Brothers of Miller Ranch Box Set

by Natalie Dean

  “You didn’t flinch away.”

  At that she paused and turned to look at him. “Why would I do that?”

  “You know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Because I’m a sinner. Dirty. Unclean. You’ve probably heard all about what these hands have done, or where they’ve been.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at that last part, but she didn’t miss his tone or expression as the words ticked from his lips. That was self-loathing if she had ever heard it. And a fine bit of rejection too. Resentment. It was almost like listening to Dani or herself speak in high school, all wounded and exhausted, riddled with holes from sharp barbs and the salt of being different rubbed into every mark.

  That was a… tortured kind of existence, to say the least. And she was beginning to wonder if maybe Bryant Miller was less of a prodigal son and more of a very hurt, very lost little sheep who thought he was no longer welcome back to the flock.

  But that wasn’t right at all. There was forgiveness in everything through the Lord. Granted, Bryant had to ask for forgiveness first, and that certainly did not seem likely in his current condition.

  “So, you normally bring strange guys to yer place a’fer juss meetin’ them?” he asked as she came back.

  She could tell that he was trying to be playfully flirty, but she wasn’t distracted by it.

  Had the man ever had a friendly interaction with a woman? Was everything in his world fueled by money or sex? As nice as it could be to be rich—she’d certainly already benefited from the Miller’s wealth by proxy—money wasn’t enough. The man obviously needed meaningful connections. He needed kindness, and humor, and someone to confide in that had nothing to gain from his fortunes.

  What a sad, lonely existence. And with his family harping on him, no wonder he resented them.

  “No, I suppose you’re an exception.”

  “Are ya sayin’ I’m exceptional?”

  She knew that he was expecting her to cut him down. To remind him to be humble. After all, half of what she’d said to him so far had been reproachful. But instead, she nodded.

  “Yes, I would say that you are.”

  He blinked at her owlishly, clearly thrown off whatever drunken continuation of their conversation he had imagined. “What?”

  “I said yes, you are exceptional. With a small amount of seed money from selling off your things when your family cut you off, you started a business that is doing well. From what I know, you’ve managed to invest well, so even if that tanks tomorrow, you’ll be set for life.”

  “…how do you know all that?”

  “I’ve been close to your family for about four years now. I listen, and I remember.”

  “And you think that’s ex-ex-exceptional?”

  “Yes. Don’t you?”

  The man frowned, and she could see his mind behind his eyes sluggishly trying to answer the question. She waited, patiently, as he drained his water then set the glass down.

  “It’s not enough,” he said.

  She wasn’t sure she heard quite right. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “It’s never enough. I don’t think anything… will ever be… enough.”

  “Enough for what?”

  But the man was already asleep, his head tilting down to rest on his chest. She chuckled to herself, then stood once more to put the kettle on. Considering the day she had, some chamomile tea seemed like it was most definitely in order.

  She went about making herself a cup, replaying everything in her head that had happened. That’s what she usually did when she felt like she had been given a large amount of useful information that needed to be stored for later.

  Bryant was nothing like she had imagined. Sure, on the outside he was cocky and licentious and condescending, but she could tell that was a thin blanket to cover some deep-seated issues that reminded her so much of herself. Not that any of that excused his behavior. No, he was still very much responsible for his actions.

  But what it did mean was that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t actually want to be the way he was. That he knew there was something better for him but had no idea how to get there.

  Or just thought he didn’t deserve anything better.

  And that spoke to Keiko. She remembered being in times so dark that it seemed there would never be an out. That her life was just torment and pain and the feeling she was never meant for something good. If she didn’t have Dani, her parents, and her therapist to help her, she didn’t think she would have survived.

  Maybe Bryant needed someone like that.

  Keiko finished her tea, and a sense of resolve flooded her from her nose to her toes. Purpose—what she had been missing for so long—flooded her and she came to a sudden realization.

  She was going to fix Bryant Miller.

  5

  Bryant

  Consciousness was not nice when it smacked Bryant in the face, bringing him from deeply, deeply asleep to awake and uncomfortable in moments flat.

  His brain was assaulted by a dozen sensations at once, and he had to sort through them individually before he could go on to do anything else.

  For one, his back and neck were throbbing, as if they had spent a night completely unsupported and in an uncomfortable position. For another thing, his head was pounding like someone was banging a mallet against his temple. His tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth, welded in place by just how dry it was.

  He groaned, about the only sound he could make, and cracked his eyes open. Or at least tried to. They resisted at first, sealed shut with a layer of crust, but his hand sloppily came up to rub them and eventually they were freed.

  His vision needed several moments to clear, however, and when it finally did, he was left looking at a place he didn’t recognize at all.

  …what? This certainly wasn’t his hotel. What had happened? Had he finally been kidnapped? Huh, he had insurance for that, but he never thought he’d need to actually use it.

  Noises sounded from around a corner, and slowly, Bryant got up to investigate. Every single move felt like torture, but he found that once he got going, it was easier to keep moving.

