“Anything you need,” Adele said, sounding breathy and desperate.
Anything? Elton wondered as he ducked his head to climb into the back of the cruiser. He found himself grinning. Maybe this would turn out in his favor after all.
Chapter Three
Adele
Adele twisted her hands over the steering wheel again and again as she sped from the hospital toward the Boyd farm. A mix of emotions rolled around in her belly, moving from guilt to anxiety to just plain anger. Then back to guilt.
I got Elton Boyd arrested.
Maybe not arrested—the officer hadn’t put cuffs on him. But he had put him in the back of the cruiser and driven off.
Biting her lip, she turned into their driveway, the gravel crunching underneath her tires. She could see the lights of the barn, cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Easton’s truck was parked out front. Her heart sped up at the sight, a Pavlovian response to anything Easton. Even under these circumstances. Which only added to her guilt.
It’s all my fault.
No! It’s Elton’s fault. He’s the one running this stupid fighting ring. I just happened to run my mouth about it.
Groaning, Adele threw the car in park and picked up her phone. She needed a pep talk before getting out. Cilla picked up on the first ring.
“What happened? Is everybody okay?”
“Define okay. If you mean that Elton got a concussion and is now in jail, then yes. We’re all okay.”
“What?!” Cilla’s voice came out practically as a screech.
Adele held the phone away from her ear. When she put it back, she could hear Cilla talking to her parents, who must have also heard the shout.
“Mom! Go back to bed! Everything’s fine!” Cilla’s voice lowered. “Sheesh. I cannot wait to marry Pax and get out of this house. I am so tired of being treated like a child.”
Though Cilla was twenty-four, like Adele, she had lived at home since the accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down six years before. Her parents were completely supportive but with a healthy dose of suffocation. Adele would have given anything to still have her mom around, but she could also understand Cilla’s need for independence.
With her mom dead and a dad who had never been in the picture, the Worthingtons were now Adele’s unofficial family. She’d had the Boyds too and missed Mama Boyd sometimes as much as she did her own mom.
“Back to the disaster of the night,” Cilla said. “What happened?”
Adele swallowed. “I might have gone off on Elton in the ER waiting room. And a cop heard and took him to the station. I’m here at the farm now, hoping to help clean the place up. I’m not sure how much trouble they’ll be in.”
Cilla snorted. “About time that caught up with Elton.”
“Yeah, but Easton—”
“I know you’re still crushing on that unattainable twin, but he’s just as guilty as his brother, even if Elton was the face of the thing. Easton’s been there every night as well. Trust me. They both deserve whatever comes down from this.” She sighed. “But if I was there, I’d help them clean up too. That’s what friends do. We yell. We tell the truth. We clean up each other’s messes.”
“Yeah,” Adele said. Her brain snagged on the unattainable twin comment. Her heart too.
Was Easton really so unattainable for her?
She’d been crushing on him for a while now, making absolutely zero progress. Maybe Cilla was right. It wasn’t the first time her best friend had said as much. But it still stung to hear it.
“I better go clean up some messes. Literal ones, this time.”
“Call me if you need anything.” Cilla yawned. “I’m going back to bed for now. I can come over in the morning if you need me.”
After she disconnected the call, Adele sat watching the open barn doors. She could see Easton’s shadow moving inside. Every so often, he stepped into the light. He carried a trash bag, leaning over to stuff a few beer cans inside of it. Even from a distance, seeing Easton made her stomach flutter nervously.
Was there a point where you could tell yourself to give up on your unrequited love? And if so, how did you send that message to the rest of your body?
Adele couldn’t imagine ever seeing Easton’s strong jaw and his intense eyes and not having a reaction. Just like she couldn’t imagine being around Elton without being irritated and wound up. The Boyds couldn’t be more different, even if they shared the same face.
She’d never had any trouble telling them apart, mostly because their personalities shone right through their eyes. Elton the charmer, loud and full of life, teasing, and bad ideas. Easton, the more reserved and serious twin.
