Wild Ride Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  But mostly... She just wished that he had applied that selflessness to her. If he was going to sacrifice his life, why couldn’t he have done it in Copper Ridge, near the only family he had left?

  Then she wouldn’t be alone.

  Those thoughts swirled around in her head, caused tension to mount in her chest, a hard little ball of anger and meanness that she couldn’t quite shake. Didn’t really want to.

  “What exactly do you think you’re going to do with the ranch that I can’t do?” She crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side, treating him to her hardest and meanest stare.

  “What exactly have you done with it?” He looked around. “As near as I can tell, you have a bunch of old, rusted-out equipment that isn’t going to do you any good.”

  “I’ve been living here and I’ve been running this place ever since Jason reenlisted. And yeah, maybe I haven’t managed to keep up on everything. But I’ve been shifting my focus. We did beef for a long time, but an operation this size... It isn’t sustainable. Especially not with so much local competition. The beef thing... That was my dad’s. And Jason kept it up from a distance. But a couple of years ago we decided to sell.”

  “Great. What do you do now?”

  “We invested the money back into the house. And also in bees.”

  “Bees?”

  She sighed. “Yes. The goal was to start producing our own honey. It’s something that I could easily handle on my own. I don’t need to hire workers to help with that, and I can also maintain a job away from the ranch while the hive is getting established. For the first year, you can’t actually take their honey, you know.”

  Alex rocked back on his heels. “No. I don’t know that. Because I don’t know anything about bees.”

  “Bees are fascinating creatures, Alex,” she said.

  Alex just stared at her. Her eyes clashed with his, and her stomach lurched unexpectedly. She looked away from him, counting the mugs on the shelf behind him.

  “Bees,” he repeated finally.

  “Yes.”

  “What else?” he asked.

  “What do you mean what else? What do you expect me to do?”

  “Your brother was pretty clear in the instructions he left. He wanted the ranch to be an asset to you, not a liability. He wanted me to help you out until this place is solvent. Or until it’s sold.”

  Those words made her heart slam against her breastbone, made abject terror race down her spine, flooding her veins with a spiky kind of horror. “I don’t want to sell,” she said, the words sure and certain.

  The house was small, and it was definitely in rough shape in some ways. But this house contained the story of her entire life. This was the only place that had memories of her family all together. And, yes, there were memories of losing those family members here too. But she’d gotten pretty good at living with those.

  This house contained every feeling she’d ever experienced. Good and bad. Her mother had scrubbed this place until it was spotless. Until she had been too ill to clean anymore. Her father had worked the land until his body gave out on him.

  Jason had joined the military to help support the place financially, and then when their father had died he had come back and worked until Clara had been old enough to handle herself and keep the house on her own. Even then, all his money had gone right back into this place.

  The Campbells were dead, by and large. This ranch, this land, was all that was left.

  She would be damned if she walked away from it. She had already given up a lot to be here. And she owed it to her family to keep the ranch going. So that the legacy could live on, even if the rest of them didn’t.

  “If you don’t want to sell, then what do you want?”

  “I could... I can keep working at Grassroots. It’s not hard. And I’ve been managing. There’s a small garden here and it produces well. I basically have all the resources to get a good farmers’ market booth together. In between the two things, I should be able to make it all work.”

  “And what about having a life? Working a farm, doing a booth at markets, working at a winery... When do you expect to take a breath, Clara?”

  “I don’t want to take a breath, Alex,” she said, the words harder, more brittle and honest than she intended them to be. “Because breathing hurts.”

  Silence fell between them, no sound beyond the persistent ticking of the kitchen clock. The one that Clara never looked at, that was never right. It had just always been there, so she had never moved it.

  “Then that’s what I’m here for,” he said, his voice rough. “To help out until it quits hurting.”

  Something about those words made her want to strike out at him. Made her want to push him away. Mostly because she didn’t know how to do this. Didn’t know how to be taken care of. Not that her father hadn’t been there for her—not that Jason hadn’t been. But always, always, they’d had their own grief, equal to her own. This was different. Not that Alex wasn’t sorry his friend was dead, but Jason wasn’t his brother. The grief was hers. And Alex was offering to take care of her until it passed.

  Alex was giving her permission to collapse.

  She wasn’t going to take it. She couldn’t.

  “What do you propose?” she asked, gritting her teeth and doing her best to recover from that little moment of honesty.

  “Clara, you’re not handling this. You as much as admitted that you’re not paying your bills. You don’t want to sell, but if you don’t pay for stuff, you’re going to get it taken from you. And whatever you feel about being busy right now... It would be for the best if we can get the ranch to the point where it’s self-sustaining. I know that you’re going to get some money from the military, and until then I’m willing to put my own money into this place.”

  Suddenly she felt drained. Felt defeated. Because while part of her wanted to stand here all evening and wage war with Alex, the fact of the matter was she’d already lost.

