when you say that it matters—bone deep—I get it. I do. I’m not your enemy. But I might just play devil’s advocate. Maybe your brothers need this place right now too.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh. “I mean, I guess it could be worse.”
“How? Sneaker waves? An anvil falling from the sky?”
“No,” he said, his tone sounding impatient.
“Oh! Plague of locusts.”
“Lane,” he said, his tone a warning. “No. It could be worse because I could be the one stuck with a teenager.”
Lane wrinkled her nose. “Poor Cain.”
Though, in some ways, her heart went out to that girl. At sixteen, Lane’s life had changed forever. She’d been forced to grow up too quickly. She had a feeling that Violet had been too, though in a different way.
It was clear her mother wasn’t around, and Lane knew that no matter how messy your relationship with your parents was, it hurt when you finally pulled the plug on it.
“They won’t stay,” Finn said, and she had a feeling he was saying it more for his benefit than for hers.
“Maybe they won’t.”
“You don’t believe that.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, let the sounds of the night sink into her skin, all the way down to her bones. There was a faint dampness to the air, a tinge of salt and pine on the breeze. It was a cold night, but it was getting to be summer and she could hear the chirp of a few crickets. The faint croak of tiny tree frogs, likely hiding in the dampness beneath the porch.
“No,” she said eventually. “I don’t. Mostly because I don’t see why anybody would ever want to leave this place.”
“The ranch, or town in general?”
“I meant Copper Ridge in general. But I have to admit that this house has a leg up on my rather rustic little cabin. You’d better be careful, or I’m going to want to move in too.”
“I’m much more likely to move in with you,” he said after a pause. “I mean, if my house gets any more crowded.”
She laughed, and for some reason it sounded a little more nervous than she felt. “There may be fewer people in my house, but it’s small. Tiny. We would have to share a bed.”
For some reason, that comment seemed to land in an odd spot. It just kind of hit heavy between them, like a sad, popped balloon that had fallen back down to earth.
And they both just stood there, staring at it. “I mean,” she said, making a last-ditch effort to redeem it. “You would sleep on the floor. In my room. Like a slumber party. But don’t laugh at my headgear.” He still wasn’t saying anything. “We could braid each other’s hair, talk about boys...” Why wasn’t he saying anything? She really needed him to stop her. She was making it weird, and there was nothing to make weird. And yet, frequently over the past few days things had felt exactly that.
Something hard was in his gaze now, and she didn’t like it.
“Eat cookie dough,” she said finally. And then she was done. She really was done. “Okay.” She took a deep breath and started to step away from him. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe. I mean, you don’t have to see me tomorrow. But, actually at least call me, because I want to know what’s going on with everybody. Your brothers. That’s what I mean. Okay.”
She took a step away and he surprised her by reaching out, grabbing hold of her arm and stopping her from taking another step. She froze, her gaze meeting his. Her heart kicked into a higher gear, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what was going on. But breathing was suddenly very difficult.
It was related to the awkwardness. To this whole strange path she had started to walk down earlier in the day, and had continued on into that never-ending ramble. And now it had led to this. Except, her mouth had stopped so her heart was now moving at a near-impossible pace.
“When I spend the night with a woman I don’t do any of those things.” His voice was rough, and it skimmed over her frazzled nerves in a way that sent a strange electric current through her. “Just so you know.”
Then he released his hold on her and she stumbled back, her skin burning where his fingers had just been.
He was holding on to the porch rail again, looking out into the darkness. “See you tomorrow.”
Lane got in her car and started to drive, and it wasn’t until she saw the lights on Main Street that her heart rate returned to normal.
THERE WERE FEW things more satisfying than looking across the breakfast table at his brothers at five in the morning and seeing just how miserable they were.
Cain was leaning back in his chair, his arm slung over the back like it was a brace that was keeping him from sliding right to the floor. Liam was scowling, one hand curved around a travel mug full of coffee, the other pushed into his dark hair, his elbow resting on the table, like it was propping his head up.
Alex was the only one who was upright, his cup held tightly in both hands, and placed down in his lap. Finn imagined the military ran on ranching time.
But the other two—they thought they wanted to be ranchers? They thought they wanted to live this life, this punishing, rewarding life that made you both master of and slave to the land around you? Yeah, he had a feeling that about now they were questioning that decision.
Their misery was balm for his soul.
And a much-needed distraction from all the tension that had wrapped itself around his spine and tied him up in knots over the past few days.
His grandfather. His family.
Lane.
Damned if he knew why he’d said what he had to her last night. Why he’d given in to that snarling, hot beast that was ravaging his gut and demanding he make her as uncomfortable as he was.
She had looked at him like—well, like he’d grown another head. Which should be all the reminder he needed as to why he didn’t go there with her. Ever.
He blamed his grandfather for dying. Blamed his brothers for being here. His whole damn life for being out of whack.
He needed to find his control again.
The ranch.
Once he got his brothers out there working, they would see how in over their heads they were. And how on top of things he was.
He took a sip of his coffee. “I get up this early every morning,” he commented. “Rain or shine. Can’t skip a day. Animals are needy like that.”
“You sound like Grandpa,” Liam said, his tone gravelly and terse.
“You hated it when you were sixteen, Liam. I don’t know what
