by Em Petrova
A glance over her shoulder revealed that the guy hadn’t stirred even at the sound of the loud engine. She set the brake and then leaped to the ground again. After locating a rope, she hitched it to the back. Then she looped the other end around the man’s ankles. To do this, she had to move each of his spread legs, which weighed as much as tree trunks.
She’d seen drunk people sleep this heavily before, and the behavior always scared her. But her annoyance outweighed any butterflies in her stomach that the guy would wake and come up swinging.
Once she had the rope around his booted feet, she stood back to look at him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
But he was big and heavy, and she had no choice but to drag him out of her barn.
With a shake of her head, she returned to the tractor. Another backward glance and she saw he hadn’t budged.
She put the tractor in gear and rolled forward. The guy bumped along the wooden floorboards. As his body crossed the threshold, she swore she heard a groan from him. Looking back again, she watched his head bump over the lip of the doors and onto the patchy grass outside.
She towed him across the bumpy earth to the water trough and cut the engine. Jeez, this guy was really out for the count, wasn’t he?
When she climbed down, she spotted a small leather object along the trail that had been cut into the dirt by his heavy body. His wallet—and presumably he carried an ID. Though the feeling she recognized him burned strong, she didn’t know the guy’s identity.
She gave him a wide berth in case he woke suddenly and made a grab for her. Then she’d have no choice but to brain him with a shovel.
She walked over to pick up the wallet that had fallen out of his pocket. Propriety told her not to open the bifold and look, but she had to identify the guy, right? She flipped it open and stared at the Colorado driver’s license—expired with a picture of a younger man.
She groaned. No wonder she recognized him—Dane Moon.
Her mind waged a war with her younger alter-ego. In high school, she would have done just about anything to have Dane throw one of his gorgeous crooked smiles her direction, and he never gave her the time of day.
He could only be described as rough around the edges, with a look about him every girl in Stokes High wanted a piece of. Heck, Brennah had her fair share of fantasies involving Dane Moon.
Just last week she’d been at the Moon Ranch, seeing to one of the new horses. His brother Zayden seemed to be a decent guy these days, though like everyone else in this small town, she’d heard rumors of his past. Also, there was plenty to learn about their father if she wanted to listen, which she didn’t.
Dane Moon. Birthday July 20. As if she didn’t already know that. In Dane’s junior year, she had made it a point to “run into” him, if she could call biking all the way from town to the Moon Ranch running into. She brought him a birthday cupcake she’d bought from the bakery with some cash she earned from running errands for an elderly neighbor.
Dane hadn’t been home at the time, and his younger brother Asher laughed at her gesture. When she left, Asher had most likely eaten the cupcake and never told Dane she’d paid him a visit.
God, these old memories didn’t leave her with a warm, fuzzy feeling for the guy. And looking at him now, she could see he’d sunk as low as his daddy.
With a sigh, she considered her options. One—call Zayden and tell him to come get his brother. Two—phone the sheriff. Three—attempt to wake him again.
For some reason, she felt the need to try before making any calls. She unhooked the rope from his boots and knelt next to him. “Dane! Wake up!”
He stirred at the sound of his name. Patients came out of anesthesia when they heard their names. This couldn’t be much different, could it?
“Dane!” She shook him, then slapped him lightly on the scruffy cheek. The stiff dark hairs under her fingertips made her jerk her hand back. She latched onto his shoulder and shook him again, but that wasn’t better, because the rock-hard muscle awakened her inner teenaged girl.
She sat back on her heels and called his name again.
Finally, his eyes fluttered. The irises looked amber in the bloodshot mess of the whites of his eyes.
Feeling a little thrown off, she tentatively pushed at his shoulder again. “Dane, get up!”
He sat up so fast she had to jump back. He slumped forward, giving a groan that sounded like a wild animal’s rather than a man’s.
“Dane. Get up. You have to leave.”
“Where am I?” he moaned out.
