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“I’m renting. One of the few perks of being mayor is that the city pays for my housing. Mom and I didn’t want to leave our home, so the city attorney made a deal with Bridger that we could stay in the house. But we don’t own it, and we can’t use any of our property for ranching.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “How could any of this happen? Your broker acted in bad faith. Don’t you have some kind of remedy?”
“Sure. The law is on our side, but how would we pay an attorney to fight this? Bridger has unlimited funds. He’d have sent us to the poorhouse.”
I shake my head. “Daddy, that was Jonathan Bridger. Not his sons.”
Dad clenches his jaw, and his earlier softened features are now hardened. “I’ve said it before. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, little one.”
I meet my father’s tired gaze. “So you ran for mayor for a paycheck?”
He sniffs. “Yes and no. We’re not broke, but we were robbed. Now we’re renters on our own land.”
I’m sure there’s more he’s not telling me, as if he’s forcefully holding the words back. My mom’s quiet beside him. She doesn’t offer up any more information.
Dad can’t make much in such a small town. There must be some other reason.
“So I need you to leave that position, Carly,” he says. “The Bridger family has taken enough from us.”
“This isn’t them taking from us. This is them giving. They gave me a job. A job doing what I love to do, taking care of animals. The money can help pay bills you have.”
“I don’t want any more Bridger money,” he snaps. “You can take care of animals somewhere else. This is Bayfield. There are ranches everywhere.”
“But they have amazing animals. I won’t get that kind of experience anywhere else in the whole state of Montana!”
Dad forks a piece of meatloaf, takes a bite, chews, swallows. Then he looks at me calmly. “This discussion is over. You will give your notice in the morning.”
Dad’s issues with Jonathan Bridger are unfortunate. I’m mad for him. Angry. But the man’s dead. I know Chance. I grew up with him. He protected me like a big brother from Austin. I don’t know Miles much at all, but I am knowing more and more about Austin. He doesn’t like Jonathan Bridger any more than my dad does.
I won’t blanket blame like Dad because in the short time I’ve been working at Bridger Ranch, I’ve felt better. Stronger. Braver. Hell, even sexier.
I stand. Between missing lunch entirely and eating only two bites of my dinner, I should be hungry. But I’m too busy being angry.
“I will not quit. I’m a grown woman, and you can’t make me.”
“That makes you sound like you’re seven,” Dad counters.
I lean in. “How about this? No. Fucking. Way.”
Mom gasps. I walk—despite my desire to run like the child he accused me of being—to my room and close my door, resisting the urge to slam it.
I wish I could talk to Austin about this. Austin, who I still barely know but feel close to—the operative word being feel.
I wish I could leave Bayfield, except…
Austin is here.
And God help me, I don’t want to leave Austin. I want to see where it goes with us. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal, but a manmade orgasm and sex would be a good start.
I stopped crying a while ago.
But tonight, I cry.
Only a little, though, because a wave of determination sweeps through me.
I’m not quitting.
I love my father, but I’m not quitting.
Not on my job. Not on myself. Not on the chance of something with Austin Bridger.
