“I think we’re about to find out.”

  Chance looked around at the setup near the edge of his property and had to laugh. He’d heard Zack make jokes through the years about what he called the Hollywood Shitshow but had never really appreciated it until these past few weeks, both for its efficiency and its sheer size and scale.

  That shitshow had given him that solid business opportunity in New York and the help here for the Cattle Baron’s ball, so he could hardly complain.

  But damn, it was a production.

  He’d waved off Gage earlier before riding out once more with his team to make sure the herd was settled. They’d remained fairly oblivious to it all—one more point in drone technology’s favor—and by his last check were grazing comfortably. He had been shortchanged out of Hadley’s reportedly delicious lunch while taking care of a few things, so he was anxious to get home, get cleaned up and finally eat.

  For the first time since he’d agreed to take on the ball with Charlotte, he could really see it all coming together. Her vision had been extraordinary, but watching the work today, he knew they were going to make a difference for their community. The show was an opportunity to feature the new and different and shine a spotlight on all the good work being done.

  Work that he was a part of.

  And for the first time in a long time, he felt a measure of ease in his chest. The money from the oil was going to go a long way toward making Beaumont Farms all he dreamed, but it was more than that.

  All the work and sweat and effort finally seemed to have a purpose. Like the universe had finally caught up to his dreams.

  Hell, if he were honest with himself, it might be whispering that he hadn’t dreamed big enough.

  And wasn’t that an amazing kick in the ass?

  It all comes together with Charlotte.

  And suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get back to her.

  He mounted Squash, his directions to the horse minimal as they navigated toward the stables. And as they rode in the dying light of a fall afternoon, Chance acknowledged his new reality.

  She was never far from his mind.

  And how humbling it was to realize that the best relationship of his life was the one he’d determinedly run away from.

  Pushed aside, more like.

  And now that she was here, it was impossible to imagine life without her.

  Although he’d see her in less than a half hour, he was suddenly impatient to hear her voice. He dragged his phone out of his breast pocket, surprised to see several text messages and a few missed calls. What had he missed?

  Even as he asked himself the question, he remembered the buzzing in his pocket when he was saying goodbye to Gage and waving the man off. He’d thought to go back to it and then had gotten waylaid in several odds and ends with the production crew.

  He scanned the messages and saw the increasingly panicked ones from Charlotte, the last one being COME TO THE BIG HOUSE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.

  What the hell was going on?

  He already had Squash in motion, the horse deeply in tune with Chance’s physical guidance as he picked up speed.

  They moved over the ground, Chance’s mind whirling with possibilities. What had happened? What the hell could have possibly happened in an hour?

  It was only as he and Squash crested the last ridge before the house that Chance saw it. Even from a distance he could see the throng of people milling around the front of his property, a line of cars stretching down his driveway. Police lights were visible in the distance, bumping down the long length of driveway from the road, and he pushed Squash even harder to get there.

  Had something happened to Charlotte?

  Was someone hurt?

  He’d had a shocking number of people over his land all day. Was it something to do with one of them?

  All of it whirled through his mind as he rode up to the scene. He was already off Squash and hastily tying him to the paddock rail when he saw Charlotte and Hadley in the distance, the distinct sight of a blond head and the shorter red one easy to pick out.

  Both stood there, surrounded by people with cameras and microphones, and he raced over, desperate to know what had happened.

  It was only as he got closer that it all finally became clear.

  “Chance!”

  “Mr. Beaumont!”

  “Hey!”

  A cacophony of shouts and attempts to get his attention filled the air, camera flashes going off in the dying afternoon light.

  “How does it feel to be sitting on a gold mine that’s not yours?”

  “What do you say to the real businessmen of Montana who are owed a lot of money?”

  “You’ve stolen mineral rights from legitimate investors!”

  His only goal was to get to Charlotte, but she was too far away, separated by the screaming, shouting people.

  What was this?

  But it was only as one more crafty person slid into a small space by his side, a microphone just shy of hitting his chest, that he finally keyed in to what was being said.

  What all the shouting was about.

  “Mr. Beaumont, how does it feel to know you’ve struck oil on land that rightly belongs to someone else?”

  Chapter 19

  Charlotte watched Chance pace the length of the kitchen and back again, the overhead lights casting his features in harsh relief. He’d taken a quick shower when they’d come inside, but she didn’t miss how he kept wiping his hands over his jeans, as if they were still dirty somehow.

  It was silly of her—and it likely meant nothing more than he was nervous—but she couldn’t shake that image from her mind. Couldn’t quite remove the unsaid notion that he felt tainted.

  They’d been holed up inside the main house for the past two hours, the police still outside dealing with the last of the consequences of the trespassing paparazzi, information dribbling in as they had it. Confusion had been the order of the evening, and she and Hadley had ended up reheating the leftovers from lunch to share with the Rustlers Creek cops who’d come out to help.

  In the end, they’d discovered the real culprit behind the arrival of the paps on private property. Chance’s new security team, now duly chastised, hadn’t understood the press passes flashed at them weren’t tied to the production going on at the ranch that day.

