“And you should probably kiss my ass.”
I get the reaction I expect, which is clenching fists and testosterone flaring, and they bump into the chairs across from me to reinforce their bullshit threat. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Goatee Man growls.
“More than you can handle.” I take my time unfolding my legs and standing to my full height, which puts us eye to eye and renders their attempt to threaten me by towering over me non-existent.
“It isn’t smart to test us,” Goatee Man says.
“I think you have this all backward,” I say, taking a step closer. “It’s you who shouldn’t be testing me.” I take a sip of my beer to draw out everyone’s attention, to make sure that the rest of the crowd who isn’t following the competition is taking notice. “You have no goddamn clue who you’re messing with.”
“Ranch hands don’t worry us,” Baldy warns.
But my laugh rings out loud and clear. “You keep thinking that’s all I am, and I’ll keep trying to figure out who the fuck sent you two assholes because you and I both know you’re standing in front of me threatening me for Tate’s sake. So, tell me, did Jed send you to make sure we don’t tell everyone he’s been shorting Tate out of the grain she paid for? Is he afraid others might start checking their orders a little more closely? Oh, no. You must be from Hickman, then. It must suck when another credible horse ranch threatens longstanding relationships you have with huge clients because you rested on your laurels and got lazy.” The muscles in their jaws clench, and their eyes bore into mine as I offer them a lazy smile and a go-fuck-yourself glare right back. “Not that? Hmm. Is it her land in general you’re trying to run her off? Rumor over at Ginger’s is that Fletcher stole that land right out from under the nose of a pair of brothers who thought they deserved it. That wouldn’t happen to be you two, now would it?”
“You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“Another empty threat.” This time I smile even wider. “Can I buy you a drink?” I hold my finger up to our server. “You look like you could use it. What’ll you have?”
“You’ve been warned.”
“So have you.”
They walk off just as Tate gets back to the table, and all of the people slowly turn their attention back to the contest.
“Dare I ask why everyone is looking at me like they saw a ghost?”
“That part I told you about things getting a little rough before they get better?”
“Yeah?” She swivels her head on her neck and looks around.
“The first warning shot was just fired over the bow.”
“Let’s hope you shot back with a much bigger gun.”
I throw my head back and laugh, hoping the two fuckers hear it.
I hope they know we won’t be intimidated.
And when I look back at her, the only thought that fills my head is just how bad I want to kiss her.
Right here.
Right now.
Stake my claim so every other asshole in this town not only knows she’s taken but also knows she’s protected.
I fight the urge that owns me because I don’t need to shield her. The damn woman is strong enough on her own. That much I know for sure.
But it’s her lips I want.
It’s her moan I want to earn.
And fuck if that isn’t a problem.
26
TATE
For some reason, I look at the ranch through fresh eyes when we drive through its gates.
Maybe it’s because I’m looking at all this land and possibility through the haze of hope, which isn’t something I’ve had for a long time.
I look at the front door of the house and remember when Fletcher carried me over its threshold. Was that the last time I felt it?
Can’t be.
There’s no way I’ve lived here for the past six years and not felt it. Is there?
Losing the baby was the first piece of hope I lost. A stillbirth at six months when the nursery had already been painted and would remind me of her every time I walked by was more than enough of a reason to lose some.
Then Fletcher bought Ruby, and I thought maybe we could do this. Live this life and make the best of it because . . . what choice did we really have? I mean a Thoroughbred with a Kentucky Derby winner in her blood was just what we needed. At least, that’s what Fletcher told me. We could breed her and sell her foals and make a fortune. I was so ignorant to all the pitfalls in his plan when we bought her, I never considered just how much it would cost in stud fees to make that happen.
Then there was Fletcher’s mass purchase of quarter horses, which unbeknownst to us, had been exposed to the neurological strain of the EVH-1 virus. We lost a third of them to it and the vet bills to keep the remainder alive drained a huge portion of our savings.
Another piece of my hope died with each of them.
The pressure mounted, and from what I know now, the bills did too. Fletcher’s temperament changed and he had violent mood swings more and more often. The excuses. The secrecy.
Each and every one chipped at my hope until I was left with none at all.
Then he died. Died and left me to deal with a non-existent bank account, a mountain of debt, and my name on everything because his credit was ruined from what he said were mistakes with credit cards he made right after he graduated high school.
“Hey,” Jack says. “You okay?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur and take another look at the ranch. The setting sun is lighting up the sky in oranges and pinks and casting a glow over the land I own, over the chaos I’m trying to manage.
“Tate?”
I shake my head and look his way, a soft smile on my lips, the wine making me sleepy and sentimental. “I’m good.”
He gets out of the truck and opens the door for me, and for the briefest of moments, we stand there staring at each other. There’s a neigh of a horse in the distance. A chirp of a bird. A rustle of trees.
But we just stand there, not making a sound.
“I have stuff I need to take care of,” Jack says and hooks a thumb over his shoulder but doesn’t move.
Come inside.
“Yeah. Sure. Me too.”
Please, come inside.
“’Kay,” he murmurs, taking a step in retreat without dropping his attention from my eyes.
I don’t want to be alone right now.
“Good night, Jack.”
“’Night.”
We both stand there, though, facing each other, trying to navigate this newfound situation we’ve put ourselves in.
One I don’t have the slightest clue how to handle.
When all you’ve ever known is relationships and the sex that results from those emotions, how exactly are you supposed to know how to handle the physicality without the rest of it?
Turn and walk, Tate.
One foot in front of the other.
I give Jack one last long look, taking in the sky at his back and the sincerity in his eyes, and then turn on my heel and start heading to my front door.
“Hey, Knox?”
“Yeah?” My pulse races as I turn to look at him, my stomach somersaulting.
“We did well today.” His smile is wide, his eyes quiet.
“We did.”