Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “Nonsense, Ernesto. You will stay. This concerns you as well.”

  “You are sure?” he asked hesitantly, looking uncomfortable.

  “Positive. Please, sit.” She did the same, smoothing her dark skirt over her lap. “We’ll begin when Reggie is done serving.”

  Despite the casual dress and atmosphere around the ranch, Tripp had forgotten how formal Nana could be about certain things. With Ernesto and Nana on the couch, Hal took the leather wingback chair, leaving Tripp and Regan to sit on the small settee.

  She served him last, approaching with two mugs in her hand. The one she extended toward him trembled ever so slightly, so he purposely put his fingers over hers on the ceramic.

  A current zapped between them, shocking him, but it was Regan who jerked back. Hot coffee sloshed over the side of the cup onto his hand before dripping on his jeans. Hissing in a breath, he bit off a curse and quickly leaned forward to deposit the mug on the table in front of them.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” Regan exclaimed. “I didn’t mean—”

  “My goodness, are you okay, Tripp?” Nana asked with alarm.

  “I’m fine,” he ground out.

  Regan set her mug down and scrambled for a napkin. He jerked this time as she pressed the cloth to the inside of his thigh. Added to the coffee, her touch burned through the material of his jeans as if the denim was nothing more than a thin layer of silk. Adding insult to injury, her light peach scent had completely invaded his space.

  Delicate fingers took hold of his hand, turning it to look at the red skin by his knuckles. “I’ll go get some ice.” She shot to her feet and started around the settee.

  “Regan, it’s fine,” he insisted, grabbing her hand to halt her flight. After another electric shock, he abruptly released her.

  Her throat worked convulsively as she rubbed her palms on her black skirt. “I’m so sorry—”

  “It was my fault.” Forcing his gaze away from her concerned expression, he addressed the entire room. “No big deal—everything’s fine.” He cast a pointed glance at the lawyer, who thankfully, took the hint and faced Nana.

  “Rosie, would you like to begin, or should I?”

  Regan finally sat down, as far away from Tripp as the small seat would allow. After the past sixty seconds, that was just fine with him. It didn’t take long for the disconcerting realization to hit that he could still feel her body heat. To be on the safe side, he shifted to put another inch between them.

  “You start, Hal,” Nana said. “I’ll finish things up.”

  The older man nodded and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. The overhead light glinted off his head as he lifted a document from atop the folder in his lap. “I’ll start with the cash assets and bequeaths, then.”

  Tripp sat back, reclining against the side-arm to put more distance between his body and Regan’s. She practically perched on the edge of the settee, back stiff as a board, her hands curled around her coffee mug even though she had yet to drink any. The beginning of the will was all legalese, and then Hal read out loud the generous cash amounts Tripp’s father had left for each employee, half to be given in cash, the other half to be deposited in their individual retirement funds set up through the ranch.

  Ana Santiago, the housekeeper, received a similar sum, along with small college trust funds for each of her three girls. When Ernesto’s bequeath was read, Tripp still wasn’t surprised. His father and Ernesto had grown up on the ranch together and worked side by side their entire life. Ernesto deserved every penny of the quarter million dollars his father had left him.

  But Ernesto protested as he looked from Tripp to Nana. “No. It is too much. What do I need so much money for?”

  “Anything you want. Take a trip. Buy a new truck.” Nana tapped his leg. “You can retire early. Spend time with your grandchildren while they are still young enough to bounce on your knee.”

  “But I already have my own nest egg.”

  Nana reached over and curled her finger’s around Ernesto’s. “Do with it what you will, but he wanted you to have it,” she said gently. “Your friendship meant the world to him.”

  Ernesto nodded and accepted what his friend had done for him. Tripp felt a twinge of melancholy with the realization he had no one in his life he considered a best friend. In college, there’d been Jerry Rosewitz and his adorable daughter, Dawn, but they’d lost touch soon after graduation.

