3. Landon
CHAPTER 3
Landon
T his is the girl.
I swear, we’ve been hearing about her for what seems like an eternity. I thought this town was too small to house a celebrity, but no.
You can’t throw a stone without hitting someone who has a story about Nora Foster. How nice she is. How smart. How she made it to CU Boulder down in Colorado on a full academic scholarship, and how she’s back now to help out her dear old daddy, just like a good daughter should. You’d think that she was some kind of saint, the way folk talk about her around here.
However, the little hellcat hissing at us right now seems anything but saintly.
Objectively, she’s attractive. Fine as hell, even. She’s petite but clearly packed with muscle from the way she scooted over here to chase off Storm from her old gray horse. She’s got on a worn flannel, a baseball cap, and her brown hair pours out the back in a thick, don’t-fuck-with-me single braid. Her blue eyes spark with all the energy of a lightning storm, and even though she’s squared up like a UFC champ, I sneak a peek at her ass.
I resist the urge to whistle. She is pushing those Wranglers to the absolute limit of their seams .
“Look, is the stallion yours? Or should I add horse thief to your already crappy reputations?”
Crappy reputations… “Yeah, Storm is ours. He seems to want to get over here pretty much constantly, and he sneaks right through the hole in your fence.”
“That explains Joan and Thunder,” she mutters.
I blink. “Joan? Thunder?”
“Nothing. Never mind,” the hellcat snaps. “I’ll fix the fence. Just get off my land, and don’t let him near my alfalfa again.”
I exchange a look with Shane. If this little thing is out here mending fences, I’m a horse’s ass. “I can help you fix the fence.”
Shane snorts, and Clint whirls, staring at me like I just popped a second head. I shift, hoping both of them shut the fuck up. “I can help you fix the fence,” I repeat.
“No!” she practically shrieks. God help me, she’s cute when she’s mad.
I lean forward, my elbows resting on my saddle horn.
“Listen. We got off on the wrong foot. My name’s Landon,” I say, ignoring Shane’s amused look and Clint’s aggressive glare. “This is Shane and Clint. We’re your new neighbors.”
Nora folds her arms but doesn’t respond.
“Storm is one of our stallions for our breeding operations. He’s a champion cutter,” I say with a wink. “If only he’d leave the fences alone, though, right?”
Nora raises her eyebrows. “You know, cutting horses are not named because they can cut physical objects, right?”
Her tone, which clearly points out that I am the stupidest person on the planet, makes me grin. “Well, this one cuts herds and wires all the same. New breed.”
Shane snorts, clearly holding in laughter, and Nora and Clint both glare at him.
“Let me help you mend the fence. Isn’t there a saying about good fences and good neighbors?”
“It’s implied that keeping your neighbors out of your sight makes the arrangement a good one,” Nora seethes.
“All the same. I was working on our fences earlier today, so I have some wire right here.” I pat the side of my saddle. It’s true; I had been out riding fences when Clint came on the radio saying that Storm was gone again.
We knew where to go. We’ve fished him out of the Foster property numerous times. No one is ever over here to witness. He likes the alfalfa hay they’re growing and mostly likes having it all to himself. Asshole.
“I’ll fix the fence,” Nora repeats stiffly. “You have your horse. Now go.”
Shane shifts on his mount until we’re in earshot. “Let it go, Lan.”
Fine. I pull back, giving her a tip of my hat. “Looking forward to seeing you again. And what did you say your name was, Miss Foster?”
“I didn’t,” she barks. She watches us like she’s somehow going to have to run us off with a shotgun, old style. It’s how I know she does not currently have a shotgun on her. She would absolutely be chambering it right now if she did.
Slowly, Clint grabs both of our ropes and tugs Storm over to his mount. Docile as a kitten now, Storm acquiesces to being tied and then meekly follows as Clint trots back toward Wild Spur.
I’m the last one to go. I turn, giving Nora a little wink. “See you around, Hellcat.”
Before she can say shit about the nickname, I press my heels into Danger’s sides and trot off after the others. We make it just past the broken fence when we stop.
“Y’all head back,” I say, getting down. “I’ll be right here.”
Clint wheels around. “Do not fix that fence, Landon.”
I pause. “Why? What’s a fence between neighbors?”
“I don’t want that fence fixed. I want their whole fucking ranch!” he practically roars.
“Clint, why don’t you yell it a little louder so that the girl can hear?” Shane says quietly.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ve badgered Richard Foster plenty. He’s not going to sell,” I add.
Clint looks like he swallowed a lemon.
