Arrogant Bastard

by Jennifer Dawson

  Caden

  My fingers trail over Cat’s glistening skin, tracing each of her ribs as she lies sprawled out in the grass after that moonlight swim she’d been craving. She smiles at me like I hung the moon. I can’t deny it fills me with a content, happy satisfaction I’m not sure I’ve ever felt in my thirty-six years.

  She makes me feel like I’m God’s personal gift to her.

  But under the lazy relaxation, there’s an undercurrent of tension in me I want desperately to forget about, but it lingers like an illness.

  I’m going to fuck it up. It’s a matter of when.

  She touches my jaw, pulling me back. Her head tilts, and her wet, tangled hair splays out over the ground. I’m surprised she doesn’t care about getting dirty, but here we are.

  I smile at her.

  Her tongue darts over her lower lip. “Where do you go when you get that look on your face?”

  My brow furrows. “Go?”

  “Yeah, one second you’ll be looking at me like everything is right in the world, and the next…” She shakes her head. “It’s like a summer storm. It blows in, darkens your eyes, and then disappears as suddenly as it came.”

  And here I thought I’d been good at hiding. I hate that she’s noticed. She hasn’t said much, but between her dad abandoning them, her mom dying, and the years of struggle, how could she not be looking over her shoulder, waiting for the next disaster to befall her?

  I want to give her a break from that worry, to help her sink into this excited happiness she’s wearing like a second skin.

  And I can’t even do that right.

  I raise her hand and kiss the pads of her fingers, doing my best to put the question to rest. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real.”

  She shrugs one bare shoulder. “That’s not really an answer.”

  Our eyes lock, and in their silver depths I see it: resignation that she’ll get no answers from me, because that’s what she expects. We’ve barely begun, and I’m already teaching her I won’t be honest.

  That she shouldn’t expect anything from me.

  That disappointment is all she can hope for.

  I don’t want that. There’s not a lot of things I can do right, but this is one of them. I can make a choice, right here, lying in the grass. I can give her a real answer instead of an evasion.

  My heart thumps hard in my chest, but I don’t let it stop me.

  I squeeze her fingers before resting our clasped hands on her sternum. I would love to distract her with sex, because if I brush my thumb over her nipple, she’ll suck in a breath and turn toward me. She’ll let me sweep her away, use her body’s response to distract her from the fact that I refuse to give her what she really desires. It will tell her this is what she should settle for, because it’s the only choice she has.

  It would be easy.

  She’d let me. And it would be enough for a while. Until it wasn’t.

  So, I resist the impulse and plunge full steam ahead into uncharted waters, as dark and unknown as the lake lapping the rocks at the shore.

  I grit my teeth and say the words. “I’m afraid I’m going to fuck this up. Because that’s what I do, what I always do.”

  Surprise flickers like bits of platinum in her eyes. “I guess we’re alike that way.”

  “How do you mean?”

  She shivers a little and tucks herself closer. I release her fingers and wrap my arm around her. The night is hot and humid, but her skin is cool from our late-night swim. “We might have come to it differently, but at the end of the day, aren’t we both just looking behind us, waiting for disaster to strike?”

  I hadn’t expected her words to echo so closely to what I’d been thinking, and until that moment our situations never struck me as the same. In my mind, my wounds are self-inflicted, unlike hers, which are born of circumstances.

  She touches my cheek. “There’s that storm cloud again.”

  I scowl. “I don’t want to mess this up with you.”

  She smiles at me. “Then don’t.”

  “I’ll try.”

  She’s silent for a moment before she says, “When I was growing up, I wanted to breed horses.”

  I’m not sure what to make of the change of subject, but I go with it. “Oh?”

  She nods. “I was obsessed with them—not that I could afford one of my own. There used to be stables not too far from here, and I begged the owners to let me help in exchange for lessons. The Spencers became like my second family, and I went there constantly. They were an older couple and couldn’t have kids, so I was their surrogate daughter. The first time I saw a foal born, it was all I wanted to do with my life.”

  “What happened?”

  A shadow passes over her face. “They died in a car accident. The land was sold, the horses sold—except for my favorite, which they gave to me in their will.” A muscle jumps in her jaw. “I was devastated, but at least I had my horse.”

  I have a feeling I know where this story is going, but I keep my mouth shut and let her finish.

  Her eyes brighten, like she’s on the verge of tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. “My dad sold her and pocketed the money. When I cried, my mom told me he didn’t have a choice because we didn’t have the money to pay for the care of a horse.” She huffs out a breath. “She was right. We didn’t. I couldn’t have kept the horse even if my dad wasn’t an asshole. But it killed me that she didn’t stand up for me, that she didn’t even try, you know?”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “From that day forward, I weaved myself a fantasy that one day the barn would be filled with my horses. That I would breed them and love them and be in control of my destiny.” She looks up at the night sky, and I follow her gaze to the stars above. “Then she got sick, and everything got desperate and dire, and she died. Wyatt came up with the distillery as a way to keep the land, and I didn’t say anything about my dreams for the barn. In the end, I wasn’t any different than her. I didn’t fight for what I wanted, for my dreams, any more than she did. I went along with Wyatt because it was practical. But every time I catch sight of that barn, I think about that dream and how I never even tried.” Her tears fall now, streaking down her cheeks and into the hollow of her throat.

