by Cat Schield
“I’ve already taken care of Brandee.” Gabe nodded his head toward the entrance, where Chelsea had appeared. “If you feel like drowning your sorrows, I’ll stick around to drive you home.”
Shane rotated the glass and contemplated it. He’d spent the last four nights soaking his hurt feelings in alcohol and after waking up that morning with a whopping hangover had decided he was done moping. He pushed the shot away.
“No need. I’m getting out of here.”
But before he could leave, Chelsea had gotten Brandee to her feet and the two women were heading toward the door. Despite how Brandee had looked staring morosely into the bottom of her glass, she wasn’t at all unsteady on her feet.
Not wanting to risk bumping into her, Shane stayed where he was and turned his back to the departing women. He couldn’t risk her or anyone else noticing the way his hungry gaze followed her. She’d ditched her jeans and was wearing another of those gauzy, romantic numbers that blew his mind. This one was pale pink and made her look as if a strong wind could carry her all the way to Austin. Gut-kicked and frustrated that she still got to him, he reminded himself that she was strong, independent and could take care of herself.
“Look at you three sitting here all smug and self-important.” Brandee’s voice rang out and conversations hushed. “Well, congratulations, you got your way.”
Gabe caught Shane’s eye and gave him a quizzical look. “Any idea why she’s going after Cecilia, Simone and Naomi?”
With an abrupt shake of his head, Shane returned to staring at his untouched drink, but he was far less interested in it than he was the scene playing out behind him.
“I’m not going to be around to oppose you any longer. I’ve resigned from the Texas Cattleman’s Club. It’s all yours.” Brandee didn’t sound intoxicated exactly. More hysterical and overwrought than anything.
“We don’t know what you’re—” Cecelia Morgan began, only to be interrupted.
“Where do you three get off ruining other people’s lives?”
The entire room was quiet and Brandee’s voice bounced off the walls. None of the women answered and Brandee rambled on.
“You must have thought it would be great fun, but blackmail is an ugly business. And it will come back to bite you in the ass.”
At the mention of blackmail, Shane turned around in time to see Brandee push herself back from the table where she’d been looming over the three women. They were all staring at Brandee in openmouthed shock and fear.
Brandee punched the air with her finger. “Mark my words.”
As Chelsea tugged Brandee toward the exit, the trio of women erupted in nervous laughter.
“I don’t know what that was about,” Simone said, her voice pitched to carry around the room. “Obviously she’s finally snapped.”
“It was only a matter of time,” Naomi agreed, tossing her head before sipping her fruity drink.
Only Cecelia refrained from commenting. She stared after Brandee and Chelsea, her eyes narrowed and a pensive expression on her beautiful face. Moments later, however, she joined her friends in a loud replay of the clash. Around them, side conversations buzzed. News of Brandee’s behavior and her wild accusations would spread through the TCC community before morning.
“She thinks those three blackmailed her?” Gabe glanced at Shane. “Did you know she was planning to resign from the TCC?”
“I don’t know why she needed to. I signed her damned document giving up my right to the ranch.” Yet, when Brandee had come to his house to apologize, he had refused her attempt to make amends.
“You said she tore it up.”
“Well, yeah.” Guilt flared. But Shane refused to accept blame for Brandee’s overwrought state. “None of that had anything to do with me.”
“That—” Gabe gestured at the departing women “—has everything to do with you.” His features settled into grim lines. “Of all the times you should have come through and helped someone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Gabe looked unfazed by Shane’s belligerent tone. “Everybody thinks you’re a great guy. You make sure of that. You’ve always been the life of the party. But when it comes to helping out...” The former Texas Ranger shook his head.
Shane heard the echoes of his father’s criticism in Gabe’s words and bristled. “Why don’t you come right out and say it? No one can count on me when it comes to things that need doing.”
“Mostly you’re good at getting other people to do stuff.”
Shane recalled the expression on Megan Maguire’s face when she’d spotted him helping out with Brandee’s teen day. She’d been surprised.
And if he was honest with himself, Brandee’s tactics to hold on to her land weren’t all that different from his own way of doing things. He’d held back important information a time or two. And what Gabe had said about his getting other people to volunteer when there was work to be done...
Growing up, his father had accused him of being lazy and Shane had resented it, despite knowing there was a bit of truth to it. So, what was he supposed to do? Change who he was? He was thirty-five years old and far too accustomed to doing things his way.
“How is it I’m the bad guy all of a sudden?” Shane demanded. “And where do you get off making judgments about me?”
“I just want to point out that while Brandee may have manipulated you, it’s not like you haven’t done the same to others. She’s not perfect. You’re not perfect. But from watching you both, you might be perfect together.”
And with that, Gabe pushed away from the bar and headed out, abandoning Shane to a head filled with recriminations and a hollow feeling in his gut.
* * *
It took until Brandee was seated in Chelsea’s car before the full import of what she’d just done hit her. By the time Chelsea slid behind the wheel, Brandee had planted her face in her hands and was muttering incoherent curses.
