“Are you saying you never looked for my father because you were afraid you’d lose custody of me?”
“No. Maybe. When you were older, maybe. To be honest, I’m not sure. The scenario has played through my mind thousands of times over the years. Each one equally as terrifying. At the time, tracking a man down to inform him he had a child was impossible. Over the years I considered making the attempt, but the nightmares—” June drifted off. “—I never found the courage after that. I was too afraid of what might happen.”
The pounding of her heart slammed against her rib cage. Emotion after emotion, and thought after thought, thrust themselves into her aura faster than she could react or collect information.
Ember launched to her feet.
Hand palming her forehead to keep her head from exploding, she marched in a wide, repetitive circle in the grass with heel digging strides.
Hearing the ache and anxiousness in her mom’s voice tore at her heart. Growing up in a one parent household with no siblings, Ember and her mom were incredibly close. There was nothing June wouldn’t have done or gone through to keep Ember safe and protected. June raised her in the spirit of a loving family built for two, never complaining about raising her alone. As Ember got older, their relationship shifted more to that of sisters or best friends at times. They shared similar personalities and life paths, each respecting the other. Her mom would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. Ever.
Coming to an abrupt halt, Ember cast her index finger. “Are you telling me that Nash is the man in your dream? You’ve been having visions of me with Nash for twenty years?”
June’s green eyes burned bright with acknowledgment. “Yes.”
The pounding of her heart spurred into a frantic beat.
Dropping her view to the long blades of green grass beneath her feet, Ember whispered in a daze, “Twenty years? What does that mean?”
“I’m not certain.” June’s fingers curled around Ember’s shoulders, drawing her attention. “But I’d say you’re on the right life path.”
Ember’s blurry-eyed gaze, bewildered and full of skepticism, drifted upward connecting with her mom’s. “How is this even possible?”
“It appears Walker Ranch has a greater purpose for you, baby girl.”
Chapter 22
Ember
It’s not about what’s standing in front of you. It’s about who’s standing beside you raising you up.
Thick, dark clouds coming in from the south added a moody vibe to the afternoon. Ember appreciated spending time with her mom but was also glad to get back to routine.
She hadn’t seen Nash since Monday night. They enjoyed a lovely dinner by candlelight at Grace before meandering back to his place. Every detailed interaction, every touch of his hand, every kiss on her lips only confirmed her feelings. Nash seemed just as enamored, tangling his fingers in hers, locking intimate eyes, skin subconsciously brushing against one another.
She swooned out loud merely thinking of him.
Moisture from days of rain saturated the muddy ground beneath her boots and the sharp smell of manure hung in the air as Ember worked to coil the tail end of the rope in her hands.
“Now, build the loop at the end of your lariat so it’s almost as tall as you are.” Mr. Montgomery nodded promptly as Ember adjusted the rope to the height of her armpit. “Listen to me now, you’re going to wield the loop in your right hand and hold the coils loosely in your left.”
“Why can’t I hold them tight?” she questioned, struggling to control the rope.
“When you’re riding Storm, you’ll be steering the reins and holding the rope in your left hand. Soft hands help to release the slack of the rope as you throw, but still allows you to keep hold of the reins.” Mr. Montgomery paused inspecting her form. “That’s right. Focus on the base of the horns when you let go.”
Holding the loop of the rope in her right hand, Ember raised her elbow and rotated her wrist, swinging the rope from front to back in a circle above her head. Rigid concentration narrowed her aim as she tossed the rope capturing one horn and half a bale of hay sitting beside the fake dummy steer.
“Shit,” she grumbled, missing both horns for the dozenth time.
Mr. Montgomery’s whiskery lips set in a flat line of disapproval. He skewered the ground with a spat of tobacco before diagnosing and correcting her habits. “Don’t drop your elbow. Open up your loop. You’ve got to finesse it a little.”
Ember massaged the ache in her right shoulder before starting again. Filled with determination, she insisted, “I don’t care if it takes all damn day. I’m going to get this rope around both of those horns.”
