“Duffy kissed me tonight,” she blurted out, not ready to tell her about what hadn’t happened with Pickett—had almost happened maybe.

  Tilly’s eyes widened. “You and Duffy McKenna? Don’t tell me you—”

  “We didn’t. I didn’t,” Oakley said quickly. “I mean, I didn’t even kiss him back, it happened so fast. I always wondered what it would be like to kiss him, though.”

  Her sister was shaking her head. “Is this about you and Duffy? Or you and Mother?”

  “What?” she demanded. This is not the way she thought the conversation would go, considering that she’d listened to Tilly ad nauseam for years about her dates. “It has nothing to do with Mother.”

  Tilly raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

  Her sister was starting to irritate her. “I never thought for a minute that you seeing Cooper was about Mother so why would you ask me that?”

  “Are you telling me you haven’t had a run-in either with Mother or CJ or both?”

  Oakley groaned. “It was just a kiss. But how can you judge me when you’re marrying a McKenna?”

  “I’m not judging you. Cooper and I have been in love for a long time. Clearly, it isn’t about getting back at Mother. She just disowned me, threw me off the ranch, but I’m still marrying Cooper. Why do you suddenly think that you’re falling for Duffy?”

  Oakley let out a laugh. “I said he kissed me. That’s all it was.” But it wasn’t, she knew. Tilly was eyeing her like a big bossy sister. “I love him but I’m not sure I love him like that.”

  Her sister seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “I think you need to kiss a few more cowboys before you let one of them rein you in, little sis.”

  She blurted it out. “I’m interested in Pickett.”

  “You hardly know him.”

  Oakley scoffed. “I’ve known him almost my whole life.”

  Tilly raised a brow. “Did you know he had family back east? Exactly. I always wondered about the three of you, thick as thieves. I knew you’d end up in a love triangle feeling like you had to choose one of them. Both of them act like they’ve been in love with you for years. You really haven’t noticed?”

  “They joke around all the time but—”

  “So how serious is this with Pickett? I assume you’ve kissed, but—”

  “Not yet.”

  Tilly shook her head as if there was no reasoning with her little sister. “You haven’t even kissed?” Getting up from the couch, she headed back to the kitchen table. “I need to get back to my wedding planning.”

  “What if Pickett doesn’t want to kiss me?”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “Clearly, you aren’t ready for a long-term relationship. You’ve only had a couple of boyfriends and neither lasted long. You need to sow more wild oats. In my opinion, neither Duffy nor Pickett is right for you. Duffy has no interest in ranching. Who knows with Pickett? I’m betting he doesn’t talk about the future or what he wants. Maybe he wants the rancher’s daughter. But don’t worry. When you kiss the right one, you’ll know.”

  Oakley had her doubts since she’d kissed quite a few, but she could only hope that about at least this her sister might be right.

  “There are also a lot more options than what we have here in this river bottom,” Tilly said as she returned to the table and her wedding planning.

  “Is that why Cooper left? He wanted to see what was out there?”

  “Maybe,” Tilly admitted. “He had some things to work out. But he came back. That’s really what matters.”

  Would Pickett come back? Oakley had no idea.

  “You scared me there for a moment,” her sister was saying as she began to check off items from the list she’d made. “If you had told me that you were in love with Duffy—”

  “You’re marrying his brother Cooper.”

  “Exactly,” Tilly said with a laugh. “I can’t imagine how Mother would have taken another daughter marrying into the McKenna family. It might have pushed her over the edge.” When Oakley didn’t say anything, her sister turned to look at her. “What?”

  Oakley threw herself back on the couch with a groan. “What would Mother say about Pickett?”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t even kissed him.”

  “I haven’t yet. But I think we almost did.” Her sister groaned. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  Tilly shook her head. “I doubt you do. Oakley, let’s consider what we know about Pickett Hanson. You’ve known him since you were fourteen, right?”

  Her sister rushed on before she could answer. “And yet he never mentioned his family? Cooper said his father doesn’t even know anything about Pickett. He just showed up one day and Holden felt sorry for him and hired him, even though he clearly knew nothing about being a ranch hand. He’d never ridden a horse. He was green as spring grass, Cooper told me.”

  “Well, he obviously learned to ride and to ranch,” she said.

  “Doesn’t it make you wonder why he’s never mentioned his family in all that time?” Tilly demanded. “Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?”

  “I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready,” she said, not sure about that, either. And that was if he even came back to the ranch.

  Her sister turned in her chair to face the couch. “Let’s say it’s true love, that Pickett Hanson is the man for you. How would you two live? I mean, doesn’t he stay in part of the bunkhouse on the ranch?”

  Oakley sat up, wishing she hadn’t brought any of this up. She needed her sister on her side, but from the look on her face, that wasn’t the case. “I didn’t say I was marrying him. I haven’t even... He hasn’t even...” She stood. “I don’t know what we would do, but I bet we’d figure it out. I’m going to bed.”

