CHAPTER 3
Special K
Instead of staying out on my own for a couple of nights, I turn and ride home. There’s no point in sleeping under the stars when I already know I won’t find any peace.
How could I, knowing I’ve got trespassers to deal with? Trespassers of the mysterious and beautiful kind. The kind who wear thigh-high go-go boots to chop wood.
“Get your head back in the game, asshole,” I say aloud to myself. This causes DG to toss his head and whinny, as if he’s offended by the insult. I pat the side of his muscular neck. “Not you, asshole,” I assure him. “You’re handling this like a pro.”
And he is. I wouldn’t trust just any horse to this rugged series of strait-down trails and switchbacks. DG isn’t even challenged by the steep decline. I’m not sure he even notices.
Once we make it down off the ridge, I cue him to a gallop, give him full range of his head and neck, and we go flying.
We cover about six miles of grazing land when I detect the scent of barbecue on the breeze.
When we reach the ranch lane, I bring DG down to a gentle lope, followed by a walk.
Once at the horse barn, I dismount and hand the reins to Joe, who leads the panting and sweaty roan to the tack area and wash stall.
I use my hat to beat the dust off my jeans. I run my fingers through my hair and wash my hands in a barn sink. Then I follow the line of smoke to Dad’s place.
When I arrive, I’m not surprised to find my whole family sitting down to lunch. I take a seat at the far end of the long table, as usual. Dad’s lifting steaks off the grill and stacking them on a large platter Evander’s holding.
It’s very unlike Evander to go near anything that might splatter grease on his custom-made suits, but I guess domestication has loosened up that rule of his—and a few others, as well. My middle brother’s wearing slacks and a button-down shirt today. No jacket. No vest. No tie.
No shit—the man looks half-naked.
Dad’s dressed in his usual fashion, though.
He’s wearing an apron that reads: “Whatever Happens, We’re Eating It.
” He has an impressive collection of these dumb-ass aprons.
There isn’t an apron on earth too ridiculous for Jamie MacLaine.
Declan once whispered to me, “That man must have balls the size of church bells to wear stupid shit like that.”
Dad’s as fearless as they come, so I guess Declan’s right.
Unfortunately, my seat at the far end puts me too close to Summer and Declan.
I’m in the line of fire as they shoot googly eyes at each other across the table for the fuckteenth time today, I’m sure.
These two gross me out. I think I liked them better when they pretended they weren’t hot for each other.
“So did you find ‘em?”
“What?” I stare at Summer, shocked by her question.
First of all, I thought she was still undressing Declan with her eyes, which is disgusting, but at least it keeps her occupied. But also, how could she already know about the woman at the Washoe Ridge cabin? Is she reading my mind?
“The cattle,” she clarifies, squinting at me. “Did you find the five head of runaway cattle?”
Oh. “No.”
Everyone’s gathered at the table now, the whole baker’s dozen of MacLaines. There’s Dad and Aunt Phyllis, the second wife of my late uncle. There’s Cal and Victoria. Finn has his daughter Jasmine and his new wife Emma. There’s Evander and his fiancée Phoebe, and Declan and Summer.
And me.
I’m the last holdout of the MacLaine men. The only one who’ll forever stay a bachelor.
It’s a badge of honor.
I accidentally glance down the table in time to catch Evander kissing Phoebe on the cheek. They’re planning their official wedding for mid-June at her family’s Travis ranch next door. Even though Evander wanted to elope.
“Whatever Phoebe wants, Phoebe gets,” Evander told me a while back, making me almost choke on my tongue. Evander is the biggest asshole of the whole bunch of us, and I always assumed he’d stay a bachelor like me, just because no woman would ever be able to tolerate the guy.
But Evander’s crazy for Phoebe, and for some reason, she adores him right back. The woman’s a saint.
I look around the table at the domestic bliss. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s laughing. Summer’s beginning to show, and by the fall, there will be fourteen souls around this table.
How the fuck did this even happen?
Summer’s staring at me. She does that a lot. She’s done that since the day she came to work for us a dozen years ago. Sometimes I catch her looking at me like I’m a science experiment.
Like I’m a slime mold from a far-off galaxy or something.
“What is it, Summer?” I ask her.
“Nuthin’,” she says.
I used to give Summer massive amounts of shit on a constant basis, but that was back in the day, before she became a wife and mother-to-be. Now, I only dish out small amounts of shit and only at certain times.
Like when Declan’s not around.
“Why didn’t you find the strays?” Summer asks, shoveling some potato salad onto her plate.
“Just didn’t.”