  Eventually, he stumbled into what had to be the tiniest kitchen that he had ever seen. And there, over the very old-looking oven, stood the woman from the wedding, looking completely dressed and put together.

  And was she wearing an apron? It was such a picture of perfect domesticity that he had to rub his eyes. The woman had no right looking so poised and polished so early on a Sunday morning.

  Glancing around, he saw a couple of bags from the local market, which meant she’d already gone out. When he looked to the oven, he saw all the proper fixings for a hangover breakfast including a massive amount of grits.

  Why was she being so nice? As his memories trickled back to him, he remembered startling her, then kinda falling over, then them talking and her ignoring all of his advances.

  “Why and how are you up so early?” he croaked, his mouth feeling like it was full of sand.

  She chuckled at that, reaching into the fridge and grabbing a large bottle of water which she tossed to him. “It’s actually after noon. I’ve already gone to church while you were snoozing. It would have been nice to have you there.”

  His nose wrinkled at that and he busied himself with opening the bottle. But of course, the woman didn’t miss that and let out a small laugh.

  “Maybe another time then?”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” he mumbled before chugging the cool liquid.

  And goodness, as if it didn’t taste utterly delicious. He almost didn’t come up for air, the refreshment bringing him soothing and coolness that he didn’t know he so badly needed.

  “I think you would be surprised how life unfolds sometimes,” she said.

  He opened his mouth to object now that it felt somewhat normal again, but she kept right on talking.

  “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and freshen up? I’m sure you’d feel better after washing your face and taking a shower.”<
br />
  She was right. He always felt grimy after imbibing too much. “Yeah, okay.”

  “All the way down the hall. You can’t miss it.”

  He nodded and ducked out, his mind far too full considering how not-quite-awake he was. But as he went through the motions of freshening up, finding the bathroom just as she said he would, more and more from last night came trickling back to him.

  But it wasn’t until he was splashing cool water on his face that he remembered something in particular.

  She’d called him exceptional.

  Bryant had gotten plenty of compliments in his life, ranging from his looks, to his smarts, to his turn of phrase, but none of them had been from one of the oh-so-pious people of his hometown. And they certainly hadn’t been calling him exceptional.

  What a strange thing to say. What did she even mean by that? She could have been teasing him, but from his memory she seemed fairly earnest.

  However… it would do to keep in mind that his memory was formed by his very drunk brain, so he definitely could have misinterpreted things.

  Ugh, it was all so confusing, but also intriguing. He wanted to know more about this strange woman and why she did whatever she did. Normally, if a woman had taken him to their place while he was inebriated, he would have expected a good time and skin on skin action. But she didn’t seem remotely interested in that at all. He was so used to reading people, to knowing exactly what they wanted or expected, that she was throwing him for a loop.

  And he couldn’t figure out if he liked or hated it.

  By the time he finished with cleaning himself up to return to her, she’d finished the meal and had two plates out. One was loaded up in a neat little mountain—which he guessed was his—and the other held a more reasonable amount with fewer foods.

  “Not hungry?” he asked, taking the full plate as she handed it to him.

  “Lactose intolerant,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I’m out of my pills that help me with dairy. I’ll get them tomorrow from the pharmacy, but in the meantime, no loaded scrambled eggs or cheesy potatoes for me.”

  But if that was the case, that meant that she had made them just for him.

  He had no idea what to think about all that.

  Nevertheless, he followed her back to the small living room that he had woken up in. She gestured for him to sit on her couch while she gracefully settled onto one of those metal folding chairs. Where was this girl’s furniture?

  He had no idea, but she didn’t seem to catch onto his bewilderment. Instead, she balanced her plate on her knees and leaned forward to unfold a part of the coffee table, working the metal posts attached to it until it made a solid, if not slightly wobbly, surface for them to eat on.

  She put her plate on it like the whole thing was completely normal. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his parents meant when they said he had no idea how some people struggled.

  Bryant followed her lead, but his trepidation quickly faded as he dug into the food. The meal was good and hit his churning stomach just right. For being such a thin girl, she certainly knew how to cook.

  “So was this your plan?”

  “Pardon?” she asked around the toast that she was very carefully chewing.

  “Get me to your house and show me what a great housewife you could be? I have to say, it’s pretty unorthodox, but I’m impressed.”

  She smiled thinly. Not in an irritated way, just in a way that said she saw through him and found his attempt so flimsy that it was amusing.

  She finished chewing. “Tell me, is it exhausting thinking you’re the center of the universe, or is that just how you get through the day?”

  Ouch. All right, so it probably wasn’t an elaborate scheme to win his affection. That was too bad. It certainly would make his plan easier to accomplish.

  Then again, he probably wouldn’t be interested if she was easy to figure out. In fact, he was pretty sure that he remembered thinking that he was going to seduce her. Not a bad idea, actually.

  “So I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Yes, that and the meal are the only things you’ll be taking from here.”

