“But you said the apple fell far from the tree. So whatever they did, you obviously didn’t follow in their footsteps.”
“Not a chance. And they hate it that I’m here at DHR—enemy territory.”
“Enemy? What did Maddox do to them?”
“Nothing. Long story. Anyway, didn’t we decide not to talk about family? Let’s keep going.” I pull ahead, and we ride along the ridge. Amber’s horn sounds behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see her stopped twenty feet back. I turn around and pull alongside her. “Is there a problem?”
“The engine quit on me. I must be bad luck or something. First the helicopter, now this.”
I hop off and walk over to look at her gauges. I mentally smack myself for not doing a pre-ride check. Tires, oil, fuel—the three things you always look at before riding. “You’re out of gas.”
Her eyebrows practically meet her hairline. “Did you plan this?”
“No, I didn’t plan this. And I’ll have words with Zac when we get back. He’s supposed to keep them fueled.” It’s a lie. Whoever takes them out is supposed to fill the tanks. But I don’t need her knowing I was distracted.
“How convenient. I suppose I’ll have to ride with you the rest of the way?”
“Unless you really do want to see the sunset, yes. Plus, what was it you said about having a fear of abandonment? I could go back for gas, but who knows how long it will take. I could get sidetracked.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She goes to get off, but I don’t want her putting weight on her foot, so I pick her up, carry her over, and put her on the back of my ATV. She’s not amused. “Seems you’re doing that a lot lately,” she says.
“Do you want to go back?”
“We’re already out here. Finish the tour.”
I climb on in front of her, anticipating her hands coming around me. When they do, my heart races like it did earlier when I was in the chute ready to ride the bronc. Why do I get the feeling Amber is just as dangerous?
I drive and her grip tightens. More thoughts of our night together bombard me, and my hand slips off the throttle momentarily. She leans her front against my back. “Not gonna happen, cowboy.”
“Who said anything about anything?” I huff.
“You mean to tell me your jeans aren’t getting tight thinking about what I did to you the last time we rode one of these? The way I stroked you. The way you came all over the handlebars.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Amber?”
She giggles. “I’m only joking around.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Why not?”
“You want to end up upside down with this thing on top of us?”
“You’re not an expert at the controls of an ATV as well as a helicopter?”
“Woman, I’m not an expert at knowing my own name when your hands are on me.”
“Is that so?”
“Can you hold on to my shoulders or something?”
More laughter. “Sure.”
We drive for a few minutes, then she pokes me. “What’s over there?”
“A cemetery.”
“I want to see it.”
I drive over and stop next to the old fence surrounding the dozen or so headstones. There’s a tree in the middle, casting shadows over the stones as if it’s somehow watching over them.
“I can’t believe there’s a graveyard on the ranch. That’s both cool and creepy at the same time. Let’s go inside.”
I help her off the four-wheeler. She uses me as a crutch, and we make our way through the old gate. It’s not as overgrown as it once was. For some reason, Andie insists on keeping it groomed. She said it’s out of respect—respect for the dead in general, not the specific dead who are buried here.
“Oh my gosh, this one says Thompson. So does that one. Who are these people?” She perches against a headstone. “Is that why they hate Maddox’s family? They took their land?”
I point to Earl Thompson’s headstone. “This was my great-great-grandfather. This land was his father-in-law’s. It eventually belonged to Earl’s great-granddaughter, Helen, who sold it to Maddox’s grandmother thirty years ago.”
“I take it the rest of the family wasn’t so happy about it.”
“And somehow we’re back to talking about family.”
“Sorry. Who do the other graves belong to?”
I shrug. “Cowboys mostly.”
“They wanted to be buried here?”
“Most ranchers commit for life. Half the ranch hands here have been branded with DHR.”
She’s appalled. “Branded? Like cattle?”
I laugh. “Tattooed. They get tattoos of the ranch logo. The people who work here see themselves as family, as much as if they were blood related.”
“But you don’t have a tattoo.” She smirks. “I’d know.”
“It didn’t seem right. I love this place. I’ll never work on any other ranch. But a tattoo is permanent, and I don’t see myself as a permanent fixture here.”
“Because of the family rivalry thing?”
“Maybe. I just see myself somewhere else.”
“Where?”
I shrug. “Beats the hell out of me. But it sure as hell isn’t in a graveyard. Want to get out of here?”
She hops to another headstone. “I want to explore it. Don’t you think graveyards are sexy?”
“Amber, there are dead people under our feet.”
“I know. It’s so mysterious. Like, at any second, a skeleton hand could punch through the ground and grab our feet.”
Instinctively, I look down. She laughs, losing her balance and falling to the ground.
“Oh, shit. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Let me sit for a minute and rest my foot.” I sit next to her, trying not to think of what’s six feet beneath us.
“Show me where they get their tattoos,” she says.
I reach around and point to my left shoulder. “Usually here.”
“You could always get a tattoo of something else.”
“You think I should get a tattoo?”
“They’re sexy.”
“Then why don’t you have one?”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t. I’d have seen it the other night.”
“Maybe you didn’t look hard enough.”
Fuck. I’m sitting in the middle of a graveyard, and I’m getting hard. There is definitely something wrong with me. “Is that a challenge?”
She shrugs an innocent shoulder. Then she pushes me down and straddles me.
I put my hands on her waist. “I thought you don’t do repeats.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what do you call this?”
She cocks her head, then she lifts my shirt and puts her hands on my chest. “I call this taking the bull by the horns.”
Chapter Twelve
Amber
I don’t know what it is about this place. About him. But I have to have him.
He untucks my shirt and lifts it over my head. He examines my chest, my stomach, my ribs. He’s looking for the tattoo. He won’t find it there.