As she felt the car begin to move forward, Brandee lifted her head and glared at her best friend. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Are you kidding?” Chelsea smirked. “You said what half the membership has been dying to. Did you see the look on their faces?”
The brisk walk across the chilly parking lot had done much to clear Brandee’s head, but she was still pretty foggy. When was the last time she’d had this much to drink? She didn’t even know how many she’d had.
“All I saw was red.” Brandee groaned and set her head against the cool window. “Take me to the airport. I’m going to get on a plane and fly to someplace no one has ever heard of.”
Chelsea chuckled. “Are you kidding? You’re going to be a hero.”
“No, I’m not. No one deserves to be talked to like that. I run...” She gulped. Hope Springs Camp was an impossibility now that Shane knew he owned her ranch. “I had hoped to run a camp that gave teenagers the skills to cope with their problems in a sensible, positive way. And what do I do? I stand in the middle of the Texas Cattleman’s Club and shriek at those three like a drunken fishwife.” The sounds coming from the seat beside her did not improve Brandee’s mood. “Stop laughing.”
“I’m sorry, but they deserved it. Especially if any one or all three is Maverick.”
“Do you really think it’s possible they’re behind the blackmail?”
“I think someone needs to look into it.”
“Well, it isn’t going to be me. I’m going to be sitting on a beach, sipping something fruity and strong.”
“You’ll get a new guy? He’ll have it going on?”
Despite her calamitous exit from the TCC clubhouse, Brandee gave a snort of amusement as Chelsea twisted the Dierks Bentley song lyrics from “Somewhere on a Beach” to suit the conversation. Then, despite her dire circumstances and the fact that she’d just humiliated herself,
Brandee picked up the next line and in moments the two girls were singing at the top of their lungs.
They kept it up all the way to Chelsea’s house, where Brandee had agreed to spend the night. She couldn’t bear to be alone in her beautiful custom-tailored ranch home that she would soon have to pack up and move out of.
Tucked into a corner of Chelsea’s couch, wrapped in a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands, Brandee stared at the melting mini marshmallows and turned the corner on her situation. It wasn’t as if it was the first time she’d lost everything. And in the scheme of things, she was a lot better off than she’d been at eighteen, broke and living out of her car.
“I guess I get to re-create myself again,” she said, noticing the first hint of determination she’d felt in days.
“I think you should fight for your ranch. Take Shane to court and make him prove the land belongs to him.”
Brandee didn’t think she had the strength to take Shane on in a legal battle. She was still too raw from the way he’d slammed the door in her face.
“I’ll think about it.”
Chelsea regarded her in concern. “It isn’t like you to give up like this.”
“I know, but I’m not sure.”
“Brandee, you can’t just walk away from a ten-million-dollar property.”
“It sounds crazy when you say it, but that’s what I intend to do. Legally I might be able to get a court to determine the land is mine, but I think morally it belongs to Shane’s family.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Sell everything and start over?” The thought pained her more than she wanted to admit, but in the last five days she’d come to terms with her loss. “I wasn’t kidding about finding a beach somewhere and getting lost.”
“You can’t seriously be thinking of leaving Royal?”
The pang in Chelsea’s voice made Brandee wince. “I don’t know that I want to stay here after everything that’s happened.” Just the thought of running into Shane and seeing his coldness toward her made her blood freeze. “Look, it’s not like I have to do anything today. It’s going to take me a while to sell my herd and settle things on the ranch. With The Bellamy still under construction and taking up all his energy, Shane isn’t going to have time to start developing the ranch right away.”
“And maybe you and Shane can work out an arrangement that will benefit you both.”
“Did you see the way he acted as if I didn’t exist?” Brandee shook her head, fighting back the misery that was her constant companion these days. “No, he hates me for what I tried to do to him and there’s no going back from that.”
* * *
“Now, aren’t you glad we warned you off of Brandee Lawless?”
“Did you see how she spoke to us?”
“I think she had too much to drink. And happy hour’s barely started.”
“I’ve said from the beginning that she has no class.”
“She must’ve had a reason for going after you,” Shane said.
He recalled what had happened to Wesley Jackson, and thought there’d been some buzz around the clubhouse that Cecelia had been behind it. An anonymous hacker had exposed Wes as a deadbeat dad on social media and it had blown a major business deal for him. What had happened to Brandee was in the same vein.
“She’s been out to get us from the moment we joined the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
“That’s not true,” Shane said, a hint of warning in his tone. “She just hasn’t bought into what you want to do with the place. A lot of people haven’t.”
“But she’s been actively working to drum up resistance,” Naomi said.
“That doesn’t make her your enemy.” Shane shook his head. “Not everyone wants the clubhouse to undergo any more changes, especially not the kind you’re interested in making.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. She resigned her membership.”
“And with her gone, the others will come around,” Cecelia said. “You’ll see.”
