by Dahlia West
Sawyer merely shrugged—shrugged!—and pointed at Cassidy. “She’s the one holding the bottle.”
Cassidy’s heart knocked in her chest, and she gasped. Then she panicked and threw the tiny bottle as far as she could. It hit the dirt and rolled away. “I didn’t do it!” she cried loudly. “It wasn’t me!”
Sawyer grinned. “Cassidy knows all about hair dye. Highlights her hair and everything.”
“I knew it,” Dakota muttered. “Fake hair, fake nails.”
Somewhere in the distance, Cassidy heard a bell ring. A funeral bell, surely. She hoped it wasn’t her own. A car pulled up next to Walker’s truck at the same time, and Cassidy saw Rowan slide out of the front seat. She ducked away, thinking about her last conversation with the nurse. Rowan lifted a little girl out of the car and set her on her feet. She screeched and darted toward the paddock. “Pinkie Pie! Uncle Walker, your horse is Pinkie Pie!”
“Told you,” Seth commented.
The little girl jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Pinkie Pie, Pinkie Pie! I want to ride Pinkie Pie!”
Walker sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to shave your head,” he growled then looked at Sawyer.
Sawyer shrugged. “I’d look like a Mexican Vin Diesel. It might be the only way I’d look more sexy.”
“Oh, Walker!” cried Rowan and threw herself into the huge man’s arms. “This was so nice of you! With all the wedding plans, I haven’t been as available as usual. Willow’s been so off her routine. Thank you so much!”
Walker looked a little taken aback, but he finally wrapped his arms around the woman and returned the hug. “I…well…anything for my niece.”
“Hey, now,” Sawyer protested.
Walker cut him off with a single sharp look.
“Pinkie Pie!” Willow repeated.
Cassidy watched as Walker bent and picked up the little girl. He walked toward his horse and slid the little girl onto his back.
“Hang onto the mane,” he instructed, gathering up the pink wisps and placing them in the child’s tiny hands. “I guess we’ll wash your hands later.” He walked the horse slowly around in a circle, with Willow bouncing excitedly.
“Giddyup, Pinkie Pie!” she cried.
No one could argue with the girl in their midst, Cassidy realized, especially not when she looked so happy. Walker made circles with the well-behaved horse while Willow recited all the names of the ponies she knew from memory. She started telling Walker all about Equestria and Ponyville and someone called Nightmare Moon.
To his credit, Walker listened with rapt attention, peppering her tale with questions like “Is that so?” and comments like “Well, that sounds nice.”
The girl beamed. “Uncle Seth and Daddy Court watch with me. Will you watch with me?”
Walker frowned. “Well…I’m awfully busy, sweetheart, running the ranch. But you can ride…Pinkie Pie,” he growled and shot Sawyer a dirty look. “For as long as he is Pinkie Pie, anyway.”
“I rang the dinner bell,” Sofia called, making her way toward them. “Why are you…oh. Oh, dear. Dios mio.” The woman crossed herself. Twice.
“Nana Sofia, look!” shouted Willow. “Pinkie Pie!”
Sofia pressed her lips together and looked at everyone before stepping forward. “I see, mija. I see. Come on now. Let’s eat our dinner and make our cookies. Come on. We have to go.”
Willow frowned. “Why?”
The woman glanced furtively at Walker. “Because soon there will be words that aren’t meant for little ears,” the woman replied, holding out her arms.
“Oh,” said Willow, but it was clear to Cassidy that she didn’t understand. She slid down from the horse’s back into Sofia’s waiting arms, and the woman hustled away with the child.
“Gabe,” Walker barked. “Throw a reata around Sawyer and string him up so I can beat him.”
Gabe smirked at him. “Oh, I can’t do that, hermano.”
Walker’s jaw dropped. “Look at my horse! Look what the man did to my horse! It’s sacrilege!”
“I see, hermano. I see that. But I can’t string him up,” Gabe declared.
“Why not?!” Walker demanded.
Gabe shrugged. “Friendship is magic.”