“The tighter you hold to that rope, the more your shoulder is going to hurt. Let the rope rest in your hand and gently close your fingers around it. After you’ve swung the loop above your head a few times, you’ll start to feel the correct timing. Use the centrifugal force to release the tip of the rope and follow through with your delivery, extending your arm naturally.”
Ember slogged through the mud, working through the routine in her head readying the rope and her focus.
“I think a five-year-old could pull this off better than me. I can’t believe how hard this is.”
“Skill and finesse will come with practice.”
“You keep insisting this rope is going to give me a second pair of hands, but I think it’s making me all thumbs. I’m never this awkward.”
Mr. Montgomery ignored her complaints. When it came to teaching her anything to do with cowboying, he seemed to have a short, but gracious supply of patience. Travis had promised to work with her on roping but got hung up in the field, so Mr. Montgomery stepped in with his own personal brand of instruction.
“Don’t throw the lariat like a baseball. You’re not throwing, you’re releasing at the correct time. Make sure your hand is in a position to grab the slack and pull it back to close the circle.”
“Okay. I can do this.”
Determination firing on all cylinders, Ember closed her eyes to the sunless sky and shook out the nervous tension from her limbs. Allowing the rope to rest loosely in her hand, she opened her eyes, stared down the stationary dummy steer, and started to swing the loop above her head. She twirled it around and around, letting the momentum do the work, releasing the tip of the rope at the perfect time, capturing both horns.
“Woo hoo! I did it!” Ember shrieked, throwing her hands in the air.
“We’ll make a cowgirl out of you yet,” Mr. Montgomery crooned, offering her a high five.
A drizzle of rain started to fall from the dark clouds overhead as Travis pulled up next to the arena in a Walker Ranch truck. Jet sat in the back seat, paws and nose happily hanging out the rear window.
Satisfaction bloomed into a goofy grin, trotting over to greet him. Ember rested her crossed arms on the opening of the passenger side window. Jet’s baby blue eyes peeked from behind the headrest petitioning for a few pats on the head.
“Did you see that?” The high pitch of her excited tone carried through the cab of the truck. “I finally caught both horns.”
“I missed it,” Travis murmured, shooting her a wide-eyed look, shuffling a stack of papers on the passenger seat. Flicking his hand toward the dummy steer, he insisted, “Try it again.”
The jittery strain in his voice triggered her attention.
Before she had a chance to get a good look at him, Travis tossed his black hat on the seat beside him and hopped out of the vehicle. Jet right on his heels, he rounded the truck in a quick, erratic manner. His eyes darted toward the arena as she took inspection of the pasted-on smile twisting over his lips.
“Come on, let’s see what you got.” Travis started for the arena.
As she pushed away from the truck, Ember caught a glimpse of a file hidden beneath his hat bearing part of her name.
She stopped in her tracks.
Kicking a boot up onto the side step, she reached through the open window, and slid his hat o
ut of the way, exposing her entire name written in Sharpie on the tab.
Her pulse jumped beneath the thin skin on her wrists.
File in hand, she stepped down, staggering backward a few feet.
“Travis.” Uneasiness pinched between her brows. “What’s this?”
A grave expression overwhelmed his profile. Travis lowered his view to the muddy ground below his boots, curse words popping off beneath his breath. Responding slowly, he curled his hands into fists, and tucked his thumbs into the opening of his pockets.
Lifting his head, he took a few hesitant steps toward her. “That’s for Mr. Montgomery.”
Ember’s heart pounded hard and fast nearly drowning out his reply. “What’s in this file?”
“I don’t think you want to open that.” Wisdom and warning colored his tone. Travis reached for the papers, but Ember twisted out of his grasp. He grumbled making a tsk sound, but his voice remained steady as stone. “Suit yourself, but you’re not going to be happy.”
