Chapter Fourteen
MASON
IF I hadn’t witnessed the terror on her face as she practically ran across the parking lot to the truck this morning, I wouldn’t even know anything happened. Sloane avoided all my questions and once we got back to the house, she slipped into her usual behavior like nothing happened.
Oh, yeah, she’s also avoiding me.
Again.
She almost seemed relieved that Marley kept everyone, including me, busy through the day prepping for the tree-trimming party. But as I watch her across the dinner table now, I can see the worry lines on her face, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get her to look at me.
My phone rings as we are finishing dessert and my father gives me a dirty look, it’s Callum. As I put my napkin on the table, I say, “Sorry, Dad, it’s work, I have to take it.”
Holding the phone to my ear, Callum is silent on the other end as he waits for me to step away. Once the doors to the library are closed behind me, I say, “Yeah, did you find anything?”
“The company you are getting the letters from is a shell company for a larger company called Royce, Inc.
that buys up land, breaks it up, and sells it to the highest bidder.
The interest in your family land is due to an article a couple of years back about the natural springs peppered throughout that area.
He pauses to see if I have questions and when I stay silent he continues, “We found two bidders that are already waiting in the background like vultures to build spa retreats and resorts that offer the ‘experience’ of the native land,” he chuckles before he adds, “one of which is not a U.S. company.”
Silence is on the line as he lets me wrap my head around what he just said. “They’ll never get their hands on this land, but did you see anything mentioning the stipulations of the natural mineral rights?”
“Either they haven’t looked into the legal arrangement of that yet, or they have something up their sleeve and don’t care because we didn’t see anything like that mentioned.”
As I’m listening to him, I’m drawn to the book that Sloane was looking at when I scared her the other day. I pull it out and open the front cover to read what would bring the tears I saw when I walked in.
While looking at the inscription on the inside cover of the book, I split my attention and ask Callum, “In the last letter we got, they mentioned sending someone to talk to us, did you happen to see who that might be?”
The elegant handwriting of my grandmother is on the page of the little book, I would recognize that script anywhere, but I don’t know what about the message to my mother would make her cry.
“No, we can keep watching it and I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”
I slide the book back into its spot and change the subject, “I need a background check on the new housekeeper my dad hired.”
“Sure, send me what you’ve got and I’ll look into her.”
We wrap up the call and I take a moment to look at the hills and trees out of the east-facing window. I lean on the window frame and let my thoughts drift back to when we were kids and my brothers and I would play in those woods.
So many memories that made me who I am today.
“You planning on being a part of the family or you going to stand in here by yourself all night?” My father’s deep, gravelly voice brings me back to the present.
I turn to him and cross my arms over my chest, “What do you know about Sloane?”
His face turns hard and he steps into the room, pushing the door closed behind him, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “You leave that girl alone, she’s been through enough and doesn’t need you sniffing around her skirts.”
If he knew I already sniffed around and removed her skirt he would be pissed.
Not acknowledging his comment, I say, “But what do you know about her? What has she been through?”
“Her personal life is none of your business.” His voice is deeper with anger.
I huff out a breath and make my attack head-on, “She lives in our house, Dad, did you get references? Where is she from? She seems kind of young to be qualified for a position of this nature.”
His posture changes from relaxed as he takes a step toward me, squaring his shoulders and pointing his finger at me, “You just stop right there. You’ve been here a week, has she done something you have a complaint about? She does the job, and she does it well, that’s all I need to know.”
His defense of her is also an attempt to hide something from me. They are both hiding things.
This is typical of my dad, he is always helping people that he probably shouldn’t.
For the longest time when I was a kid, one of our ranch hands was a Native American, I think his name was Jika, who was on the run from the law.
His wife died when his son was young and he needed a place to hide and work so Dad let him live in the bunk house with his son.
He was a nice guy and his son, Mato, and Tucker became good friends, he was at the main house all the time. Jika died a few years ago from cancer and his son who was about ten years younger than me, moved on. I don’t know what happened to him.
Realizing that I won’t get anywhere with him, Dad was never one to be pushed into doing something he doesn’t want to, I put my hands up in surrender, “Fine, I’ll take your word for it.”
“You’ll do more than that, you’ll back off and leave her alone. No digging.”
Warnings are going off in my head left and right, my Dad and I have a stare-off for a moment. “I’ll leave her alone, but I’m still going to watch her.”
Lie.
I’m way past the point of leaving her alone. Something spooked her and I’m going to find out what’s going on. If someone is threatening her, they’ll need to go through me.
After another moment of intense eye contact, he nods his head and turns to go back to the festivities, “Come on, your sister worked hard to put this together.”
The rest of the evening we listen to Christmas music as we all come together in mind and spirit to celebrate the importance of family.
The eggnog and the hot apple cider, both of which have so much alcohol in them that they could put one of the horses to sleep for at least twelve hours, flowed like water.
We’re all standing around the tree and Tucker turns the lights off so the soft glow of Christmas softly illuminates the room with the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace.
All the girls give oohs and aahs. Tucker rests his arm across Kinley’s shoulders and Marley wraps her arms around my waist.