  I lean down and sip them away, and she continues. “When she died, I swore I’d never be like her. That I’d be different. Even though I loved her, I didn’t want her life. But that’s exactly what I got, you know? All I do is support Wyatt and Jackson and what they want.” She bites her lip. “I don’t even think they need me.”

  It kills me that she’s been bottling this away for years without a word. I run a path down her jaw. “Wyatt and Jackson would disagree.”

  “In theory, yeah.” She looks at me, gaze watery. “But what purpose do I really have?”

  “You have a lot of purpose, Catarina.”

  “I’m not making myself clear. I’m not sure I even understand it.”

  “Just try to get the words out, and we’ll take it from there.”

  Her teeth scrape over her lower lip. “I do all the things they don’t want to do. I free them up so they can focus on their own personal brands of genius. I do all the shit work so they can be free to fulfill their destinies.” She shakes her head. “That’s not purpose. That’s existing for them and not for myself.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know, exactly.” She sighs, and it sounds like it comes from the very bottom of her soul. “I think I’m trying to say that maybe we’ve made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we have to continue to make them. We control our actions and life. We have a choice.”

  She meets my eyes, and in the depths, I see something I’ve never seen before: a steely determination, an inner fire. “I’m going to choose something different.”

  “What are you going to choose?”

  “Me.” She wraps her hand around my neck. “And you—if that’s what you want.”

  “I do.” I kiss her, blotting out
the world and all the unanswered questions.

  I let myself sink into this woman who may just be my salvation.

  Cat

  I let the weekend play out, basking in the sex and the food and the party atmosphere that pervaded the house, but as soon as the Chicago crowd took their leave, I started planning. Plotting.

  I’m not 100-percent sure what I want to do, because my horse-breeding fantasies are just that: fantasy. I haven’t been around horses for years. I’m not engrained in that community, nor do I have the expertise. The day my daddy sold the horse I loved so dearly, I gave up on that world, and I’m not sure I can get it back.

  Horses were the dream of a girl. And now it’s time to figure out the dream of the woman I’ve become.

  I don’t know much, but I do know I need time and space to figure out what the hell I want to do with my life. Maybe it will be in the business my family created, and maybe it won’t. But if it is, I want it to be because I want it, not because it was there and I didn’t know another way.

  So I’ve been concocting a plan. What I’ve decided is the right decision—maybe not for Wyatt or Jackson—but for me. First thing Monday morning, after the dust settled and everyone got organized for the week, I asked my brothers to sit down for a meeting.

  They’re both waiting for me in Wyatt’s office now, sitting at the round table where we conduct most our business. I smile and slide into the seat across from them.

  As soon as they pin me with their stares, I grow nervous and clasp my hands on the table in front of me before clearing my throat. “Thanks for coming.” I glance at Jackson. “Are you and Gwen happy with how the weekend went?”

  He nods, sliding back on his chair. “It was a good time, and we got what we wanted. We’re feeling pretty confident going into the private event.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” I skip my attention to Wyatt, and then let it skitter away. He’s the one I’m most worried about, because it’s been the two of us since I can remember. All those years Jackson was away, trotting around the world, it was Wyatt and me who vowed to save our family home and land. Jackson couldn’t have cared less.

  Even now, when we’re more a unit than we’ve ever been, Jackson’s tie to this place is Natalie, not the land. He’s used the land to his advantage, but if it wasn’t for his daughter—her attachment to us and the support she has here—he’d have hightailed it to Chicago with Gwen in a heartbeat.

  But Wyatt is another story. This place is woven into the fabric of his very being, and I don’t think he’s going to take my decision well.

  There’s only one way to find out, so I take the plunge and speak the words I’ve been thinking almost nonstop. “I haven’t been happy for a while.”

  Jackson and Wyatt glance briefly at each other before returning to gaze at me, letting me know they’ve noticed and discussed it privately.

  Wyatt nods. “Do you know what about?”

  I shrug. “I love you both so much, and I love what we’ve built here. I’m excited to see how it grows and changes in the future. But I can’t help feeling like I’m along for the ride.”

  They both shake their heads vigorously.

  Wyatt sits forward, putting his elbows on the table, his expression intent. “Not true, Cat. You’re an integral part of this operation.”

  Jackson nods. “Gwen and I would be lost without you.”

  I raise a brow. “How?”

  There’s a furrowed brow from Jackson. “How?”

  “Yeah, how.” My spine straightens. Now that I’ve spoken the words, my conviction grows. “Explain it to me.”

  Wyatt’s jaw hardens. “Have we been making you feel undervalued? I know we’ve been preoccupied, but that doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate all your contributions to both our businesses.”

  I smile. “I know you appreciate me. It’s not about that.”

  “Then what is it about?” Jackson’s voice has an edge to it. “I’m sure we can fix whatever’s troubling you.”

