“When are we going to name him? We can’t go around calling him wolf pup or wolfy or scruff-ball for the rest of his life.”
“Those will have to work until a more fitting name presents itself. In the meantime, enjoy your precious time with Fluffy.” When I caught myself combing at my hair again, I sat on my hands and ignored the reason I was trying so hard to get date-ready. This wasn’t a date. One friend was taking another friend out before she went nuts. Chance was taking me out for a fun night. Nothing more. I definitely wasn’t hoping he’d kiss me again. Not even.
Maybe if I kept telling myself that, I could actually wish it into reality. Yeah, right.
“What’s got you so wound up?” Chase asked, tilting his head back in my direction. “Correction—what’s got you more wound up than usual?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone who was totally on board with the idea of going out tonight and then decided to bail at the last minute.”
Chase shook his head. In a few days’ time, he’d made a massive transformation. Instead of wearing sweats and slippers, he’d actually dressed himself in clothing one could go out in public in, and his burgeoning beard had been shaved and his hair strong-armed into submission. He’d even gained back a few pounds. Along with the physical transformation, though, came the mental one. When it came to Chase, that meant he wouldn’t give up on a topic until it had been answered to his satisfaction.
“You and Chance always preferred to do your own thing before. I know you just invited me along out of obligation, not because you actually were looking forward to my company, as charming as it is,” he said.
After taking a moment to cool down, I slid to the floor and scooted toward Chase and the pup. “Well, believe me when I say I really, really was looking forward to your company tonight. Charming, be it questionable.”
Chase loosened his hold on the wolf so that I could stroke his back. Chase wasn’t the only one who’d undergone a serious transformation. In the same amount of time, the pup had gained weight, gone from needing I.V. fluids to devouring prime cuts of red meat served to him in a silver bowl, and had gone from being stuck on the pool table to leaping onto it, throwing back his head, and practicing his howl. John said the thing’s howls had never woken him, but I didn’t see how that could be true since they could have woken the dead. Either way, John had been extremely understanding of the whole wolf-under-his-roof situation.
Yesterday—after it had become clear the pup would continue to recover and get more rambunctious—Chance had run to the feed and supply store to pick up everything we needed to build a large outdoor enclosure for the pup. So far the pup had been (mostly) on its best behavior, but a wolf’s temperament and tolerance could change overnight. We wanted to be prepared for when and if it did.
I’d expected them to need a week to build the acre-large enclosure, but I’d woken up this morning to find it done and ready to house one curious, albeit clingy, wolf pup. Chase and I had walked the pup around inside it, and he had seemed perfectly fine—as long as we were inside with him. Closing the gate and leaving him behind was a whole other issue. We’d thought the howling inside had been eardrum splitting . . .
That shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Wolves were social creatures that thrived on companionship and shriveled in solitude. So while the enclosure might take us a while to adjust to, at least it was ready to go. Of course, that was thanks to Chance calling in a few extra hands yesterday and staying up most of the night to finish it.
“I’m stumped,” Chase said a minute later, as if he’d been puzzling over something for a while. “Why do you care so much if I do or don’t come? Have you caught a crush on me?” He flashed a wicked smile and popped his brows a few times.
I shoved his arm and made sure to look him in the eye so he couldn’t accuse me of being nervous around him. “Having a crush on you would constitute the biggest mistake of my life. I’m smarter than that, but nice try.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “So if it doesn’t have anything to do with me, then it must have something to do with . . .” All of a sudden, recognition dawned in his eyes, and his whole expression went flat. “Holy shit, Scout. Chance? This whole riled up act is because of him?” Chase thrust his hand at me, waving it up and down at my apparent “riled up” look. “Please explain before I get carried away jumping from one conclusion to the next.”
I curled my legs up to my chin and wrapped my arms around them. “There’s nothing to explain.”
Chase sat up some, causing the pup to slide down to his lap. There wasn’t even a break in the pup’s snoring. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“For being the oldest, you have a serious maturity problem.”
“Fine. I’m mature. Highly esteemed for my superb listening skills and even superb-er advice-giving skills.” Chance lifted a brow. “Spill.”
“If your superb-er advice-giving skills are on par with your vocabulary, I think I’m better off getting advice from the business end of a hammer.” I checked the doorway for Chance. The only thing more complicated than the feelings I felt growing for him would have been him finding out about them by accident.
“What do you consider the business end of a hammer? The prongs or the pounder?” Chase scratched his head as if that were the great existentialist question of our time.
“Does it matter?” I fell back on the carpet, already exhausted and my big night out hadn’t even officially begun.
“Yes, it does matter,” he replied in a solemn tone.
I rolled my eyes. “Both. I consider both ends of a hammer the business end. Now can we stop talking about hammers and just sit and enjoy each other’s company in silence?” Chance had said he’d meet me in the library at nine, and it was five minutes to. I needed every last second of those five minutes to put myself back together before Chance’s looks and touches tore at me, crumbling me to bits.
“You’re the one who brought up the hammer. And how can we enjoy each other’s company if we’re being silent?”
The black fur-ball in Chase’s lap stretched before settling into a more comfortable ball.