  For his part, Chance had remained calm—eerily so—through the telling and the subsequent conversation with the head of the security firm he’d hired.

  A mistake, he’d agreed, over and over. A simple mistake.

  One that had revealed a far bigger issue swirling in the air.

  “I don’t understand this.” Her father shook his head. Charlie and Carlene had come over at Zack’s insistence, and Chance had given him the survey details to review. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t understand this. The survey’s clear. The deed here is equally clear. This is your land, Chance. Those mineral rights are yours.”

  “Then what was everyone screaming about?” Charlotte tapped the top of the old deed certificate, clearly noting Chance’s grandfather’s name. “They kept saying the land doesn’t belong to Chance.”

  “That’s a load of bullshit,” Zack bit out. “Who the hell else does it belong to?”

  Although he’d been quiet up to now, Chance let out a harsh laugh. “My father was up to his eyeballs in so much bad business, who the hell knows what deals he made or what commitments he intimated to others.”

  “Talking a good game’s not a contract.” Charlie shook his head. “Your inheritance has been through probate. This land is yours.”

  “I’d like to believe that, but my father’s been playing fast and loose with the strings on my inheritance”—Chance spat the word—“for years. Why should it change now?”

  Charlotte caught her mother’s eye before quickly looking away. “This will all be clear in the morning. Chance’s lawyer can straighten this out and get rid of whoever thinks they have any right to the land.”

  Chance’s voice was dry, devoid of any inflection when he finally spoke. “Right. Because it’ll be that easy.”

  Charlotte didn’t think it would be easy, but it would be handled. To her father’s point, the courts had already acted. People could make all the claims on the property they wanted, but it didn’t change the reality that Beaumont Farms was rightfully owned by Chance.

  Charlotte’s phone rang, and she briefly considered letting it go to voice mail when she saw Loretta’s name on the glass screen. Excusing herself, she headed out to the living room to take the call. They exchanged some quick pleasantries, including the good news that Loretta’s pregnancy was going well, when the conversation took a sharp turn.

  “Um, Charlotte, I’m sorry to call this late, but I do need to talk to you.”

  Charlotte heard the hesitant tone as a wash of something dark and cold crept over her spine. “Of course.”

  “The committee, they—” Loretta changed course. “I want you to know, none of this is my doing, and I’ve said my piece that this is the wrong move, but, well, I was overruled.”

  Overruled?

  “You see,” Loretta kept on in that same steady, cheerful patter, “the committee’s not sure Chance Beaumont should be part of the ball in a few weeks.”

  That dark cold turned to ice as Charlotte considered how to play this. It was only her years of PR training that had her keeping a clear, even tone.

  “Whyever would they think that?”

  “Well, sweetie, it’s just that with the news today, the committee thinks now’s not a good time.”

  And they were so considerate they made a woman on bed rest make the call, Charlotte thought with no small measure of disgust.

  “News that’s been a simple misunderstanding. Chance Beaumont is the rightful owner of Beaumont Farms.”

  Loretta’s nervous laugh had Charlotte gritting her teeth. “It’s not a misunderstanding to Boone Webber and his family. Boone’s one of the biggest contributors to the Cattle Baron’s ball, and he claims that he had a lock on Chance’s land before Trevor up and died.”

  Up and died?

  “Trevor died of cancer, Loretta. I realize it happened very quickly, but if Boone Webber was such a good friend and business partner, perhaps he’d have spent time with a dying man to resolve any outstanding questions.”

  “Yes, well, that’s not for me to say.”

  “No, Loretta, it’s for you to do the dirty work of a bunch of old bastards who don’t have a fucking leg to stand on. Men who’ve suddenly become the thieving cattle barons they take such pride in pretending not to be.”

  “Charlotte!”

  “I’m sorry.” Charlotte reined in her emotions. “Again, my apologies. You’re just the messenger here. And now clearly you’d like me to play messenger to Chance.”

  “Well, if you could, it would be so helpful.”

  “Sure, Loretta. I’ll handle it. I suppose you’d like me to tender my resignation for the ball as well.”

  “Oh no, no.” Loretta was quick on that one. “You’re a Wayne, Charlotte. Your family’s been a part of the Montana Ranchers’ Association for years. You’re above reproach on all this.”

  “I see.”

  “Look, Charlotte, I’m sure this will all blow over. Boone’s an old man, as you say, and he’s looking to pick a fight. Probably, when all’s said and done, we’ll find out this is some vendetta over a hand of cards he lost to Trevor Beaumont a million years ago. You know how men are, hanging on to their convictions and their grudges.” That annoying titter was back in her voice. “We just need to get through this, and by next year I’m sure it’ll all be back to normal.”

  Just get through this?

  “Again, Loretta, as I said. I’ll handle it.”

  “Of course. And don’t forget, the run-throughs for the presentation start next week. The committee will be in touch with your practice time. I know they’re looking forward to your final product.”

