Ashton couldn’t keep his voice down. “Ménage, brother. Remember? That’s what we knew we’d end up in. What we’ve been doing all these years. Looking for the right woman. On top of everything else in Sinclair’s life, can we do that to her? Can you imagine how this place—these people—would react and treat her?”
“I know.” Craig slammed his glass down on the coffee table so hard the lead crystal actually made a fluting sound. “We can look after ourselves, but they’d crucify Sinclair.”
“I’ll explain things to her again,” Ash promised. “We’ll figure out a way for us all to live under one roof without it being too sour.”
Shoving up from his seat, Craig made his way to the door. “I’m not ashamed of what we do, Ashton. It’s who we are. But Sinclair—”
“Exactly. She’s not one of those women we favor.” Ashton cut Craig off before he dug them in any deeper, then followed his brother out and they gained the front door in silence. It slammed shut with finality, and something in his heart—and maybe his soul—closed with the same sensation. Life was never going to be the same.
****
Rising from her crouch over the hot air vent, Sinclair used the heels of her hands to scrub away the tears. Crying never solved anything, once you released the pain, as her Mom used to say. Not her birth mom. Sondra rarely had anything to say that didn’t involve herself, or else it made no sense. Dave, her birth dad, had made an effort, if her memories of a tall, thin guy who would pick her up and hug her, were accurate. Nope, the Russells had raised her and had done a pretty good job. Too bad their sons didn’t view her as anything other than a little sister, a blood sister, and she didn’t meet specifications. Not at all like the other women they favored. Craig wasn’t ashamed of his penchant to share with his brother, but it sounded like he was ashamed of her.
She’d listened at the floor vent as soon as she got upstairs, hoping her retreat had at least been adult in nature, when she’d really wanted to scream and throw things. Instead she’d thought to leave them with the idea that she couldn’t stay if not as their … lover, she supposed was the closest descriptor. Hoped they would discuss it and come around a little. It felt ironic she’d eavesdropped as she’d done when she was a child.
The vent didn’t conduct conversation very well anymore, maybe full of dust from the intervening years. All she’d heard were snippets of her being considered their sister, and how badly they felt about hurting her feelings. When they’d mentioned Melinda, a big, cold fist took hold of her heart and squeezed it until she thought she’d expire from the pain.
Lying back on her bed, the same narrow little twin she remembered from forever ago, Sinclair studied the ceiling. She’d obviously been wrong about Craig and Ashton’s interest in her going beyond the familial. Her stupid longing had blinded her to the true facts. They wanted the girl next door. Melinda was coming home after a failed marriage. Ash had told her that in one of his last emails, and it was time Sinclair faced up to the real world. No way could she stay here and see that bimbo fit herself between the two men Sinclair loved. Maybe it was too corny to think they’d be the only two men she would ever love, but it sure felt like that right now. The shattering pain in her chest took her breath away again, and she fought another deluge of tears.
It was time to take action. She knew it was unlikely there was another placement available in order to finish out her degree, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other jobs for her. Just not here. Not in the same house as the men she didn’t measure up for, and certainly not to hang around and see that Melinda be welcomed back. Come to think about it, she didn’t think she wanted to be around people who wanted to be with that woman.
Rolling onto her feet, she opened the lower drawer of the dresser she and her Mom had painted and decaled all those years ago. Little princess patterns glittered up at her, and the pink painted wood felt a bit warped under her hand. Delving under a neatly folded stack of nightgowns, she drew out the small box she’d been given when Mom deemed her responsible enough to care for important things. It held her birth certificate and some letters from her birth father. It didn’t matter that he’d stopped writing years back. She still read them from time to time.
Sinclair Marlys Allard-Renton. Her birth mom was French Canadian, and Sinclair thought Sondra had gone back to Quebec. Dave was still in Wyoming, but she had no idea where. In any event, she enjoyed a little matter of dual citizenship, and if there was ever a time to start over, it was now. Ignoring the part of her that pointed out mature women didn’t run from their problems, she reached for her cell.
