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I should’ve known better than to think he would be there for me. No one ever had in my life, not outside my momma and dad, and I don’t know why part of me had ever wished Sully would be different.
“You wouldn’t talk to me. I sat outside your house all night.”
But you were with her. You were courting her and fucking me.
It shouldn’t’ve mattered. I’d told him it could never be more than the sex, but it still hurt all the same.
“This was a mistake.” I turn on my heels and head back to my truck. I can’t do this. What was I thinking?
“Porter, wait. Goddamn it. You’re still a fucking hothead. Just settle down a minute.”
“Fuck you. You’re not my boss. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” But I damn well do what he says, stop moving, then turn to look at him.
“I only ever treated you like an employee when I had to. You know that wasn’t…” He takes his hat off, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it on his head again. “You came here for a reason. Don’t stalk off because you’re angry.”
“I wish I knew how to take it away,” Sully says.
“Take what away?”
“All that hurt inside you.”
I shake that memory away, not letting it take root. My insides are jittery, and I want to do nothing but evict it, to force myself not to feel because feeling hurts too damn much. “You don’t know me.” But he’s right about me, and we both know it.
“You got the job, Porter.”
“You don’t want to see what I can do? I’m better than anyone on this ranch—even you. But you might wanna check references. I’m sure your daddy would expect that.”
He gives me a small grin. “I don’t need to see what you can do. You want the job or not?”
I want my momma and dad not to have worked themselves into an early grave. I want to get up with the sun and work land that’s mine, but since that won’t ever happen, I want to keep seeing where my boots take me because I don’t have a home. I want not to wish I could bend over for Sully right now, or work my way inside him, but none of my wishing has ever come true. “Yeah, I want the job.” It’s a mistake, and outside of ranching, there’s nothing I’m better at than making mistakes.
He smiles. “Come on, then. I’ll show you where you’ll stay.”
Chapter 3
Bishop
I feel like I’m walking in a dream. Is this really happening? Is Porter Dixon standing inside Sullivan Ranch, asking for a job? I offer it to him with little forethought, just want to be around him again for as long as he’ll stay. It feels simultaneously like no time has gone by yet all the time in the world since I’ve been this close to him.
I want to reach out, embrace him like an old friend, but I know that’s not something he’ll accept from me. I’m still not sure why, and it’s eaten me up all these years. But how much has only become apparent right this instant as he’s standing inches away from me.
My stomach throbs as I take the brief opportunity to look him over while he’s grabbing his bag from the truck. He still has that dark-brown hair, which is longer on top and fades on the sides. But the five-o’clock shadow is new, and now all I want is to feel its burn against my skin before he shaves it again. I need to put that shit out of my mind, though, because that’s not what this is about after all this time. He’s here to work, not take up with me again.
Porter’s frame is leaner, his thighs and forearms well-defined, as if he’s worked himself to the bone but didn’t eat enough to satiate himself. That thought sits heavy in my gut, that maybe there were times he couldn’t find work or nourishment.
Maybe that’s why he’s here, out of desperation. He’s run out of options, and we’re just the next decent job he’s seen advertised. And if I know Porter like I did back then, he’s also here to prove something, but I don’t know what. I still have no clue why he left so abruptly back then, and it seems like I won’t get my answer anytime soon, maybe ever.
“Holy cow, is that Porter Dixon?” Dad asks like he’s seeing a ghost.
“Yes, sir.” Porter reaches out to shake his hand.
“What brings you to our neck of the woods again?”
He clenches his jaw, something he used to do a lot around my dad. “I heard the ranch needed help.”
“I already told him the job is his,” I say, and Dad nods, like it’s the right decision. He’s no doubt heard the rumors too, but we all remember what a hard worker Porter was back then. His mom too. We cared about them like family. After he and his mom came to work for us, I could sometimes hear my parents whispering about the Dixons. I always figured it had to do with that lingering guilt about the rift between our families. “I was just about to show him the accommodations.”
“Still the same quarters?” Porter asks.
