the best night of her life dodging fists and sliding through beer.
Too many red flags. Too much drama. With any luck, she left this morning.
Ruby Bloom. What the hell kind of name is that, anyway?
A motorcycle roars up Main Street, breaking the silence of the sunny June morning. I lift a hand to Rufus, leader of the Choir Boys motorcycle club, and watch him head to the Legion.
Already the town’s bustling. Shopkeepers are outside setting up A-frame signs and sweeping the front stoops of boutiques and coffee shops. Summer in Resurrection means our tight-knit mountain community of 6,000 increases tenfold during the peak tourist season.
The sooner I can get back to the ranch, the better.
Still, I like this walk. This view.
Dense pine forest and the sun-drenched Rocky Mountains frame Resurrection, a former Wild West mining town that is snugly situated in a box canyon. In the distance is Crybaby Falls, the switchbacks that lead up to Glacier National Park.
I duck around the corner, stride up to the Bear Creek Clinic, and enter through the sliding glass doors. The elevator takes me to the second floor, where I enter a narrow hallway that connects the community hospital to the cancer center.
I step up to the front desk. “Hey, Kara.”
“Charlie.” She snaps a bubble. “Stede’s back in his chair. He’s ready for you.”
“Thanks.”
I walk down the hallway and enter the room.
Stede lifts a gnarled hand when he sees me.
The space is sterile and minimalist. There’s a couch, a muted TV showing an old episode of Bonanza , and framed scenes of nature with cheery words of positivity printed beneath them. In other words, depressing as fuck.
“Hey, kid,” Stede says, setting the book in his lap aside.
“Hey, old timer.” I pull a chair around and sit in front of him. By now, like Stede, I’m used to the machines and the needles. “How you doin’?”
“Kicking ass, kid. You goddamn blind?” Stede drawls in his deep rumble, gesturing at the needle lodged in his arm.
I chuckle. “Nice to see you too, asshole.”
Even stage two lung cancer can’t keep Stede McGraw down. His thick silver hair is gone, but he still has his signature horseshoe mustache. Coming from a long line of prospectors and cowboys, Stede’s ancestors founded Resurrection, and he looks the part.
The man’s a legend in our small community.
A retired pro bull rider who made millions working as a stuntman and livestock wrangler—he has pull, influence and the biggest ranch in Resurrection.
He’s been like a surrogate father to me and my brothers ever since we blew into town, guiding us and putting in good words with the locals so they didn’t eat us alive.
A man I admire and respect. A man who gave me a new start.
Ten years ago, I stumbled into the Nowhere bar and took a seat beside the man. When I told him I wanted some land to get lost on, he asked me only one question: “You from California, boy?”
“No, sir,” I replied, five whiskeys deep by then.
Satisfied by my answer, he sold me the land.
It was a handshake deal. I used my rodeo prize winnings and cashed in on my trust fund to get enough money for a down payment.
Buying the ranch means I didn’t just run and piss away my future.
I did something with it. The land I own is mine and nothing can take it from me.
Even if the light at the end of the tunnel is still hard to see.
Stede stares me down, his gaze eagle-sharp. “We got to talk, kid. And talk now.”
I sigh and scrub my hand down my beard. “Listen, if it’s about the video—”
“I don’t give two fucks about social media.”
That makes two of us.
Although Davis might be right about putting some thought into it.
Advertising was one thing we never did. Social media was a pain in my ass, so I steered clear of it and relied on word of mouth. Slowly, after five years’ operating as a working ranch, Runaway Ranch is showing small but consistent profits.
But it won’t be for long if we don’t get ourselves out of this mess.
No one wants to go to a ranch where they get yelled at.
I think of my little brother Grady and how he has a following thanks to his social media account. Sure, we all gave him shit about it when he first started, but now he’s opening for Cole Swindell so ...
It grates at me. The fucking perverse hypocrisy of it all. Guests come to the ranch to get away, and us invading their solitude so we can put it on social media just to make a dime, to survive? It’s horseshit.
Stede’s expression turns grave. “Now I don’t want to bring you more trouble, son, but unfortunately, that’s what I’m here to do. We got some developers making the rounds again.”
I roll my eyes. Every few years, some L.A. firm sends their suits to Resurrection. They make offers and try to buy up the land, but we all tell them to get fucked. No way in hell is anyone putting a Sweet Green on Main Street.