The past year, it was even easier to tell them apart as Elton had decided to become some kind of bodybuilder or something. Adele had noticed that he’d packed on some muscle but hadn’t realized how much until she had literally run into him at Pax’s house on Christmas Day, shirtless.
If she was being honest, Adele had thought about that image more than once. Maybe more than a dozen times. Not that looks were all that mattered to her. Obviously. She was into Easton, who seemed to have lost weight this past year, if anything. It wasn’t about that.
But all that hard work Elton did sure had paid off. And when she ran right into his hard wall of muscle, Adele had lost all sense of reason for a moment.
Stop it! I’m here to help them. And I’m not into Elton, despite his eight-pack. Was an eight-pack even a thing?
Focus, Adele, she scolded herself.
Right now, both Elton and Easton needed her. Elton might be the one in jail, but Easton would be in just as much trouble if they got caught. And after opening her big mouth at the hospital, she owed it to both twins to help clean up this mess and keep them out of more trouble. Plus, she needed to tell Easton to get a lawyer for Elton.
Taking a deep breath, Adele stepped into the light spilling out of the barn’s open doors. Immediately, she was reminded that she still hadn’t changed out of her fuzzy unicorn pajamas. Dang. Maybe Easton would think they were cute. She wrinkled her nose. Cute wasn’t a word she could imagine Easton thinking, much less saying. Not that she could tell what he was thinking, ever. That was one of the things that drew her to him. She felt a burning need to know what was behind those dark eyes.
She paused to take a quick photo from above of her pajamas and flip-flops, then added a quick caption and posted it on her Instagram stories. Fuzzy pajamas taken in low light wouldn’t make the cut for her main Instagram feed, but she liked more candid shots for her Instagram stories, which didn’t stay up permanently.
It had taken two years and a lot of experimenting, but Adele had gained ninety thousand followers and growing. Her fans loved her mix of styled, professional photos in her feed and more light-hearted, casual pictures and videos in her stories. Now, partnering with brands and bringing in affiliate income through Instagram and her blog had become Adele’s full-time job. At times, it didn’t feel real. Other times, it felt like a lot of working.
Adele groaned. Speaking of work, she had a photo shoot scheduled for the morning. Every six weeks or so she hired a photographer to take a few dozen shots that she could spread out over the month or coming months. That day happened to be tomorrow. Plus, it was the first time her new personal assistant and social media manager would be there. Adele needed to be at the top of her game, not only for the shoot itself, but to train Kat.
Now she was going to be exhausted and would have puffy eyes and dark circles, for sure. Sure, there were creams and powders for that, but it would mean more prep time tomorrow before the shoot. Which meant even less sleeping time. She groaned, thinking of ways she could punish Elton some more. Sitting in jail might not be enough.
Maybe she wouldn’t tell Easton to call Davis right away. If Elton had to sit in hot water for a few hours longer, what was the harm?
“Adele?” Easton stood before her, a bag of trash in his hand. She hadn’t even heard him approach.
“Hey, E,” she said, tucking her phone into her purse. “How can I help?”
“We need to get this place cleaned up in case the cops show up with a warrant. I don’t even know what kind of trouble we could be in. If you don’t mind getting messy, grab a trash bag and get after it. I’m going to work on cleaning the floor.”
Adele glanced around the barn. “I can do that.”
“Thank you, Adele.” Easton touched her arm, which sent a shiver of warmth rushing over her skin.
“Of course. Anything for you.”
Her voice sounded low and husky. Coupled with her words, it sounded much flirtier than she’d meant it. Easton blinked and stepped away quickly before disappearing altogether into a back room.
Great. Now she’d taken it too far. Despite Cilla’s encouragement to stop chasing Easton, Adele really wasn’t ready to give up yet. Even if the man was more skittish than a colt.