Everyone but Walker and Cassidy laughed. And Cassidy had to bite her tongue to prevent it.
“Unbelievable,” Walker muttered, but he didn’t look like he was going to throw any punches.
Dinnertime was upon them, and the horse of a different color was forgotten for the moment. On their way to the house, Cassidy tugged at Sawyer’s hand, keeping him back and out of earshot of the others. “That was therapy?” she asked.
Sawyer shrugged. “My own brand, anyway. Dakota’s a little uptight right now.”
Cassidy ducked her head. “Sorry,” she said again.
“It’s not you.”
She gave him a sardonic look.
He smiled. “She’s very protective of the horses,” he informed her. “They’re her whole life. And she doesn’t like anyone messing up her routines or the way she does things. She’d be that way with anyone. It’s not the first time Dash has gotten out. Won’t be the last. She’s part mustang. It’s that Jack London thing.”
“Call of the Wild.”
He beamed at her and squeezed her hand. “Exactly.”
Cassidy eyed him warily. “Was that a test?”
“What?”
“You know what. Jack London.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Maybe.”
Cassidy sighed. Too bad literature wasn’t a useful skill. “Walker was so pissed,” she said.
Sawyer shrugged. “Walker needed it, too.”
“He was going to kill you!”
“Nah, I know how far I can push him.”
Cassidy gaped at him and shivered at the memory of the deadly look in the oldest Barlow’s eyes. “Why would you want to?!”
“Walker plays it pretty close to the vest.”
Cassidy nodded. “I noticed. He barely speaks.”
“It does him good to let off steam once in a while, blow his top a little. But he hardly ever does. He’s going to have a massive coronary by the time he’s forty if he doesn’t figure out a way to vent. He can’t yell at Texas bull semen vendors or at the men who set the meat market prices, but he can yell at me.”
“But he hates you now.”
Unbelievably, Sawyer chuckled. “Princess, he doesn’t hate me. He loves me. He just wants to shave my head. And if we were younger, back when dad was still alive, he’d do it, too.”
Cassidy stared at him, unable to comprehend having a relationship like that with your brother. She was sometimes afraid to look sideways at Palmer.
“You have a brother,” Sawyer pointed out, as though he’d plucked the thoughts right out of her head.
“We’re not like that,” she replied carefully. She rubbed her left wrist absentmindedly. “We don’t get along.”
Sawyer put his large hand over hers, stilling her movements. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It should never be like that with family. Your family should be the people you count on when things get tough. Are…are you going to call them? Let them know where you are? Won’t they worry?”
“I left a message,” Cassidy lied. “They know.”
“Did you tell them you got hurt?”
“No, don’t talk to my family about it. Or anyone. Please.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but they were at the house now, and it was rude to keep everyone waiting. “I’m not done with this, Cassidy,” he warned her.
She ignored him and ventured inside.
At the table, so many people were gathered, Sofia and Dakota, Gabe and Walker, all chattering away happily. Conroy dinners consisted of Dad and Palmer discussing business while Cassidy and Karen ate in silence. It was a revelation to see a real family share a meal together. It made her jealous. Cassidy ate mostly in silence once again, but only because she was watching them all so intently.
They were smiling, they were laughing. It felt as far removed from her own experience as anything could be. Dakota and Gabe sat next to each other, poking one another with forks as they argued good-naturedly about horse lineage.
No one was afraid. No one was angry. No one was cold or even unfeeling. A strangled noise caught in her throat, and she coughed, pretending it was nothing.
“You okay?” Sawyer asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Wrong pipe.”
“Drink more water.”
She picked up her glass and did as ordered.
After dinner she cleared her plate and carried into the Barlows’ massive kitchen. Sofia had sat down with them to eat, which was something the Conroys’ housekeeper certainly never did. But then again Sofia was family to these people, not a servant on the payroll.
Wanting to make herself useful, Cassidy rolled up her sleeves to dip her hands in the dishwater in the sink. Sofia Vasquez had gone to the trouble of making an extra plate for her. The least she could do was wash it.
