Click.

  “You tell me. You’re the one pushing me away. Being a dick. Closing me out.”

  “You’re right. I am.”

  I wasn’t expecting his blatant agreement, so it takes me a moment before I ask, “Why?”

  “We’re . . . we’re us.” He barely glances my way, but it’s enough for me to see the pain in his eyes, and that causes worry to reverberate through me. “And pretty soon, I have to leave and be the man I swore I’d never be. I have to live the life that I promised myself I’d never live. It’s what I want, it’s what I need to do, but I don’t know . . .” He shakes his head. “So, not only am I having a hard time figuring out how I’m supposed to be those things but I also know that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch leaving you.”

  Then don’t!

  The words scream through my mind as the panic that’s been slowly building bubbles up.

  I can’t tell him to stay, though. Jack has worlds to conquer. Things he needs to learn and become. There’s no way I can hold him back from that.

  There’s no way I can tell him I’ve fallen in love with him.

  There’s no way I can burden him with that.

  “I’m a man who falls hard, Tate.” He picks up a rock and sidearms it so it skips three times across the water before sinking beneath the surface. “So, it’s easier if I don’t fall at all.”

  “Okay.” I nod as if I understand, but I don’t.

  “It’s just easier for me that way. In the past, the transient nature of my job made it easy for me. Moving on every few months.”

  Look at me, Jack.

  “But you’re heading home soon. You’ll have somewhere permanent.” Just getting the words out is half the battle because I’m secretly dying inside. Privately hating that I’ve let myself get so close to someone so fast. “What then?”

  Let me see your eyes because your lips are moving, but I don’t believe you.

  He shrugs. His profile against the lake stoic and unemotional. “Then I guess I’ll do what’s expected of me.”

  I feel your kisses every night.

  “Which is?”

  I see the glances you steal of me.

  “Get married. Have kids. Learn to be the man my dad expected me to be.”

  I feel you.

  “Wouldn’t he just want you happy?” I ask.

  I know there’s more here.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  Look at me, Jack.

  “There are all kinds of versions of happy.”

  “There are.” When he finally turns and looks at me, his eyes are miserable and his expression is pained. “But we live in two different worlds. I’d never ask you to walk away from this now that we’re on the cusp of success and I can’t walk away from mine. So, love and happiness don’t exactly get to factor into the equation.”

  “You’re wrong, though.” I fight the desperation that laces the edges of my voice, but it’s still there. I told myself I couldn’t hold him back, ask him to stay, and yet that’s exactly what I want to do. Ask. Beg. Plead. “Happiness and love should always mean something.”

  “I can’t be your next time, Tatum.” The despair in his tone mimics mine as our eyes hold in the waning light, and I see it. He doesn’t have to say the three words for me to hear them.

  And he knows I see it.

  He just nods ever so slightly before wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his side.

  We sit like that for some time. Together. Alone. Quiet. Accepting the inevitable and fighting it all at the same time.

  I take comfort in the heat of his body beside mine, in the brush of his lips over mine, and in the soft sigh of a kiss we slip into as he lays me back onto the grass beneath us.

  He makes love to me in the twilight without any words but with every emotion pouring out of him through the gentleness of his actions. The reverence in his touch as he kisses away the tear that slips down my cheek is something I draw deep into me so that I can keep it with me once I no longer have the man who bestowed it.

  46

  JACK

  “You want to tell me what this is?”

  I look up from the barrage of texts I’ve shared back and forth with my sister, same bullshit, different day, to find Pete walking across the stable with a stack of stapled papers in his hand.

  “What’s what?” I rise from my seat and accept the stack he holds out.

  It takes me a second to realize what they are and for the dread to settle in. I count to ten, forcing the fight or flight to wane so I can keep my tone even and unfazed when I speak to him.

  “This has been an almost flawless venture, but we’re one day out from leaving, and when I went into town today, I was handed these and then given a warning. You want to tell me what the hell they are and why I shouldn’t be concerned?”

  I flip through the ledger as if it’s something I’ve seen before. Lines upon lines of bets made, of bets lost, of an exorbitant amount of money owed in the balance line. “What was the warning?” I ask as my temper roils beneath the surface.

  “That we were making a mistake investing in this venture. That Knox owes enough to bookies that she’s going to take any money paid to her and bail. She has horses for sale. She has the ranch in general for sale, which is why you’re here. What the fuck is going on here, Sutton?”

  I huff a laugh as my hands grip the fucking papers. “I’m not selling the ranch for her, Pete. Why would I work so hard to negotiate the deal with you if I were going to?” I move to the opposite end of the bunkhouse and turn to face him. “These are old news.” I smack the papers against my palm. “Just some assholes in town who Knox’s husband shorted some cash when he died. She’s straight as an arrow. I wouldn’t be here or pushing her to you if I didn’t know that for a fact.”

  “Then why those?” Pete juts his chin in the direction of the papers.

  “For starters? The Hickmans are less than thrilled that you’re here and not there.”

  “They got lazy and dropped the ball.”

  “But they only see her stealing you away.”