Easton tied off the trash bag and let it drop to the floor. Adele could see even more cans and bottles littering every surface and corner of the barn. There were sticky puddles and muddy boot prints everywhere. It looked almost like the aftermath of some wild high school party.
The sight of it only made her anger burn hotter toward Elton. He was a grown man, still acting like a child. And here she was, still cleaning up his messes. Cilla was right—this was what you did for friends. Up to a certain point. But it seemed like that’s all anyone had been doing for him the past few years.
Ever since his parents died. That stark reminder dimmed her anger, but only a little.
The sudden loss hit both the twins hard. It showed right out front with Easton, who became quieter and even more withdrawn. Elton did a better job hiding his pain behind his boisterous personality, but Adele could see right through it. Underneath it all, Elton’s heart was battered and bruised. He simply wasn’t mature enough to deal with it.
Adele had lost her mom right before they lost their parents, so she knew something of that loss. But Adele had never seen a happy relationship like the Boyds’ and Mama Boyd was one of her favorite people in the world. Her gut twisted, a flash of happy memories here with the twins and their parents assaulting her. This house, this ranch, had once been so full of joy.
Now, she thought, picking up a beer bottle with chewed gum stuck to the rim, it was full of trash. Trash, regret, and a whole lot of mistakes.
After tonight she was done. Elton could be a big boy. If he couldn’t handle grief like an adult, he could clean up his own mistakes.
Even if it might be just a tiny bit—okay, totally her fault that he was at the police station right now.
Adele continued stuffing discarded bottles and cans into garbage bags, trying not to think about germs. Her hand felt sticky after a few moments. Disgusting. With every bottle she touched, every bit of beer that sloshed on her hands, the rage in her chest directed at Elton grew.
Is that … tobacco?
Adele picked up a red cup with two careful fingers. The contents looked like someone’s chewing tobacco spit cup. And that was the best option she could think of.
When she saw Elton again, she was going to let him have it. Again.
“What did the cop say?” Easton asked, appearing with a mop and an industrial yellow bucket on wheels. “I couldn’t really tell what went down in there.”
Adele bent down so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “I, um, might have said some things a little loudly about fight night. The cop happened to overhear.”
Glancing at Easton, she searched for a trace of blame or anger, but he didn’t seem bothered. She blew out the breath she’d been holding.
“Did he put Elton in cuffs?”
“No. Said he just wanted to talk at the station.”
“That’s good. So, he wasn’t arrested?”
Adele shrugged. “Not that I saw. Hopefully, that means it won’t end up being a big deal.”
Easton gave one of his signature grunts, running the mop over a still-wet puddle of beer. The scent of bleach assaulted Adele’s nostrils, and she sneezed.
She really should tell Easton to call Davis and help Elton get a lawyer. She pictured Elton as he’d looked in the hospital with his swollen cheek and black eye. Maybe she should have felt pity, but instead, it made her jaw clench. He could really have been hurt.
He could sit tight at the station for a bit longer.
“Again, thanks for the help,” Easton said.
She had almost forgotten him. Which was ridiculous, considering how she was constantly hoping for ways to spend more time with him. And here she was, thinking about his twin. Adele shook off her angry thoughts about Elton as her cheeks warmed with Easton’s praise.
“Always. You’re like family to me.” Immediately, she wanted to yank the words right back into her mouth. Because she had anything but sisterly feelings toward Easton. Words were hard at three in the morning. “I mean, very good friends.”
Good friends? Ugh. Was that better or worse?
All of it sounded lame. And none of it came close to describing how she felt about Easton. When she looked up, he had moved a little farther away with the mop and had his back to her. Adele sighed.
With Elton, Adele had no problem speaking her mind. Why was it that she couldn’t get her bearings around Easton?