****
“You’re nuts.” Candy Grant threw her a glance that spoke volumes. “You can’t just take a bus up to Canada and think things will work out.”
Slouching further back in her seat, Sinclair adjusted the seat belt, and answered her best friend. “I just want the next couple years of my life to work out. I was nuts to think I meant anything to the brothers, Candy. All those hours of study and classes, with the goal of coming home and working here, on the ranch especially. Bringing something of worth to a … relationship with them.”
“I’m not opposed to ménage, kiddo. Lord knows I’ve had myself a couple of threesomes. And those men are fine. And I know how much you care about them. But, Sinclair, maybe they’re right. I mean, if they see you like a sister…”
“Yeah, it sounds gross. And they used that against me, to keep me at a distance, when it was really about Melinda Roberts. They should have simply told me they preferred her.”
“Skank.”
Candy’s older brothers knew all about Melinda, and had passed on their opinion to Candy. Not because the older woman was easy. Sinclair, too, didn’t have an issue with anybody who was honest about their needs. Lord knew she wished she’d been honest about her own and relieved herself of her pesky virginity, seeing as saving it for her men was now a lost cause. Not that they’d ever been her men. It was the point that Melinda turned brother against brother and friend against friend with her sexy machinations. Men couldn’t seek to think past their little head when she was around. The thought of the skank hurting Craig and Ashton, maybe tearing them apart, made bile rise up her throat. How was it that they hadn’t learned?
“I hope they know what they’re doing.” Her words came out thin and faint.
“Well, the whole area has done nothing but talk about her coming back after some scandal in the big city.” Candy snorted. “She married that politician type and probably wasn’t good for his image. Couldn’t keep her panties on in all likelihood.”
Sinclair didn’t reply. Gossip wasn’t her thing, and she’d decided not to think about Melinda with her brothers. It killed her to call them that, but that’s what they were to her in their minds, and she had to remember it. Didn’t matter they were nearly six and eight years older than she was, respectively, or that she’d never been adopted by their parents. She’d be grateful for what she’d had for so many years. There was no way she could pay them back financially, but she could sure clear out of their way and give them space to get it on with Melinda. Marry her maybe, and raise little Russells. Her belly roiled.
“What will you do for money?”
“I still have the little fund Mom Russell set up for me. And one paycheck from my waitressing job. I’ll get a job.”
“I don’t know how you worked and carried such a big academic load.” Candy slowed at a crossroads, then headed straight for town. She’d better hope the new Sheriff wasn’t around, or even one of the other patrol cars. Sinclair had been the recipient of several heated emails from Candy, her friend acting all indignant about Reese Murdoch coming home after his discharge from the military. Seems he didn’t kowtow to Candy in the same way other men did, and she described him as obnoxious, arrogant, and infuriatingly hot. Sinclair thought she’d avoid mentioned anything about Reese, who she remembered as being a fairly close friend of Craig’s. Candy was correct in one aspect thought. Reese was hot.
“School
work isn’t hard for me, and while college was somewhat tougher, I managed.” She thought about how hard she’d worked, all with her eye on the prize. Prizes.
“Yup. Math nerd. Chemistry, physics, you name it. If it wasn’t for you helping me, I never would have graduated high school,” Candy said breezily, her blonde hair catching the sunlight. Sinclair knew her friend came from money, and that her dad had set her up with her own little shop in Barrister, selling all those curious articles a person had to have lots of disposable cash to afford. But graduating high school had meant something anyhow.
“You partied more than you studied.” Craig and Ash hadn’t let her go to those parties, but she hadn’t minded. They and the ranch had been her life, and her education was important.
“I did. And loved every minute of it,” Candy agreed. “But seriously, Sinclair, I’ll make you a loan.”
“Only if you let me pay you back.”
“Of course. Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you can’t do it differently in business. And that way you’ll stay in touch.”