  He brushed a hand over his face and rested his chin on his palm, elbow braced on the arm of the small couch. Nowadays, he had business acquaintances and associates, but no one he shared happy memories with. Then again, the only truly happy memories he had were of when his mother had still been alive, and the one person he could’ve shared those with had been lost to him eleven years ago.

  Familiar resentment simmered to the surface as his gaze shifted to Regan’s profile.

  Hal continued with the will. “To Regan Mallory Reed, my dearest Reggie, I bequeath to you the sum of one million dollars in cash and stocks.”

  Tripp drew in a deep, silent breath. It wasn’t that he was surprised, just suddenly pissed off as he’d only been one other time in his life. He sat forward again, resting his forearms on his knees to watch her reaction. As if she were playing poker, her face remained blank, completely devoid of the satisfaction he’d expected to see dancing all over it. Hal continued to speak, reading Tripp’s father’s words to Regan, telling her how much she’d meant to him. How he’d loved her like a daughter.

  She swallowed once and blinked twice, but revealed nothing more.

  Anger wound a little tighter with every touching sentence Hal read. Was she made of stone? Clasping his hands tight where they hung between his knees, Tripp leaned sideways until his shoulder touched hers. She flinched. The haunted violet eyes that met his would’ve stirred his compassion if he wasn’t fuming right now.

  “Your mother may have lost the bet, but you sure hit the jackpot.”

  Her eyes widened with unmistakable hurt.

  “Tripp!”

  He jerked his head to find Nana glaring at him from across the coffee table. Regan shot to her feet and went to stand by the window with her back to everyone, hugging her middle as if she were sick. He hadn’t meant for anyone else to hear; his anger must’ve made the words come out louder than he intended. After a second, he realized he didn’t care, and, despite Nana’s glower, he had no intention of apologizing.

  The way it was going meant Tripp was next. What did dear ol’ dad have to say to him in his final words? Tripp reclined again, casually draping his arm on the back of the settee. His fist threatened to tighten as he waited, but he restrained it to a light drumming of his fingers on the textured fabric.

  Hal shuffled his papers and avoided Tripp’s gaze. When he tucked the papers into the manila folder on his lap, Tripp frowned. His hand stilled.

  Hal cleared his throat and looked at Nana. “That’s all I have.”

  That’s it? Not even one word for the son he’d written out of his life? Tripp’s body flashed cold, then hot as his fist clenched and he sat forward. Obviously, blood relation and their first seventeen years together meant nothing, and for the second time in his life, Regan got everything he should have.

  The Ice Queen turned around from the window, a frown furrowing her brow. “What about Tripp?”

  At the very least, a, “Sorry, son,” was in order. His father owed him that much after what had happened. Tripp stared hard at Hal, as if in doing so, he could make the man speak for his father. He’d done it for everyone else, why not him?

  “I’m sorry, that’s all I have,” Hal repeated, his now-ruddy face downcast.

  Tripp surged to his feet and paced over to the fireplace. Wasn’t this just par for the course? He got nothing. Again.

  A red carnival vase caught his eye on the mantle. He started to reach for it until he visualized the glass flying through the air and shattering into a thousand crimson pieces as it hit the wall. Breaking things wouldn’t change a dam
n thing, especially since he’d need a hell of a lot more than one vase to take the edge off the rage boiling in his blood.

  “Tripp…”

  He turned to find Regan had taken a few steps toward him, a look of pity on her face.

  “Shut up,” he snarled. “You’ve done more than enough.”

  She flinched, but didn’t back away. “I don’t want the money.”

  “Real noble of you, Princess, but I don’t give a fuck about the money.”

  Nana made a sound of dismay. “Tripp Judson Warner, you were not raised to speak like that to a lady.”

  Tripp snorted, but refrained from saying what else was in his mind. Nana motioned her head toward Regan, but he crossed his arms over his chest without a word. He had nothing to apologize for.

  Nana finally sighed and opened the envelope on her lap that Tripp had retrieved from the safe earlier. “Hal read the distribution of the cash assets, but Judd thought the rest would be better coming from me.”

