Page 69 of Slow Burn

“It’s not exactly easy to find the right time to say, hey, I want to fuck your sister,” I murmur, my hand curling around her waist and finding the small of her back.

“Oh so you do want to fuck me?” She says with a breathy laugh.

“Do you feel how hard you make me just standing so close to me like this?” I say, my cock pressing against her hips as I bring her body closer to mine. “Of course I want to fuck you. I want everything with you.”

“Then maybe…” Lyla looks up at me with a coy smile playing on her lips. “You should find a different way to tell Austin about us. I don’t know if there will ever be a right time to say it like that.”

I let out a laugh of my own and then I use Lyla’s hand to turn her around so she’s facing the bar. I plant a kiss on the place where her neck meets her shoulder.

“Go back inside and celebrate your win with the girls,” I say. “I’ll see you at home, Trouble.”

She throws me a wink over her shoulder before she crosses the parking lot and disappears into the bar.

And god, it’s a hell of a view.

When I pull the truck into the drive, the house is dark except for the porch light glowing next to the front door. I glance over the property to make sure nothing is amiss, and spot Kenny Rogers, standing under the light post down by the barn. The way he’s watching me gives me the creeps, even though I know he’s just a goat. There’s something diabolical about him and the way he’s lit up, shadows cast over his face.

It’s quiet when I step inside the house, and I try not to make too much noise as I take off my chaps and boots, and head upstairs to check on Dad. He’s already in bed, CPAP machine on and whirring softly from behind the door.

I wander downstairs and find a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. I only had a beer at the bar, but after my interaction with Lyla in the parking lot, I need something a little stronger.

I want to tell Austin, I do. But I can’t find the right moment. Like how I could never find a good moment with Tessa, and I agonized over telling Lyla how I felt. Maybe Lyla has a point, maybe there won’t be a right moment and I just have to find the least horrifying way to tell Austin that I’ve been secretly in love with his sister for years.

And then there’s the issue of the ranch. If there’s anything that makes me want to drown my sorrows in the bottle it’s the thought of trying to fix the damage that was done during the flood.

The main issue was the barn, where Lyla and I worked to divert the water away from the building. Despite all our efforts, water still managed to seep into the foundation. Over time, it will sink and cause bigger issues. It’ll need some repairs, but it’s not like I have the money sitting around. Not after the fence issue.

I take the bottle of whiskey and a glass into the office, and assess the stack of boxes that Lyla has been systematically sorting through and digitizing. There has to be an insurance policy somewhere in there, although who knows if it’s been renewed recently.

I grab a stack of boxes that don’t look like they’ve been opened yet, and take them over to the chair by the fire to start digging through papers. My shoulder twinges as I set them down, the reminder that I won’t be able to get on the stupid mechanical bull for much longer.

Time flies by, because by the time I check my phone, frustrated and annoyed at not having made any progress, it’s been over an hour.

There’s a text notification from a number I still haven’t saved. I haven’t wanted to save it. Most of the messages like this that have come through I’ve sent to trash, haven’t even opened them. But tonight, I’m feeling desperate enough that I do.

(403)-958-2758

Hi Beck. Dave McKevitt here. Following up on my last message about the estimate I sent. Haven’t heard back from you. I think I could get you $3M for the 50 acres on the township side of your property. There are a few developers interested.

I blink a few times to make sure I’m reading that number correctly. That’s not even for the whole property, only the corner by the main road leading into town. It would still leave me with a sizeable amount of land to run the business, and top up my bank account nicely.

I could get a lot done around here with three million. But the thought of selling, of parcelling off the land, not to mention having to stare at a housing development that would do nothing but bring more people to Sage Valley, feels like selling out. It feels like a betrayal to my family and my hometown.

But I need to weigh all my options thoroughly, and while I don’t like it, this is an option.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I refill my drink and take a long sip before typing a message back.

I’d be interested in talking more.

It’s not a yes. It’s not a no. It’s an open door, and an opportunity to find out what my choices are.

A noise at the door startles me, and I find Lyla standing with her hip leaning against the door jamb.

Her legs are a mile long in those strappy black heels she’s got on, her jeans showing off the generous curve of her hip. But it’s the black satin camisole she’s wearing that I haven’t stopped thinking about. The way it hangs over her full tits, the way I could easily push the strap down her shoulder and reveal them.

“Hey, uh, isn’t this my job?” Lyla asks, taking slow steps into the room and letting the door snick shut behind her as her heels clack against the hardwood. She stands with her back to the large wooden desk, and leans against it.

“I need to submit an insurance claim for the flood damage, I figured I’d start looking for the policy.” I stand and take a few steps towards her.