  Charlotte disconnected and stared at her phone. She’d been in PR for over a decade. She knew how to do the hard work. The tough work. The uncomfortable work.

  But until today, it had never—not once—felt dirty.

  “That was fast.”

  Chance stood at the entrance to the big, sprawling living room, laid end to end with dark hardwoods and various animal skin rugs across the expanse.

  “It was Loretta.”

  “I assumed as much. Nice speech, too, about the thieving cattle barons.”

  “You heard that?”

  “As I was walking down the hall.”

  She wanted to move—wanted to go to him—but something about the way he stood there, isolated in the doorway, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, held her still.

  “She called with some news.”

  “I’m out of the committee and off the cochair responsibilities for the ball.”

  That same stillness she’d seen all evening seemed to permeate through him, his shoulders set in stone.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Naturally, I’d expect no less.”

  “Look, Chance, I can resign, too. There’s no reason for me to participate.”

  “Of course there is. This is a huge opportunity for you. You can’t walk away. Besides, you’ve got a smelly bull coming to you.” He flashed a grin that never reached his eyes. “Good horse name?”

  She’d forgotten about the reward for chairing the ball, but at its mention realized there’d likely now just be one bull given.

  “You’re still getting mine.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. If Boone Webber has his way, there isn’t going to be a ranch to put said smelly bull on.” He glanced around the living room, his gaze skirting the floor, the walls and then the furniture before coming to rest on her. “I always hated this house. At least I can get that albatross off my neck.”

  “Chance—”

  “Besides, this screams rancher chic. I’m sure whoever takes over will feel right at home in this decor.”

  “Chance, please stop saying that. This is your home. Your land.”

  He glanced around one more time before shaking his head. “No, it’s really not. It never has been.”

  Chance kept waiting for the anger to penetrate through the raw shock that had filled him since riding Squash back to the main house. If it wasn’t going to be anger, he’d have settled for frustration or even a solid sort of annoyance.

  But nothing came.

  Nothing penetrated the empty that seemed to fill him up.

  He only remembered one other time he’d felt this way. The day his mother died. He’d been coming home from school, he’d just lost a tooth, and he was so excited to tell her about it, ready to hand it over so they could prepare it for the tooth fairy.

  Only, he’d gotten off the bus and walked into the house to find their housekeeper crying on the sofa. Great big heaving sobs, with tears that streamed down her face. Kate had called him over from where he stood in the front hallway. Her voice had been gentle as she’d pulled him into a tight hug.

  And as she held him, she told him his mama had died. None of which had made any sense since his mother had been right as rain that morning over breakfast, but by early afternoon she had died.

  He’d learned years later, when he was old enough to understand, that she’d had an ectopic pregnancy that had been caught too late. Her fallopian tube had ruptured on the way to the hospital, and by the time they’d gotten her there it had been too late to save her.

  A waste, people had said as they shook their heads. Others called it a shame.

  But all he’d known was that one morning he had a mother and the next he didn’t.

  Charlotte was still looking at him from across the room, her gaze dark with worry. It was amazing, he realized, how much she said with her eyes.

  Windows to the soul and all that.

  It had always been that way. He’d talk to her at school, and he’d think about all the things her eyes said, even when her mouth said other things.

  Sassy things that, in no uncertain terms, told him what a jackass he was.

  But her eyes always said something different. Sometimes they looked hurt. Sometimes challenging. And there were times—usually when he walked over to her on the playground, before he’d gotten around to running his mouth—they even looked hopeful.

  But he’d never quite seen the look she wore today.

  Nor could he fully place it, but he had a sense that she was wary, and that was a new one.

  “This is all just a ridiculous misunderstanding. This is your home. Or if not this,” Charlotte said and waved a hand at the surrounding room, “the ranch certainly is. The cabin is your home. The land is your home.” She finally moved, coming to stand before him, laying a hand over his heart. “Here. Right in here is where you know that. I know you know it.”

  “I know a lot of things. I know what it smells like before a snowstorm and how many labored breaths a cow takes right before she delivers a calf. I know just that perfect shade of green in the grass that says we’re going to have our first real spring day.” He moved in closer, pressing his lips to her ear.

  She pulled back, even as he saw desire stamped in her eyes. “Chance. My parents are down the hall, and so is my brother.”

  “And you think it’s some sort of surprise we’re sleeping together?”

  “No, but I’d rather not broadcast the specifics.”

  He didn’t want to broadcast them, either, yet he couldn’t deny this strange, dark need to brand her.

  Even as those dark whispers rose up in his mind that he didn’t deserve her.

  Wasn’t that why Loretta had called? Why the committee had made their decision?

  He didn’t fit, and he never would.

  And just like he never seemed to run far enough or fast enough away from who he was, he never quite got past that desperate need to push her away.

  No matter how badly he needed her.

  Wasn’t that the real rub?

  He’d spent a lifetime wanting her yet keeping her at arm’s length. Because he knew they came from vastly different backgrounds, and if given enough time, his would taint her.

  And he’d got a dead-center bull’s-eye on that one.