Breanna is sitting in one of the oversized chairs texting and Lainey Rai is next to Gray with Wilson at her feet.
Hugging Marley to me, I dip my head and mumble in her ear, “Happy Christmas, Sis.” Her arms squeeze me tighter and I plant a kiss on top of her head.
“When will there be presents under the tree?” Lainey Rai pipes up and makes everyone laugh.
Every one of us in this room remembers the excitement of presents and the incredible patience we had to learn to wait for Christmas morning.
Dad laughs and bends to kiss her head, “Don’t you worry sweetheart, you’ll have more presents than anyone else under that tree.”
I scan the room looking for Sloane and just as I find her standing in the background next to the wide arched doorway, her eyes down with an incredible sadness etched across her face, she ducks out and goes to the kitchen.
Squeezing Marley’s shoulders again, I say, “Be right back.”
The kitchen is a mess with all the dishes from dinner and the drinks for tonight all across the counters and the sink is full. But Sloane is not in the room. A small sound, like a sob, pulls my attention to the door to the back stairs.
Sloane is sitting in the dark mudroom nook under the stairs with her face in her hands, crying.
Something in me cracks and all I want to do is pull her to me and crush whatever has made her feel this way.
I take a step to her, making sure she hears me and she nearly jumps off the seat as her head swings up.
Her eyes lock on mine and she takes a deep breath, her hands frantically pushing tears off her face. I squat down in front of her and swipe a tear that’s hanging on her chin with the back of my finger, “You okay?”
She fakes a smile and on an exhale, she half laughs, half sighs, “Yes. I’m sorry.”
Resting my hands on her knees, I look at her red nose and red-rimmed eyes, “Why are you sorry?”
She waves her hand in the air, “It’s this time of year, I always miss my parents this time of year and your family is so warm and perfect. I don’t want to ruin your good time, you should go back to the party.”
She stands up so I stand up, too. Her head tips back and I can’t resist cupping her cheek in my hand, “You’re not ruining my good time.” I smile and follow up with, “Promise.”
Her eyes are locked on mine and she doesn’t move away from me, after a few moments she says, “I shouldn’t have drank the cider.”
I smile and slide my thumb across her cheek, “Tucker likes to add a little extra cheer to all our celebrations.”
Her scent is all around me and she’s close enough that I can feel the heat from her body through my shirt. I probably shouldn’t have drank the cider either, because I can’t resist her lips any longer. Holding her face in my hands, I lean over and take her lips.
She doesn’t pull away.
When she parts her lips and lets me in, all bets are off, I snake my arms around her waist and pull her to me. Her warm palms slide up my arms and one moves to the back of my neck, a small moan leaves her lips and my control is near snapping, I turn her to push her against the wall.
The only sound is us breathing as the kiss turns frantic. Grabbing the backs of her legs, I lift her and she locks her feet behind me, her thighs squeezing my hips while pushing her hot apex against my straining cock that desperately wants to break free of my jeans.
The whiskey Tucker so generously mixed into the drinks tonight is pushing me into a place that I don’t need to be in, I’m on the edge of not caring if anyone walks in on us and I don’t want to do that to Sloane. Especially since I know tomorrow she will regret anything that could happen right now.
I break the kiss and lean my forehead against hers, willing my cock to back off.
Her eyes close and I can see the moment that clear thinking takes over, she swallows and her hands rest on the edge of my shoulders as her legs release my hips. I grip her hips and let her slide back down onto her feet.
Her eyes open and slowly move up to mine, her hands slide to my chest leaving a trail of heat on my skin, “We shouldn’t have done that.” She whispers.
I cup her face and kiss her softly, “My only regret is the alcohol in you or I wouldn’t have stopped.”
She kisses me back, “If I didn’t have alcohol in me right now, I wouldn’t be in here with you.” Her hands move on their own accord, sliding up my chest to my shoulders and she rolls up on her toes to kiss me again, “I can’t control my feelings for you with the alcohol in me.”
The declaration catches me off guard and I pull my head back to look in her eyes, but she realizes what she said and I can see the embarrassment and shock on her face as she blinks up at me.
Her hands lift off me like I’m burning her palms and hover over my skin as she thinks about what she just said.
Whatever it is that I’ve felt for her this past week grows and warms in my chest. She has feelings for me.
Her whole body stiffens and if the wall weren’t behind her, she would pull away from me. I hold her hips so she can’t wiggle away, “What if I don’t want you to control your feelings?”
She swallows and blinks again, “I have to clean up the mess in the kitchen.”
“Can’t that wait a minute?” Disappointment washes over me because I know she is going to pretend this didn’t happen.
A voice in my head tells me to let her go, I don’t have room for this in my life, so I loosen my grip on her hips.
“I have to go.” She scoots from between me and the wall and I palm the wall, the empty space in front of me still smells like her, and I take deep breaths to get rid of the bulge in my pants.
When I walk into the kitchen, Sloane is at the sink, but Kinley is also there putting the empty eggnog bowl on the counter. She looks up at me with a shit-eating grin and winks at me before she turns and leaves the room.
Well, fuck.