“I will, Candy. I always did while I was away. Only you and my brothers kept in touch. It’s important to me.”
And you were so damn lonely you misinterpreted their interest. Thought it compared to your own. Talk about seeing the world through one’s own lens. She’d missed them terribly, and contact had been all the sweeter.
“You don’t have very much with you.”
She looked in the back seat. Two pieces of luggage, her laptop. “I didn’t unpack, not really, so just picked up my bags. There was nothing else to bring.” Nothing that belonged to you, anyhow. Tears built behind her lids, and she blinked furiously.
“I’m sorry.” Candy didn’t miss much, and she sounded so sad.
“Me too, Candy. I’m such a fool.” She’d shared everything with her best friend over the years, and Candy had thought she was correct in believing Ashton and Craig were interested in her and hence amenable to her proposition when Sinclair finally worked up the courage to present it. God, that’s what it had been. A proposition. How had she ever thought to measure up against those sexy, suave women Craig and Ashton played with?
“Not a fool,” her friend argued. “But maybe love is blind. You do love them, right? It’s not just about sex.”
“I can’t imagine loving anyone else.” And sex was something she only understood from a clinical viewpoint, her wet panties whenever she thought of them aside.
Candy had nothing to say to that, and Sinclair stared out the side window, breathing past the gnawing in her chest.
The bus depot came into view, not really a station, but a sign in the hardware store window, the curb lane marked as “no parking” on certain days and certain times in the week. For when the Greyhound came through. Sinclair thanked her lucky stars—she still had luck from some venue—for the fact it was Friday, and the bus stopped that day. She’d made her decision, and she wouldn’t have to wait to act on it. Or face Ashton and Craig’s pitying faces. Sinclair and Candy parked and got out, unloading the bags.
“I don’t want you to stay,” she urged Candy. “You can tell my brothers you dropped me here when I asked you for a ride, but stay clear, okay? I couldn’t stand it if I caused you any problems.”
With a ladylike snort, Candy tossed her hair back. Her curvy body filled out her trendy outfit, and Sinclair’s eyes were drawn to the amazing shoes. No wonder Ashton and Craig didn’t waste any time on her. With the exception of her abortive attempt today at wearing something sexy, Sinclair wore jeans and shirts and boots. All the time. Her hair was either hanging without a care around her shoulders, or hauled up in a ponytail. Makeup consisted of lip balm, and sometimes a wisp of mascara if she thought about it. Aside from good personal hygiene, she was a tomboy who planned to work with big animals. Lord. All those years of pink and sparkle until Mom Russell died were long gone. Maybe if she’d been more of a girly girl, showing off her assets and acting all flirty, like Melinda Roberts…
“Those boys won’t get anything from me but the cold shoulder. They don’t deserve you.”
“They took me in—”
“Their momma and dad took you in, Sinclair. All they had to do was act like my big brothers, and it took them a while to do even that if I recall.”
“But after the Russells died they did.”
“They carried out their parents’ wishes. Not like you were a burden. You carried your weight on the ranch and got through school early. You didn’t even bother them for clothes and such. And you got scholarships.”
“No, Candy. That’s not fair. They gave me what I needed, everything I let them give me.” She knew what her friend was doing, but couldn’t let her blacken Ash and Craig.
“I remember it differently, Sinclair, but maybe that’s because you’re looking at me as though your world has ended. You keep in touch and I’ll email you money, once you set up an account, okay?”
There was no point in arguing, and Sinclair didn’t want to, anyhow. It was good to have such a loyal friend. Once Candy had seen how determined Sinclair was, she’d helped her out instead of trying to dissuade her. Candy seemed to understand what it was like to have a broken heart. “I’ll keep in touch all along the way. I promise. Love you, girlfriend.”