“Sounds like everything is going your way.” Shane set his hands on their table the way Brandee had and leaned forward to eye each woman in turn. “If I find out any of you three were behind what happened to Brandee, you’ll have to answer to me.”
He loomed menacingly for several heartbeats, taking in each startled expression in turn. Instinctively, they’d leaned back in their chairs as if gaining even a small amount of distance would keep them safe. At long last, satisfied they’d received his message, he pushed upright, jostling the table just enough to set their cutlery tingling and their drinks sloshing.
“Ladies.” With a nod, he headed for the exit.
Icy gusts blew across the parking lot as Shane emerged from the clubhouse. He faced the north wind and lifted his hat, not realizing how angry he’d been until he dashed sweat from his brow. Damn Brandee for making him rush to defend her. He should’ve left well enough alone.
The cold reduced his body temperature to normal as he headed toward his truck. A row back and a few spaces over, he caught sight of her vehicle.
“Great.”
Now he’d have to make sure she wasn’t driving in her condition. But the truck was empty. Brandee was long gone. Shane headed to his own truck.
As he drove the familiar roads on his way to The Bellamy, he tried to put Brandee out of his thoughts, but couldn’t shake the image of her going after Cecelia, Simone and Naomi. The outburst had shocked more than a few people.
Brandee’s public face was vastly different from the one she showed in private. Not once in all the years that he’d pursued her to sell the ranch had she ever cracked and lost her temper with him. Because of her cool, composed manner, he’d worked extra hard to get beneath her skin. From getting to know her these last two weeks, he recognized that she put a lot of energy into maintaining a professional image. It was why she was so well respected at the male-dominated Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Today, she’d blown that. Her words came back to him. Why had she quit the TCC? Did she really think he had any intention of taking her ranch? Then he thought about how she’d torn up the document he’d signed, relinquishing his claim. The damned woman was so stubborn she probably figured she’d turn the place over to him regardless of what he wanted.
And if she did? What would she do? Where would she go? The ranch was everything to her. With her capital tied up in her land and her cows, she probably figured she’d have to downsize her herd in order to start over.
After checking to make sure everything was on track at The Bellamy, he headed home and was surprised to see his mother’s car as well as a catering van in the driveway. Shane parked his truck, drawing a blank. He was pretty sure he’d remember if there was a party scheduled.
When it hit him, he cursed, belatedly remembering he’d promised his mother to help her make catering decisions this afternoon for the party being held in four weeks to celebrate Bullseye’s hundred-year anniversary. He’d neglected to add the appointment to his calendar any of the four times she’d reminded him of the event.
He rushed into the house and found everything set up in the dining room. “Hello, Mother.” He circled the table to kiss the cheek she offered him.
“You’re late,” she scolded, more annoyed than she sounded.
The way she looked, he was going to need a drink. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, at least you’re here now, so we can begin.”
Until that second, Shane had been hoping that his mother had already sampled everything and made her decisions. Now he regarded the food spread over every available inch of table and groaned. The appetizers ran the gamut from individual ribs glazed in sweet-smelling barbecue sauce to ornate pastries begging to be tasted. Three champagne flutes sat before Elyse. She gestured toward the dining chair nearest her with a fourth gl
ass.
“Vincent, please pour my son some champagne so he can give his opinion on the two I’m deciding between.”
“I’m sure whatever you decide is fine,” Shane said, edging backward. He was in no mood to sit through an elaborate tasting.
“You will sit down and you will help me decide what we are going to serve at your party.”
If her tone hadn’t been so severe, he might have protested that the party hadn’t been his idea and he couldn’t care less what they served. But since he’d already alienated Gabe today and ruined any hope of future happiness with the woman he loved several days earlier, Shane decided he needed at least one person in his corner.
It took a half an hour to taste everything and another fifteen minutes for them to narrow it down to ten items. Elyse generously included several selections Shane preferred that she’d described as too basic. He wondered if she gave him his way in appreciation of his help tonight or if it was a ploy to make him more pliable the next time she asked for his assistance.
And then he wondered why he was questioning his mother’s motives. Was this what playing games had turned him into? Had he become suspicious of his own mother?
And what about Brandee? Was she solely to blame for the way she’d tried to trick him? If he’d been more like Gabe, honest and aboveboard, might she have come to him and negotiated a settlement that would have benefited both of them? Instead, because he liked to play games, she’d played one on him.
“I’m sorry I forgot about today,” he told his mother as Vincent packed up his edibles and returned the kitchen to its usual pristine state.
She sipped champagne and sighed. “I should be used to it by now.”
Shane winced. With Gabe’s lecture foremost in his thoughts, he asked, “Am I really that bad when it comes to getting out of doing things?”
“You’re my son. And I love you.” She reached out and patted his hand. “But when it comes to doing something you’d rather avoid, you’re not very reliable.”
It hurt more than he imagined it would to hear his mother say those words. Realizing he wasn’t his mother’s golden child humbled Shane. “Dad yelled at me about that all the time, but you never said a word.”