Chapter 18
Tammy
The general store smelled like leather and dust and something faintly sweet, maybe the candles displayed near the register. I ran my fingers along a rack of jeans, checking sizes, trying to remember if I was a six or an eight in this brand.
Thurlee was still at the market picking up groceries. We had agreed to meet back at the truck in an hour, which gave me plenty of time to browse and think about what I actually needed versus what I wanted.
Ranch clothes. That's what I was here for.
The thought made me smile. Ranch clothes, like I was someone who belonged here, someone who would stay long enough to need a proper wardrobe for this life.
I pulled a pair of dark-wash jeans off the rack and held them up. They looked sturdy with reinforced knees and heavy denim, the kind that could handle riding and ranch work without falling apart after a few washes.
I added them to the small pile draped over my arm. Two more pairs of jeans, a flannel shirt in deep green, and a lightweight jacket that looked like it could handle Colorado's unpredictable weather.
What I really needed were boots. Cowboy boots.
My hiking boots had served me well, but they weren't right for riding. Ripplan had mentioned it more than once, gently in that gruff way of his, that proper boots would give me better stability in the stirrups and better control.
I wandered toward the boot display near the back of the store. Rows and rows of them lined the shelves in all shapes and colors. Some were ornate with stitching and embellishments. Others were plain and practical, broken-in looking.
I picked up a pair in dark brown leather. Simple and classic. I turned them over, checking the soles and stitching, imagining myself wearing them.
When did I become someone who cares about cowboy boots?
But I knew the answer. It had happened gradually over the past couple of months, somewhere between learning to saddle Daffodil and riding out with the cattle drive and watching the sunrise over the Rockies from horseback.
The thought made my chest tighten in that good way, the way that felt like hope and fear and certainty all tangled together.
Ripplan and I were something. I didn't know what to call it yet. We hadn't put a label on it or had the "what are we" conversation beyond that night when we had both admitted we didn't want it to end.
But he practically lived at my clinic now. He spent every night in my bed and woke up beside me every morning. He tolerated my public gestures of affection, my hand on his arm and my kiss on his cheek, even when the ranch hands gave us hell for it.
Dutton had wolf-whistled at us yesterday when Ripplan had kissed me goodbye before heading out to check fences. Carter had made some joke about the foreman being "domesticated." Ripplan had growled at them, but I had seen the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile.
We were a couple, even if we hadn't said it out loud.
And I wanted it. God, I wanted it so much it scared me sometimes.
I set the boots down and picked up another pair in a lighter tan with subtle stitching along the shaft. They were beautiful, feminine but practical.
I couldn't believe how much I loved riding now, how much I loved the feel of Daffodil beneath me and the rhythm of her gait and the way the world looked from horseback. I loved the early mornings at the stables, the smell of hay and leather, the quiet conversations with Ripplan as we saddled up.
I loved this life.
I loved him.
I hadn't said it yet. Hadn't found the courage. But it was there, sitting heavy and warm in my chest, waiting for the right moment.
I added the tan boots to my pile and headed toward the back of the store where I had seen a display of hats. If I was going full ranch mode, I might as well commit.
The hat section was tucked in the corner near the back exit, a pegboard wall covered in cowboy hats of every style and color. Straw hats for summer, felt hats for winter, some with wide brims and others with narrower ones.
I reached for a cream-colored straw hat with a braided band. It was light and practical, probably perfect for riding in the sun.
I was turning it over in my hands, checking the sizing, when I heard the back door creak open behind me.
Then a hand clamped over my mouth.
Another arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me backward.
I dropped everything. The hat, the clothes, the boots scattered across the floor as I tried to scream, but the hand pressed harder and cut off the sound.
I was dragged through the open door into the alley behind the store.
Panic exploded through me. My heart slammed against my ribs and my mind raced.
The Broussards. It was payback for Craig. They were going to—
Then I smelled it. That cologne. The one I used to think was sophisticated and expensive. Now it just smelled cloying and wrong.
The hand released my mouth. I was spun around roughly, my back slamming against the brick wall of the building.
I found myself staring into Arlo's face.
"Hello, Tammy."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't process that he was here, in Colorado, in this alley, his hands still gripping my arms hard enough to bruise.