  It’s hard to articulate this in concrete ways my pragmatic brothers will understand, but I’ll do my best. I blow out a breath. “These are your dreams, not mine.”

  Wyatt blinks a little, as though startled. “We came up with this together.”

  “Not really.” I hope my words don’t have a bite to them, because it’s not how I feel. “You came up with the idea, and I went along. But I can’t keep living my life basically supporting your dreams while pursuing none of my own.”

  Jackson steeples his fingers. “Okay, we can fix that. What do you want to do? Whatever it is, we can do our best to make it happen.”

  I shake my head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore outside of taking care of all the things you guys don’t have time or energy to deal with.”

  “Cat,” Wyatt’s features cloud over, and I know he’s upset. “That’s not how we view you at all.”

  “I understand, but that’s how I feel. It’s not your fault, and I understand you don’t feel that way about me.” I clench my jaw and swallow hard. “But I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I need to fix it. To figure out what and where my place is. Even if it ends up being here, I want it to be my choice. Does that make sense?”

  Wyatt starts to say something, but Jackson cuts him off. “What are you proposing?”

  This makes perfect sense in my head, and I hope it does to them as well. “I think we should give Caden more responsibility so I have some time to sort things out. I’m not sure how we break up my duties, but I thought the three of us should talk before we get into the nitty gritty anyway.”

  Wyatt’s brows knit. “I like the guy, and he sure as fuck knows his way around a crop, but he hasn’t worked here that long, and you want us to turn operations over to him?”

  Jackson’s eyes narrow. “Did he put you up to this? Because he got in your pants quick enough.”

  My face flushes hot, but I ignore the sudden heat, focusing on the point at hand. “One, my relationship with Caden has nothing to do with this. Two, I haven’t even spoken to him because I wanted to talk to you two first, so don’t insult me by insinuating he whispered sweet nothings about turning over the business to him and I rolled over for it. That’s ridiculous. I came up with this on my own because it makes sense.”

  Wyatt shifts in his chair. “Why do you think it makes sense?”

  “Because he’s good at it in a way I’ll never be.” I look him straight in the eye. “Don’t pretend you don’t see that. When it comes to running a farm, he’s got a gift. I think turning that over to him will only help you grow your respective businesses.”

  “You want to quit?” Jackson asks, his voice hard.

  I shake my head. “No. At least not yet. But if Caden takes over the operations part of my responsibilities, it will free me up to figure out what I might want to do with my life.”

  Jackson raises a brow. “What you’re saying is that you want us to free you up so you can figure out how to leave us?”

  “No!” I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I blow out an exasperated breath. “I want the space to figure out what I want. You both know your path and feel passion in your work. Is it so hard to understand that I want the same?”

  They fall silent, both getting the same hard set to their jaws, and it makes them look like the brothers they are. It highlights how they’re alike instead of all the ways they are different.

  “It’s not.” Wyatt finally breaks the tension between us. “You deserve that, Cat.”

  “Thank you. And you’re not losing me. I live here, and I still have to work for a living. I just want less on my plate so I can figure out what makes me happy.”

  “I don’t like it,” Jackson says in that surly way he has. “But I understand, and Wyatt’s right. You deserve to do something that makes you happy, even if it’s not working for us.”

  “Thank you.” I smile a little. “You do realize you’ve proven my point by saying working for us. Rememb
er, I own as much of this land as you do.”

  “Good going, dickhead,” Wyatt says.

  Jackson shakes his head. “You know what I meant.”

  I laugh. “I do.”

  Wyatt says, “So what’s next?”

  “Next we talk to Caden and see if he’s okay with it.”

  Wyatt nods. “Do you want the honors, since he’s your boyfriend?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “He’s not my boyfriend. Don’t be silly.”

  “Then what is he?” Jackson asks, his expression speculative.

  “I don’t like labels.” I square my shoulders. “But I’ll talk to him first.”

  I’ve done it—cut the first tie. Now I can only hope I know what I’m doing, and that I’m not making a mistake putting our family business, and my faith, in Caden’s hands.

  21

  Caden

  I’m looking over the schedule when Cat knocks softly on my office door. When I see her standing there in a pair of tight, faded jeans and a plain, black T-shirt, something happens to me I’m not sure I like.

  I feel…trust.

  Trust in her.

  Trust in the future.

  Trust in us.

  It makes me nervous, that surety, but there it sits, right in front of me, making it hard to deny.

  I smile. “Hey there, honey. How’s your day?”

  Such a simple, domestic question. I like the way it feels on my tongue.

  “Not too bad.” She tilts her chin toward the chair opposite the desk. “You got a minute?”

  “You’re the boss.” I wink. I like teasing her, like that it’s so goddamn easy between us.

  She straightens and slides onto the chair, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the desk. “Funny you should say that.”

  I cock a brow. “Why’s that?”

  “I want to talk to you about something important.”

  I put aside the sheets of paper I’m studying. I know it’s old school to print stuff out instead of looking at it on a machine, but there’s something about the feel of it in my hands that makes me think better. I need something tactile and tangible to sink my teeth into.