  “You said for starters. What other shitstorm am I walking into if we solidify this deal long term?”

  “This land is desirable. The Knox’s won the bid on the land and two brothers who didn’t want to get into a bidding war over it have been harassing her since the day the papers were signed. She hasn’t flinched once, and I don’t see her doing it in the future.” No way in fucking hell she will now that I’m going to button up this deal and save this place from going belly up.

  “This is concerning, Jack. Investing money and trusting a partner is a little hard to do with someone when you fear they aren’t going to be there from one season to the next.”

  “She’ll be here, Pete. I’m telling you. My word is good on this. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”

  He purses his lips, indecision etched in the lines of his face. “But what happens when your contract is up, huh? You don’t stick around most places long. Rumor has it you’ll be moving on soon.”

  Fucking rumors. I feel like a traitor uttering these words to him before I’ll ever admit them to her . . . or even to myself, but he needs the truth, not some bullshit sales pitch. “Because I’m in love with her, Pete.”

  His startled intake of air is exactly how I feel—staggered by the admission.

  “Come again?” He laughs around the words because he’s known me long enough to have never heard them grace my lips.

  “You heard me. I’m in love with Tatum Knox . . . and if you think I’m going to leave her here alone to fend off the wolves, then you don’t know the man I am. That’s part of the reason I proposed the progress payment plans. I know it isn’t the norm in the industry, but you want these horses, Pete. Trust me on that. With your crew coming every month to check in, your presence will be noticed and, in turn, will give the ranch not only security with the payments but also help me keep these assholes from thinking they can push her out.” I glance out toward the pasture where his men are slowly preparing for their departure tomorrow before looking back at him. “You know my word is good.”

  Pete just shakes his head. “I know it is. I know what you’re made of. The question is, how are you going to take care of this little problem, Sutton? Because we can’t leave here without it being resolved.”

  “It won’t be a problem by the time you load the horses up in the carrier tomorrow afternoon.”

  He nods, and I toss the ledger onto the table before leaving.

  It only takes me a few minutes to find Tate. Her strokes are carving across the water, one confident strong movement after another. I step toward the edge of the pool so when she reaches it, she’ll notice me.

  I told Pete I loved her.

  She touches the wall and then looks up to me, lifting her swim goggles off her eyes to her forehead. “Hi.”

  But I couldn’t tell her.

  “Hi. Should I be worried that you’re swimming laps?” I ask, afraid something is upsetting her enough to make her want to scream underwater.

  “Funny.” She rolls her eyes. “Just getting some exercise.”

  “Whew.” I smile. “I, uh, have to head into town to take care of a few things.”

  Tate treads water but looks confused. “But what about the barbecue?” she asks, referring to the farewell dinner we have planned for the Steely Brothers crew to celebrate four weeks of hard work and, hopefully, pregnant mares.

  “I know. I’ll try to make it back in time.” Her eyes narrow, and I know I need to go before she can look too closely and see the rage beneath the surface. “It’s just some loose ends I need to tie up so that Pete can leave with all of the i’s dotted and t’s crossed.”

  “I’m sure he’d be fine if you took care of it tomorrow so that you could join us tonight.”

  “I’m sure he would, but I don’t want to give him any reason to head back with doubt of any kind.”

  “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Hurry back.”

  “I will.”

  And when I walk away, I hate that the lies keep piling up.

  But is it really lying when I’m doing it to protect the person I love?

  47

  JACK

  Luckily, Ginger’s directions where to find the Destin twins are spot-on. The parking lot of the strip mall located in the next town over is well lit and void of any cars. I look at the storefronts for a dry cleaner, a pizza joint, and a silkscreen shop as I drive toward the alley that runs behind the structure.

  The back lot is where I find all the cars as well as the door that leads to the hole-in-the-wall bar I’m looking for. The kind with windows painted black and a solid slab door with nothing but a padlock on the outside for security when the establishment is closed.

  As if on cue, the dark, four-door sedan rolls up and parks right outside the entrance. Ginger said that one of the brothers stops by every two hours to take wagers and make payouts. I guess tonight is no different.

  Before I can think this through rationally, I let the rage that brought me here spark to life as I climb out of the truck. Each step ratchets it higher. Each sidewalk panel I cross allows it to build.

  When the driver’s side door opens and the bald brother steps out, I don’t give him a second to think before my fist plows into his nose.

  The crunch of my knuckles on his cartilage is sickening and satisfying at the same time. But I don’t revel in it. I’m too enraged, too focused.

  Before he can recover, I have my hands fisted in his shirt and am slamming him against the car hard enough for his skull to bounce off it.

  I don’t care about the blood pouring out of his nose.

  I don’t think twice about it being just him and me in a dark parking lot or that he might be carrying a gun—it is Texas, after all.

  My only thought is Tate.

  My only goal is to stop this bullshit once and for all.

  “Tatum Knox.”

  Those two words are all I have to say for him to know what the punch was for.

  “So?” The asshole smirks, so I swing for the softness of his gut. My fist lands with a thud, and I can feel the whoosh of air come out of his chest in reflex.

