Page 21

“Mom...” I interrupt her again, as gently as I can. “I’ll be a rancher’s wife.” We both know what that means. It means stuck and chained down. It means I’m never getting out of Barrett Valley. That I’ll spend the rest of my life living in the shadow of a father who depends on and despises me. Saying it out loud finally drives home how pointless it all is. That begging Damien’s brother to keep letting me use Northpoint was both stupid and useless because something like a college degree has no place in the life of a rancher’s wife. That giving up is the only move I have left.
“You’ll keep going to school.” She says it again, her tone telling me that she won’t hear another word about it. Her declaration is followed by another long, awkward silence before she speaks again. “What’s he like? Our guest up at Northpoint?” She knows it’s where I go to get my schoolwork done and that a long-term guest makes the directive she just handed down nearly impossible.
“He’s okay.” I don’t know what else to say. How to describe Damien’s brother except that neither one of them seem to want the fact that they’re related broadcasted as public knowledge. “Your typical Californian.” I think about finding him sleeping on the porch a few hours ago. The way he stared at me, his heavy black gaze pinning me in place when I woke him up. How small and defenseless I felt when he stood over me, glaring at me like he was seconds away from tossing me off the front porch. “His name is James. He’s some sort of artist. I explained to him about the Wi-fi connection and he said it was okay for me to use it for class after I clean the place.”
Another pause before she clears her throat, a signal that wherever my father was, he’s back now and listening to our conversation. “Well, that’s just wonderful, sweetheart. I’m glad you and Abbey are getting to spend some quality time together. I’ll give you a call when we start making our way home.” After a rushed we love you, she was gone. I spent the rest of the night waffling between determination to keep studying for finals and giving up completely.
Behind me, Two-tone gives me a soft whinny, pulling me back to the present—his way of telling me that he’s finished with this breakfast and ready for the day. Taking a quick sip of my coffee, I stand up and head into the barn, ready to start my day too.
when I get to Northpoint, every light in the house is still on but at least the front door is closed and our houseguest hasn’t been mauled on the front porch.
Leading Two-tone to the small paddock behind the house, I pull his saddle off and give him a quick rubdown before turning him loose. “Behave out here,” I say while shouldering my backpack. “I’ll be back.”
Like the two of you don’t do this almost every morning.
“I like talking to him,” I say out loud, on my way to the house. “He’s the only one around here who listens to me besides you.”
You do remember I’m dead, right? I can’t actually hear you.
Instead of arguing with him about it because somehow that would just make me crazier, I ignore the voice in my head, silently making my way up the back porch steps. Letting myself in through the mudroom connected to the kitchen, I set my backpack on the counter with a disgusted huff. The house runs on solar and while there’s usually more than enough power stored in the bank of batteries in the utility closet, that doesn’t mean turning on every lamp and overhead light is the way to go.
“Typical...” I mutter on my way through the kitchen and into the living room. Crossing in front of the fireplace, I flip the switch that turns off the set of puck lights mounted in the ceiling above it. Propped against the back of the couch facing the kitchen is a series of large, black and white photographs—mostly of women. Two women, in particular. Both of them are beautiful—one a blonde and the other a brunette. The blonde looks like an angel but there’s a glimmer in her eyes that promises she’s anything but. The brunette exudes confidence—her light-colored eyes staring directly into the camera, the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. Neither of them look like they’ve ever mucked a stall or mended a fence in their life.
Feeling completely inadequate, I move away from the couch to click off the lamp on the end table next to it. Turning, I feel my heart suddenly jam itself in my throat because there he is again—Damien’s brother. Only this time he’s half naked and sleeping on the couch across from me.
Holy shit.
I’ve seen half-naked men before—I grew up on a cattle ranch for God's sake—but I’ve never seen one that looks like that.
Close your mouth, Kaity—you’re attracting flies.
I knew he was big—easily at least a half head taller than just about every other man I’ve ever met—but there was no way to prepare myself for the sight of Damien’s brother sprawled out on the couch, covered in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, and more tattoos than I’ve ever seen on one person in my entire life.
They’re gorgeous. Colorful and beautifully detailed, swirling and stretching over almost every inch of his exposed, bronzed skin. Drawn closer by the sight of them, I let my gaze wander over his heavily muscled chest, lingering a bit on the silver rings pierced through both of his nipples, and down the hard slats carved into his stomach. Eyes traveling even further south, I feel them widen slightly when they land on the stiff, massive bulge, straining against the front of his boxers. “Holy shit...” I don’t even realize I’m practically standing over him and staring at his crotch like a weirdo until it’s too late.
“See something you like, Sunshine?”
“Jesus.” I yelp it, stumbling back, my retreat stymied when the back of my knees hit the coffee table behind me.
“Been called worse...” I can hear the smirk in his sleep roughened tone. “Time is it?”
I jerk my gaze upward to find him staring back at me with the same intense, black gaze as last night, the hostility I felt on the porch replaced with a sleepy sort of amusement like he’s trying to figure out what I’m doing here.
“It’s five,” I answer his first question, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a soft, breathless rush. “In the morning. You said I could come back, remember? For school.”
Stop staring, Kaity. At least blink or shit, take a breath.
“Shit...” He closes his eyes and arches his back in a lazy stretch, one of the hands resting on his stomach sliding south. “When you said early, you weren’t fuckin’ around,” he says on a laugh while wrapping his hand around the hard bulge between his legs.
“Oh—” Face suddenly flushed and on fire, I spin away from him to face the fireplace. “I don’t—”
“Relax, Sunshine,” he says, still laughing, the sound of it hitting me right between the shoulders because he’s not just laughing anymore. He’s laughing at me. At my reaction to watching him touch himself. “It’s just a hard-on. It’ll go away on its own... eventually.”
“Not if you keep pulling on it like that it won’t,” I say, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other so I can put distance between us without stumbling over my own feet.
“Don’t blame me,” he says, still laughing at my retreating back. “I don’t usually wake up to find myself being stared at by a pissed off woman.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I snipe back, my terminal embarrassment at being caught staring at him while he was sleeping making me mean. Instead of insulting him, my assessment just makes him laugh harder. “I had a brother—I know what morning wood is and I wasn’t staring at you.” Safely back in the kitchen, I bend over to open the lower kitchen cabinet where I stash my laptop. “I was trying to figure out why the hell you decided to sleep, half-naked in the living room, when there are four, perfectly functional bedrooms upstairs.” Straightening, laptop in hand, I find him standing in front of the couch he was sprawled out on only seconds ago, looking at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. Still half naked. Still hard. Jesus, stop looking at it, Kait. “And the lights? What’s with all the lights? Are you afraid of the dark or something?”