  * * *

  “YOU’RE LATE,” HOLLY JO SAID, hands on her slim hips, as Duffy joined her in the stable the next morning. He’d had a restless night with little sleep and hadn’t awoken in the best mood. He’d been helping the teenager with her horseback riding lessons out of the goodness of his heart.

  He started to point that out but stopped himself. Just because he was in a bad mood, he didn’t need to take it out on her. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Rough night?” she asked, cocking a brow at him.

  He couldn’t help smiling at the girl. Smart and sassy, she had a lot of fire in her. He still wondered how she had come to live at the ranch or what his father’s connection had been to the girl’s mother. Apparently, it hadn’t been romantic. Holden had gone away one day and come back with the girl and no real explanation why.

  “Feeling guilty for breaking another girl’s heart?” she teased.

  He shook his head, seeing that she was trying to get a rise out of him. “What makes you think that she didn’t break mine?”

  “Because you’ve never been that serious about any of them, except...maybe this one,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  The kid was tall for her age and also insightful, he’d found. He’d liked Holly Jo the first time he’d met her, accepting her like the older brother he’d instantly become, something she hadn’t done with Treyton, who never had two words to say to her.

  “How about we just go for a ride today?” he asked her. She’d been working with both Pickett and Cooper, along with Tilly, on her horseback riding tricks.

  She had some fool idea of being the best in the world. Duffy had never wanted to be the best at anything. He found her drive remarkable and wished he had more of his own.

  “All right,” she said, obviously disappointed. “But only if you tell me about your date.”

  “Yeah, hold your breath on that,” he said as they saddled their horses. He listened to Holly Jo’s chatter with only one ear and mulled over last night with Oakley. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend and now he worried that he might have.

  “Is she the one you think is so wonderful?” Holly Jo asked, making a face.

  “Sorry?”

  “The one you were out with last night. I saw the way you kept looking in the mirror before you left for your date.” She laughed and brushed her hair back, mocking him as she pretended to primp in front of a mirror.

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “One of these days you’re going to meet a boy and then you’ll know what I’m going through.”

  “Boys are awful,” she said as they led their horses outside. “I want nothing to do with any of them.”

  “Keep that attitude as long as you can,” he said as they saddled up and rode toward the mountains. “How’s things going with that boy that was bothering you. Gus?”

  Holly Jo shook her head. “I can handle him.”

  “If you need my help—”

  “You have enough trouble of your own,” she said. “So about the date. Maybe she’s just playing hard to get.”

  Duffy ignored her chatter as they rode. There were still patches of snow on the north side of the mountains, but the valley was mostly bare. That wasn’t a good sign with the drought they’d been having for several years now. He often wondered why his father kept ranching with so many odds against him.

  Next to him, Holly Jo had fallen silent, her face turned up to the sun, as she absently patted her horse’s neck as she rode. Her look was one of absolute contentment. Duffy couldn’t help feeling jealous. Had he ever felt that way? Would he have felt that way if things had gone differently last night? Or had he wanted Oakley even more after seeing the way she had been looking at Pickett?

  “When is Pickett coming back?” Holly Jo asked.

  Her question made him groan. What was it about Pickett? “I don’t know.”

  “I miss him. It’s not the same without Pickett here.”

  Duffy had a feeling that Oakley felt the same way.

  * * *

  PICKETT WOKE IN a strange bed, in a room that was too large and at the same time, too familiar. At first, he wasn’t sure what had awakened him. Then he heard a tap at the door. He started to get up and dress, but lay back as the door opened. One of the staff entered with a tray, an older woman who greeted him with “Good morning, sir.”

  “Good morning. You can set that down anywhere you like.” He smelled coffee and what might have been blueberry coffee cake. “Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome,” she said and exited as quickly as she’d come in.

  He rose as she closed the door and reached for the coffee. That was when he saw a white envelope next to a plate of perfectly sliced coffee cake and a rosebud in the small vase beside it.

  Bracing himself, he took a drink of coffee before he picked up the envelope and opened it, already dreading what he was about to read. He’d been raised in this house, in this family, so he knew that bad news was usually made official in writing rather than broken face-to-face.

  He took out the sheet of expensive paper, unfolded it and read, “I’m sorry to inform you that your father passed away in the night. He held on as long as he could, determined to see his son. We need to talk before you leave, Sarah.” He balled up the paper, throwing it across the room.

  Emotions blindsided him for a moment. He didn’t know how to feel, only that he hurt. He couldn’t help the regret. How many times had he wished that things had been different between him and his father?

  He dressed and went downstairs, knowing that Sarah would be waiting. She would know he would be anxious to leave. There wouldn’t be a funeral or even a service—his father’s instructions, which of course Sarah would follow to the letter. His father would be cremated, his remains going into the mausoleum with the rest of his ancestors.