  I can smell the alcohol on his breath, the marijuana on his clothes, and I know that in and of itself is the only reason he isn’t fighting back.

  Thank fuck for that because I have a feeling all it would take is a whistle from him to get his customers in the bar out here . . . and then I’d be a dead man.

  “Do you think the bets her husband made in that stack of spreadsheets are going to scare someone off?” I growl, my face inches from his. People from the bar stare as they come out on their own accord, and I just give them a glare to tell them to leave us the fuck alone. “Do you think that pathetic fuck’s debts, which you let him run up only so you could nail him to a wall and try to get him to leverage his land, are hers to pay?” I slam him against his car again. “She is not selling. You are not going to run her off. And if you ever so much as say Tate’s name again, let alone try to badmouth her or her business again, I’ll kill you.”

  “Try it,” he grits out, the blood pouring from his nose spraying me as he speaks.

  “Give me a reason, and I will.” My chuckle is long and loud and manic enough that, when I look in his eyes, I don’t think he wants to find out if it’s true or not.

  He believes me.

  Though, technically, I wouldn’t kill him, but I’m the fucking great white in his goldfish bowl. There wouldn’t be a minute of sleep lost if I used the ranch I inherited and my connections to swallow his whole operation.

  And for some reason, a puzzle that had been mostly dismissed as unsolvable becomes clear. Tate’s accident. Sylvester’s comments about the dark sedan that ran her off the road in front of the ranch.

  Perhaps the same dark sedan that I have this asshole pressed against.

  Makes sense now why it seemed like no one looked all that hard for the person who ran Tate off the road. Perhaps it was because he was one of their own.

  I look at this pathetic fuck and know exactly how to play this.

  I’m going to call his bluff.

  I’m going to scare the fuck out of him with lies upon lies so that he’ll never know if they are true or not, because he’d never dare to flesh them out.

  “You know Fletcher was an avid hunter right? He was a paranoid fuck, but an avid hunter nonetheless.” I smile as I draw a connection between two things that have no connection, hoping the certainty in my voice convinces him. “He had trail cams everywhere on that property of his. All thirty acres of it.”

  “Why the fuck do I care?” he snarls.

  “The best part about those thirty acres is they lined the main road going toward town. He’d catch footage of deer on the road, of kids playing homerun derby with their bats to mailboxes, and of trivial shit that no one cares about.” I tsk. “Except, the one time it caught footage of a dark, four-door sedan.” I lean back and make a show of checking out his car as his body stills beneath my hands. Motherfucker, I think my hunch is right. Thank god for that. “Much like the one right here. In fact, that footage caught what looks like it purposely running another car off the road. Tatum Knox’s car to be exact.”

  He sputters something that sounds like bullshit, but it doesn’t hide the sudden widening of his pupils or hitch of his breath.

  “Who knew that footage was just sitting on Fletcher’s computer all this time under the file name “Proof”? I bet he held on to it as leverage in case he needed it.” I whistle. “You think it would cause a stir, Destin, if this security footage somehow ended up in the hands of the police?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You’d like to think I was, but, hey”—I lean in closer—”I bet the police could zoom right in on that license plate too. Wouldn’t that be nice? It isn’t as if you were smart enough to cover it when you played chicken. I mean what do you think the charge would be? Hit and run? Reckless driving? Attempted murder?”

  “Fuck you,” he grits out.

  “Ah, there’s that stellar vocabulary of yours again. No wonder you have to resort to illegal activities to make a living.” It takes everything I have not to plow my fist into his face again and make sure his nose is broken so badly that every fucking time he looks in the mirror and sees how crooked it is, he thinks of me. That he never forgets my threat.

  Most of all, I want him to be a walking reminder to everyone in town not to ever fuck with her again.

  “You’re full of shit. If you had video, why was it never given to the police, huh?”

  “Because Fletcher was a low-life chicken shit who was lying to his wife about how upside down he was.” My fist pounds on the car. “If he turned it in, she would have found out all about his connection to you and the debts he owed. She would have made the connection that it was you who ran her off the road as a threat to get him to pay up.”

  “Get off me.”

  “What was that?” I say and lean in closer to him. “You want me to turn the footage over to Rusty because you’re a stubborn fuck who doesn’t believe me?” My grin is wide and taunting as I release his shirt, turn my back to him, and begin to walk away. “Gladly. I’ll head straight there.” I throw the last words over my shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare!” he shouts as his footsteps reverberate off the ground behind me.

  I turn to face him just as he starts to cock back his fist. “Not a good choice, Destin. Not a good one at all.” I point to all of the people now milling around outside the bar and whisper, “Witnesses,” with a smirk on my lips as if I’m giving him sage advice.

  Surprisingly, he isn’t as dumb as he looks, and he lowers his fist.

  Good.

  “Oh, and if that security footage isn’t enough incentive for you, I’ll remind you that I also have copies of your books—illegal ledgers that show you’re making money through illegal gambling—that you were enough of a jackass to hand over to my customer. Should I go over all of the ways Rusty can bring charges against you with those?”