“Did Matt give you any grief?”
Liv shook her head.
“Good thing,” Tim repeated as he sat in his leather recliner, a chair that had been in the house ever since Liv could remember. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes. Seeing her father in a chair during the day had shocked Liv when she’d first moved home from Billings a week and a half ago—almost as much as the fact that he hadn’t cut the hay on time. Not that he’d let her cut it for him. That would be admitting there was something wrong instead of pretending it was a conscious choice on his part.
She needed to get him to a doctor, but there was no forcing Tim Bailey to do anything he didn’t want to do. They both knew the ranch was a wreck, that it was due to health issues, but he resisted all of Liv’s efforts to discuss the matter. Finally she’d stopped trying—at least until she had more of a handle on the situation.
“I’m feeling better today,” he said, keying in to her thoughts. “Whatever this bug is, I’m finally getting the better of it.”
Liv didn’t believe him.
“You’re dressed for town,” Tim commented. Meaning that she was wearing slacks instead of jeans and sandals instead of running shoes.
“I’m having lunch with Andie.” Her doctor friend who had the clinic where she was going to start providing physical therapy services. She was just glad she’d still been at the ranch when Matt showed up looking for Beckett. She hadn’t expected that to happen, not in a million years.
“Don’t know why you left an established business in Billings,” Tim grumbled. Liv knew he suspected it was because of Greg, her ex-fiancé, but that wasn’t why she’d left.
“I wanted to come back to Dillon.” She didn’t dare say “to be closer to you and find out what the hell is going on because the ranch is a wreck and we both know it.” Out loud, anyway.
Her parents—polar opposites—had divorced when she was five. She’d spent every summer with her father on the ranch, and even though she loved him, she didn’t really know him. She didn’t know if Tim Bailey let anyone truly know him—even those he loved.
Living with her father had never been uncomfortable, merely silent. Sometimes they talked, but usually about small things. Things that didn’t require Tim to open up. And when they weren’t talking, they’d worked together on the place. Every morning Tim would have a written list of chores and Liv would do her part, some in the house, some outside, mostly what her father considered to be girl stuff, not hard labor. She’d often wondered if her father wrote a list to be organized, or so he wouldn’t have to talk. She’d wanted to talk. She still wanted to talk.
Fat chance.
The man was sixty-three years old. He wasn’t going to change, but maybe they could develop more of a relationship, somehow, if he didn’t keel over first.
“If you have thoughts of discussing me with Andie, don’t.”
Liv just smiled and grabbed her sweater. Silence could work for her, too. She wasn’t going to argue with him and she was definitely going to discuss him with Andie.
“I mean it,” he called as she headed for the door.
Wow. Two sentences in a row. He was serious.
And Liv was worried.
Anxiety knotted her stomach as she walked to her truck—and then past it to the barn. Beckett had free access to the stalls from the pasture and by some miracle he’d been inside, out of the sun, when Matt had arrived.
The big sorrel raised his head when Liv opened the man door on the opposite side of the barn and nickered a soft greeting.
“Good to see you, too,” Liv said as she walked across the dusty floor to the stall. “No treat today,” she murmured as she slowly raised her hand to rub the horse’s ears—something she hadn’t been able to do when she’d first bought him, because the horse had been so head shy. It’d taken her months to get to where she could raise her hand without the gelding flinching.
Beckett leaned into her hand, bobbing his head as she hit the sweet spot behind his ears. The scarred areas on his back and shoulders were now marked only by white hair that showed starkly against his rich copper coat. When she’d bought Beckett, the areas had been gruesome saddle sores where the hair and, in some places, the skin, had been worn off by a poor-fitting saddle and too many hours of use. The sore on his shoulder had been infected with maggots and the memory still made her shudder.
When Liv had expressed her outrage, Trena had only nodded, keeping her mouth carefully shut as if saying too much would betray Matt, her then husband. Trena wasn’t without guilt—she should have tended to the wounds, kept them from becoming infested—but she was afraid of horses and Matt was responsible for the wounds themselves. Well, someone had to take care of the horse, and that had been when Liv had been certain she was buying Beckett, regardless of what her then fiancé, Greg, decreed. Her life had changed that day as she stood up to Greg and hadn’t backed down in the name of peace and harmony. He’d been stunned. And so had she.
It had felt wonderful to finally stand her ground...and terrifying.
Liv gave Beckett one last pat, then took a few backward steps, debating about closing the access door to the pasture and keeping Beckett in the barn, just in case Matt came back.
She decided against it. Beckett needed space to move and if Matt came back, what was he going to do? Load the horse and leave? Steal him?
Probably not. He had a reputation to maintain and stealing a horse from the rightful owner was not going to help his image. But she could see him trying to charm her into selling. Charm had always been Matt’s strong point. It’d been the reason she’d been so duped by him back in the day.
As she walked back to the man door, she pressed a hand against the side of her face, remembering the one time he’d kissed her—on the cheek—and grimaced at how ecstatic, yet disappointed, she’d been. She’d been such a damned fool where men had been concerned back then, and had remained a fool for about ten years after. It’d taken Greg’s controlling behavior and a horse that needed her care to make her wake up and see the truth.
CHAPTER TWO
BECKETT WAS ON the Bailey Ranch. That was the good news. The bad news was that, unless Liv did a 180, getting Beckett back was going to be a challenge and Matt didn’t know what he was going to do about that. But he was going to do something and he was going to do it soon. He’d been off for four weeks and figured he had another six before he could trust his knee enough to compete—just in time for the Bitterroot Challenge, the richest rodeo in Montana. He needed to start racking up earnings again.
The injury in Austin had put a major crimp in his comeback season, a season that until that point had been gold. Hopefully, because of his winning streak, he’d earned enough to hold his qualifying position for the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas, but he wasn’t taking chances. The year before, while dealing with his divorce and all the shit Trena had thrown his way, he’d missed qualifying by four hundred dollars. Four hundred lousy dollars—after winning the world title the previous season. It’d killed him, and it hadn’t helped that his brother, in his debut season, had done so damned well.
He needed to get that championship back.
He
