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“Don’t baby me. I have a job and I’m serious about it.”
Still, I’m disappointed. I liked having my hands on him. I liked his hands on me even more.
I wipe as much wetness off me as I can and hastily don my clothes before he can notice the scarring. At least my hair is dry. I didn’t go under the waterfall with him.
He doesn’t say anything further. Doesn’t belittle my job or my desire to get back to it. Quietly, he dresses as well. We get into the car and head back to the vets’ office on the ranch. No sooner are we parked than I exit without saying goodbye and run in.
“Lexie?”
I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s not back from lunch yet, and it turns out I’m only five minutes late. I head back outside to say goodbye to Austin.
But he’s gone. Shit.
“Carly,” Dad says at dinner, “I need to talk to you about the Bridgers.”
Mom made meatloaf, one of my dad’s favorites. He uses his fork to break off a piece.
“I’m not quitting, Dad.” I reach for my iced tea and take a deep sip.
I only saw Lexie briefly after lunch since she went out with one of the ranch hands to see to a sick calf. I stayed in the stables and dealt with the horses, my mind well filled with thoughts about Austin and how I liked his touch. How I wanted more of it. Except he disappeared. Did I do something to mess it all up? In my rush, I didn’t say goodbye.
Dad breaks me from my thoughts. “It’s not about that.”
Inwardly, I sigh with relief. “Oh. All right. What is it?”
“Rick, do we have to do this now?” Mom stirs her peas around on her plate. She’s worried about another argument.
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but yes,” Dad tells her. “She needs to know. Especially if she thinks she’s going to work at that ranch.”
I wrinkle my forehead and don’t miss the way he spits out that ranch. “Know what?”
“Did you ever wonder why I decided to run for mayor of Bayfield?”
I offer a shrug. “I figured you wanted to be more involved in the town.” I bite on my lip. “I’m sorry. I should have asked. I’ve been in my own head since I got home.”
“Carly, honey, I didn’t bring this up to make you feel guilty,” Dad says. “You needed to focus on your healing. But now that you’re working for the Bridgers, there are things you should know.”
“I know all I need.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t. For example, did you know that the Bridger family owns our ranch?’
I raise my eyebrows, stare at him as if he said the property is owned by space aliens. “What?”
He nods. “It’s true. We—your mother and I—ran into some financial difficulties while you were gone, as you know.”
A sick feeling settles in my stomach and I set down my fork. “I know you had to sell the animals, and I’m so sorry for that.”
His face softens. “Sweetheart, no. This isn’t for you to feel guilty. I would have sold the shirt off my back to find you.”
I purse my lips. “It sounds like you nearly did.”
“If it would have done any good, I would have. When your mother and I made the decision to sell the land, we engaged a real estate broker in Helena to list it. It turned out she was on Jonathan Bridger’s payroll.”
I’m confused. “I don’t understand.”
“We didn’t know it at the time, but she was working with Bridger to purchase as much land adjacent to his ranch as possible. She told us the offer was a good one, so we believed her, but we found out later that Bridger paid us only a little over half of what our property is worth.”
I drop my mouth open. “Wait. You don’t own this place? Why are we still living here?”