“On my ranch. You don’t live here. You passed out.”
“Fuck.”
“Come on. Get up and we’ll call your brother.”
That broke through his alcoholic haze. “No. Not my brother. He won’t like it.” Rolling to the side, he tried twice to get his feet beneath him before heaving himself to a stand. He swayed alarmingly, and she reached out as if to catch him, even as she realized there was no way in hell she could hold him up. If he plummeted to the ground, all she could do was get out of the way.
He cracked a bleary eye at her. “Who’re you?”
“Brennah Peterson. This is my ranch.” The words barely left her lips before she realized he was about to go down again.
“Oh no you don’t.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him several paces across the yard to the trough. Water always worked with drunks. When she moved to dunk him, he helped her out by falling face-first into the water.
For a moment, she panicked. What if he passed out and she wasn’t strong enough to haul him out? She couldn’t be responsible for the man drowning in her horse trough.
With a hard grasp on his shoulders, she yanked him backward. Crap, he was a hell of a lot heavier than her mom, who drank too much wine following a bad day at work.
To her relief, he came with her, flipping water all over her. She gasped at the hit of cold water to the face and chest. She released him.
Dane rocked on his feet.
“Don’t go down again!” Lurching toward him, she shoved his head under again.
This time, he threw himself upward. With water streaming off him and molding his chambray shirt to his chiseled body, he glared at her. His dark hair plastered to his forehead and below that, his amber eyes centered on her.
She swallowed hard.
The man was big, wet…and angry.
“The best way to wake a drunk is cold water.” Her words sounded strong, even if she felt like she stood on two spaghetti noodles rather than legs.
He didn’t budge, standing there streaming water. When he swiped a hand over his face and up through his hair, sending the strands into spikes, he paused. “Where’s my hat?” He sent her another glare like she’d stolen the thing off his head.
“In the barn. You weren’t wearing it when I found you.”
He looked her over, from head to foot and back up, in a slow pace that reflected his inebriated condition and didn’t have anything to do with him liking her appearance. But she still felt his gaze like a touch and drew up to her full height of five-nine. She was tall enough, strong too. And she wanted him to know he wouldn’t get far with her if he tried anything.
He strode into her barn without so much as a wobble. Clearly the man could process his liquor with a little help. He shoved the hat down over his wet hair and peered at her from under the low brim.
“How’d you know my name?”
“Your driver’s license.” No sense in reminding him of her immature efforts to get his attention in high school.
Dark brows shot up. “You took my wallet?”
“No, it fell out of your pocket when I dragged you over the threshold.” She waved a hand. At that moment, he must have pieced together the scene—dirt trail, tractor, and rope.
He rounded on her and then grabbed his head. “You dragged me with a tractor?”
“How else was I going to get you out? You’re big and weigh as much as one of my young llamas.”
&nbs
p; His blue jeans were painted on, and the way he braced his legs wide only accentuated muscled thighs and calves much thicker than in his youth.
She tore her gaze away. “Look, you need to leave. I have work to do.”
He attempted a nod but clutched his skull again. Serves him right.
“Can you at least tell me where I’m at, besides on your ranch? Where is the Moon Ranch from here?”
“Just across that field.” She pointed.
He peered at her, and through those amber eyes, she saw the lights flipping on in his brain. “You bought the old Connally place.”
She nodded.
“Sorry for the trouble, miss.” To her surprise, he tipped his hat in the most gentlemanly manner she’d seen in ages, and never from a drunk. He walked past her and circled the paddock. She watched him go for long minutes, until she was sure he’d remain on his feet and wouldn’t collapse in her field.
With a shake of her head, she returned to the barn and her animals. If the past half hour was anything to go by, she was in for one hell of a day.
* * * * *
Dane lay in his childhood bed, staring at the ragged posters of girls in swimsuits hanging on the ceiling. How the hell had he gotten here?
