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“Don’t blame Clint.”

“Why not? He was supposed to keep all this stuff to himself!”

“If I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t protect you.”

“Yeah? And where have you been all night?” She tilted her head, her newly freed hair falling around her face, softening her features in a way that threatened to steal his breath. “These boys, none of them can keep their damn mouths shut. Bowie told me you were having dinner with some girl and her family.”

“Bowie doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then you weren’t gone? You weren’t on a date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it wasn’t. For you. What about the innocent little girl you were with? Is that how you like them, dumb and naïve?”

Westin tossed the convenience-store bag on the kitchen counter and crossed toward her, stopping when he reached the back of the couch, allowing the long piece of furniture to act like a line in the sand between them.

“You’re not the only one with issues,” he told her. “I didn’t exactly have a great night, either. I just came over here because I heard what was going on, what Clint thinks is happening, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah? Didn’t know you cared.”

“I’m beginning to wonder why.”

“Asshole,” she muttered, running her fingers through her hair, catching them on a knot or two. “I just wanted to have a little fun, blow off some steam. But this… things have gotten so out of control, the pressure’s too high. I’m going to blow, and I’m going to take everyone on this ranch with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure, it is. You were right. I never should have come here, never should have put all these people in this position.” She shook her head, beginning to pace again, running her fingers so roughly through her hair that she actually pulled out a few more strands than was probably normal. “Never should have come here.”

“Lea, you—”

“That’s not even my damn name!” She spun on him, her eyes wild even as big tears rolled down her cheeks. “You don’t know the first thing about me!”

Westin stormed around the couch and grabbed her arms, jerked her toward him. “Then tell me. Stop filling me up with these lies and be honest for once in your life!”

“I can’t! Don’t you understand? I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

“Then that makes two of us.”

She tried to pull away from him. “Don’t. I can’t do this, not tonight.”

“Why? Because someone you trusted betrayed you? Well, wake up, sweetheart. You’re not the only person in the world that’s happened to.” He grabbed her jaw, forced her head up so he could look her in the eye. “My father denies he’s even my father. Called my mother a slut.” He shook his head. “If that’s not betrayal, I don’t know what is.”

She stopped fighting him, but she pulled her jaw from his grip. She stared at the front of his jacket for a long, silent moment, only her feet moving, doing this bouncing motion on the balls of her feet like she simply couldn’t sit still. Then she sort of folded inward, resting her forehead against his chest as she sighed, her whole body molding toward his. Westin slipped his hands down her back, wrapping his arms around her as he bundled her closer.

“Is this a contest? To see whose life is more screwed-up?”

He chuckled. “That’s what it’s turning into, isn’t it?”

She sighed, pulling back a step to look up at him. “You can’t just come in here and tell me you need some oblivion? That you need the casual bit of fun I offered you?”

“I thought I did.”

“No, you didn’t. You turned it into a pissing contest.”

“Who made it into a pissing contest, Ms. Shutting-The-Door-In-My-Face?”

She rolled her shoulders, this look of absolute innocence brushing across her face. “I have a little bit of a temper.”