“Must be losing your touch,” she notes.
“Nah,” Finn chimes in. “Special K will always find a way to touch the cows.”
Laughter goes around the table. It’s laughter at my expense. Not exactly a shocker. So I let it roll off my back. If they ever get a reaction out of me, they’ll see it as a huge victory. Any emotion from me would only ramp up the attacks.
I’m not interested in feeding that beast.
“I bet Special K was out looking for bears to smack around,” Declan says. “Oh, wait. He’s got all his fingers, so probably not.”
I just shake my head as everyone laughs. Of all the wild shit we did in our rowdy childhoods, my fight with a three-hundred-pound black bear has always taken top prize. That it led to me getting a finger reattached in emergency surgery is just gravy.
“Are you all right, Special K? You look a little out of sorts.” Emma leans across Declan to pat my forearm, smiling.
I shrug. “I’m good. Found a squatter up on Washoe Ridge. Claims to have a deed to a cabin.”
“What the absolute hell?” Evander’s head whips around, and he glares at me. As the lawyer of the family, he’s always looking for his next battle. “We’ll ride up there and drag his ass off our land, and then I’ll file trespassing charges.”
Jasmine shakes her head and purses her lips. “You’ll have to stop cussing like that when Summer’s baby comes, Uncle Evander. I’m nine years old, so I can handle words like hell and ass, but a baby’s not supposed to hear those words.”
“The squatter’s a she,” I say. “A woman.”
The entire table goes silent.
“There’s a woman living in an abandoned cabin on Yosemite Ranch?”
“Yup,” I answer Victoria. Then I spear a rare sirloin with my fork and follow it up with a serving of Aunt Phyllis’s bean salad.
“Who is she?” Phoebe asks.
“No idea. Pass the corn, please.”
Declan hands me the corn, his eyes narrowing. “How’d she get up there? Did she drive up the back way? Did you see a truck?”
“No vehicle that I’m aware of,” I say with my mouth full.
“I bet she’s one of those backpacker hippies,” Dad says. “We’ve had our share of hippies pitching tents on our land and smoking that whacky weed.”
“That was forty years ago,” Aunt Phyllis reminds him. “And they don’t use that term anymore.”
“Hippies?”
“Whacky weed,” she says.
I look down at my plate, trying not to smile. If that beautiful woman in the go-go boots is a backpacker or a whacky-weed-smokin’ hippie, she’s the only one I’ve ever seen who looked like that.
That girl is so hot my brain stopped working when I saw her. She’s fucking gorgeous. Seeing her standing in dirt and pine needles in front of a falling-down shack in the middle of nowhere made my eyeballs vibrate.
Fuck me.
And now I can’t stop thinking about her.
“So maybe just a day hiker, then?” Aunt Phyllis asks.
“Doubt it.” I take another bite of my steak, still fighting a smile. Any kind of hiking is out of the question in those boots.
Finn laughs. “Welp, I guess that’s all we’ll get out of our mime-in-residence.”
Cal scowls at me from the opposite end of the table. “The cabin on Washoe Ridge? That thing’s still standing?”
“Barely.”
“Man, I haven’t been up there since the night that…” Cal cuts himself off and shoves a biscuit into his face, pretending that he hasn’t broached a not-suitable-for-family subject.
Declan snickers.
Jasmine produces one of her dramatic sighs. “Go ahead and say it, Uncle Cal. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“True,” Emma says, wrapping a loving arm around her new daughter. “But you’re still a kid, so you might as well enjoy it.”
Jasmine grins up at Emma, and Finn smiles at both of them. His little family.
Yeah, this lovey-dovey shit can make me queasy at times, but honestly, I’m happy for them all. Each person at this table has gone through hell and back to claim their slice of joy. They deserve it.
Emma fought to let go of a painful past while Finn finally believed he deserved a second chance at a happy family.
Victoria put her crooked father behind bars and Cal let go of his suspicious nature before she was lost to him forever.
Evander and Phoebe endured a deadly, record-breaking blizzard—and then had to deal with the resentment of her five brothers—before they could carve out a future on their own terms.
Declan and Summer somehow held on while the rollercoaster of fate did its best to destroy any shot they had at happiness.
They’ve earned all the good shit they’ve found. They jumped through hoops of fire for it.
Good for them.
And me?
I’m living here on Yosemite Ranch under the open sky instead of behind prison bars. I’m free to do whatever I want and come and go as I please.
There’s a steak on my plate.
It’s all good and I know I’m fucking lucky to have all of it.
There’s nothing more I want out of life.
And I never want it to change.