  She let out a long, slow breath, then walked back to the stove, dumping the contents of her pan into a small bowl. “I’m going to eat,” she said. “Do you want to join me?”

  “No thanks. I don’t order off the kids’ menu anymore.”

  She shoved a bite of canned pasta into her mouth. “Your loss.”

  “I’ll take a Coke.”

  “Go right ahead,” she said, talking around her bite. “You probably have dominion over the Coke too.”

  “The fridge, maybe. The contents, probably not.”

  “Help yourself, anyway,” she said, tugging her bowl toward her and hunching over it ferally.

  He took a soda out of the fridge and popped the top on it, and for some reason, she watched as he brought the can to his lips, watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he took a long swallow of the beverage.

  She looked back into her bowl of SpaghettiOs. “So what’s your brilliant plan for fixing my life? What are you going to invest in? I mean, this is your ranch now. I guess you can make it whatever you want. Buy a bunch of big-ass cows.”

  “Like you said, there’s a lot of competition for beef. And frankly, this operation just isn’t big enough to play in that arena. But I do have an idea. And it kind of goes with your...bees.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

  “Bison. There’s a market for lean beef, organic stuff. We can get away with having a smaller scale operation. We would need to get better fencing, but most everything that you used for the cattle would work. And frankly, the farmers’ market idea is a good one.”

  “Are you suggesting I sell honey, tomatoes and bison?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I have the money to invest in this. I want to do it. And I think it’s the best thing for you.”

  Clara bristled. “You think it’s t
he best thing for me. Based on speaking to me all of five times in my entire life? Based on the fact that you knew my brother? You don’t know what I want, Alex.”

  “Okay. What do you want?”

  His green eyes were intense on hers, and she didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know how to answer the question, mostly because she hadn’t expected him to pose it.

  She had the fleeting image of Asher. Of him living in this little house with her. Enjoying a simple existence. Keeping bees, making honey. He could make artisan coffee and maybe they could have goats. She could make room in her garden for kale. She didn’t like tomatoes either, and she grew those.

  She wasn’t going to tell Alex any of that.

  “I’m not really sure,” she said. “I would settle for not being further traumatized by life at this point.”

  Those eyes softened a little. “Unfortunately, none of us gets that guarantee.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Think about it.”

  She shoved another bite of food into her mouth. “What’s the point in me thinking about it, Alex? You own this place. Your word is law.”

  “It was never my goal to come in here and take over everything.”

  She snorted. “That is completely not true. Of course it was your goal. That’s why you’re here. To claim ownership. To take control.”

  “Maybe it is. Why would that be a problem for you? You can continue to do what you’re doing. I’m just going to help get things more established, that’s all.”

  “Excuse me for not exactly buying into this idea that you’re being a philanthropist here on my ranch. This benefits you financially. Or, it will.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened, his face so still it had the look of granite. “I don’t need your money, Clara. But you need my help. And whether or not you believe it, I’m here because Jason asked me to be. Because I fought alongside him and that means something to me, Clara. Whether you can understand it or not, it does.”

  She swallowed hard, feeling unsettled, feeling uncertain. First off, she didn’t know why she cared that he was here. Except that he was so large, broad and confrontational. Except that he made it feel so real that Jason was gone. Really gone. He knew things she didn’t know about her brother’s final moments, she was certain. She was also certain she didn’t want to know them. At least, not now.

  But if Alex wanted to pour his money into the ranch, if he wanted to add another stream of revenue, there was nothing really to fight about.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and had the oddest sensation that she was adrift on a river she didn’t want to be on. Drifting toward God knew where. On a raft she had never consented to get onto in the first place.

  No control. None at all. But then, what else was new?

  “Fine. Get your bison. Fix stuff. Whatever you need to do to feel like you’ve seen to Jason’s final wishes.” The word final stuck in her throat, snagged on a notch of emotion, making it feel as if she couldn’t breathe.

  “I will.” He stood, gripping the brim of his hat and tipping it forward slightly. “I’ll be at the ranch bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  “And I’ll be at work.”

  His lips twitched. “But first, getting coffee again? Since you like it so much.”

  Her face heated, and she fought against the blush she knew was intensifying. She was not a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush. She resented him for making her feel like one.

  “Yes,” she responded. “Getting coffee again. My favorite.”

  He lifted a brow but said nothing. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow at some point.”

  She nodded, and then Alex turned and walked out.

  For some reason, as soon as the door closed behind him, a tear rolled down Clara’s cheek. And then another one. Maybe having Alex here should have felt like the answer to something. A wake-up call at the very least. That somebody had come in and seen just how unprepared she was to deal with all of this.

  To move into a life that had to function without Jason in it. Forever.