Holding his breath because inhaling hurt, he waited to hear the thump of his dad passing out or Zayden’s cuss as he stepped over the asshole. But the house remained silent.
Slowly, he rolled to the side and sat at the edge of the mattress, slumped over and aching from head to foot. Why the hell had he stopped in at the local bar on the way home? He didn’t have money to waste on drink, but if he recalled right, he hadn’t spent any. Several old-timers who remembered his daddy spotted him shots of whiskey and welcomed him back to Stokes.
His stomach roiled as he pushed to his feet. At some point, he’d stripped off his shirt and boots—or maybe his brother had helped him. Damn, he hoped not. His grouchy brother always refused to help their dad, and he wouldn’t let Dane live it down if he’d done the duty.
On his feet, he swayed a moment, trying to gather his stomach, his wits and what he had left of his pride. Today was the first day of his fresh start, and the fact he was hungover didn’t bode well for the master plan, now, did it?
He managed to reach the bathroom and take a piss for what felt like two solid minutes. In the back of his mind, he recalled paying a visit to his old man’s grave. Then he zipped up and turned to the sink. Several girly items lined the countertop—perfume, hair products and a tube of lipstick. It all reminded him of Liz, and he inwardly groaned.
No wife. No cash. No truck. He was off to a hell of a start, wasn’t he?
After splashing cold water on his face and locating a tube of Zayden’s deodorant, he felt somewhat better. The toothbrush situation would have to be remedied and soon, because his mouth felt like he’d sucked on dust all night long—or all day. He tossed a look at the window. Judging by the sun, the hour appeared to be well past noon.
He dug around in the cupboard under the bathroom sink and pulled out some mouthwash. Swishing the bitter flavor around his mouth woke him up a bit more, and he faced his appearance in the mirror.
A shower topped the list, as soon as he could handle the noise of the water. For now, he’d settle for a good, strong, hot cup of coffee. And Mimi made the best.
When he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t find her there. He wandered around the house looking for the woman who’d been so comforting and caring to him and his brothers all those years, but she wasn’t around.
The back door slammed, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the vibration rang his bells.
Zayden’s unmistakable grunt filled the air, and Dane opened his eyes. “You’re finally up.”
“Yeah.”
They looked at each other. “Thought I told ya not to come back here drunk.”
“I didn’t listen.”
“Never did.” A rough noise left Zayden’s throat, like sandpaper over wood. His brother eyed him. “Whatta ya want?”
Dane blinked at him, slowly because even his eyelids felt the effects of too much rotgut. “Don’t want nothin’ but a cup of coffee.”
Without a word, Zayden took off into the kitchen. Dane followed more slowly and watched as his big brother drew two mugs out of the cupboard. He slammed both way too hard on the countertop, poured coffee and shoved the pot back onto the coffeemaker with a crash.
“Jesus,” Dane moaned.
For the first time, amusement lit Zayden’s eyes, the eyes that reminded him so much like their father’s, and yet not at all. Zayden and their younger brother Asher might carry the Moon genes in the looks department, but neither of them resembled that motherfucker, thank God.
Thrusting the mug toward him, Zayden took a sip of his own. Dane accepted the hot drink and settled at the table to sip it nice and slow. Getting his shit together with his brother scrutinizing his every move would be a challenge, but when had Dane ever shied away from anything?
Zayden leaned against the counter, drinking and watching him. “How’d ya get here? You didn’t drive.”
“Lost my truck.”
“Lost it? Where?”
“Back in Vegas.”
“What else did ya lose back in Vegas?”
He grunted, and that pained him too. “Couple things. Don’t worry about it. Look, I just need a place to stay a while.”
Zayden’s gaze felt like a hundred daggers poking into his skull. “I don’t take no freeloaders, Dane. Drunks either. Those days are over here at the Moon. We put in an honest day’s work and this is a dry ranch. You won’t find a drop of liquor here.”