She constantly felt like she was fumbling over herself, trying to get his attention, trying to figure out how to act, or who he wanted her to be. His presence made her feel off-balance and insecure. If only she could have the ease she did around Elton. Without the irritation, of course. She never felt like she was pretending around him. Speaking her mind? No problem. But the stupid crush on Easton messed with her, making her say and do stupid things.
Maybe Cilla was right—it was time to give up.
But it was hard to take advice from someone so over-the-moon in love. If she didn’t love her best friend so much, Adele would be gagging over the giggling puddle of mush Cilla had turned into since getting back together with Pax. The two had just gotten engaged, and Adele knew her maid of honor duties were about to ramp up.
Pax and Cilla didn’t want to wait. They felt like they’d already spent enough time apart the last six years. They hadn’t picked a date, but Cilla said in the next few months.
Her happy ending made it a little harder to take Cilla’s advice to “just get over Easton already.” As if it were that easy.
She tried not to be too much of a creeper, watching the way his biceps strained against his T-shirt as he pushed the mop over the floor. His body was still powerful, muscles taut like a coiled spring, even if he was leaner than Elton. The image of Elton shirtless popped into her mind again, making her heart race.
“Argh!”
“You okay there?” Easton called, lifting his brows.
“Yep. Just … this mess.”
“You can go if you need to, Adele.” Regret hung in his eyes, and she remembered that he and his brother were both involved in fight nights. It was easier to pin it all on Elton and see his mark in the whole thing. But Easton had been just as willing to let this go on for years.
“It’s fine. Really.”
Adele shoved aside all thoughts of Elton—angry and otherwise—and tried to focus on the task at hand. She and Easton made pretty quick work of the barn together. The polished concrete floor shone brightly, and the space smelled decidedly less like debauchery and more like bleach.
“What now?” Adele asked, yawning.
“Want to load those bags in the back of my truck? I’m going to see what I can do about this.”
Easton pointed to the red circle painted in the middle of the concrete floor. That must have been where the fights took place. Adele had never been to a fight night, not even back when they were in high school and it was a much smaller production than it apparently was now. She had zero desire to watch men punch each other in the face.
What had Elton been thinking, getting into the ring tonight? He could have been much more seriously injured.
As far as she knew, he normally ran the show rather than taking part in it. He and Easton didn’t do the actual fighting. His face really had looked terrible. A thread of guilt wove its way through the anger that had been keeping up a steady burn in her chest.
“Easton? I, uh, forgot to mention that Elton wanted you call Davis and have him send a lawyer to the station. I probably should have told you earlier.” She winced. “Actually, I didn’t forget to mention it. I kind of wanted him to suffer.”
Easton shot her a grin that she felt all the way in her toes. When he smiled, which wasn’t often, he looked a lot more like Elton. She found it charming and also a little disconcerting. Her own smile faltered as she realized she was smiling at one twin while thinking about the other. Again.
Elton was like that unscratchable itch. Or that mosquito who wouldn’t stop buzzing around her ear.
“I think that Elton can handle himself just fine,” Easton said, pulling her back to reality. “He’s listened to enough true crime podcasts to know that he should keep quiet. But I’ll give Davis a call now.”
“Elton listens to true crime podcasts?”
“Yep.”
“Huh. Do you?”
“I’m not really into that whole thing.”
Adele didn’t know if that whole thing meant podcasts in general or true crime. Before she could ask, Easton disappeared toward the back of the barn with the phone at his ear. Too bad. Adele had something of a true crime podcast addiction. She’d have to ask Elton which ones he listened to. When she got over being mad at him, that is.
Which might be a long, long while, she thought as she tossed a bag into Easton’s truck, splashing beer on her arm. Gross. Elton was going to owe her big-time. But her irritation disappeared as worry needled its way into her thoughts. One thing she’d learned through true crime podcasts was how badly things could go in an interrogation room. Maybe she should have told Easton to call Davis earlier.
Maybe Elton kept his mouth shut. But if anyone would be terrible at that very thing, it would be Elton.
Winning the Cowboy Page 2