“That sounds like the perfect way to enjoy each other’s company.” Closing my eyes, I rested my hands behind my head and pretended to be as relaxed as I was not.
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first lady to suggest I’m at my best when words aren’t the center of our focus. If you know what I mean.”
From Chase’s tone alone, I picked up on what he meant just fine. “And this silence begins when?” I felt Chase lean in.
“When you tell me everything you’re not about Chance,” he whispered.
I bit back the groan I felt rising. I’d never had an actual blood brother, but I imagined that if I did, he’d be just as irritating as Chase. “None of your business.”
“He’s my brother. You’re like my sister. Of course it’s my business.”
My eyes were closed, but I saw red. “Fine. I’m not telling you. How’s that for a final answer?”
“No prob. I’ll just ask Chance what’s up between you two when he shows up in . . . oh . . . three minutes.”
“You can’t.” It was more of a plea than an order. “Please, Chase, you can’t say anything to Chance about this.”
Chase looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “Why?”
“Because what I’m feeling for Chance is something I can’t even put into words for myself, so how can you expect me to explain it to you? I need time to figure out what I’m feeling and if I want to feel that way, and then I’ll try to ascribe a word to it and get back with you. In the meantime, please just let it chill. Even better, just forget about the last ten minutes.” I probably would have rather been branded than admit all of that to Chase Armstrong, who’d been rumored to have the empathic depth of a kiddie pool.
But instead of busting out laughing at me or rolling his eyes at what he perceived to be a spell of puppy love, his face pulled together in lines of contemplation. He scrubbed his chin with one ha
nd. “You don’t have to assign a designation to what you’re feeling—that’s not what I’m asking—but you admit you feel something for Chance?”
I checked behind me again. Still clear, but to be safe, I went with a nod.
“Something you didn’t feel before you came back to the ranch?”
I paused to consider his question then nodded again.
“Do you think he feels it back?” Chase’s eyes glinted with something.
Again, I gave his question some serious thought. Instead of answering with a nod, I gave him a shrug. He looked to be in the middle of forming his next question when that figure I’d been anticipating showed up in that doorway. A quick check of the clock revealed it was nine o’clock on the dot.
“Do you think who feels what back?” Chance asked, walking toward us.
I shot Chase an anxious look. I doubted he’d spill we’d just been talking about Chance, but Chase’s allegiance rested more with his brother than with me.
Chase patted the air with one hand, gesturing me to calm down, before he craned his neck back to answer Chance. “The wolf. We were brainstorming some names for him and wondered if there were any names he ‘felt’ more than the others.”
I shook my head. Chase used to be an amazing liar, now he could have put in an application as one of the worst. When Chance stopped beside us, I could tell from the look on his face that he knew Chase was hiding something. I knew so many of Chance’s expressions.
“He’s a wolf. An animal. He doesn’t care what you call him.” Chance went along with our ruse, but he knew we’d been talking about someone and feelings and we wanted those topics kept private, so he would be on alert. Which meant I needed to be more careful about who I talked to about what. “Call him Fluffy or Spike or Prince or . . .”—Chance waved at the wolf hunkered down in Chase’s lap—“Wolf.”
The word had hardly spilled from Chance’s mouth before the little pup’s ears pricked to life, followed by a soft, sleepy whimper.
We all looked at each other, then Chase said, “Wolf.”
Again, the pup’s ears went high, and that sweet whimper filled the room.
“Wolf,” I repeated, getting the exact same reaction from the pup. I shook my head. “I think we’ve found ourselves a name for this little guy.”
Chase chuckled silently, back to stroking the pup’s head. “Well, that was easy. Way to go, Chance.”
“Glad I could help, unintentional as it might have been.”
When Chance stepped around in front of the chair, what he was wearing finally registered.
“Crap,” I said, scanning from his boots to his hat. While those and the jeans and shirt might have been similar to what he wore every day, they weren’t the worn-in, mud-mixed-with-grease-mixed-with-blood-stained version he usually had on. The faded jeans that had been washed so many times they were a notch up from threadbare had been replaced with a new pair of dark indigo jeans, topped off by a long-sleeved button-down plaid shirt in blues and burgundies. His light hat was the same color as his others, but it was so clean it didn’t look like it had seen a day in the saddle. Even his boots were cleaned and shined up. Chance looked like he was heading out on a date with some girl he was hoping to impress. That did nothing to calm my nerves.
“Crap what?” Chance asked when I failed to expand. He smelled fresh from the shower too, with the slightest hint of cologne.
“Crap, you got all dressed up and nice looking, and I’m in my everyday wear.”
Chance looked at me sprawled out on the floor and did a quick inspection of my clothing. “You look great. Really great,” he added when I let out a sigh. “Don’t let me getting dressed up make you feel like you need to do the same.”
I yanked a thread from the cuff of my fraying jeans, as if that one thread would magically transform me from ordinary to fancy. “What inspired you to go all out and get dressed like one of those ‘show’ cowboys you like to roll your eyes at?”
In Jackson Hole, there were more show cowboys than real ones. Sure, a pile of money could buy anyone a fancy pair of boots and a belt buckle, but there wasn’t a price tag on the grit that ran in a real cowboy’s blood.
