Page 27 of Wild and Unruly (Three Rivers Trevors Ranch #3)

bonnie

The floor that housed the employees of Horse Universe was bustling when I came in. The final week before the physical magazine went to print is always a mad rush to meet deadlines for the printers, and everyone worked in a rush to get their stories in at the last minute.

I stomp through the long hallway that leads to my cubicle and pause there, tossing down some papers and checking my desk for messages.

Nothing that was urgent. I take stock of my little space, filled with old memories from our showing days and a few potted plants to bring some energy and comfort to the space.

My coffee mug sits near my computer, covered in a thin layer of dust. I don’t think I’ve touched it in a month.

It was pretty unnecessary for me to even have a cubicle, given that I was usually traveling for my pieces. Most of my work was written from the inside of a hotel room or local coffee shop.

“Helix!” My boss’s voice snaps me back to reality and I throw my bag down, grabbing my laptop and heading toward her office.

Hers was encased in glass and had spacious views of downtown Denver, with the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains behind her.

I was jealous of this office. I had this dream where I would work my way up to this kind of position, where I would run this magazine and finally feel worthy of that glorious mountain view.

Now, I wonder if that’s even what I want.

Images from my memories of the ranch flash through my mind: the gorgeous mountain views, the easy lifestyle at the ranch, the friends I’ve made. And out of all of those memories, the images pause on one face. Stetson.

I was well in over my head, and something in me didn’t care. I trust him.

“Where are you at with that ranch article?” Her voice hits me the moment my foot hits her doorway, and I feel a sense of rushing, of urgency that I haven’t in a few weeks.

I study her form, hunched over her desk.

She’s got long brown hair that she twists into a clip every day.

Her glasses hang down on her nose, and she is a stocky five feet four inches, and every part of her is intimidating.

With her head down, I take the seat in front of her desk and take a deep breath. She still hasn’t lifted her head from whatever is in front of her, but this was how she worked. If she wasn’t doing three things at once, she wasn’t doing enough.

Her words, not mine.

“I’m almost finished, just have a few?—”

“Bonnie, you’ve been there for almost a month. What is the holdup? Are you really struggling to find some substance there?”

That was usually the case because I didn’t feel right going somewhere and not giving whomever I was interviewing a fair shake. I would stay and pull at any thread to make the story good enough for Virginia, my boss.

“Actually, it’s the opposite. There’s so much happening that I’m having trouble getting everything. I have?—”

Not being a fan of long-winded explanations, she interrupts. “Get what you have, make it a good story, and be done. I have another spot for you to cover.”

My stomach drops at the mention of being done, of not needing to go back to the ranch again or not seeing Stetson on a daily basis.

“Well, actually, I have another story.” I start, watching Virginia’s head come up slowly. Her shrewd gaze makes me nervous, but that is why she was the best in the business.

“It better be good and the reason this Three Rivers story is taking so long.” She lowers her glasses off her nose and stares at me.

I clear my throat, refusing to fidget under her gaze. “I have a story about a competitor in the business that is potentially still drugging and possibly abusing his horses.”

Virginia holds my gaze, her eyes watching me so carefully that, for a moment, I forget that my lungs need oxygen.

“Bonnie…” She folds her hands on her desk, putting her full attention on me, something I’m not used to when dealing with her. “The words ‘potentially’ and ‘possibly’ mean that the story has no grounds. I would need concrete words like ‘positive’ and ‘proof.’ Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” I place my hands on my lap and give her an imploring look. “I understand. But there is substantial evidence. There are witnesses.”

Granted, the witnesses weren’t coming forward—not yet— but I know that a client of Dani and CT’s knows something. I know that Aesha knows something. I know that half of those people who work over there have to know something .

That doesn’t even cover the proof from Mason’s accident.

For a moment, she sits back in her chair. “This would be a huge story. Who is it?”

I swallow, wondering how in tune she is with the professional world. “Tommy Smith.”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “You would need irrefutable evidence for that claim, Bonnie. He would bury us if it was a lie.”

“I know.” I nod my head, biting my lip as I think about how everyone acted around him, about how he talked to his employees and those comments he made to that one older man about dosages…

I straighten my shoulders and give her a steady look. “I can get it.”

For a moment, she stares off into the distance, probably thinking of creative ways to fire me if this all backfires. But I knew, in my gut, that this guy needed to go down, that I needed to be the one who made it happen.

“Fine,” Virginia finally says, giving me a curt nod. “You have one more week to get both of these stories to me”—she holds up a finger and gives me a look—“with concrete proof. But that’s it, Bonnie. Then, you’re off to Kentucky.”

I nod, ignoring that sad churn in my stomach that reminds me that I wouldn’t be as accessible to Stetson as I’d like.

