“Who says he's going to be working on our ranch?”
“You’re not serious. There’s gonna come a day when I won’t be so readily available, and it’ll be nice if Ben can come and take care of your horses for you.”
Unreasonable jealousy coursed through me. I didn't want anybody touching my horses except for her. But I caught myself before I lashed out. “I guess you know what you're doing.”
I tipped my hat at Ben before Clara said, “Ben, I'll be right behind you.” When Ben was out of earshot, Clara stared me down.
“At first, the jealous caveman thing was cute, but not anymore. Why are you so mean to him?”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re being ridiculous and grumpy.”
I sighed. “I’m being the way I am to pretty much everybody.”
“You’re not that way with me.”
“You’re different. I don’t love them. I love you.”
The grin she gave me before her exasperated sigh had me fighting the urge to smirk. “He's a nice guy. He's very good at his job, and in case you forgot, I'm going to be going on maternity leave. Someone has to take over for me for the weeks I’m gone.”
“Fuck, yeah, you're right. I just don't like the way he puts himself in your way all the time.”
“What do you mean puts himself in my way?”
“You know, like wherever you are, he's there too. Every fucking time at your clinic.”
“He’s working. Of course he's there.”
“He's working, sure, but unless he gives everyone the same level of special attention he gives you, there’s more to his—”
“Stop right there, Wilde. You’re jealous. I can see it rolling off you. Now, where are you off to? You want to get some dinner after this?”
I couldn’t stop my laugh. She knew me too well. “As tempting as that sounds, I gotta go pick up my wayward little brother from jail.”
“Jail? Sera is not going to be happy about that.”
I shook my head. “The other little brother.”
“How did Luke end up in jail? He's still in a cast, isn’t he?”
“No.” What had been a frustrating situation turned amusing. “Killian. The other other little brother. The secret one.”
Not too long ago, we found out that Killian Winter, country music star, wasn't our cousin as we’d grown up believing and was, in fact, Killian Wilde, our brother. It was a shock for everyone. When his label found out the truth behind his parentage, they jumped on the goldmine that being a Western movie legend’s grandson was. They rebranded everything, changed his name to Killian Wilde, and shifted him from front man of a band to solo artist. And it worked. He was tearing up the charts.
So I didn’t understand why in God's name my brother found himself in jail in the middle of nowhere without telling us he was going to be here.
“Is he okay?” Clara asked.
“I think so. He sounded a little drunk, but other than that, I think he's fine. I have to go get him, though.”
“Guess I'll see you later.”
“You'll see me tomorrow morning. Tonight, if I can make it. All right?”
“Okay.”
I didn't kiss her, even though I wanted to. There were too many eyes around. Too many nosy people who worked on this ranch. One day, I'd be able to pull Clara Barnes into my office and kiss the hell out of her in front of whoever was watching. She left me with a little wave, and I got into my truck, started the engine, and drove the nearly half hour it took to get to the county jail.
When I walked inside, the first thing I saw was Sheriff Paul Barker, his feet kicked up on the top of his desk, hat pulled down over his eyes. I slammed my hand down on the bell, jolting him awake with a snort.
“Jesus Christ, Maverick. Give me a heart attack, and this town's gonna go the way of the Wild West.”
“Lord knows we wouldn't make it without you, Paul.” The sarcasm in my voice was impossible to hide. I didn’t want to either. “I’m here for my brother. You gonna let him go?”
“Yes. You want to take the other one too?”
“The other one? What are you talking about?”
“Tucker Weston.”
My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah. They're both pretty banged up.”
Tucker wasn’t a fighting kind of guy, not after he and Sam had finally gotten together. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Paul shrugged. “I don’t know. Killian’s got a pretty smart mouth on him.”
“You call Sam?”
He shook his head. “Tucker said no. There wasn’t any need for Sam to know any detail of this.”
I sighed and pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing Sam Ryker’s number.
He answered after three rings, confusion clear in his tone. “Mav? Why’re you calling me? I didn't even know you had my number.”
“Your sister and my brother are hitched. Of course I’ve got your number.” Didn’t we all have everyone else’s numbers? “Anyway, I’m calling because your husband is in jail. Did you know that?”
“What?”
“I guess he was in a fight with Killian.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea, but he's refused to call you. I thought I would do you a favor and let you know before I pick Kill up. Thought you might want to get what's yours.”
“Yeah, shit . . . thank you. I'll be right there.”
I hung up and waited as Paul collected my asshole brother. As Killian sauntered out in front of the sheriff, I rolled my eyes. “You look ridiculous.”
He smirked and stared down his body for a moment. Black leather pants fit him low on the hips, and his matching black shirt was unbuttoned all the way down to the middle of his chest, showcasing a physique earned by hours in the gym rather than hours on horseback. It was the polished black cowboy boots that sealed the deal, though. I swear to God Johnny Cash rolled over in his grave. I scoffed low and without thinking.
A smirk twisted Killian’s lips, the split on the right side looking painful. “What's so funny?” he asked.
“So is a drugged-out impersonation of Johnny Cash the look that we're going with now? Are you wearing eyeliner?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”
“It's just different from the way you used to dress.”
“Yeah, well. This is who Killian Wilde is now.”
There was so much anger and bitterness in his words. He was using alcohol and God knew what else to cope with whatever was going on with him. I could smell the whiskey and see the strung-out look in his eyes. “Come on, Killian Wilde. Let's go.”
“Just need to get to my car.”
“No, you're not driving.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You sure?”
Paul shook his head. “He passed the breathalyzer. But he's definitely been smoking, at least some weed.”
“Fucking fine. Come on, Kill, you can sleep it off at my house, and we'll have a talk about what got you into this mess.”
I walked out to my truck, and thank God he got inside because I wasn't sure I'd be able to get him to go with me willingly if he didn't want. He was a big guy. Tall, rock solid like me. As we drove home in the quiet car, I waited for him to give me some kind of answer to my unasked question. When he didn’t, I spoke.