“I wanted to look nice tonight. I’m not exaggerating when I say that it’s probably been as long for me as it has been for you since I went into town for the whole dancing-and-drinking thing.” Chance held up his arms. “I thought that called for new clothes.”
“You never felt that way when we’d sneak out back when I lived here. You’d usually just throw on whatever you’d had on earlier that day in an effort to keep the girls away.” I lifted a brow. “Nothing says stay away like remnants of cow shit flaking off your boots, right?”
Chance smiled, probably pulling from those memories too. After I’d turned sixteen, Chance and I would sneak out of the house whenever a wild streak caught us both, and we headed to whichever club, honky-tonk, or festival was having live music and a dance floor that night. We’d gone to be together, never interested in meeting members of the opposite sex, and those nights dancing and laughing until an hour or two before sunrise encapsulated some of my best memories of living there.
That was why I’d agreed to tonight so quickly—I’d been hoping to recreate those nights—but my feelings for Chance had been straightforward and innocent back then. Only the opposite could be said of tonight.
Chance crouched beside Chase and me. “Well, this is what I’m wearing out tonight. I’m sorry if you prefer the cow shit and sweat, but I can do that next time if it means so much to you.”
I was so used to seeing him beat up from a day of working the ranch that I’d forgotten how different he looked fresh from the shower. He was like a newer, polished-up version of himself that smelled like soap and aftershave instead of sweat and ranch-life. But I realized something that frayed my nerves another direction—I found Chance attractive both ways, all ways. Fresh from the mud or from the shower, he still made my stomach do that thing where it felt like it was hitting the floor. Shirt streaked with grass, dirt, and every other organic substance, or fresh-pressed like tonight . . . it didn’t change the pull I felt toward him. Every part of Chance Armstrong entrapped me and drew me in.
“Scout?” Chance lowered his head to meet my eyes.
I’d been lost in my thoughts for so long that both brothers were giving me looks, although Chase’s was tempered with understanding.
“Do you want to get changed, or are you ready to head out?” Chance asked.
I gave my head a shake and cleared my throat. No more contemplations about Chance’s many facets and them all being equally perfect. I surveyed my jeans and T-shirt with new eyes. Most women wore skirts or dresses to those kinds of things, and if they wore jeans, they wore ones with back pockets so bedazzled it was like their ass was its own disco ball. “Do you think I should go get changed?”
“No, I think you look perfect.” Chance shook his head. “But you’re the one who’s concerned with what I’m wearing and what you’re wearing, so go ahead and change if you want to. I’ll wait here. The club isn’t going anywhere.”
“Yeah, Scout, why don’t you go change? Put on a short little tight dress for your date tonight.”
From Chase’s tone, I knew he was just dying for me to look at him so he could jack his brows a few times. My eyes narrowed into slits.
“I mean your outing tonight.” He smiled at the pup in his lap, his face light with amusement.
I mentally flogged myself for admitting my confused feelings for Chance to Chase. It might not have been the worst mistake of my life, but it had to rank in the top twenty-five. “And why don’t you go find your favorite pair of slippers and shove one in your mouth and the other up your—”
“Ready?” Chance extended his hand toward me and waited.
He was giving me the choice: take his hand or do it on my own. My head was still making up mind when my heart answered. When I dropped my hand in his, Chance pulled me up and didn’t let it go when I was standing be
side him.
“Sure you don’t want to change your mind about going, Chase? It’ll be a great time.” Chance stared at his brother lounging on the floor with a wolf pup in his lap, passing on a night of girls and good times to spend it stroking a wild animal’s scruff.
Most brothers would have been disturbed over Chase’s choice, but Chance looked relieved. Probably for the same reason I did—Chase was back. Although this version of him wasn’t identical to the one he’d been before Jenny’s accident, it felt like an even better version. It was like everything that had been great about him before had transferred over, and a few more great items had been added to the mix.
Chase shook his head, watching our combined hands with something different in his eyes, even though he’d seen Chance and I hold hands plenty of times. Chance’s hand felt different in mine, too. Less habitual and more instinctual. There was a fine line between the two, but it felt significant.
“Nah, that’s okay. You guys will have more fun without me.” And of course because he was Chase and couldn’t resist, he aimed a crooked smile at me. “Way more fun without me.”
Pulling on Chance’s hand, I steered him out of the library before anything else could be implied with bouncy brows or suggestive smiles.
“Good night, Chase. Good night, Wolf,” I said as we left, a whimper following us.
“Good night, you two,” Chase called. “And don’t worry—I won’t stay up waiting for you guys, so feel free to stay out as late as you want doing whatever it is you want to do to each other.” My growl, meant to be kept silent, must have reached Chase’s ears because he added, “I mean with. Whatever you want to do with each other. Sorry, can’t form sentences correctly these days.”
Chase had formed that sentence just the way he’d intended, which was why I could feel Chance studying me curiously. I supposed his curious look might not have been totally due to Chase’s insinuation but also my storming pace through the foyer and out the front door while I yanked him along.
Three Brothers Page 15