  Some of Tripp’s tension eased, and he breathed a little easier. This made more sense. Now he’d get the apology his father owed him. For a moment, he wished it was in private, but then realized it was good Regan would hear it, too. Let her see the full affect of what she’d done to his family when Nana read his father’s final words.

  First, Nana looked at Regan. “Judd did not leave any money to Tripp because he was well aware he’s done quite well for himself and has no need for it.”

  That little tidbit hit him broadside in the chest like a two-by-four. How had Dad known that?

  Nana read from the page she lifted off her lap. “As for the rest, the Warner Ridge Ranch, and all of its assets are to be divided equally between Tripp Judson Warner and Regan Mallory Reed—”

  “What?” Tripp and Regan exclaimed in unison.

  Nana raised her hand for silence. “—with one condition. Before the ranch will legally be signed over to them, they must work together as a team to catch Mason’s Gold and bring him home.”

  As the stunning statement registered, Tripp pivoted slowly to stare at Regan. The moment her wide, guilt-ridden eyes met his, he knew they were thinking about the exact same thing.

  Mason’s Gold had been his father’s brand new, prize two-year-old, Paint Quarab stallion, sired by the best bloodlines on register. He and his father had just had yet another fight about Loretta and Regan, about how his father always believed them, always chose them. Tripp stormed from the house and happened to catch Regan in the act of letting the stallion loose. He’d tried to stop her, but she’d fought him like a hellion.

  She bit his arm and scratched his cheek, surprising him enough to succeed in her goal. As Mason disappeared across the range, Tripp raced to the house with Regan on his heels. The moment he told his father what happened, she turned it all around and accused Tripp of letting the stallion free. With tears streaking down her face, she cried that he blamed her because he hated her.

  Tripp defended himself, but Regan started sobbing and threw herself into his father’s arms. “I couldn’t stop him. He’s so much stronger than me. What if Mason gets hurt out there?”

  The final straw had been his father’s praise of the lying, little witch for being brave enough to tell the truth. With his face bleeding on the outside, and his heart bleeding on the inside, Tripp told his father, in no uncertain terms, where he and his new family could go.

  “I can see when I’m not wanted. I’m otta here.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me, Tripp.”

  “Screw you—all of you. I don’t need you.”

  “You walk out that door now and don't bother coming back.”

  “Hell will freeze over before I step foot on this ranch again!”

  He’d walked out the door and down the steps, praying with every one his father would call him back. It’d been a long walk out to the road, and an even longer one to town.

  The sharp pain of that memory jarred him out of his stupefied silence. His brow furrowed as he demanded, “Bring Mason home?”

  “We never caught him,” Regan whispered.

  His brows shot up in surprise. “You’re kidding. He’s still out there on the range? After all this time?”

  “Judd was going to make you go after him when you came home.”

  “When I came home?” He let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “He’s the one who told me not to come back.”

  Nana grunted from the couch. “When did you ever do what you were told?”

  Tripp saw red as he swung around to face her. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Your father never gave up hope you'd come home, Tripp,” Nana said softly.

  “Really? He never gave up hope? Well, then, let’s give him Father of the Decade.” He drew a deep breath. “You know, he was the parent—he was the adult. It was his job to come after me.”

  His voice broke at the end as his throat closed up tight. Everyone stared and the walls suddenly felt like they were rushing in on him.

  Nana rose to her feet with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Tripp—”

  Shaking his head, he made a slashing motion with his hand. “Forget it. It’s in the past and I’m so sick of all this. And you know what else? I don’t want his damn ranch.” He strode toward the stairs to go pack his bag.

  “Where are you going?” Nana asked.

  “I’m leaving. And this time, I really won’t be back.”

  “You can’t. Tripp, if you leave, the ranch and all the assets will be sold.”

  “No!”

  Regan’s shocked exclamation made Tripp pause. He turned around, took one look at her stricken face, and then glared at Nana. “Say that again?”

  “You have to catch Mason’s Gold together, or else the ranch will be sold and all the money dispersed to your father’s favorite charities.”

