Brother and sister stare at one another, Ford’s eyes filled with sorrow, Fallon’s brimming with rage until she tosses her almost black hair over one shoulder. “Don’t expect me to welcome you back with open arms. I’d sooner sit on a cactus.”
Then she pivots on her heel, grabs a bunch of keys from the sideboard, and strides out the back door.
“Sully, dear, would you mind…”
Sully nods somberly as he stands, his eyes on Abi. “I’ll check on her, ma’am, though I’m not the man for the job.”
Then he turns to follow her, murmuring beneath his breath, “That damn woman would surely shoot me soon as look at me.”
Once he’s left, Ford begins to gather plates, shuffling off toward the kitchen with a deep sigh. I stand up, intent on helping him, as Abi settles deeper into her seat, surveying the damage. Her deep brown eyes are twinkling devilishly when she looks up at me.
“Well, that went better’n expected.”
CHAPTER 25
EMERSON
I wake to an empty bed,the sheets cold enough that I know Ford must have woken hours ahead of me.
The sun shines through the window, and I glance outside, taking in the quaint beauty of Whispering Willows. As Grampie was never one for socializing and Easton was always fixated on learning every nook and cranny of Broken Hart, I’d never seen much beyond the family ranch, but looking out over the surrounding land, I’m mesmerized at the sight.
The long rambling driveway is lined by enormous willow trees, and horses dot the pastures on either side. Bluebonnets surround the front yard, and there’s a small stream running parallel to the house, disappearing into the distance.
The rooms upstairs are all small but cozy, and the entire house feels so welcoming and homely that I’ve fallen utterly in love with the place, practically at first sight.
Once I’ve fixed the bed and washed up, I quickly throw on a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt from the case Hayley had been kind enough to pack for me. I couldn’t have handled wading through the media camped outside Ataraxia. Even the thought of them now makes my skin crawl.
Vultures.
I’m just grateful for the fact that Beck did as instructed, putting out an official statement announcing the cancellation of all promotional events in the lead-up to next week’s premiere ofBreaking Us.
As I grab the boots my sister packed, I can’t help grinning at the thought of being back on a ranch after so many years away, and I hasten my actions, impatient to join Ford. Once the boots are on, I fly down the stairs, finding Abi homeschooling a very disgruntled Finley.
“What do I need to graduate for, Momma? I want to ranch like Sully. I don’t need any more schooling.”
“You need to finish your schooling, Fin. End of discussion.”
Abi rolls her eyes good-naturedly before nodding at the stovetop. “I kept you some breakfast.” I’m about to decline when she quirks a golden eyebrow. “Ford told me I was to ensure you ate it.”
Of course he did.
I grab my plate without further fuss, inhaling the maple bacon and thick, fluffy pancakes in record time as Finley continues complaining. To her credit, Abi ignores her daughter entirely, and as I’m loading my empty plate into the dishwasher, she nods toward the back door.
“Ford and Sully are working in one of the corrals this morning.”
Smiling my thanks, I rush outside, turning my face up to bask in the morning sunshine with a smile on my lips. A slight breeze makes the extreme heat less so, and the sweet fragrance of bluebonnets fills the air.
I make my way across the yard, bypassing the barn and the handful of workers within to come upon four enormous corrals.
Whispering Willows is primarily a breeding ranch, though in my small research on the jet, I discovered that recent years have also led to training for other stables. From the sound of things,that seems to be an addition made by Fallon, who’s listed as the head trainer on the ranch’s website.
She’s currently guiding a gorgeous grey around one of the corrals to my left, a scowl that would strike fear in the hearts of millions plastered across her face.
The reason for her scowl is farther away, in a separate corral to my right. My feet slam to an immediate halt when I spot Ford gripping the neck of his simple white T-shirt to tug it over his head, showcasing his broad tatted chest and mouthwatering abs.
He notches the familiar beloved black cowboy hat atop his head with a panty-melting grin, and my heart constricts when I watch him vault onto the back of a side-stepping dark brown quarter horse.
The animal is agitated and clearly nervous about riders, but even so, Ford’s face is split with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. When Sully loosens his hold on the reins, the horse rears up, and Ford’s whoop of sheer pleasure fills the whole ranch.
