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Prologue
The sun shone brightin the clear blue Wyoming sky, but the brisk north wind reminded the dark clad funeral goers they were congregating outdoors in late November. “Thank you for coming.” Brett Kincaid’s breath came out in white puffs as he shook the hand of the weeping woman whose name he couldn’t remember. The number of women in the long line of mourners leaving the cemetery didn’t surprise him. Their father had never bothered to hide his reputation as an unapologetic philanderer, not from his wife when they’d been married or his three sons.
“Thank you for coming,” he repeated, tiring of the standard line of gratitude. What else was there to say? Watching the woman young enough to pass for Casey’s daughter walk away sobbing, he was smart enough to keep that thought silent from her. With a mental head shake, he glanced at Reed standing next to him, one brow winging up with the sardonic curl of his mouth.
Reed shrugged, his look rueful. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised.”
Brett sighed, wishing he could. “No.”
A total of three years separated Brett, Reed, and Slade, and, despite their mother having the good sense to finally divorce their father after ten years of marriage, the five of them had remained close during their childhood. Spotting Casey’s solicitor in line reminded Brett of the reading of the will following the graveside service. Since he’d drafted the document for his dad, none of them were surprised Casey had left his thirty-thousand-acre cattle ranch to his sons. He might have been a cad toward women and a somewhat lackadaisical father but they never doubted Casey’s love for them.
Slade broke away from the receiving line, a scowl tightening his face. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he tugged his Stetson down and shifted behind him and Reed. Brett wasn’t surprised when he growled, “I’m done here. I’ll see you at the bar.”
“He lasted longer than I thought he would,” Reed said, his gaze on their youngest brother stomping toward his truck.
Slade hated crowds and avoided people except family and their hired hands as much as possible.
Brett shrugged. “We can be grateful he came to the funeral.”
“There is that.” Reed turned toward the flower-covered coffin as they said their thanks to the last guest. “Dad did right by him, appointing him senior manager of the ranch.”
Brett nodded, seeing his mother and their stepdad approaching. “I assured him you and I were good with that decision. It was fair, considering you’re working full-time at the department and I’ve been in San Antonio for so long. Slade has been running things anyway for the last five years.”
Andrea, their mother, joined them, looping her arm through his. “But you’re back to stay, right?”
The hopeful gleam in her eyes tugged at Brett’s conscience. His mother realized long before Brett how unhappy he was working for a big firm and their shady clients, not to mention being so far from home. “Yes. My plans haven’t changed. Gina’s attitude hasn’t improved though, and I’m going through with the divorce.”
She patted his arm in a motherly fashion, her eyes conveying sympathy. “I always thought you could do better.”
It still pissed him off that his wife refused to come to the service after insisting they work out their marital discontent and stay together the moment she got wind of the Kincaid’s net worth. Gina was fine with his generous stipend in her prenup agreement until she saw the last financial statement from the accountants, her one-eighty attitude change when he brought up their pending divorce humorously obvious.
They had been at the ranch less than two weeks when Gina started giving Brett ultimatums – either choose her and San Antonio or the ranch without her – until she’d glimpsed that financial report. She’d gotten braver with her demands that exceeded their prenup agreement once she learned the Soaring Eagle Ranch not only bred cattle but their land offered a very lucrative oil lease. Each time he’d been happy to remind her of that binding contract.
Brett stifled thoughts about his soon-to-be ex and turned his attention to the only family who mattered now. “Let’s go. Will looks like he could use a stiff drink.” He smiled at his stepfather’s eager nod of agreement.
“We all could.” Ames Carson, Casey’s personal attorney and friend, stepped up to walk with them toward the waiting limousine. “Casey would be thrilled with the wake you’ve planned for this evening.”
“He never turned down the chance to party, did he?” Andrea sent her husband a fond glance. “Will showed me the benefits of marrying a homebody.”
Will smiled at her. “Damn right. But I’ll make the supreme sacrifice and attend Casey’s wake.”
“That’s nice of you, dear.”
Brett paused at the car to glance back at his father’s final resting place. Casey would be remembered as much for his success in oil, ranching, and breeding Charbray cattle as he would his flagrant philandering. He left behind a spread worth millions in oil production alone and a string of young, broken hearts. Brett and his brothers were proud to carry on his legacy as an oil and cattle baron but not his callous disregard for women.
They had their mother to thank for raising them with a healthy respect for the opposite sex. Given the private BDSM lifestyle the three of them explored together when they were in their early twenties, some would find that hard to believe. Only those in the lifestyle realized the power submissive women wielded, even when bound, and the rewards they reaped from a Dom’s intense focus on their needs. That was one part of his life he and Gina shared without arguing. She needed to quit fighting the inevitable end of their marriage so they could both move on.
“Are you coming, or are you going to stand there?” Reed wanted to know, holding the limo’s back door open.
“Coming.”
Brett returned home after the will was read, not surprised to find his wife of five years packing. When she didn’t get her way, she would regroup then return for another round. Leaning against the doorframe to the spacious guest room, he eyed the full suitcases on the bed then slid his gaze toward the bathroom as she came out carrying a smaller case.
“Oh, you’re back.” Gina paused then shrugged when she noted his unconcerned attitude. “So, there’s not going to be another big fight?”
“Nothing left to fight about. We’ve each had our say, and neither of us is budging. Need some help?”
Her cold dark eyes flashed and her jaw went rigid. He knew that would get a rise out of her.