  Pickett had grown up with all the photographs of the Westmoreland men before him. He’d always found it interesting that no women had ever hung there. Nor had they ever held office in any of his father’s holdings. It didn’t surprise him that his own mother had escaped this house shortly after he was born. Not that he probably would have seen much of her since children in families like his were raised by nannies, attended boarding school, seeing little of their parents except on a holiday here and there.

  Just as he’d expected, Sarah was waiting in the sitting room near the front door. She’d been looking at her phone, but now put it away and turned her attention on him.

  “Please close the door,” she said and motioned him into a nearby chair.

  He told himself that his last requirement in this house was to listen to what she had to say before he left. He did wonder what her pitch would be. He half expected her to pull out a spreadsheet as he took a seat.

  “Thank you for coming to see your father,” Sarah began. “I know how much it meant to him. He was able to die in peace.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her words. He and his father had said what they had to say to each other last night. They both had regrets, but neither’s mind had changed. Pickett could walk away now without any doubts about being gone for all these years.

  She hesitated for a moment before she said, “You are aware that your father is worth a large amount of money.” That was putting it mildly, he thought. “I’m sure the two of you discussed—”

  “No, we didn’t talk about money.”

  She looked up in surprise for a moment, then nodded as if she should have known. “He has made some large bequeaths, but there are still decisions that need to be made about the remainder of his wealth as well as this house and his other properties and businesses. As his only living heir—”

  Pickett rose and picked up his Stetson he’d had resting on his knee. “As I told him years ago, I’m not interested.” He started for the door, but her words stopped him.

  “What about the staff employed in this house, the staff employed in your father’s businesses? What about your adopted family? It’s one thing for you to act superior when it comes to money, but not everyone can be that callous. Are you aware that the McKenna Ranch is in financial trouble?”

  He turned slowly. As he started to say, “That’s not true,” she pulled out spreadsheets—just not the ones he’d expected. “Your girlfriend’s ranch isn’t doing that much better either. I understand it’s because of the years of drought, cattle sales down, the lack of fresh well water. Maybe you’ve heard the expression land poor? It means—”

  “I know what it means.” Lots of land, not a lot of money. Pickett opened his mouth again to say he didn’t have a girlfriend, but the look on Sarah’s face told him to save his breath.

  “I understand that you want nothing to do with your father’s businesses or this house,” she continued. “They can all be sold off, the money given to the charities of your choice, severance pay for the employees. Your father has already made large bequeaths for long-time employees, myself included. But with the money your father put away for your ‘personal’ needs you could make a huge difference in both ranch family’s lives.” An eyebrow rose as she studied him. “But then you would have to admit that you have never been just a ranch hand, wouldn’t you?” She slapped down the spreadsheets. “I suspect you would prefer to keep your pride and let your new family struggle on rather than admit the truth, but I need to know what you want done and I need to know now.”

  * * *

  OAKLEY WOKE TO screaming as the nightmare chased her from sleep. She felt someone shaking her and calling her name. A lamp came on next to her bed, blinding her. She looked around the unfamiliar room, terrified from the nightmare, from the feeling that she didn’t know what was happening.

  “You’re all right,” Tilly said, sounding close to tears as she hugged her. “It was just a bad dream. You’re all right.”

  She didn’t feel all right even as she recognized where she was. Tilly was here. She was in their apartment. But there was something to be afraid of, something to be very afraid of. “I saw...something.”

  “It was just a dream,” her sister said, drawing back to look at her.

  Oakley shook her head. “Women, there were a half dozen of them running away.” She frowned, the memory trying to pull away, to disappear back into the fog that was her memory. “Some of them ran toward a small airplane, but were shooed away from it. The men forced all of them at gunpoint into the back of a stock trailer.” She met Tilly’s eyes. “It wasn’t a dream. It was real. I saw them. I know now why CJ didn’t want me to remember.” She sat up, pressing her back against the headboard, refusing to let this memory go. “The meth lab. The women must have been working in it.”

  She glanced around for her cell phone. Finding it on the bedside table, she tapped on the screen.

  “Oakley, what are you doing? It’s not quite daylight.”

  “I have to call the sheriff. I know why CJ tried to kill me. I know what he is hiding. I know why those men are afraid he is going to talk.” She started to hit 911, but Tilly took the phone from her hand.

  “Don’t call 911. I have Stuart’s home phone number, but are you sure this can’t wait until morning?” Tilly asked.

  “It can’t wait. The sheriff has to know why CJ has been so afraid I would remember what I saw the day he shot me. I know now. They had women working in the meth lab. Not employed there. I think CJ and the other men were dealing in human trafficking, working them in the meth lab and then taking them somewhere else in the back of a stock trailer. There was a plane, but the men wouldn’t let the women board. When someone spotted me, the women all ran.” She took a breath. “CJ was there. When he saw me...” She swallowed, hugging herself against the cold hatred she’d seen in his eyes too many times. “He came after me. He meant to kill me so I could never tell.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “My memory has been coming back, but only in bits and pieces, but tonight I... I saw it. I remembered. I remember CJ chasing me. I knew he was going to kill me if he caught up to me.”