by Jane Porter
“You okay?” Sam asked, voice deep, quiet.
She opened her eyes, glanced at him, noting his somber expression reflected by the lights of the dashboard. “Yes,” she said, without elaborating because what could she say?
That she’d fallen in love with a snake? That she’d been so heartbroken over her mom’s death, so impossibly lonely after her breakup with Sam, that she rushed into a relationship when she should have taken time to grieve? Taken time to think? Maybe that was the worst of it. She hadn’t thought, and she hadn’t been wise or prudent. She’d wanted comfort, and she’d blindly thrown herself into Wes’s arms as if he were a life preserver.
“You know Wes doesn’t scare me,” Sam said after another few minutes of silence. “Nothing about him scares me.”
“I know.”
“I’m not worried about having difficult conversations with him, either, and happy to sit down with him and straighten things out.”
“About…”
“Your sponsors. Your career. Your finances.” Sam shot her another narrowed glance. “He’s still getting a piece of things, isn’t he?”
She shifted miserably. “He says he gets fifteen percent of everything as my manager.”
“Did you ever sign a contract, or any form of an agreement?”
“No.” She forced herself to add, “At least, I don’t think so.”
Thankfully Sam withheld any judgment. “I suspect the sponsorship agreements were for one to three years. Most sponsorships aren’t for much longer than that, which means many of the agreements should be ending. From now on, you handle your own deals, okay? Or, ask Tommy his thoughts. He’s a whiz with money. He’s ridiculously good when he keeps his shirt on.”
Ivy smiled wryly because Tommy had a face and a body and girls went crazy for him. “That’s a good idea about Tommy. He’s done really well for himself financially.”
“What about your other investments? Your mom’s place? The rent from your tenant?”
Ivy’s smile faded. “Wes claims that he’s invested it all.”
“Where? In what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have access to it?”
“No. At least, not that I know of.”
Sam’s jaw tightened and he didn’t immediately speak. Ivy cringed on the inside because every single thing he must be thinking was what she was thinking.
How does one become so stupid…
“Ivy?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, Sam?”
“It’s just money. It’s not the end of the world.”
Her eyes burned hot and gritty and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. He was being far too kind. “Here’s how bad it is, Sam. I don’t even know how long my tenant is in the house. Early September I wrote the family and asked them to stop making auto payments through my checking account, but I don’t know if they have, or haven’t. I don’t look at my old checking account as Wes has access to it.”
“You couldn’t close it?”
“I was afraid Wes could trace me if I did that. I didn’t want him to know where I was, much less which part of Montana.”
“Have you opened a new checking account?”
“No. I want to, but again, I was afraid Wes would find out.”
Sam’s voice was quiet when he spoke next. “We need to fix this, Ivy. We need to close that account, cut off his access to your funds, alert your sponsors—”
“I’ll probably lose a lot.”
“I doubt you will, but even if you do, it’s better than remaining in relationships that aren’t good for you.”
She couldn’t agree with him more, and she reached out and touched his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you. For everything.”
It was late when they reached the ranch, high in the Absaroka mountains. The 1930s two-story log cabin was dark except for the kitchen light over the stove. Sam asked if Ivy wanted water or anything to drink before bed and she said no, just ready to climb in bed and sleep. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been so tired. Talking about Wes, and how she’d allowed him to take such control over her business affairs, just made her heartsick all over again.
Chapter Five
Ivy slept deeply, only waking up after the sun was shining brightly. She yawned and stretched and then needed a moment to get her bearings, not understanding how there was so much sunshine in her bedroom, or why her bed was covered in a thick red, black, and tan patchwork quilt. That was when she remembered she wasn’t at Joan’s anymore, but rather at the Wyatts’ place, tucked snuggly into bed in Joe’s old room.
Glancing at her phone she saw it was almost nine o’clock. Ivy couldn’t remember the last time she slept this late—maybe because it was never quiet at Joan’s—and dressed quickly, heading downstairs to see if she could still get coffee and then check in with Sam to see what time he planned on driving her in to work.
Sophie was in the kitchen at the table, writing in a notebook, and stopped writing to smile at Ivy. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
“Very,” Ivy answered. “I can’t believe I slept this late, though.”
“It’s nice to be able to sleep in now and then,” Sophie answered. “I just made fresh coffee—everyone around here drinks it all day—but there is tea, too, if you’re prefer that.”
“Coffee is perfect, thanks.”
Sophie gestured to the line of Santa mugs on the windowsill over the sink. “Grab a mug. There is some cream in the refrigerator if you need it.”
“No, I like it black,” Ivy answered, filling her jolly ceramic Santa, before pulling out a chair at the table. “Will it bother you if I sit here?”
“No, not at all. Just making notes for Summer’s birthday dinner. She’s not here right now, by the way. Grandad took her to see a friend in Gardiner.”
“None of the boys would take her?”
“They all offered but Grandad said he had an errand he wanted to run so they’d headed out together. Now I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to make for Summer’s birthday dinner. The guys said she doesn’t like a fuss, but we have to do something special, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.”
“You’ll be here Tuesday, won’t you?”