Candy yanked her in for a hug, and Sinclair returned the warmth. Her friend squeezed one final time before trotting back to the car and pulling it away from the spot reserved for the bus. That vehicle was rolling down the road, and the realization of the enormity of her decision hit her squarely. The driver halted with a sigh of air brakes, and the door cranked open. He cast her a jaundiced look before heaving up from his cushioned seat to tread down the stairs.
“Both of these going underneath?” He gestured at her duffel and suitcase.
“Please.”
“You got a ticket?”
“No. I thought you sold them?”
“Supposed to get them all online but not for another couple weeks. You get on and I’ll catch up with you at our next rest stop.”
She watched him pull up the undercarriage door and heave her luggage inside to join a myriad of boxes and suitcases, then hastened up the steps, ignoring some curious glances from the other passengers. The bus wasn’t full. In fact she could choose a seat to herself near the back, and she settled in, putting her purse and laptop case beside her. She’d need to call the vet school. It was only fair to free up her space for some other student looking to finish out their field work. But it felt like the final blow to do it, and a sob shook her. Why didn’t they want her? Her parents hadn’t wanted her either, and then the Russells hadn’t fought for custody. She guessed she was unlovable. And self pity didn’t get a person anywhere, so she swallowed down her pain and tried to consider her future.
Chapter Two
“Sinclair?” Ashton rapped on her bedroom door, and it swung open. Empty. The comforter bore a vague outline of where she must have lain down, but she wasn’t there. Sinclair still slept in the twin size bed, and they hadn’t been able to convince her to allow them to buy her a bigger one. In fact when she’d heard Craig ordering one, she’d raised such a stink his brother had backed down. They figured it had something to do with her wanting to keep things the way they were, savor the memories of their parents.
The cute little shorts and silky top she’d worn earlier were tossed in a heap across the bottom of the bed, and he had an absurd desire to go over and stroke the fabric. Her fresh scent greeted him, and his cock stirred. Fuck. Her earnest plea to be with him and Craig had affected him considerably, and the several hours of riding fences and hard work of repairing a few areas had barely managed to cool his jets.
Craig emerged from the kitchen, a loaf of bread hanging from one hand. Tension crackled. “She throw you out?”
“She’s not there.” Her little car was parked out front, too small for the interstate driving she did when she came home to visit, in his opinion, but she wouldn’t let them buy her anything bigger. In
fact when he’d insisted she told him she’d sooner take the bus or walk, so he’d settled on the compact with the best safety rating and as many bells and whistles as he could fit in it. He should have done more for her, their stubborn girl.
“Huh. Maybe in the barn. She was out to see Joy already and probably saddled her up, took her out. She always said she thought better riding the range.”
“Make me a sandwich, too, and a couple for Sinclair.” Their girl could eat like a stevedore and burned calories as quickly as they did. She worked hard, no doubt about it, pulled her weight, and not for the first time it struck him how she never wanted to appear beholden. “I’ll go see if she’s wiping the mare down.”
Craig vanished back into the kitchen, and Ash went in search of Sinclair. He was dreading the talk they had to have, and wanted to get it over with. He and Craig had kinda rehearsed the speech, like idiots, before his brother went to check on the herd and he rode the fence. Dust boiled around his boots as he sauntered to the barn. She was going to cry, he knew it, and it was going to kill him. But he would do right by her.
Joy’s long nose poked over the stall, her bridle hanging by the door. The horse whickered at him, and Ash instinctively knew Sinclair hadn’t been out riding. He ran his hand down the mare’s neck, regardless, but detected no sign of heat or moisture. Given the temperature, Joy would have shown evidence of being ridden. Frowning, he strode down the center of the stalls to where two of the hands were working on his and Craig’s mounts. It spoke to how anxious they were to have the chat with Sinclair that they’d turned their horses over to the hired men to take care of.
“Something, boss?” Frank looked his way as he wiped over Corby’s back. The stallion turned his head to gaze at Ash as well.
“You seen Sinclair?”
“Not since early this morning when she brought her mare an apple.”
Bill shook his head, leading Craig’s gelding to the trough. “Nope.”
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