Chapter 14 #2
“No. He didn’t hurt me, but—” I press my lips together, trying to gather my thoughts while the memory of everything we did in his bedroom—and after—assails me in a battery of memory.
West waits. I swear it’s his superpower.
“These are details I shouldn’t share with a man. Not one who knows him.”
West’s lips twitch. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been there through it all for him, Lanie. Tell me.”
So I do.
Cutting out the more intimate moments, I sketch an image that leaves no room for doubt of our conversation after West stormed from the house. Cord’s best friend takes the information in, unmoving, unflinching, until I stop talking.
Then West swears. “Damn. I’m sorry, girl. He should never have been that way with you.” He wraps one arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a bear hug.
I want to resist the contact, to stay strong on my own two feet, but the comfort of having someone else care right now, after all the doubts, overwhelms my tenuous grasp on every emotion. An ugly cry might not be in me today, but a single tear manages to trail down my cheek.
“I’m away for a few hours, and you’re already in the arms of another man.” Cord’s cold voice filters into us from the front of the barn.
I freeze, West stiffening beside me.
“Step away, Lanie.” West’s voice carries none of the tension in Cord’s snarky comment. He shifts, turning to place himself between his friend and me.
I swallow back the wave of fresh tears brewing beneath the surface. Not now.
“You’re giving her instructions, too? You’ve gotten so close.” Cord puts on a bored act, but his voice dips, taking my lurching heart with it.
“Stop,” I whisper, but I may as well make no sound at all.
Everything that’s been said and done between them, between us hits a melting point and boils over in a single, catastrophic instant.
“You had no right to do what you’ve done in the last twelve hours, Rand. Least of all treat your woman like one of the sluts you shack up with at every Invitational.”
I wince at the heat in West’s harsh words.
I deliberately left that part out, the roleplay from last night that—let’s be honest, I completely enjoyed—but it looks like West got the gist anyway.
His own lonely existence strikes me hard.
From what I can tell, he’s been by Cord’s side for years, built Coyote Falls with him.
He could be bitter, but West’s words don’t hit me in that way.
More that he cares fiercely about seeing his best friend throw away everything he loves.
Everything he’s worked for.
The ranch. The men outside.
Me?
West presses his fists to his thighs, the knuckles whitening. I shift sideways in a slight motion so I can see Cord, realizing the stockier man will likely take him in a fair fight.
“I can’t take my anger out on you like I want to, Rand. So find the better way and fix your mess.” West’s voice is so low that I can barely distinguish his words, but his open threat rolls around the barn like an oncoming late-summer storm.
Sawdust shifts, taking my feet with it. The movement is just small enough to draw my attention.
Cord’s cold fury from the night before turns on me.
I stand tall, hoping I only reflect what he’s done to everyone who stands on the ground he calls home, rather than bursting into tears and ruining whatever West hopes to achieve.
Cord’s gaze sweeps over me, softening at whatever he reads on my face.
Undeterred and unwilling to let him off the hook that easily, I stride past West on my personal suicide trip, avoiding the hand he stretches out in warning.
My fear, my anger, heartbreak—they all combine in my mind to form an unmanageable knot of overwhelm not dissimilar to what he did to me the night before.
When he laid me back afterward and took his residual energy out on my body once I ran out.
Cordell Rand didn’t seem to have an off button.
Then, I trembled beneath him. He worked me until I shuddered, drenched, and all I could do was moan.
Now, recharged and with neurons rubbing together, it’s my turn to deal some truths.
Cord squares his shoulders as he faces me, his hands open at his sides.
“What you did last night was inexcusable.” I speak in the same emotionless voice I used with Jenkins that day in Valiant Peak. I never thought I would employ it on Cordell Rand. “To me and everyone here.”
Cord nods. “I know.”
“Do you realize what the outcome of that bet means to those men out there? What it means that they are still here, for you?” I raise an eyebrow, gesturing to the small cluster of ranch hands gathering in the yard behind him.
He frowns, glancing at West. “Y—No.”
I don’t need to look back to know that West just mouthed something like good choice to Cord.
I inhale slowly. “I guessed that much. It means they love you. They respect you. Not one man works here because of what you pay them, though the ranch is stunning. Your world doesn’t revolve around your money, Cordell Rand. Not even around Coyote Falls. It revolves around you.”
Cord’s brow creases deeper. He stares over my shoulder for an entire breath that I swear takes an eternity, and then he swings around to face the men gathered behind him.
A muscle jumps in his cheek. A few arms are folded, and a handful of hard stares meet his, but there’s no anger, no echoes of their hatred aimed at him.
“She’s right.” Billy speaks up from the back of the small crowd, his hat in his hand, his curls rumpled.
I note the omission of boss, certain both Cord and West catch that, too. What Cord did last night might change a few things around the ranch, but not everything. Nothing they can’t work around in the future, whatever that looks like.
The important things.
“It might take a while, but you can fix this, Cord. This world is still yours.”
Cord turns back to me, his lips pressed in a tight line. “I can fix this with them, but what about you?” He pauses, but I say nothing. My peace is laid at his feet. It’s his turn now. Cord nods sharply, seeming to come to a decision. “All right. If we’re doing this, we need to work.”
Men move instantly as he lays out a string of commands, shifting back into the familiar tack of their work. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
West’s shoulder brushes mine as he passes, his chin dipped in a slight nod. “For a woman who swears she can’t deal with people, you’re doing a fine job of managing a ranch, ma’am.”
I blink. Cord’s hand stretches the short distance between us, palm held up. I slip mine into his with little thought, a tremor making its way along my arm at the contact.
“Cord, you asked me to forgive you for last night. I do, but… the man who searched for wolves with me yesterday is not the same man who spent the night in the bedroom afterward. The man who bet a literal ranch and scared the shit out of those men out there. And… me.”
Cord doesn’t offer worthless platitudes or excuses. I desperately want to kiss him, to feel his arms wrap around me again. But a part of me needs to hold out. This time, I listen to my sanity and let him make his own choices.
“I have some work to do.” His entire body stills, containing whatever energy still roils inside him. I swallow. That much won’t change, not ever. I get that. “But I would like some help,” he says through gritted teeth.
I grin. “I’m surprised you got that last word out.”
“I probably can’t spell it,” he agrees, knocking his hat into place as we step into the sunlight. “It’s a beautiful day. Will you help me get the last of the rodeo setup done, and then we can go look for your wolves again? Unless you want to watch the boys practice before the event starts.”
Cord stops, pivoting to step into my space.
Energy crackles between us, though I’m not sure whom it belongs to this time.
The sheer presence of him heightens with every moment.
It’s as though the conflict of a minute before has brought something out in him that is his natural state.
Suddenly all I can see is the man on the posters slathered all over Valiant Peak.
“Is this how you usually are?” I ask, pinned by his intense gaze, struggling to breathe. It’s the same look he gave me back at Winnie’s, though that seems an age ago.
“Yup,” Billy answers for him. He hefts metal onto a flatbed truck that clatters on my other side. “This time of year, he’s always worse.”
I stare. “I thought you were new to Coyote Falls?”
“I’m a local boy. I grew up watching Rand ride. Working for him is… a privilege.” Billy tips his hat in Cord’s direction and then risks his life and his entire existence to lean into my space and whispers, “He’s so much worse.”
“I’ll show you worse,” Cord grumbles under his breath.
I poke him as Billy saunters away, whistling. “Be nice.”