Ivy grimaced. “I pretty much work every night but Sunday night, but I could help with the grocery shopping or prep.”
Sophie hesitated. “Do you intend to keep working at the bar, even with everything going on?”
It took Ivy a moment to understand what Sophie was saying. “You know about Wes.”
“Sam filled us in a bit.”
“How much is a bit?”
“Just that Wes isn’t someone we want anywhere near you.”
Again the we, and the family coming together to help her. Their support was overwhelming. After feeling so alone for so long, she was blown away by the Wyatt family’s kindness.
“I made a mess of things,” Ivy confessed. “I trusted Wes and I shouldn’t have.”
“Love makes us do stupid things,” Sophie sympathized.
A lump filled Ivy’s throat. “I didn’t even love him, not the way I loved Sam.”
“But you had to have loved him in the beginning to start a relationship.”
“Wes was an infatuation. He seemed very charming, and after dating Sam, like a breath of fresh air. You see, Sam isn’t very communicative. He doesn’t give a lot of compliments, or say a lot of sweet things.” She looked over at Sophie. “That’s not a criticism of Sam, just a fact.”
“Oh, I get it. Joe is the same way.”
Ivy smiled gratefully. “After Sam’s and my breakup, and then my mom dying, I craved company, and Wes was suddenly there, saying how special I was, and how amazing things were with me in his life, and I just fell for it.”
“But you learned things from that relationship—”
“That I’m weak.”
“No.” Sophie reached out and patted Ivy’s arm. “That you need communication, and now that you know,
you ask for it. You let your man know what you want and need, and don’t apologize for having needs. We all do. Speaking of your man, he’s out with his brothers doing some fencing repairs on the property.”
Ivy blushed. “Sam’s not my man.”
Sophie just smiled.
“He’s not,” Ivy repeated, before adding, “What repairs are needed?”
“A big tree came down a few days ago and took a whole section of the fence out. I’m sure Joe could have managed with Billy and Tommy, but they all decided to ride out together and make it a family thing.”
“That’s good.”
“It is. Makes Joe’s happy to have his brothers with him, and you’re covered, too. I promised Sam I’d drive you to work if he’s not back in time as I’m working this afternoon at the salon and will be heading into Marietta just before noon.”
As it worked out, Ivy did ride with Sophie, and while driving together, Sophie talked about her dairy farming family back in Tulare, and how she’d been a producer broker before she moved to Montana. Ivy was dying to know more about Sophie and Joe’s early days, and what it was like moving to Paradise Valley as a modern-day mail-order bride, but Ivy didn’t ask, thinking she and Sophie needed to have more of a friendship before that conversation came up.
Arriving at the Wolf Den, Ivy hung up her coat, stashed her purse beneath the bar counter and washed her hands in the sink.
“You had someone come by just a few minutes ago,” Lucy said, joining her at the bar. “A cowboy. Handsome. Not a Wyatt, though, and no one I’ve seen before. He said he hoped to find you here and asked when you were coming in.”
Ivy’s stomach fell. She’d warned Pia yesterday about Wes, but hadn’t yet had a chance to say anything to Lucy. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, but he asked about your schedule and I told him I wasn’t sure. He said no problem, and he’d be back later.” Lucy looked uncertain. “You don’t seem thrilled.”
Ivy had to take a steadying breath, and then another. She couldn’t let anxiety cripple her. Panicking wouldn’t help. “I’m not. He’s uh, not a friend of mine.”
“Sorry. If I’d known—”
“It’s fine, honestly. You did nothing wrong.”
“Has he hurt you?”
“He’s a bully. And he did his best to break me.”
“But he didn’t,” Lucy said firmly.
“I’ve been working on things since coming here, to Marietta, feeling better about things. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough to deal with Wes. He’s just incredibly mean. But the thing is, if you saw him, he wouldn’t look like a bully. He’d seemed kind of… charming.”
“That’s the profile of a lot of bullies.” Lucy leaned across the counter. “Bullying is repeated aggressive behavior, creating an imbalance of power. Its sole purpose is to impart physical and psychological harm.”
“That pretty much sums up Wes to a T.”
“The good news is, bullies are only as powerful as we let them be. In other words, don’t let Wes be all powerful. Stand up to him. Be calm. Confident. Bullies lose power when you don’t cower or cry.”
Ivy nodded, agreeing with everything Lucy said, and Lucy knew this stuff. She’d taken all kinds of psychology classes when earning her criminal justice degree. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. And neither are you. Just don’t go outside with him. Don’t be alone with him. That wouldn’t be smart.”
“Agreed.”
Lucy moved on and Ivy reached for her phone, texting Sam. “Wes showed up at the bar just before I got here. He left but he’s going to be back. Thought maybe you could come to town, be here when Wes returns. I hate dragging you into this, but I’d feel more confident if you were here.”
Thankfully she got a reply almost immediately. “On my way. See you soon.”
*
At the ranch, Sam grabbed his truck keys, hat, coat, and wallet. His mom and grandad had just returned from Gardiner, and so he kissed his mom’s cheek and headed to his truck.
