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A hot tear ran down my cheek as I slammed the door shut behind me, but I quickly wiped it away, refusing to let myself sink in these feelings I hadn’t let consume me in years.

I was Cassidy Duke. I was strong. I was a good brother. I was a good son. I was happy and fun. I wasn’t this man wrecked with shame and guilt.

Inhaling deeply, I shook off her words; they shouldn’t have made me so angry. But I wasn’t really that angry at her, I was angry at myself and what I hadn’t done.

Time for bed, some rest to escape the dig she made at me. She would need to stay at arm’s length, considering she was already digging at something that I wasn’t in the mood to explain.

Besides, it didn’t just involve me.

∞∞∞

Running my fingers through my hair, I yawned, stretching as I pulled open my bedroom door, and froze.

Blonde hair, splayed in every direction, was piled on top of Briar’s head. Her eyes were droopy from just waking. She lifted her light-brown brows, her gaze scanning down my figure. I quickly pulled my work button up closed, and shook my head. Several days later, I was still mad at her. We’d avoided each other rather successfully during that time, but it took everything in me to ignore that flame deep within my core that was drawing me to her at the sight of her so disheveled. I kinda liked it…

She opened her mouth, words on the tip of her tongue, but I marched away. I wasn’t going to listen to her tell me that I wasn’t who she thought I was. We’d only met five days ago; I’m pretty sure I knew myself better than she knew me.

My hands fumbled with my buttons as I walked to the kitchen, then I tucked the end of the shirt into my pants and clicked the belt closed. After snatching a bagel from the fridge, I shoved it between my teeth and left my house as rapidly as I could. Why did she have to be up at the same time as me? Why did she get under my skin so easily?

Hold up.

Get yourself together, Cassidy.

I had the choice of whether or not to let her affect me, and she didn’t need to be anything more than another worker while here. She was nothing more than a stranger who would be leaving the moment that I deemed that stallion safe. She didn’t need to be anything more.

My spurs rang out as I meandered down the path, casually walking toward the field and round pen that awaited.

I emerged around a corner and paused. The stallion was neighing loudly, screaming for anyone, anything. He’d only touched a couple stalks of hay, but his water had been lowered about half way.

Finishing my own food, I sauntered his way just as the sun peeked over the painted ridges surrounding me. So much for my usual thirty minutes of peace. Briar had ruined that. Maybe that’s why this horse was so worked up—he felt her anxiety and annoyance.

“Does she tick you off too, ol’ boy?” I asked, approaching the edge of his round pen. He snorted but stopped whinnying. His ears were locked onto me, even if he hadn’t looked my way yet. He was listening.

I chuckled to myself and leaned up against the railing, the sweet smell of horse sweat and hay coating my nostrils. A few cattle bellowed lowly as my solace was disturbed by boots crunching over the gravel.

“Could you not give me more than five minutes?” I growled, upset, and turned toward Briar.

Not Briar.

“Weston,” I quickly corrected and sighed. His brows stitched together beneath his hat as he approached.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, stopping beside me and leaning against the crisp metal railing.

“Nothing.” I looked away from my brother, who was dressed for the drive, chaps and all. “Hold on, why are you here?”

“We’ve got a drive. Please tell me you didn’t forget?”

“Of course I didn’t forget. I’m wondering why you are here?”

“Because I come every year?”

“Except Tenley is pregnant and pretty much ready to pop at any moment.”

“We get back down here tomorrow.”

Hooves clopping against stone and dirt sounded to my left, and I glanced away from the stallion, whose ears darted toward that same noise. I pulled the hat lower over my eyes, shading them from the glaring rays of the sun, as two horses with riders focused into view.

“You’re not coming this time, Uncle Weston,” the closer boy said, and I chuckled to myself.