  And whether or not he intended to be, Alex Donnelly was a symbol of that.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALEX WAS IN a mean mood by the time he got back home. It was late, and he was starving, and he was still replaying the scene with Clara over in his mind. He really should have gone to see her sooner. He had noticed the stacks of mail sitting on the counter. Had noticed the general state of disrepair of the place.

  But he had a plan now, one that had been affirmed when he’d gotten there and spoken to her.

  Bees.

  Of all the hipster bullshit.

  “Where have you been?”

  Alex’s older half brother Cain was walking toward the main house, probably heading down from the little converted barn he lived in with his fiancée, Alison, and his teen daughter, Violet.

  “Busy,” Alex responded.

  “Well, considering you didn’t just follow that up with sexual innuendo, I’m going to go ahead and guess that you were actually taking care of that property you’ve been needing to see to.”

  “Not that it’s your business, but yes.” There was no reason for him to be short with Cain. But since his older brother was an extreme hard-ass and didn’t seem to care, Alex didn’t see a reason not to be.

  “Good,” Cain said. “About time for you to man up.”

  “Thanks. Next time I need your opinion on my masculinity, I’ll ask. Right after I finish polishing my dog tags and disassembling my AR.”

  “We could save time and you could just whip it out and measure, Alex. I’m not threatened by that.”

  “What are we measuring?” Finn, Alex’s other older half brother, chose that moment to walk out the front door.

  “What do you think?” Alex asked.

  “Wow. Okay. I think I’ll pass on this brotherly bonding experience,” Finn responded, clearly picking up on the tone of the conversation without further hints.

  “You weren’t invited,” Alex said cheerfully. “And I’m starving.”

  “You’re in luck. Lane cooked.”

  Finn’s fiancée usually did cook. She owned the specialty food mercantile on the main street in town, and had a passion for not only spreading good food around, but for elevating the eating experience of the Donnelly brothers—or at least trying to.

  If she had seen what Clara was eating tonight, she probably would have force-fed her some kind of specialty cheese.

  Alex walked up the steps with Cain behind him. Then the three of them filed into the house. Whatever Lane was cooking, Alex could smell it already. Something warm and comforting. Something that smelled like home. Not Alex’s childhood home, but the way he had imagined other people’s homes had smelled.

  Or maybe, it smelled like this home. This was the longest he’d been in one place for a long damn time.

  It was strange just how easy it had been to get used to it. Living here with so many people. When he walked into the kitchen, Liam was there already, the only brother he’d been raised with. He was sitting at the counter, making conversation with their niece, Violet. Or rather, he had a feeling Liam was doing his best to harass Violet, since she was looking mildly perturbed and more than a little amused.

  Cain’s fiancée, Alison, was busy cooking with Lane, both women wearing aprons as they dashed around the kitchen. It was like Alex had fallen into some kind of manic 1950s dream.

  Violet, who was sixteen and more than a little surly, grabbed a potato chip out of the bowl that was sitting on the island and crunched it noisily.

  “This is bad for feminism,” she announced, talking around a mouthful of chip.

  “How so, Violet?” Lane asked, turning and putting one hand on her hip.

  “Cooking for the men,” she returned.
r />   “Maybe if we were doing it out of obligation, but Lane and I like to cook,” Alison said. “In fact, our chosen careers center around food.”

  “Mmm,” Violet made a musing sound.

  “I cook,” Lane said, lifting a brow, “your uncle Finn does the dishes, which I don’t like to do, and it works for everyone. But most importantly...”

  “We choose to do it,” Alison finished.

  “I choose to sit and eat potato chips,” Violet said, clearly also choosing to remain unmoved on her position. And unmoved in general.

  “I’ll help,” Liam offered, standing up and slapping the countertop.

  “You absolutely will not,” Lane said, turning around and pointing her spatula at him. “I haven’t forgotten the great over-salting incident that happened last time you helped.”

  “I’ll help by sitting here,” he said, grabbing a chip out of the bowl.

  “Smells good,” Alex said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “Thanks,” Lane returned.

  “Where have you been?” This time, it was Liam who asked the question.

  “It’s really touching how concerned you all are about my whereabouts,” Alex responded.

  “I wasn’t concerned, jackass. I was mad because you got out of doing your evening chores.”

  “Wow, Liam. Maybe you should tell me about your childhood.” Alex leaned in and stole a chip. “You seem to have some issues.”

  “You were there for my childhood. That’s possibly why I have issues.”

  Alex snorted. “I’m pretty sure our dad is the reason we both have issues.”

  Finn snorted. “I think he’s the reason we all have issues.”

  Their father had done one thing well—made children he wasn’t particularly interested in raising. Cain and Finn had different mothers, with Cain being raised in Texas and Finn in Washington. Though Finn had come to live on the Laughing Irish ranch with their grandfather when he was only sixteen.

  Liam and Alex had grown up with their mother in a different part of Washington than Finn, and had spent sporadic summers in Copper Ridge.