A tremor chased down her spine. Ember stared down at the file pinched between her fingers and thumb. Panic, curiosity, and fear raced through her blood like a migration of angry butterflies.
Head remaining still, her eyes tracked upward, glaring at Travis through heavy lids. His jaw clamped tight, lips flattening to a straight line as she dared to flip open the folder.
Her mind swam in silence, the entire universe placed on hold, sifting through pages of her life’s history. The information went far beyond listing every address, phone number, and social media account she’d acquired since birth, it included a photo from high school, instructor headshots, and a few social media pics. However, the most unsettling photos in the stack were recent pictures of her working with Mr. Montgomery and Travis on the west end of the ranch.
“Where did you get this, Travis?” Fury bobbled in the tightness of her throat.
“My cousin had a birthday party for her boy. She’s divorced, but dating this new guy, Randy. Apparently, he’s a private investigator. He’s got a pool, and it was a swim party.” His head wavered back and forth. “I was changing in the extra bathroom off his office and noticed a file with your name on it sitting on his desk, so I took it.”
Ember’s eyes popped wide. “You stole it?”
“Stole it, jacked it, lifted it…let’s not split hairs here, okay. Would you have preferred I left it there?”
“No, but maybe you should’ve made a copy instead of stealing the entire file.”
“I apologize.” Sarcasm set on full tilt, Travis threw his arms outward, adding, “I didn’t have my phone on me, and they weren’t handing out handy dandy spy kits at the eight-year-old’s birthday party.”
Sifting through the information, she found an unopened manilla envelope at the back of the file. Nostrils flared, she exhaled roughly, trying to control the rage building inside as she tore open its contents.
Heat flushed her body instantly turning her palms slick. Her head shook back and forth mechanically in disbelief, slowly reading over the results of a test…a paternity test naming Ben Walker her biological father.
Relief intertwined with a host of other feelings that weren’t so warm and fuzzy. Ember knew in her heart that Ben Walker was her father. After spending the last few months on the ranch, she was certain of it. There was too much Walker running through her blood not to be his daughter, however seeing the results etched in ink brought a sense of deep seeded reassurance she didn’t realize she so desperately needed until that moment.
Her eyes narrowed as they cut to Travis. “Who fucking did this? Which one of those chickenshit bastards slithered back into that boardroom to get my DNA?”
Travis crossed his arms over his broad chest, one brow lifting in speculation. His lips took a rebellious tilt. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”
“No no no. He wouldn’t do this to me,” she recoiled abruptly, head slinging back and forth. An icy chill skimmed over her flesh covering it in goosebumps. “It can’t be Nash. He wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.” Sincere sympathy tempered the storm riding in his eyes. “I did some digging of my own yesterday. Randy, the private investigator, has worked for Harris senior for years, and now does work for NBH Exploration as well.”
Bile rose in her throat.
Ember cast her eyes to the ground, hiding her face from Travis as the rush of pain tore through her, ripping her heart to shreds. The hurt and heaviness bled all the way to her bones.
She paced around Travis’s truck, fingers softly caged over her lips.
The shock of reality began to sink in along with the rain now falling from the sky. She’d left the door to her heart wide open and Nash Harris trampled right through it, shattering it to pieces.
Anger, betrayal, and heartache pooled in her eyes. Her lashes fluttered madly attempting to stop the first tear from falling, but they came anyway.
Coming to an abrupt halt, she looked up at Travis, humiliation gripping her senses. She scraped the back of her hand across the tears and rain running down the creases of her lips. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
Reaching into the cab of his truck, Travis retrieved his hat and placed it on Ember’s head shielding her from the rain. “I’d say telling him to fuck off would be a good place to start. But that’s just me.”
Her hands fell to her sides making another pass around his truck, berating herself for being so foolish. “How could you be so stupid? What the hell were you thinking?”
You weren’t thinking. You were too busy falling in love.
Cold, wet fabric hung on her shoulders. Travis spoke, but his voice sounded a hundred miles away. Her mind lost, rehashing every interaction and conversation they had.
