Lucas #2
“My name is Lucas,” I called back, one boot on, the other off. He didn’t reply, which made me tense, and I took off the one boot and stalked into the kitchen. “What?”
“Where are you going?” he asked, glancing at my socked feet, then back at my face.
“None of your business,” I said.
“What happens on this ranch is always my business, City.”
“Lucas.”
He shrugged. “City. Lucas. Whatever. Not like I need to know your name.”
“Are you deliberately—”
“This radio goes wherever you go. Clip it to your belt. Or your jacket. Or put it in your coat pocket.” Jesse turned it in his hands. “This isn’t optional.”
He held the radio up between us. Close enough that I could see the scuffs on the casing, the worn lettering on the buttons.
“Watch carefully. The volume knob is here,” he said, turning it. “Channel stays on three unless I tell you otherwise. This button—” He pressed the side. “—you hold to talk and let go to listen.”
He handed it to me. Our fingers brushed. Just skin, just contact, barely there. My brain short-circuited, and the radio slipped from my grip. I was angry with him, so why in god’s name was I getting so flustered?
“Shit—” I fumbled, catching it to my chest before it could hit the floor.
Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “Save me from idiots,” he muttered, stepping in. “Hold it like this.”
I bristled at being called an idiot but didn’t have time to process it when he reached around my hands, repositioning my fingers. His palm pressed briefly against mine, his thumb firm over my knuckles.
Too much touching. Way too much.
Every nerve I had lit up as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.
“There,” he said. “Don’t choke it. It’s not fragile.”
I let out a squeak and hated myself for it. “Right. Sorry.”
“Press,” he said, thumb guiding mine to the button. “Say something. Go on.”
My mouth was dry. I’d forgotten how to make words. There was nothing in my head but smelling Jesse and eyeing the stubble on his jaw. Get a grip. “Uh,” I said. Brilliant. “Lucas to…”
“To the ranch,” Jesse said with a beleaguered sigh. “Or to me. Keep it simple.”
I tried again. “Lucas to the ranch,” I said, my voice suddenly very aware of itself. “Copy?”
The radio on the counter—his I assume—crackled.
Jesse released my hands and stepped back, arms folding across his chest. Distance snapped back into place. “Good,” he said. “That’s how you do it.”
“I could just use my phone, like normal people in the twenty-first century,” I said, with so much sarcasm I’m surprised I didn’t fall over with it.
His mouth thinned, then he shook his head in condescension.
“Jeez, City, you’ll be lucky to find a signal five minutes past the tree line,” he said. “Out there, this is what works to get hold of people on the ranch.”
He reached out and tapped the radio once, then stared at me, his gaze sharp, assessing.
“And you answer,” he added. “Every time.”
I swallowed.
“Oh,” I said again.
“And you always, and I mean always, let someone know where you’re going.”
I bristled. “I don’t need to be checked on, I own—”
“In case you get lost, or hurt, and you need us to save your stupid ass.”
I blinked at him. “Oh, yeah, sure.”
He huffed his disappointment in me, then disappeared into the room he called his bedroom.
I clipped the radio to my jacket, put on my boots, and headed out to survey the kingdom I’d inherited. Not too far today, my right hip hurt, and my left knee ached from overcompensation.
Still, there was no way I was staying inside.
Before I left the yard, I checked my phone without really thinking about it, thumb hovering over Dalton’s name as I tried to figure out what time it was back home.
I really needed to vent to someone, and my best friend was the only one who’d give me the time to let me get all my feelings out.
He’d be at his desk, halfway through his second coffee, swearing at spreadsheets and pretending he wasn’t already behind.
Except—no. I frowned. Sunday. “How is it Sunday?” Which meant, he wasn’t in the office, which meant, he had no excuse not to answer, and before I could overthink it, I hit call.
It rang twice.
“Hey!” Dalton said.
“Thank god you answered.”
“Wow,” Dalton said, voice warm with amusement. “To what do I owe this deeply emotional outreach? Did a cow upset you?”
“Very funny.”
“Is it a cow?” he pushed. “Please tell me it’s a cow.”
“It’s not a cow.”
“Disappointing.”
I leaned back against the fence, staring at the house, and knowing that grumpy, sexy, cowboy asshole was inside. “Jesse gave me a radio and was all riled up about it.”
There was a beat, then, “Okay… and?”
“In case I get lost,” I said flatly, irritation still sitting sharp under my ribs. “Or hurt. Or so they can come save my stupid ass.”
Dalton snorted, completely unhelpful. “I mean. Fair.”
“Not fair.”
“A little fair.”
“I am perfectly capable of—” I cut myself off, jaw tightening as the rest of it tangled somewhere between pride and frustration. “None of them will talk to me. Not properly. It’s all instructions and orders, like I’m… fuck, I don’t know.”
“An outsider?” Dalton said, quieter now, the teasing note dropping from his voice.
I exhaled, some of the fight going with it. “Yeah.”
“Lucas,” he said, steady in a way that always made it harder to argue, “you showed up out of nowhere and told them you’re selling the place.”
“I didn’t just—”
“You kind of did.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face, dragging it down slowly. “It’s my ranch.”
“I know,” he said. “But it’s their home.”
I knew he was right. “They don’t trust me,” I muttered eventually.
“Would you trust you?” Dalton asked.
I huffed out a breath. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side,” he said easily. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to lie to you.” There was a pause, and then, lighter again, “Also, for the record, a riled-up cowboy issuing you a radio like you’re in some kind of survival drama? I’m into it. Is he hot?”
“That’s not the point.”
“So that’s a yes.” Dalton chuckled.
I pushed off the fence and paced a couple of steps, more to burn off the restless edge than because I needed to move. “I didn’t call to talk about him.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I didn’t.”
“Sure.”
I let that hang there for a second before saying, “When are you coming out?” I didn’t actually use the words I miss you, but I kinda did, and that was a whole new experience in life.
Dalton didn’t answer straight away, and that hesitation told me everything I needed to know.
“I want to,” he said, and there was something more serious under it now.
“You know I do. But I can’t right now.” He paused, and when he spoke again, the weight of it was back.
“Work’s a mess. You know about the Madden account.
It’s worse than that—we’re trying to keep the whole place from going under. ”
I kicked at the snow. “So, take a few days. PTO exists.”
“Not when you’re part of the team trying to save a sinking ship.”
“That place isn’t your responsibility.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It kind of is.”
I blew out a breath, frustration tightening again, sharp and familiar. “Great. So, I’m stuck out here with all these sexy cowboys, and you’re refusing to come visit.”
“How sexy?” Dalton asked, then snorted a laugh. “It’s six months. Not forever. Then you’ll be home. So, take your radio and try not to die.”
“Very reassuring.”
“I’m serious. And Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
“Give them a minute. You don’t have to win them over this fast.”
I huffed. “I’m not trying to win anyone over.”
“Sure, you’re not. Call me later,” he said. “Tell me if the cowboy gets less terrifying.”
“He’s not terrifying.”
“Hot, though.”
I ended the call on that, because I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction, but the tightness in my chest had eased just enough to breathe around it, and when I clipped the radio more securely to my jacket this time, I didn’t hate it quite as much.