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“My dad was a son of a bitch but I loved him and he spent his life trying to hold onto the land that his daddy and his daddy before him fought for. I grew up riding horses here and dreaming of raising a family of my own here someday. So I’m sorry if me trying to hold onto even a tiny square acre of that legacy is so hard for you to understand.”
With that she stormed past Jeremiah and up the stairs of the porch, slamming into the house.
Reece immediately smacked his brother on the arm. “I told you to go about it delicately. How was that delicate?”
Jeremiah shrugged off his brother, his face dark as he looked after where Ruth had disappeared into the house.
Reece looked at me, his features gentler than his brother’s. They usually were. It was one reason it was so easy to tell the brothers apart in spite of the fact they were otherwise identical.
“Can you tell us a little more about what happened in town? Who is this guy?
“I don’t know much more than she told you.” I would let Ruth reveal more of her past with Trent if she wanted to. It wasn’t my story to tell. “But you should know, he seemed connected around here. He threatened to take his business away from the hardware store like it would make a big impact, as if he and his father are the old man’s biggest customers. I guess they have one of the biggest ranches around here.”
And given my experience with entitled assholes, I added, “I wouldn’t underestimate him.” Then, because I felt bad about it, “I probably shouldn’t have antagonized him like that when he came here that day.”
Reece let out a scoffing noise. “You were awesome. Don’t ever let any assholes talk to you that way.”
Well, that had my insides warming. I found myself smiling up at Reece in spite of myself.
“It’s a clusterfuck any way you look at it,” Jeremiah said, then he looked at me. “Pardon my language.”
I held up my hands. “Please, not on my account. Besides, you think Ruth wasn’t cussing like a sailor the whole way into town and back?”
Jeremiah smiled at that, a little reluctantly, and his eyes went back to the house. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he admired her... Or was it more than admiration? They certainly sparked off each other, that was for sure.
The door opened again and I hoped it was Ruth coming back out, but instead it was Buck, the other hand they’d hired a few days ago, stuffing a sandwich in his mouth with one hand and a beer in the other.
“Jesus, Buck,” Jeremiah said. “No drinking on the job.”
“I’m takin’ a lunch break,” Buck said. “So I’m not really on the job.”
Reece laughed. “He’s got a point.”
Jeremiah glared at his brother. “Don’t encourage him. You know Xavier never let us drink until after work.” Jeremiah walked over to Buck and pulled the beer out of his hand, then kept on going to the kitchen. “I’ll get you a cold coke instead.”
Buck shrugged. “Whatever you say, Boss.” He took another huge bite of his sandwich and looked between Reece and me. “What’d I miss?”
Reece shook his head. “Nothing.”
Jeremiah popped his head back out. “Don’t wander far, Buck. We’re gonna have to bring in all the cows from the far pastures to keep them closer to the main house.”
“Isn’t that the pasture we just rotated them out of?” Reece asked. “There’s not enough feed there for them.”
“Which is why we’ll have to go buy some hay bales and haul them out there later today. While Buck’s having lunch, you and Charlotte go check the heifers. Last thing we can afford is to take our eyes off the ladies.”
Reece looked surprised, but nodded. “Sure thing.”
His eyes came to me and then they dropped down to the ground. Almost like he was self-conscious or something.
My stomach did a weird swoopy thing, and then my breath hitched.
Alarm bells rang in my head at my body’s reaction to him.
But I just smiled and nodded at Jeremiah and started walking out to the field behind the barn. Anything to get out of sight when the sheriff showed up.
Poor Ruth. I knew all too well what it was like to have a horrible man try to sabotage what little happiness and future you were trying to carve out for yourself. I hoped they caught the bastard red-handed.
11
I stared down at the crème anglaise in horror. It had split, and I didn’t have time to remake it.
Shit!
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I felt panicky sweat break out everywhere as I looked around. The fresh berries were in their pristine white bowls and a peek in the oven showed the filet mignon was cooked to perfection.