Cassidy was lost in thought when Dakota suddenly appeared beside her, plate in hand, but froze as she caught sight of the bruises on her arms.
Cassidy blushed and quickly dipped her hands into the sudsy water to hide them.
“Do you have those all over?” Dakota asked.
Cassidy looked away and chose not to respond.
“That’s why you didn’t want to put on my clothes.”
“Not with you in the room,” Cassidy whispered.
For the first time, Dakota stepped close and scrutinized her intensely. Cassidy bristled under such close examination. “Your makeup’s coming off,” the younger girl said quietly.
Cassidy pulled her hands from the sink and instinctively brushed her eye with the back of her hand.
Dakota gasped and Cassidy realized that she must’ve washed the rest off without thinking.
“Who did that to you?” Dakota demanded.
“No one. It was an accident. I had a car accident.”
Cassidy could tell that Dakota didn’t believe her story, but she wasn’t about to tell a stranger the truth, or even anything close to the truth. Before she could get away from the sink and disappear out the side door, Gabe entered the room.
“Jesus Christ!” he cried. “What motherfucker did that to your face?!”
“No one!” Cassidy insisted, abandoning the sink and heading straight for the door. She pushed it open and darted outside. It was dark now, and she sprinted toward the bunkhouse.
“Cassidy, wait!” Dakota called.
But Cassidy didn’t wait. She ran full-speed in her borrowed shoes and made it to her Mercedes, but Dakota caught her by the arm.
“I don’t want to talk about it!” Cassidy cried.
“Okay, okay. But you can’t leave.”
“Why not?! You don’t want me here, anyway.”
“Well, for one, I’m sorry. I really, really am. I had no idea. I was just…mad that you were here, and I didn’t stop to think about why. And two…” Dakota glanced back up at the house. “Sawyer’s not going to let you leave. If you try, he’ll just chase you down and bring you back.”
Cassidy frowned at her Mercedes and remembered the fact that she didn’t have anywhere to go. She didn’t say that to Dakota, though. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I really am sorry, Cassidy. What happened to you?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dakota looked like she might push the issue, but she finally nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Behind them, Sawyer came out of the front door of the house and headed down the stairs toward him. “What happened?” he demanded. “What’s going on?” When he got close enough, he eyed Cassidy’s car sharply. “You’re not leaving,” he growled.
Cassidy was startled by the ferocity of his voice. “I—”
“It’s my fault,” said Dakota. “I wanted her to leave.”
His gaze narrowed. “Dakota—”
“I’m sorry!” she said again. And to Cassidy it sounded as though the girl really meant it. Of course, what Dakota meant was she felt sorry for Cassidy, but at this point Cassidy would take any port in a storm, even if that port had a five-and-a-half-foot tall Latina who in actuality hated her guts. “I apologized. I told her to stay.”
Sawyer turned back to Cassidy. “You’re not leaving,” he reminded her.
Cassidy shook her head. “No, I…I’m staying.”
As if to make certain she was, Sawyer took her hand and drew her to the door of the bunkhouse. Once inside his bedroom, he handed her an oversized T-shirt from his own closet. “I have to go to bed early,” he told her.
“Why? You get up that early to work?”
A dour look crossed his face, and Cassidy was caught off guard. She had never seen this side of Sawyer Barlow. So far their interactions had been entirely teasing and playful. It was strange to think of him as a serious sort of person. The books had surprised her, too. Sawyer Barlow, it seemed, was nothing like she’d expected or been prepared for, but she couldn’t say she was disappointed. In fact, it seemed to Cassidy that there were just more reasons to like him.
“I have to go,” he told her.
“Go where?”
He sighed heavily. “Out to the range. I’m on rotation for camp, and I really can’t get out of it.”
Cassidy blew out a hard breath. She’d been silly to think he could stay here and babysit her forever. Of course he had to work. Her father never went out on the range—they had ranch hands for that, but Palmer did sometimes. She was always happy to see him go, but every fiber of her being wanted Sawyer to remain here, with her. She gave him an understanding smile, though, because it was unrealistic to demand more of his time than he’d already given.
