double whammy of painful life measurements.
She’d still loved Lawson, but Eve had seen the resentment in his eyes and had known it would only grow. He might have never said it in words, but he blamed her for what’d happened. Just as she blamed herself.
That was the main reason she’d accepted the role when the studio had called, and she’d moved almost immediately. After she had made a clean break with Lawson, that is. Well, as clean of a break as she could make over something that was ripping her heart out.
Shortly thereafter, she’d started rehearsing for the filming of the first episode of Demon High. Another life measurement. The cover had been shot in July that year, and it and all the covers that followed for the next few months were done with a body double. As had been all of Eve’s action scenes on the set.
Because she’d been pregnant with Tessie.
Cassidy had known that, so had the rest of the cast, but it’d stayed a secret for years. Until Tessie had found out.
Tessie certainly hadn’t taken it well, either, when she’d learned that she wasn’t adopted after all, that she was indeed Eve’s biological daughter. Definitely another painful life measurement.
But Tessie’s anger was a drop in the bucket compared to what Lawson’s would be. He already hated her, but he would hate her a whole lot more if he ever found out the truth.
That he was Tessie’s father.
LAWSON WAS NOT daddy material. He’d always believed that when he was a teenager, but he’d thought he might change his mind when he became an adult.
Nope.
He was 100 percent certain of his particular stance in life after delivering Eve’s baby.
It had been like some kind of revelation—a foretelling from the fates, maybe—but holding that kid had reminded him of just how hard it would be to love a child and then have to let that kid loose in this crapshoot of a world.
A world where people died too young. Where hearts got crushed. And shit happened at an alarming rate. If he wanted that kind of pain in his life, he could just hit himself on the head with a big rock.
Or visit his brother Lucian, which he was about to do.
A rock to the head or seeing his oldest brother were on par, but the difference was, he could beat the crap out of Lucian should it become necessary. With a baby, there was no skill set to help with the fear of loving someone so much that it could break you for good. Lawson had been broken, several times, and he didn’t want another dose of that.
The best way to avoid a heart shit-kicking was to stay out of the “heart” business altogether. That meshed well with the no-fatherhood-for-him revelation. Commitments—those engagements, marriages and, yeah, kids—led to failure. And that wasn’t a theory, either. He’d seen it with his own two eyes. His folks’ nasty divorce. Belle’s bad marriage to Roman and Garrett’s dad. And his soured relationship with Eve.
All commitments gone wrong.
He took the final turn to his family’s place, and he pressed in the code on the security panel to open the arched gate with the name Heavenly Pastures scrolled out in wrought iron. It was pure irony, like when a hooker was named Chastity. Because there was no heavenly vibe, nor had there ever been any on these grounds. But yet his great-grandfather Jeremiah, who’d built the place, had chosen the name, maybe believing that it would rub off on the occupants.
So far, it hadn’t.
Lawson had higher hopes for the place he was building, but that hope was there only because it was a good half mile from the main house that Lucian called home. For a few months out of the year, anyway.
Since the townsfolk had dubbed him Lucifer, the joke was that his local residence was Hell Sweet Hell instead of Heavenly Pastures. But Lawson knew that his big brother preferred the sprawling ranch he’d built for himself two counties over. Or the equally sprawling house he’d bought near his office in San Antonio.
Apparently, this county hadn’t been suitable for his big brother because Heavenly Pastures hadn’t been running a full ranch operation since Lawson had left to work for Garrett.
It was more of a battleground these days.
When Lawson’s and Garrett’s grandfathers had had a falling-out decades ago, it had started a Texas-sized feud. They’d divided the land they co-owned except for about a hundred acres that at the time had been leased to another rancher. The lease had long since expired, and that meant the ownership of the land was in question. It was a prized chunk of acreage to own because the creek coiled through it. Garrett needed the creek water to keep the ranch growing. Lucian wanted to hang on to it because he was, well, Lucian, and he liked to own stuff even when he didn’t have a use for it.
Lawson passed by the road that led to his house, and he could see it in the distance. It was on the creek.
Yep, the very one in question.
But he was having the house built on Heavenly Pastures’ land that wasn’t in dispute. It was his. A twenty-first birthday gift from his dad as a way to lure Lawson back to the ranch so he could work for Lucian instead of Garrett. That ploy hadn’t worked, but the gift made a pretty spot for his future home.
A home that was no longer just a shell. Lawson could see the progress from the road, and it was really coming together with walls and a roof. He’d drop by and check on it once he’d had it out with Lucian. And the reason Lucian was on his shit list was because of the next house that came into view.
His mother’s.
Except now Eve believed she was the owner.
It was a white-and-yellow Victorian that looked out of place on a Texas ranch, and it was identical—in floor plan, anyway—to the one on the Granger Ranch where Lawson worked. Garrett’s great-granddaddy Z. T. Granger had built that place over a hundred years ago, and Lawson’s great-granddaddy had built a nearly identical one on Heavenly Pastures.
When Lawson reached the main house, he pulled to a stop in the circular drive—and cursed. Because Lucian’s truck wasn’t there. It was a sign that his brother wasn’t, either, since Lucian always parked in front or on the side of the house and not in the garage. Lawson figured the parking preference had to do with Lucian’s quick exits.
Like this one, for example.
Lawson had called the house just an hour earlier, and when he’d spoken to Lucian’s assistant, she’d said he wasn’t taking any calls but that he was there. And maybe he was. Lawson held out hope that his brother’s car was being serviced or something.
He parked in Lucian’s usual spot and got out as best he could. Each movement and step caused him to wince and grunt in pain, a reminder that a butt-kicking might be physically impossible. Still, he’d try.
Lawson threw open the door to the house and made a beeline to Lucian’s office. Well, as much of a beeline as he could make considering the place was massive. A woman he didn’t recognize peered down at him from the staircase and then scurried