The mention of alcohol caused Dane’s stomach to twist. He pushed his coffee away and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not getting drunk again, Z. I mean to turn a new leaf.”
With a clunk, his brother set aside his mug. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then footsteps sounded on the new hardwood floors his brother had recently installed. They both looked toward the kitchen entrance as a beautiful woman with a head of crazy spring curls stepped inside. Behind her was Mimi, and both of them had arms laden with paper grocery bags.
Zayden rushed forward to take them from the woman, and Dane realized he should jump up and help Mimi as well, but his legs didn’t cotton to the idea just yet.
Both women’s gazes locked on him, and he suddenly felt like the scummy relation who showed up when nobody wanted him.
“Dane, this is Esme, my fiancée.”
Now that shocker broke through his brain fog. He got to his feet, aware he was still shirtless as he stepped forward, hand extended. “Welcome to the family.” He wanted to add a few more lines about the rotten Moons and their no-good reputation, but he refrained. He’d keep his bitter thoughts to himself.
She took his hand. “Thank you. Will you…be staying a while?”
Behind her, Zayden cleared his throat. “We’ll see, won’t we, brother?” Clearly, Zayden wasn’t committing to letting him stay.
He looked up at Mimi. The woman’s eyes were alight with unshed tears. Now that was more like the reception he wanted. Stepping forward, he took the older woman into his arms and gave her a light squeeze.
She hugged him and placed a hand on the back of his head, drawing him down to study his eyes. He endured the scrutiny a moment. Mimi was part Ute Indian, and she believed the soul lived in the eyes. From the first time she’d come to the Moon Ranch to live and help them survive the likes of their father, all she had to do was look into each brother’s eyes to know the depth of that pain.
What she saw in Dane’s now must have passed the test, because she patted his shoulder and let him go. Exchanging a look with Zayden, he sank to the chair again. Several feet off, Esme stared at him. He hadn’t met her last time he’d been home, but she probably knew the story from Zayden. How Dane planned to leave and got as far as the bar before he detoured his way through a whiskey bottle and landed himself in the neighbor’s yard.
I left Zayde
n with a fat check to help out here on the ranch, though.
Mimi bustled back and forth across the kitchen, putting away groceries. Esme helped, shooting him small glances and outright cocking a brow at Zayden as if to ask if they were keepin’ him around.
Dane continued to sip his coffee slowly, allowing the caffeine to permeate his brain and wake him up a little. After he felt more himself, he looked around and realized the kitchen sat empty. He heard clanking noises in the other room.
Sounded as if Mimi was in one of her cleaning fits. When he got up and followed the noise, he found her in his old bedroom, standing on the mattress and pulling down all the posters.
“Hey, don’t rip—” He started to say, “that one,” but before he got the words out, she’d torn the bikini-clad model in two. Mimi tossed the poster to the floor with the others. Two garbage bags stood in the center of the space, half filled with old clothes, horse trader magazines and other junk from his youth.
He leaned against the doorway, watching her purge. When she’d cleared off the old desk where he’d never done a night of homework in his life, and the windowsill behind the curtain too, tossing all the old glass Coke bottles he’d collected as a kid, she shot him a look.
“Why clean this place out now, when I’ve been gone for years?” he asked.
“Because”—she picked up the pillow and whipped it so the case fell off—“you needed to be here when I did.”
“What for, Mimi? You aren’t exactly asking my permission to keep any of this.”
She paused, turning to him with the top sheet bundled in her hands. “You need a fresh start, and I’m showing you that you can have it.”
The breath he drew burned his lungs, and long moments passed before he could speak. “I get it.”
“Do you, Dane? Do you understand that you get a clean slate here on the ranch, starting now?” She didn’t move, just stared at him. Dang, Mimi always knew how to dig deep into a man, chiseling past any tough-guy walls and breaking into the heart.
Choked up, he gave a nod. “Yeah, I do.”