Normally, it took him thirty minutes to get to town, but today he made it in twenty, a record for him. His best time previously had been twenty-two minutes, and that had been at ninety miles an hour.
Entering the dim bar, his gaze swept the room, taking in a girl on stage gyrating around a pole, a couple guys at cocktail tables close to the stage, the cocktail waitress working the room, and then Ivy behind the bar. There were men at the bar, too, but everything looked quiet, calm, but Sam could tell from Ivy’s expression that she wasn’t comfortable. Wes had to be one of the guys with his back to him.
Ivy’s gaze met his, and then shifted to the end of the counter. She gave a faint nod. So the guy with the cowboy hat at the end was Wes. Good to know.
Sam headed to the bar, gaze riveted on Ivy. She looked particularly pretty today with her long dark hair in a tidy side braid and silver and turquoise earrings dangling from her ears.
He walked around the counter and took her in his arms. “Hey, babe,” he said, dropping his head to kiss her.
Her lips were warm and soft and for a moment her mouth clung to his. It felt good to have her in his arms and even better to kiss her again.
“How’re you doing?” he asked, when he finally lifted his head.
Her cheeks were flushed and her hazel-green eyes glinted up at him. He wasn’t sure if she was fighting a smile or fighting tears. Either way, she was glad to see him.
“I’m good, babe.” She put her hand on his bicep and gave a light squeeze. “You know you shouldn’t be behind the bar. You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“I reckon I’m used to trouble by now. You’re nothing but trouble.” But he kissed her again and then walked out, passing behind the customers seated on the barstools. He could feel Wes looking at him, but so far Wes had said nothing to him. Sam knew it was just a matter of time, or maybe, Wes wanted Sam to be the first to say hello.
Sam paused, turned, and retraced his steps. “Hey, is that you, Lovett?”
Wes slowly turned and looked up at Sam over his shoulder. It took him a moment to manage a smile. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you, Wyatt?”
“I’m good. Glad to be home with the family for a couple of weeks. Feels great having everybody together again.” Sam paused, expression friendly. “So, what brings you here to Marietta this time of the year? Seems like you’re a long way from home.”
“Heading to Missoula to check out some foals, so I thought I’d stop and see Ivy.” Wes smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
If anything he looked flinty and hard. And jealous as anything.
“If I’d known you were coming to town, we would have had you join us for a meal. It’s unfortunate that we got plans though.”
Wes glanced from Sam to Ivy and back again. “You two back together?”
“Realized I was a fool, letting her go. Begged her to come back, give me a second chance.” From the corner of his eye, Sam could see Ivy’s expression. She was a terrible actress. So he just kept on talking. “For a time there, it was touch and go, but I think she’s just about forgiven me. We’re pretty solid now, right where we want to be.”
“You just got back from Vegas.”
“A week ago. Tried to get Ivy out to watch me, but she didn’t want to miss any of the Christmas fun here in Marietta.”
“Sam, what do you want today, baby?” Ivy asked, preventing Sam from elaborating much more on his story.
“I’m considering those nachos you know I love so much.”
She smiled. “Nachos today? I thought you loved the hot dogs best.”
“I tell you what, I am hungry. Why don’t you bring me both?” Sam glanced at Wes. “Have you tried the nachos? Dang good. Especially if you ask for some chicken on them. And then I like a little extra hot sauce—”
“Not hungry,” Wes said. “But thanks for the suggestion.”
“Anytime, partner.”<
br />
Wes’s jaw tightened and Sam could tell he was getting to Wes, especially when a few minutes later Wes pushed back his wooden barstool and followed Ivy to the far end of the bar.
*
Ivy could feel Wes behind her even before she saw him. She stiffened and turned. “Leaving?” she said.
“I want five minutes,” Wes said. “Give me five minutes. Let’s go outside and talk. I haven’t seen you in months and you won’t even give me the time of day.”
“I’m not going outside. If you want to talk, we can talk here.”
“What about later, when you’re off work?”
“Sam will be here. Can he join our conversation?”
“Why are you being like that? Do you have any idea how much I did for you? How much money I made you—”
“Where is it, Wes? My checking account is empty. There’s maybe a couple hundred bucks in there.”
“I’ve invested it.”
“Where? In what?”
“You wouldn’t understand. Stocks are complicated. They’d go right over your head. That’s why I was good for you. I made you money. I made you successful—”
“I was successful without you, Wes, and I’ll be successful again. Now I’ve got to get back to work. Goodbye.”
Wes gave her a long, cold look before he stalked out of the bar. Ivy watched him go, heart in her mouth. That wasn’t the best goodbye.
“What’s the heavy sigh for?” Sam asked, joining her at the end of the bar.
She listened to Lucy’s drink order and got busy pouring beers. “He just rattles me,” she said, hands shaking as she turned on the tap.
“You did good. You didn’t look rattled.”
She made a face. “Well, you didn’t help. I couldn’t believe that hick accent you used. You couldn’t have been more redneck if you tried.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The whole ‘I reckon,’ and calling him ‘partner.’ I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”