Page 2 of Buck Me (Kingridge Ranch #5)

BECCA

Two Weeks Before, The Farm to Table Gala at the Velvet Spur

The sound of my father’s name jerks my head up like it’s attached to a string. Every instinct in me screams to brace.

Here we go.

He doesn’t hesitate. Of course, he doesn’t.

My father has never met a line he couldn’t cross in the name of politics or pride.

His ongoing feud with the Kingridge family is the kind of petty saga that makes you grateful for wine.

The Kingridge brothers might be loud and unfiltered, but they aren’t wrong.

Watching my father attack them over and over again is humiliating.

But I don’t dare let it show.

I school my face into neutral lines. I keep my eyes calm and my chin high. If I’ve learned anything in twenty-two years as a Bellcourt, it’s that personality is a crime. I am to be a perfect pillar for my father, quiet, supportive, and devoid of anything resembling independent thought.

Especially when his spotlight flicks from the crowd…

to me. He selected this red backless dress for me to wear tonight himself.

He said it would show off my poise. I think he meant to parade my curves like a campaign prop.

I used to hope things would change as I got older.

They haven’t. The only thing that’s shifted is the length of my hemlines and how much more control he tries to exert now that I’m grown.

Things have been particularly bad since I graduated and returned home to his full control. But I have a feeling they’re about to get a whole lot worse.

Then Geoffrey Kingridge appears behind Danner.

He claps Danner on the back with the force of a man on a mission.

“Hey, you want to be a Kingridge or not? You don’t sit here while that asshole’s popping off.

” And just like that, he’s gone, storming toward the middle of the room where the shouting’s getting louder.

“Right,” Danner mutters, rising to his feet. “I’m sure there isn’t going to be a problem, but I should probably head over.”

“Of course,” I mumble.

My stomach knots as a familiar, authoritative voice slices through the rising tension. Then I hear it, and my heart stops altogether.

“Rebecca. Come.”

Shit.

It isn’t a suggestion. I take a steady inhale of breath and stand slowly, smoothing my dress with one hand as I move to my father’s side.

Think of the optics. Think of the optics.

The words loop in my head like a chant I can't escape. I position myself between Dad and his perky campaign manager. I’m opposite his newest girlfriend.

Her eyes don’t meet mine. She keeps her gaze fixed on the assembling crowd and holds her wine glass like a trophy. They might be a match made in heaven.

A tense silence falls over the even space in the Velvet Spur. It’s the kind that prickles against your skin before a storm. I glance around as the Kingridge brothers assemble, one by one, forming a loose wall of muscle and fury across from us.

Dad raises his glass, the crystal catching the candlelight as he straightens his posture with theatrical ease. My stomach clenches. I already know what’s coming.

Then he raises his voice. It’s loud, calculated, and meant to carry. “This community needs growth. The highway expansion isn’t just about convenience. It’s about jobs, opportunity, and progress.”

The words echo like a threat because that’s exactly what they are.

Alex Kingridge steps forward. He’s all coiled muscle and sharp fury.

My former stepmother, Cassidy, is by his side.

She shoots me a sympathetic look. Even though I appreciate it, I look away.

She got out of this nightmare and didn’t stop to take me with her.

The fire in Alex’s eyes is unmistakable. “You want progress? Try doing it without threatening to cut our ranch in half.”

My father stares back at him with a smug smile. It’s the kind that makes me want to disappear into the floor.

“Progress comes at a cost,” he says smoothly. “Sometimes that means sacrifice for the good of the community. It’s about time the Kingridge Ranch did its part, if you ask me.”

Geoffrey Kingridge lets out a derisive snort and steps in. “Man, there ain’t nothing out here for miles, and you’re telling me the only option is straight through here? I’m so sick of your bullshit.”

There’s murmuring between the Kingridge men now. It’s low, gravelly, and thick with warning. The tension crackles through the air like a live wire, and I suddenly feel lightheaded.

Alex’s shoulders rise, then drop, his expression shifting from rage to something colder. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, though his voice is taut. “It’s just this asshole is about to find out what we call sacrifice. I’ve had enough.”

I take a small, instinctive step back. But before I can get far, my father’s hand clamps around my wrist. Instinctively, I try to pull away, but his fingers dig into the flesh on my forearm. It takes everything in me not to let out a yelp.

“Let me go,” I growl under my breath.

Dad turns toward me. “United front,” he hisses, his breath hot and sharp against my ear.

“Fine.” I tug my arm away.

I glance up at him, startled. But Dad’s expression is already smoothed into a politician’s grin as he turns to face Alex. I know we aren’t done yet. My training takes over, and a smile stretches onto my face.

“Alex, you’re just upset that my proposal might force you to open your books. Is that it?” His voice is sharp with venom now. “Or maybe it’s the fact that your wife is my leftover? That one still stings a little, doesn’t it?”

Gasps ripple through the room like a shockwave. There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for the floor to feel like it’s dropping out from under me.

“Oh, hell no.” A woman’s voice slices through the hush like a blade.

Then chaos explodes.

My father’s laughing, sharp and cruel. The Kingridge brothers are lunging. One of the catering tables flips, sending plates, cutlery, and champagne glasses crashing to the ground in a silver-and-glass symphony of destruction. Guests gasp and scatter.

So much for optics.

As I edge toward the side door, I catch fragments of my father's urgent whisper to his campaign manager.

"The development company's already broken ground on the shopping complex.

If this easement doesn't go through by Christmas, we lose the anchor stores.

And I lose my biggest campaign contributor.

" His eyes flash toward the Kingridge brothers.

"Those boys think they can play politics? They have no idea what's coming."

In the midst of the storm, I spot Danner.

He’s holding his brother back. One arm is wrapped around Alex’s middle, and the other braces against his shoulder. But his eyes… his eyes are locked on me.

Even as he manages the chaos, Danner jerks his head toward the kitchen behind me. It’s subtle, but intentional. I follow his gaze to the glowing red Exit sign and then back to him.

He mouths, go now.

I don’t need to be told twice.

With my father distracted by his own performance, I slip from his grip and edge toward the side door. My heart pounds as I push it open. The quiet whump of the door closing behind me is a relief.

When I get outside, the cool night air hits my face like a balm.

I kick off my heels and start walking. As soon as I reach the field beyond the barn, the grass softens beneath my feet.

I don’t look back. I just keep walking until the noise from the gala fades into crickets and moonlight.

I’m desperate to put distance between myself and my father’s chaos.

I knew it’d be like this when I got back. But where else can I go? How the hell will I get there when Dad holds all the cards?

I reach what looks like an abandoned garden and slip through the gate. When I hear the creak of the spring behind me, my whole body stiffens.

Please don’t be my dad. Please don’t be— I turn.

My heart stops.

It’s Danner.