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I storm off, not looking back. I need to get out of here. I need some fresh air before I completely lose my mind or worse, my heart.

“I thought you said you were going to play the game.”

I rest my arms on the fence and lower my head. The headache I’ve been battling since I got up this morning is only getting worse with every step Wyatt takes toward me.

“Nothing to say?” he says sarcastically.

I can feel him standing behind me. I know him so well that I can picture him with his arms crossed, legs in a wide stance, and a scowl on his face.

“I don’t play games, Wyatt.” I take a breath, breathing in the heavy, hot, summer air.

“Then what the fuck happened at The Lucky Dog last night?”

I take a moment before turning around, leaning against the fence and mimicking his stance. “Dakota and I went for dinner.”

“Right, and as I hear it, you left halfway through, leaving her to foot the bill and Krissy to drive her home after you left her stranded.”

“You really shouldn’t listen to the gossip in town.”

“I didn’t need to get it from the town. Krissy is my sister, remember? Who do you think she called to tell me what an asshole my friend is?”

“This isn’t new information,” I grunt.

“Even more so...” He looks off into the distance over my shoulder with a tick in his jaw. “It’s not going to work if you constantly fight with her while in public.”

“She started it.” I regret it as soon as I say it. It is weak and childish, but I can’t help it.

He tilts his head at me, giving me a look that just reaffirms how pathetic my response was. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do…”

“Then don’t.” I cut him off, not wanting to hear it. There isn’t anything Wyatt can say to me that I haven’t thought of myself. No reprimand. No suggestion. Nothing.

He brings his gaze back to mine and relaxes his body. I know he’s just speaking out of concern for both me and the ranch. If we lose the rodeo deal, it’s going to look poorly on the ranch, not just on me. Being a community presence is a huge factor in how we conduct ourselves. It has been for as long as my family has owned this ranch, and I sure as hell won’t be the one to lose that confidence.

“You need to fix it. I’ve heard talk of some of the sponsors not being happy, especially after the fight with Todd. Your antics last night suggest that Dakota won’t put up with you too much longer, and to be honest, I wouldn’t blame her if she pulled the plug on the whole thing.”

“She has shit to lose, too. I’m not holding her against her will.”

“No, but you have a hell of a lot more to lose than she does. The worst case scenario for her is she’s gossiped about for a little while and then people move on. She won’t lose her livelihood because she dumped you and you’re running out of time. The rodeo is next weekend, and the sponsors are still talking about pulling their support.”

I let his words sink in as the early evening heat starts to fade slightly, but not enough to be comfortable. It’s adding extra pressure; the sweat from both Wyatt’s intervention and the day’s heat rolling down my back.

He’s right, I know he is. I have more at stake. I need to try harder, not just for my company and to save my own ass, but because Dakota deserves better than how I’ve been treating her. Hell, I’m beginning to notice that all the women I’ve been with do, even if they were using me just as much as I used them.

I turn and rest my arms back on the fence, looking out over the pasture. The cows graze the grass, and for once, I find myself envious of them. They don’t need to worry about much—not until they’re off to fulfill their destiny as beef cattle—but for now, all they need to worry about is eating, drinking, and laying lazily in the sun.

“How do I fix this?” My voice is lower than a whisper. For a moment, I’m not sure if Wyatt even hears me.

I see him come up beside me out of the corner of my eye, resting his dirtied boot on the lower wrung of the fence, his forearms resting next to mine. He follows my lead and looks ahead at the cows.

This time there is no judgement in his voice. No anger. This is when I know that it’s my friend that’s next to me about to give me advice, not a pissed off ranch manager that’s worried about his job.

“First, you need to apologize.”

I curse under my breath and drop my chin to my chest. I know he’s right, and I know I’m running out of time.

“You know her better than I do…”

“Barely,” I mutter.