"Arlo." My voice came out strangled. "What... how did you..."
"Private investigator." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It never had. "Cost me a fortune, but he found you. Took a while because you covered your tracks pretty well. But then that pharmacist got arrested. 'Nurse practitioner helps FBI bust local drug tampering ring.' Made it real easy."
My stomach dropped. The news coverage. Shit! I hadn't thought about it, hadn't considered that it would lead him straight to me.
"You shouldn't have run, Tammy." His voice was soft, almost gentle, the tone he used to use when he was about to tell me everything I had done wrong. "You embarrassed me. Made me look like a fool in front of everyone."
"I didn't..." I stopped and took a breath. "I left because I needed to leave."
"You left because you're selfish." His grip tightened. "You didn't think about what it would do to me. To us. To our future."
"We didn't have a future, Arlo."
"We had everything." His voice rose slightly, that edge of anger creeping in. "I gave you everything."
"You gave me a cage."
His eyes flashed. "I gave you love. And you threw it away for what? This?" He gestured vaguely at the alley, the town, the mountains beyond. "Some backwater ranch in the middle of nowhere? Working for Orcs?"
There it was. The disgust in his voice when he said the word.
"They're good people," I said quietly.
"They're animals." He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face. "And you're coming home with me. Right now. We're going back to Franklin, and you're going to apologize to my family, and we're going to get married."
Something shifted inside me.
It wasn't fear. It wasn't panic.
It was clarity.
I looked at Arlo, really looked at him, and saw him for what he was.
Not the sophisticated, successful man I had once thought I loved. Not the partner I had tried so hard to please.
Just a small, insecure man who needed to control someone to feel powerful.
A coward.
"No," I said.
His eyes widened slightly. "What?"
"No. I'm not going back with you. I'm not apologizing. And we're definitely not getting married." I met his gaze steadily. "We're done, Arlo. We've been done for years."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I do. I already did." My voice was stronger now. "You don't get to show up here and drag me back like I'm some possession you misplaced. I'm not yours. I never was."
"Tammy..."
"I'm happy here. I have a job I love, people who respect me, a life that's mine." I felt something fierce and bright rising in my chest. "And I'm not giving that up. Not for you. Not for anyone."
For a moment, he just stared at me. Then his expression twisted into something ugly.
"You think you're so brave now? So independent?" He laughed, harsh and bitter. "You're nothing without me. You'll realize that eventually. You'll come crawling back, begging me to take you back."
"I won't."
His hands moved from my arms to my wrists, gripping tight. "But I'm not waiting. You're coming with me. Right now."
He started pulling me toward the mouth of the alley where I could see a rental car parked on the street.
I dug my heels in, my hiking boots scraping against the rough pavement, but he was stronger.
His grip was iron-tight around my wrists, the bones grinding together as he yanked me forward.
Pain shot up my arms. My muscles burned as I resisted, trying to plant my feet, but the alley was narrow and he had momentum.
The friction of my boots against the concrete sent jolts through my legs, and I could feel the rough texture tearing at the leather.
"Let go of me." I tried to yank my arms free, but his grip was unyielding. "Arlo, let go."
"You're coming home, Tammy. Even if I have to drag you every step of the way."
"Get your hands off my mate."
The voice was low, deadly, and absolutely furious.
Arlo froze. So did I.
Ripplan stood at the entrance to the alley, blocking the light. He looked massive, bigger than I had ever seen him, his shoulders filling the narrow space and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
But it was his face that made my breath catch.
I had seen him angry before. Frustrated. Irritated.
This was different.
This was rage. Pure, barely controlled, lethal rage.
"Who the hell are you?" Arlo's voice cracked slightly, but he tried to cover it with bravado. "This is a private conversation."
"I said," Ripplan took a step forward, and I heard the growl underlying his words, "get your hands off her. Before I rip them off and beat you to death with them."
Arlo's grip loosened slightly. I felt him shift, trying to put me between himself and Ripplan.
Coward.
"I'm her fiance," Arlo said, his voice higher now. "We're just having a discussion."
"Ex-fiance." I yanked my wrists free and stepped away from him, moving toward Ripplan. "And we're not having a discussion. He was trying to force me to leave with him."