  And what about Nana? What about the Warner heritage? Tripp slowly shook his head. “No way. Uh-uh. That I know Dad wouldn’t do.”

  Wordlessly, she extended the papers in her hand. It only took a moment for him to skim the top document. She wasn’t bluffing. Dad’s signature was right there on the bottom, with two witnesses and a notary stamp. The only thing Nana hadn’t mentioned was no matter what he and Regan decided, the ranch was to be run as normal until she passed away. Not that he blamed her for skipping that little detail; now that he’d reconnected, he didn’t want to think of that day any sooner than he had to.

  He started to hand the papers back to Nana, but Regan snatched them from his grasp. Tripp watched her read them, not quite as fast as he had.

  She turned to Nana. “This is ridiculous. I mean, if Tripp doesn’t want the ranch, why can’t he just sign over his half to me?”

  Her words brought him up short, even though he’d been ready to walk away only moments earlier. “Whoa, whoa, wait a second,” Tripp countered. “How about you sign over your half to me? After all, you’ve already gotten a whole pile of money.”

  Regan’s eyes narrowed. “You just said you didn’t want the ranch.”

  “Maybe I don’t, but I sure as hell don’t want you to have it, either.”

  And now that he’d thought about it for even a second, after all she’d taken from him, no way was she getting the ranch, too. His determination grew as her jaw clenched before she turned pleading eyes back to Nana.

  But Hal spoke first. “I’m sorry, Reggie, it’s all very black and white. Catch the horse together, keep the ranch together. Otherwise, it all goes away. Oh, and you have one month, so no dragging your feet.”

  The thought had crossed Tripp’s mind, and hers, too, if the frown creasing her brow were any indication. “Come on, Hal, is that even legal?”

  “Let me assure you, it will stand up in any court of law. Judd made sure of it.”

  A little growling noise sounded deep from Regan’s throat and she threw her hands in the air. “There’s no way I can work with him.” She glared at Tripp, frustration and a hint of fear brimming in her eyes.

  God, s
he really wanted the ranch. A spark of an idea formed in his mind. After another moment to let the thought solidify, his lips curled in his first real smile of the day. She needed his help, and she hated it. His smile widened. “Tell you what, Princess, if it means so much to you, I’m all in.”

  The fear intensified in those beautiful violet eyes. “W-what?”

  “Yeah, why not.” He shrugged a shoulder. “How hard can it be to catch one horse? We’ll be back in no time.”

  A sarcastic snort reminded Tripp Ernesto was still in the room and he swung his gaze to the couch as he asked, “What?”

  “Reggie’s been after Mason for years,” the Mexican informed him. “That stallion knows every nook and cranny of the northwest range. He’s a slippery devil who don’t want to be caught.”

  Tripp vividly recalled the stallion’s wild streak. Apparently, it’d flourished. He studied the heightened color in Regan’s cheeks. Trying to catch him for years, eh? Just another little piece of information that would benefit his plan.

  He grinned at her. “Well? What do you say?”

  “Seriously?”

  Tripp nodded. “I’m game if you are.”

  Her eyes narrowed with distrust, as if trying to gauge his intentions. She was smart to be suspicious of his one-eighty, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter.

  Chapter 5

  Reggie gave the kitchen counter one last swipe before tossing the dishcloth into the sink and dragging her exhausted body up the stairs. She couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and close her burning eyes. Between the funeral, facing Tripp again, and the reading of the will, it’d been one of the longest days of her life.

  Her step faltered as she passed Tripp’s closed door. She couldn’t believe he’d agreed to help catch Mason. She couldn’t believe she’d have to spend God only knew how much time alone with him out on the range. Just the two of them, staring at each other across the flickering light of a campfire each night.

  A little flutter tickled her stomach, making her frown.

  “Get a grip, idiot,” she muttered in the silent hallway. The man hated her; he’d made that clear for everyone to see. It wasn’t as if they’d share some romantic interlude out beneath the stars. And if she could learn to control her body’s reactions whenever he got too close, she’d be just fine.