Ember’s head snapped, chin jerking toward the sound of an approaching vehicle. Fire screamed through her veins and licked up her neck, spotting the metallic turquoise roof of Nash’s truck coming over a hill in the distance.
Jaw clenched, she straightened her sagging shoulders, and marched through the muck. Ember didn’t need to look back to know Travis was giving her space, but he wasn’t leaving.
The wide smile Nash sported behind the windshield faltered pulling up to the arena, eyes glued to the hat stuck on her head. He exited the truck. Threads of rain were now the only barrier left between them as he trudged through the mud meeting her halfway.
“Hey.” His lips pushed into a half-smile casually snagging the hat from her head and replacing it with his own pecan colored Stetson. “I kind of like this one better.”
“Actually, Nash, I don’t care what you like.” Anger and wariness cut through her cordial tone. She ripped his hat from her head and shoved it into his chest, knocking him off balance a bit. Eyes beaded tightly, she snarled, “You don’t even wear a hat.”
“I do when it’s raining,” he assured. Sweetness caressed his tone, but concern peppered his features one muscle at a time.
Nerves buckled and twisted in her belly. Ember’s chest heaved with each labored breath, glaring at him through red-rimmed eyes. “You’ve been lying to me this entire time? Did you hire a private investigator to dig into my life? To follow me?”
Color leached from his face.
His mouth downturned as a shroud of somberness, callous and telling, fell over him. The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Hard.
“Are you just going to stand there and look at me?” She sharpened her stare. “Or is that smart mind of yours working up more lies to tell me?”
The animosity humming between them felt as thick as the humidity saturating the air.
“It’s not what you think.” Turmoil building in the ocean of blue in his eyes grew turbulent.
Her heart sank all the way to her toes.
“You used me!” Inundated with heavy sentiments of anger and pain, she thrust the file toward him.
Blinking the mist of rain from his lashes, Nash reached for her arm. “Let’s take a ride so we can talk.”
“Don’t touch me,” she shrieked, crimson swaths burning her cheeks as she wriggled free of his grip. “You don’t ever get to touch me again.”
Anguish slipped over him like the veil of rain falling from the sky. His expression unrecognizable.
“Ember, please.” Nash’s gaze darted between Ember and several men standing in the distance, his voice nothing more than an ache of a whisper. “Yes, it’s true. I had my P.I. look into your background. It was before we’d even met.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Montgomery and a few other hands approaching warily. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she privately wondered if this is what it felt like to have a father and brothers.
“Oh yeah.” She snatched a few pieces of paper from the file, crumpled them in her hand, and shoved them into his chest. “How do you explain these?”
Nash’s jaw clamped tight. “What is this?”
“It’s my paternity results! And pictures of me and Monty and Travis—" A sudden rush of air burned her lungs on intake as she slammed the flat of her hand against her chest. “—on my property! My ranch!”
A deep groove scored between his brows. Nash uncrumpled the papers. His head shook in denial, skimming the images and information.
“I didn’t do this.”
“I’m not one of your fucking land deals. You don’t get to stake claim to me.”
Nash encircled his fingers around her biceps, drawing her attention upward. “Where did you get this?”
“From me.” Travis’s brooding figure appeared beside her. “And I’m only going to tell you once to get your fucking hands off her, Harris.”
“Get lost, White. This has nothing to do with you.”
“I beg to differ,” he bit, jabbing his index finger into the center of Nash’s chest. “I told you…get your fucking hands off her.”
Ember held up her palms, clarifying, “I’ve got—”
Chaos exploded before her wide, stunned eyes.
Nash and Travis tore into each other exchanging a frenzied series of body blows and punches. The guttural rasp of curse words garbled with the sound of pummeled flesh turned her stomach. Each man delivering blow after blow, determined to beat the hell out of the other.
Catching Ember (Buckle Up Series Book 1) Page 24