  Yeowch. There was steel to that comment. Bryant wished he could banter with her because he knew it would be fun, but his brain was still recovering from his hangover and his body felt sluggish. Next time he met her, he would need to make sure he was on his A-game.

  That is, if they did meet again.

  For the first time in his life, Bryant was looking at the fact that he might fail irreparably right out the gate. That rarely happened to him, but he had a feeling that their interaction happening when he was literally drunk off his feet had damaged things pretty heavily.

  They continued eating, and he tried idle conversation a few times, but every time he got flirty, she would politely shut him down. After the third time, he figured three strikes and he was out, so he stopped. It was one thing to pursue a woman; it was another to harass her to the point of annoyance. Besides, she had already taken him in and helped him instead of ditching him on his family—who would no doubt use it as a chance to preach to him again about the dangerous path he was going down—so she deserved not to be hassled in her own home.

  So eventually, when the meal ended and she put the dishes in the sink, he took that as his cue to leave. He called a cab and went about righting the cushions on the couch and asking her if she needed any help.

  Of course, she politely declined, and he was left with nothing to do but wait awkwardly. After a long moment’s hesitation, he decided to take a risk.

  “Hey, I appreciate what you did for me. Maybe I could grab your number and take you out some time as a thank-you?”

  He fully expected her to say no, and as much as it would sear his pride, he would respect that. His family may have thought he was scum, but he respected a woman’s right to say no for whatever reason she wanted. It wasn’t like he had exactly presented himself in the best light.

  “Aren’t you supposed to ask for my name first?”

  What? Her name? Had he really not… with a blush, he realized that he hadn’t. She knew who he was, but he literally knew nothing of her.

  “Oh, uh, yes. Please. What is your name?”

  “Keiko. Keiko Albryte. Nice to meet you, Bryant Miller.”

  She extended her hand, and once more he found himself touching her. Her fingers were small and delicate compared to his, and her skin was sinfully smooth. He wanted to let the touch linger, but he wanted to not be an even bigger creep, so he quickly let go.

  “I guess I’m going about this all out of order.”

  “Yes, but I’m guessing that you usually like to forge your own path.”

  “Eh, that might have a ring of truth to it.”

  She let out a dry chuckle but then moved to do nothing else. Bryant guessed that was her way of politely refusing the number question, but some part of him wanted to be sure.

  “I’m guessing it’s the same area code as all my brothers?”

  She said nothing, her brown eyes staring him down inscrutably. But after a moment of looking him over, she nodded slowly and held her hand out. He stared at her, confused, before realizing that she wanted his phone.

  He pulled it from his pocket, relieved to see it was alive and still on its last ten percent. Quickly, she typed up a new contact, and then he was surprised when she called it.

  He heard the telltale buzz of a phone vibrating on the kitchen counter, and she smiled.

  “There, now I have your number too.”

  “Uh, thanks,” he said, taking his phone back and feeling entirely off-balance. It wasn’t normal for him to be anything less than sure-footed, but he was liking the adrenaline rush it was bringing. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Yes, I believe that you will.”

  6

  Keiko

  “Sushi platter for two?”

  Keiko nodded, eager to put food in her stomach after what felt like a long day of work, even though it had rea
lly been just a five-hour shift. Still, her stomach had been too upset that morning to put anything into it, so now it was massively upset with her for getting off her eating schedule. One of the things that helped her stay steady and healthy was having regimens.

  Oh, well. She felt like she was in a good enough position to roll with it, and it certainly helped that Sophia was tearing through their just-delivered food ravenously right across from her.

  They were an unlikely pair. While she liked the very young woman, she’d known her the least of any of her circle and was surprised Sophia was comfortable with her. Granted, their hanging out was mostly due to convenient circumstance rather than anything else.

  Keiko worked in the city library every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from eleven to three. It wasn’t enough to fully support her, but it helped supplement the stipend the church gave her, which was largely what had allowed her to live on her own. Of course, being in the city during those times lined up very well with Sophia’s therapy visits. The young woman was seeing someone who specifically worked with people suffering from abuse and all the trauma that went with it, and she went twice a week.

  Of course, her therapy didn’t last five hours, so once her appointment was done—or on Fridays when she didn’t have therapy at all—she would either take a cab or ride-share to the library and study on the computers in a GED certification program. Then, once Keiko clocked out, they would go get a very late lunch/early dinner.

  Which was exactly how they ended up at her favorite sushi place together, Sophia forking down food like she was afraid it would disappear.

  “Hey, didn’t you and your therapist talk about that?”

  The young woman stopped, looking at Keiko sheepishly. “Right. No one is going to steal it. And I don’t have to be on the lookout.”

  Keiko smiled and picked up her own set of chopsticks. She had been quite pleased when she had been the first person to introduce Sophia to sushi—and the slender woman had loved it. Perhaps it was surprisingly stereotypical for Keiko to like it so much, being half Japanese and all, but it was what it was.