“Isn’t just any slick-haired developer,” Stede continues. “It’s Declan Valiante.”
I grunt. “That guy running for governor?”
I vaguely remember seeing aggressive campaign ads around town and on television. Some influential land developer with money who moved to Montana from L.A. and thinks he knows what the fuck we need.
A curt nod. “One and the same.” Steed strokes his long mustache. “He’s been sending people around Resurrection.”
That gets my attention. “What kind of people?”
Stede holds my gaze. “Mean people, Charlie. People who make your life a living hell.” He shifts, stretching out his legs.
“DVL Equities isn’t above playing dirty.
Declan sends fellas from Montana. Men who put the west in this western.
They come talk to you, make a deal, but if you refuse, they fuck you up.
Find out what you owe, what problems you’re having, and make it their business.
Maybe they talk to your bank. Maybe they harass you.
Maybe you take a trip downriver. Either way, it’s some fucking underhanded shit. ”
“Should I be worried?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. When I work my connections, I’ll let you know.
” Stede winces as he reclines back in the chair.
I lean forward and help him drag the blanket up his legs.
“Now I’m not telling you this so you cave.
I’m telling you this so you can take it personal, partner. So you can be prepared.”
“How prepared?”
He thinks about it. “I reckon you can’t go wrong with a shotgun and good security.”
“Fuck.” I run a palm over my jaw, trying to tamp down the pit in my stomach.
This is going to be a mess.
Once again, I wonder what I’ve gotten my brothers into. If the video affects the ranch, if we can’t pay our loan, if the developers catch wind of our trouble ... I don’t have a plan out of this mess. It feels like everything is crumbling around me. And if we lost the ranch ...
The rock in my throat turns to a boulder.
“Get out of here, kid,” Stede says with a grin as a nurse approaches. “You don’t want to see this.”
I shove out of my chair and shake his hand. “Appreciate the advice, Stede.”
“Don’t forget, we got Family next week,” he calls after me in his booming voice. “Get the boys together and we’ll figure out how to fix this.”
I swear under my breath and head for the elevator. The last thing I want to do is sit around a campfire with my brothers and tell them we’re fucked. They shouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. I got them into this mess, and it’s my goddamn job to fix it.
Fuck. What else can go wrong?
I get my answer pretty damn quick when I step off the elevator and slam into a willowy wall of sunshine.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
I glance down at the bright chirp of a voice.
On the lobby floor, Ruby’s scrambling for her purse that got dropped in our collision. Unable to stop it, my eyes drift over her body. Long, tan legs. Rosebud lips. Shapely thighs. Supple ass barely covered by another damn sundress. Lavender this time.
She looks up and gasps. Her blue eyes go wide as she takes me in before she turns her attention back to her belongings.
Having her on her hands and knees in front of me is doing things to my sanity. Not to mention my libido.
I drop beside her. My gaze lingers on her things. The cell phone screen lighting up with five missed calls. The orange pill bottle toppled on the shiny tile.
The sharp bark of a question leaves my lips before I can stop it. “What are you doin’ here?”
“I’m—” Her pink mouth opens and closes. “I have anemia,” she blurts, snatching the pill bottle up before I can get a good look at it. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look flustered.
I frown as we stand. “Is it bad?”
She tucks a long lock of rose-gold hair behind her ear. “It’s fine. Not like it’s your business.” She slings her purse over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
I grit my teeth, annoyed by her comment. She’s right. It isn’t my business, so why the fuck am I bothered by it?
“Visiting a friend,” I tell her. “He has cancer.”
“Oh.” Chewing on her lower lip, she locks her eyes to mine. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.” The way she says it—with genuine sincerity—has a strange ache settling in my chest.
I open my mouth, but she cuts me off.
“See you around, Cowboy,” she says, giving me a sweet smile and damn if it doesn’t twist me up inside. She takes a step to the door, pauses, then turns and looks at me over her shoulder. “I’m staying in Resurrection, by the way.”
Then she’s gone, floating out the door into the bright sunshine, and I stand here like an idiot, watching the hem of her sundress flip up with the breeze.
Goddamn it.
After a long second, an internal war consuming me, I storm out after her.