He moved forward suddenly, cupping her face in his large, rough hands. “Cassidy,” he said in a deep baritone voice that reverberated in her own belly. “I want you to stay. I want you here when I get back.” He kissed her again, in that slow, gentle way that she’d come to love, that she might already be addicted to.
“Okay,” she told him.
She’d stay.
Even for just one more of those kisses, she’d stay.
She’d stay forever.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
SAWYER DIDN’T WANT to leave her as he slid out of bed in the morning. Cassidy stirred a little beside him, and he tried to let her sleep. She’d looked so damn tired last night. He fought down the anxiety he felt at coming home to find her gone. She’d promised to stay, and he had to take her at her word. After all, he couldn’t very well steal her keys. He couldn’t resist kissing her on the side of the head, and that did rouse her. He grimaced. “Sorry, Princess.”
Her eyes fluttered open, the left one swollen and purple. “You’re leaving?”
He nodded and ran his thumb over her cheekbone, just under her bruise. “You said you’d wait for me,” he reminded her, and he kissed her again, this time on the lips, because he knew she liked it.
Her breathing changed. Her cheeks flushed a little, and he wished like hell the overall effect wasn’t marred by the fucking welt on her face. When he got back, he had some hunting to do.
Cassidy stretched, looking every bit like a cat he’d woken to find tangled in his sheets. She smiled up at him. “I’ll stay.”
He kissed her again, this time letting his hands roam a little to her waist—any more and he’d change his mind about leaving. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he vowed.
Outside, it was just barely daybreak. Walker, Gabe, and Sawyer saddled up and headed toward the Folly. Sawyer was already wishing he was back. He took one last look back at the bunkhouse and assured himself that at least for now, Cassidy was most likely asleep again and therefore not leaving Snake River any time soon.
“Let’s a get a move on,” Walker commanded.
“Why?” Sawyer asked. “Will the mountain move on us?”
Walker glared at him. “I want a
fresh head count. I want to make sure the calves are keeping their numbers.” With that he sped away, starting off across the expanse of grassy hills in front of them. Gabe followed dutifully, and Sawyer nudged Cash into a gallop, letting the horse feel the wind in his face.
There was no logic in the idea that the faster they got to the Folly the faster they’d get back, but racing the shadows cast by the sun rising behind them provided a nice distraction for both Sawyer and Cash. They made it to the Folly in record time, and Sawyer led a sweat-drenched Cash to the water trough before penning him.
Austin let out a low whistle when he saw them approach.
“Don’t even,” growled Walker. “Don’t even say it.”
Austin grinned in spite of the order. “You know, Court told me, but to be honest, I thought that maybe he’s been spending so much time up here that’d he’d gone even crazier than I am. But, ah, nope. He was telling the truth.”
“Do not make me throw you off this mountain,” Walker snarled as he dismounted his still-pink horse.
Austin wasn’t the least bit intimidated by his twin brother, though, as the giant man marched toward him.
Sawyer moved away, wanting to stay and see what happened but needing to see to it that Cash got a drink and a rub down.
Austin and Walker spoke for a few moments, presumably so Austin could give Walker an accurate count of the herd. Eventually, Austin broke off and appeared by Sawyer’s side, with long hair that was beginning to hang in his eyes and a beard that was rivaling Court’s at this point. “Scuttlebutt in camp is that you brought home Cassidy Conroy,” Austin drawled.
“I did.”
Austin stared at him. “Did you have to rope her first?”
Sawyer grinned. “Nope. She just jumped in my lap, curled up, and stayed there.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” Sawyer insisted. “She’s in my bed right now.”
“It’s a prank,” Austin surmised. “A gag y’all are pulling on me ’cause I’ve been stuck up here for so long. There is just no way Cassidy Conroy is your bed right now. Not unless you tied her there.” He eyed Sawyer warily. “You didn’t tie her to your bed, did you? Because we’re going to have trouble explaining that to the sheriff.”