Ember’s eyes popped wide. “You stole it?”
“Stole it, jacked it, lifted it…let’s not split hairs here, okay. Would you have preferred I left it there?”
“No, but maybe you should’ve made a copy instead of stealing the entire file.”
“I apologize.” Sarcasm set on full tilt, Travis threw his arms outward, adding, “I didn’t have my phone on me, and they weren’t handing out handy dandy spy kits at the eight-year-old’s birthday party.”
Sifting through the information, she found an unopened manilla envelope at the back of the file. Nostrils flared, she exhaled roughly, trying to control the rage building inside as she tore open its contents.
Heat flushed her body instantly turning her palms slick. Her head shook back and forth mechanically in disbelief, slowly reading over the results of a test…a paternity test naming Ben Walker her biological father.
Relief intertwined with a host of other feelings that weren’t so warm and fuzzy. Ember knew in her heart that Ben Walker was her father. After spending the last few months on the ranch, she was certain of it. There was too much Walker running through her blood not to be his daughter, however seeing the results etched in ink brought a sense of deep seeded reassurance she didn’t realize she so desperately needed until that moment.
Her eyes narrowed as they cut to Travis. “Who fucking did this? Which one of those chickenshit bastards slithered back into that boardroom to get my DNA?”
Travis crossed his arms over his broad chest, one brow lifting in speculation. His lips took a rebellious tilt. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”
“No no no. He wouldn’t do this to me,” she recoiled abruptly, head slinging back and forth. An icy chill skimmed over her flesh covering it in goosebumps. “It can’t be Nash. He wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.” Sincere sympathy tempered the storm riding in his eyes. “I did some digging of my own yesterday. Randy, the private investigator, has worked for Harris senior for years, and now does work for NBH Exploration as well.”
Bile rose in her throat.
Ember cast her eyes to the ground, hiding her face from Travis as the rush of pain tore through her, ripping her heart to shreds. The hurt and heaviness bled all the way to her bones.
She paced around Travis’s truck, fingers softly caged over her lips.
The shock of reality began to sink in along with the rain now falling from the sky. She’d left the door to her heart wide open and Nash Harris trampled right through it, shattering it to pieces.
Anger, betrayal, and heartache pooled in her eyes. Her lashes fluttered madly attempting to stop the first tear from falling, but they came anyway.
Coming to an abrupt halt, she looked up at Travis, humiliation gripping her senses. She scraped the back of her hand across the tears and rain running down the creases of her lips. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
Reaching into the cab of his truck, Travis retrieved his hat and placed it on Ember’s head shielding her from the rain. “I’d say telling him to fuck off would be a good place to start. But that’s just me.”
Her hands fell to her sides making another pass around his truck, berating herself for being so foolish. “How could you be so stupid? What the hell were you thinking?”
You weren’t thinking. You were too busy falling in love.
Cold, wet fabric hung on her shoulders. Travis spoke, but his voice sounded a hundred miles away. Her mind lost, rehashing every interaction and conversation they had.
Ember’s head snapped, chin jerking toward the sound of an approaching vehicle. Fire screamed through her veins and licked up her neck, spotting the metallic turquoise roof of Nash’s truck coming over a hill in the distance.
Jaw clenched, she straightened her sagging shoulders, and marched through the muck. Ember didn’t need to look back to know Travis was giving her space, but he wasn’t leaving.
The wide smile Nash sported behind the windshield faltered pulling up to the arena, eyes glued to the hat stuck on her head. He exited the truck. Threads of rain were now the only barrier left between them as he trudged through the mud meeting her halfway.
“Hey.” His lips pushed into a half-smile casually snagging the hat from her head and replacing it with his own pecan colored Stetson. “I kind of like this one better.”
“Actually, Nash, I don’t care what you like.” Anger and wariness cut through her cordial tone. She ripped his hat from her head and shoved it into his chest, knocking him off balance a bit. Eyes beaded tightly, she snarled, “You don’t even wear a hat.”
“I do when it’s raining,” he assured. Sweetness caressed his tone, but concern peppered his features one muscle at a time.
Nerves buckled and twisted in her belly. Ember’s chest heaved with each labored breath, glaring at him through red-rimmed eyes. “You’ve been lying to me this entire time? Did you hire a private investigator to dig into my life? To follow me?”
Color leached from his face.
His mouth downturned as a shroud of somberness, callous and telling, fell over him. The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Hard.
“Are you just going to stand there and look at me?” She sharpened her stare. “Or is that smart mind of yours working up more lies to tell me?”
The animosity humming between them felt as thick as the humidity saturating the air.
“It’s not what you think.” Turmoil building in the ocean of blue in his eyes grew turbulent.
Her heart sank all the way to her toes.
“You used me!” Inundated with heavy sentiments of anger and pain, she thrust the file toward him.
Blinking the mist of rain from his lashes, Nash reached for her arm. “Let’s take a ride so we can talk.”
“Don’t touch me,” she shrieked, crimson swaths burning her cheeks as she wriggled free of his grip. “You don’t ever get to touch me again.”
Anguish slipped over him like the veil of rain falling from the sky. His expression unrecognizable.
“Ember, please.” Nash’s gaze darted between Ember and several men standing in the distance, his voice nothing more than an ache of a whisper. “Yes, it’s true. I had my P.I. look into your background. It was before we’d even met.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Montgomery and a few other hands approaching warily. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she privately wondered if this is what it felt like to have a father and brothers.
“Oh yeah.” She snatched a few pieces of paper from the file, crumpled them in her hand, and shoved them into his chest. “How do you explain these?”
Nash’s jaw clamped tight. “What is this?”
“It’s my paternity results! And pictures of me and Monty and Travis—" A sudden rush of air burned her lungs on intake as she slammed the flat of her hand against her chest. “—on my property! My ranch!”
A deep groove scored between his brows. Nash uncrumpled the papers. His head shook in denial, skimming the images and information.
“I didn’t do this.”
“I’m not one of your fucking land deals. You don’t get to stake claim to me.”
Nash encircled his fingers around her biceps, drawing her attention upward. “Where did you get this?”