Pushing that aside, I stride out of my boss’s office and start to think of ways to get everything I need in seven days.

My mom and brother’s apartment was actually really nice. It was on the lowest floor in a modern style apartment building in North Denver, away from the hustle and bustle of the main parts of downtown.

Mom decorated the space tastefully with houseplants, and I saw little handmade doilies under each pot, evidence that my mom was still crocheting them just like she learned from my grandmother when she was a child.

The sight of them makes me smile. “Mom? Mason?” I pull my key out of the door, hoping that they don’t mind me letting myself in.

It was weird that they lived together, not in my family home that we all were in, but being independent yet dependent adults. After my dad left, it really altered everything for us, pushing us into this space we had to live in.

Not just the physical space but the emotional one we were all still dealing with, even years after the fact.

I hear a throat clear, and I make my way out of the entryway and into the living room, smiling at my brother sitting in his lounge chair.

His eyes meet mine briefly before returning to looking out the window. A brief second before he looks away, a tiny movement of his lips has me hoping that he’ll smile at me. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my brother openly smile, a far cry from the man he used to be.

“Hey, big brother,” I say, entering the room and tossing my bag onto the table that rests against the wall. “Is Mom home? ”

“No,” he answers tersely, scratching his eyebrow. “She’s at church.”

I nod my head, stuffing my hands into my back pockets and taking a few steps over to him. I feel weird being in this space alone with him, even though growing up, my brother and I were inseparable.

“So, nice view,” I say, looking out the sliding glass door that goes to the patio. The view is of the trees and pathway that works its way around the apartment complex. Not horrible, but it doesn’t beat The Lodge.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was hoping to see Mom for a minute before I head back up the mountain,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table.

“Ah.” My brother nods, giving me a brief glance before looking away. He was in sweatpants, his normal attire. The T-shirt on his back looks clean…ish, and his beard is heavily overgrown. But who could blame him? Why would he go out of his way to get ready for anything?

“You know…” I pause, clearing my throat, and go out on a limb. “Are you busy this week?”

My brother looks over at me, not a single flinch of his facial expression as his green eyes watch me. “No.”

I shrug, pretending this is all nonchalant and maybe just came to me even though it most certainly did not.

“You could come up with me? I’m staying at this great place that has the best view of the mountains.

And you’d really like the people I’m working with.

All guys except for Dani, so I think you?—”

“No,” he cuts me off, his gaze moving back to its normal spot. Doesn’t it get boring looking at the same thing every day?

“No,” my brother says again, making me realize I accidentally said the quiet part out loud. Dang it. “It doesn’t. I’m fine where I am, Bobo.”

I feel my heart melt at the nickname he’s always had for me and soften my tone as I lean forward on my knees. “Mase, please. I really think a change of pace would be nice.”

“Bonnie,” he says sternly, giving me his glare. “I said no.”

“Look,” I sigh and stand, pacing a few steps away from him before turning back to face him. “We both love Mom, but getting away from her would be good for you. Even she thinks so.”

Wrong thing to say. I know it immediately and yet my big fat mouth said it anyway.

His hard gaze holds firm as he says, “You and Mom have been talking behind my back, huh?”

“Mason…” I say on a sigh, my patience wearing thin.

“Bonnie, I’m not telling you again. I’m not coming to your stupid ranch.” The bite in his tone actually seems to offend me, something that’s not easy to do.

I flinch and look at him, wondering how the hell I was going to get my big brother to come back to me.

I try softening my tone and say, “Dani is a miracle worker. She worked with her husband’s brother, who had injuries from his time in the service, and now he rides all the time.

” I take a step closer. “I just think?—”

Suddenly, his arm moves and latches onto a mug by his chair, throwing it with a force I’m not prepared for as it hits the wall behind me. I flinch, watching as it shatters to a million pieces and falls to the floor.

I stand there in shock, watching in horror that I did this. I pushed him too hard, and now he was over it.

“Mason.” My whisper is ignored as his tone makes me take a step back .

“I said leave it, Bonnie. I don’t need to be fixed. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m broken, and I don’t need you nagging me to fix myself.” His piercing glare hits me in the chest. “Leave me alone.”

I glance back to where the mug sits on the carpet, wishing I could take back the last five minutes so that didn’t happen.

Mom was going to be pissed, not just that I pushed him but that he threw that mug.

The problem was, she wasn’t going to say a word to Mason.

She never did. The guilt from the accident, the mother’s guilt she felt because her son was hurting so badly, held her back from saying what she really wanted to.

I glance at my brother one more time, tears burning, and before they can fall, I turn, grab my bag, and I leave.