“Oh, he’ll sell,” he growls at the two of us. “Make no mistake. That ranch is doomed. One of the two of them is going to notice, and sooner or later, they’re going to give in. ”
Shane and I exchange a look. “Clint, don’t you think?—”
“I’m going to bring Storm to the east paddock. Don’t forget that we’re meeting with the investors tonight,” Clint barks at us. Storm in tow, he rides off, heading for the right field.
Beneath me, Danger snorts. I reflexively lean down to pat his neck. “I know, bud. Clint can be a real dick sometimes.”
“You don’t help,” Shane points out. “You seem to know exactly what to say to take him from zero to sixty.”
“I mean, come on, it’s just a fence,” I say, pointing at the broken fence line.
Shane shrugs. “You’re not wrong. But I have a feeling it’s more than just a fence. To both of them,” he adds in a low voice.
He has me there. If it was just Clint’s opinion on the line, I’d happily mend the fucking fence and be done with it. I can handle Clint’s rage and have done so on more than one occasion. What I can’t handle, though, is making an enemy of our extremely sexy new neighbor.
I heave a sigh. “Fine. You got me. I won’t fix the fence.”
“I think that when we come back tomorrow, this fence will be in great shape.” Shane grins at me.
I laugh. “Yeah. Me too. Also, this has to be Nora Foster, right?”
“The same, whose reputation clearly precedes her.”
I snort. “Except the Nora we keep hearing about is like some kind of Mother Teresa. The one we saw?”
“More like a spitfire. Ten pounds of dynamite in a five-pound sack.”
I whistle. “And did you see those jeans?”
“They are hanging on by a thread, man. How did she even get them up over that ass?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Dunno. But I didn’t have Nora Foster being a smoke show on my bingo card for the month.”
Shane sighs. “Neither did I, brother.”
Both of us look at the horizon for a second, contemplating the woman over the rise. I turn to Shane. “You gonna go for her?”
“And have Clint rip me a new one every time I try to take her on a date?” Shane goes to shake his head, then pauses, looking back at me. “Are you going to go for her? ”
“Hell yes,” I smirk. “Especially if there’s no competition.”
“Fuck you, man.” Shane grins. “If I was trying for her, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“You’re fucking crazy, dude.”
He laughs, then spurs his horse Buce into action. “Race you back to the house?”
“You’re fucking on, man.”
We both yell, sending the horses into a gallop as fast as we can. Shane, on his big-ass horse, isn’t nearly as fast as Danger and me.
I fucking love this. Racing across the prairie, the wind in my hair. Growing up in Nevada was fine, got a taste for being a cowboy, but Montana is pure fucking heaven, as far as I’m concerned.
Shane and I race forward, tearing toward the house. Much as I’m interested in the new neighbor, I’d never do anything to get on the wrong side of either one of my friends.
Shane and Clint. My friends. Brothers, really. We’ve been raising ourselves since we were kids and escaped Nevada together.
Nora Foster is hot. She’s a fine-looking gal, and there’s no doubt that I love the challenge she decided to throw down in front of us. But at the end of the day, my loyalty is to my brothers. Nora would just be a flash in the pan for me, because I don’t do relationships with women. I’m a one-and-done type of guy. Shane and Clint are my ride-or-dies. Women have never come between us before, and they never will. We’ve been through hell together, and no matter what, our bond is un-fucking-breakable.
As we careen over the prairie, I smile.
This life is fucking great. I’d never do something to risk it. No matter how blue her eyes are, or how cute she looked mad at us. What I have is perfect. I’d never throw it away for a woman.
The meeting with the investors goes as planned. They’re pleased with last quarter’s profits, and they have pretty perfunctory feedback when Shane produces the budget for the next fiscal year. Shane wraps up, taking the lead as he always does in these meetings, before shutting the computer down. I breathe, desperate to take the tie and sport coat off.
“Hate these monkey suits,” I grunt, shrugging out of it.
“You’re literally wearing sweatpants underneath,” Clint drawls.
“And my up top bits are the ones that hurt,” I respond, giving him the finger.
Shane laughs. “Landon, you haven’t spoken once in one of those meetings. I’m sure you could show up wearing a full-on costume, and they wouldn’t know who you were.”
“Thanks for the confidence boost, Shay,” I sigh.
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“You two idiots need to shut the fuck up and talk to me about the Foster place,” Clint barks.
I do, in fact, resent being called an idiot. I turn to Clint. “Dude. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is this. We just showed all of those investors, who have the ability to do wild shit to our company, that we’re on track to add seven hundred new horses by next July,” he growls. “What the fuck do you think we’re going to do with them? Put them on a fucking diet and tell them to be nice to each other so we can pack them on this ranch like sardines?”
“Clint,” I say, my voice serious now. “We’re going to figure it out. We always do.”
“Yeah. The solution that I figured out was to buy the ranch next to us. I thought you said the bank was going to foreclose?” He shoots a look at Shane.
Shane shrugs. “That’s the intel I got.”
“So why haven’t they fucking foreclosed?” Clint hisses.
“It’s a small town, Clint. The Fosters are well known and well liked. I think that the bank is probably trying to give them every chance to fix it before they actually pull the trigger.”
“Fucking small town politics,” Clint barks. “I thought we left all of this shit behind in Rebel Creek.”
“Clint, come on.” I blow out a breath. “It’s a small town. Same as Rebel Creek, but the cast of characters has changed.”
In response, Clint snaps. “I’m going to check on the bark. ”
With the sound of boots clomping on the hardwood floor, he’s gone.
Shane and I exchange a look. “I think he needs to go back on those meds.”
“Yeah? I volunteer you to suggest it to him.”
I grimace. “No fucking way.”
“Then we get grumpy Clint. Forever.”
“It won’t be forever,” I say quickly. “Just until we figure this out.”
“There’s not really anything to figure out.” Shane leans back, his fingers drumming on the dining room table. I hop to the fridge, pulling us out two Coors, and settle back in, handing him one. He takes a long sip.
“I could take that girl from the bank out again,” he muses.
“Banging the loan girl does not seem to be working in our favor.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. You’re the Lex Luthor of the group. Don’t you have an evil plan?”
Shane’s quiet. I glance over, noting the little wrinkle between his eyebrows. That’s usually a good sign. It means he’s thinking. And when Shane Emerson gets to thinking, good things happen.
I stand. “You just let me know, man.”
“You going to talk to Clint?”
“Hell no. Not right now,” I add.
“Will you?”
Internally, I groan. My role in our group, more often than not, is peacemaker. Clint’s stubborn as a mule and as hard-headed as a goat. Shane’s like a bear. He’s generally pretty easygoing, but when it comes down to the wire, if he wants something, he’s hell to budge.
That leaves me as the go-between. Fun, friendly, fast-and-loose Landon Morrison. I’d like to think that our friendship didn’t exist until I started to tag along after these two, but hey, who knows? They might have made it work without me.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I finally say through clenched teeth.
“Thanks, brother. ”
“Anytime.”
Shane leaves, heading off to his room to do some evil genius stuff, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
It’s a farm kitchen. It looks like every farm kitchen I’ve ever been in, which is a surprisingly large number. But for the first time, I’m struck by the fact that it feels… incomplete.
I stand up, looking at the walls. There are small squares imposed on the wallpaper. Places where pictures used to be. We bought the place from two retired ranchers whose kids were grown and gone. I guess the little spaces, less faded than the paper around them, are from where they had family photos and shit.
I collapse back into my chair, nursing my beer. A weird loneliness punches through me, taking the breath from my lungs. The three of us don’t have family photos. We’re not really a family, I guess. I used to run over to Shane’s place when my parents had their big fights, and Clint was dumped there by his dad, who worked for Shane’s dad as a ranch hand.
The three of us just kind of… stuck. We’ve always wanted to do something together. Something that combined Clint’s knowledge of horses, Shane’s weirdly smart mind, and my…
My what?
I lean back, the beer sitting uneasily in my stomach. Other than a shit-eating grin and the ability to make Clint and Shane see reason, I have nothing to contribute to this group. It brings up an old hurt. One that’s drowned in fighting words and seasoned by the experience of coming home to an empty house.
Neither one of them wanted you .
“Fuck,” I mutter, sipping the beer. I have to shake this shit off. A rolling stone grows no moss, and fuck if I want this kind of moss weighing me down.
I’m all right. I have Clint and Shane. The business is booming, and the Wild Spur is going to be the only way to outfit a trail ride in the state of Montana soon.
No matter what, I bring something to that team.
For now.
Fuck my thoughts. I stand, my annoyance clear. I head out, trying to find Clint.
Shane and Clint are the best thing that ever happened to me. I’d never do anything to risk that. Not in a million fucking years. Life’s good, just the way it is.
I hold on to the thought. Use it to squish down the darkness gnawing at me. Outside of the barn, I take a huge breath.
Time to make this right with my friend and get us all back on track as a team again.