by Maisey Yates
No idea at all.
CHAPTER NINE
THE NEXT DAY, Jamie Dodge was looking for recruits to go out to the Dalton ranch with her and meet a few of the new horses that she would be working with in the next few weeks.
Bea and McKenna had happily volunteered. Mostly, Bea had volunteered because it was her day off and she knew that Dane would be coming over to put the chicken coop door on, and a good portion of her wanted to avoid Dane right now.
She wasn’t even sure entirely of why.
Just that she felt weird and embarrassed and wanted to delay seeing him.
Which was something she had never wanted to do before. Not ever.
Bea had driven herself to the ranch, but then they had all loaded up into Jamie’s truck and headed out on the road to the Daltons.
“This is nice,” McKenna commented. “We haven’t all gotten together for a while.”
“Because you’re obsessed with my brother,” Jamie said dryly.
“I’m engaged to your brother,” McKenna shot back. “That’s a little bit different.”
“Then are you not obsessed with him?”
McKenna laughed. “Oh no. I am.”
Bea knew that Jamie liked teasing McKenna, but in reality she was thrilled that McKenna and Grant had ended up getting together. Grant had been widowed eight years ago. The fact that he was happy now was something that made the entire Dodge family happy.
“What have you been up to, Bea?” Jamie asked.
Studying. Working at the winery. Working at the vet. Having strange, electrically charged moments with Dane Parker.
“Not much,” she said simply.
“But I haven’t really seen you around the ranch,” Jamie pressed.
“I’m getting those chickens,” she said absently.
“And the theoretical chickens are that time-consuming?”
“Sometimes,” Bea said, shifting uncomfortably in the bench seat.
“How is Dane?” McKenna asked, pointedly.
Jamie didn’t ask about Dane, out of respect, it seemed to Bea. McKenna always did. Because McKenna didn’t ever seem to mind ruffling feathers.
“Everybody always asks me about him,” Bea said, feeling a little bit snappish and ruffled of feather, even though that wasn’t exactly fair.
She looked over at McKenna, whose dark brows had shot upward.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you grumpy before.”
Bea frowned. “I’m not grumpy.”
“You sound a little grumpy,” Jamie agreed with McKenna.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m just...taking a break from Dane.”
“Did something happen?” McKenna asked, suddenly sounding far too interested for Bea’s peace of mind.
“Why would you think something happened?”
The problem was, that nothing had happened. And yet, something had. Or maybe Bea was crazy and she was making things up. That was the problem. She didn’t know.
“Bea,” McKenna said, “is everything okay with you?”
“Everything is fine,” she said.
“Did Dane do something? Do we need to beat him up?” Jamie asked.
Bea was starting to get annoyed with herself too. Because McKenna was concerned, and she was being a good friend and Bea was just...so over being protected. So over being coddled. If Dane needed punching, Bea could do it herself.
“It’s probably nothing,” Bea said, feeling like she wanted to unzip her skin and escape the truck. Escape her body.
“You’re one of the most easygoing people I know,” McKenna said. “And the kindest. You literally bought me a jacket when I had nothing. I was a stranger to you, Bea, and you bought me clothes. You don’t get worked up over nothing. That’s not you. So whatever it is you’re feeling, don’t try to convince yourself that it isn’t happening.”
Bea looked over at McKenna. She wasn’t a whole lot older than herself or Jamie, but McKenna had lived a lot more life in a similar amount of years. She was tough, and she was extremely knowledgeable about the workings of men and women. Which made Bea wonder if she had been severely misusing her as a resource. Except Bea hadn’t thought she would need a resource. She had never been trying to actively make anything happen with Dane.
It was so outside the realm of possibility it was laughable.
She had spent a lot of years following him around like a puppy, and maybe in the beginning she had wondered if she could be with him, but mostly, she had always realized that her admiration of him was just that. Admiration.
“Nothing really happened,” Bea mumbled. “That’s the problem.”
“Tell me about the nothing,” McKenna said.
“Well,” Bea said slowly. “It was just a look. He looked at me and... It was different. Somehow, it was different. I don’t know why. But it was like there was an electrical storm. Or something.”
“That’s not nothing,” McKenna said. “Maybe he’s attracted to you.”
“I don’t... I don’t think so,” Bea said, her face going hot all over.
“Beatrix,” McKenna said, using her full name, which people only ever seemed to do when they were being terribly serious with her. “I’ve only known you for a few months, but in that time it has become abundantly clear to me that you are a lost cause for that man. So my question to you is this—do you want to be with him?”
Bea gritted her teeth. “It’s completely off-the-wall and unlikely.”
“I didn’t ask you if it was likely. Or probable. Or even possible. In a perfect world, where you didn’t have to worry about anything. Where everything would turn out perfectly no matter what you tried... Is he a thing you would try?”
“I... Yes.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
McKenna said that like it was simple. Like Bea wouldn’t be opening herself up to humiliation, and like it wasn’t something she’d gone over and over again in her head. Dane wasn’t looking for a commitment. And she had no idea how she could ever be with him, then not be with him. How she could see him all the time if they’d ever...
“I intend to keep doing what I’ve been doing,” Bea responded tartly. “Ignoring it and hoping it’ll go away.”
“You haven’t been ignoring it,” McKenna said. “You’re basically baiting him like he’s a stubborn animal and you’re a piece of cheese.”
“I am not a piece of cheese,” she said, grumpily. “I mean, I’m not acting like a piece of cheese.”
“You’ve been caring for him for months.”
“Because I care about him,” Bea said simply.
“That’s really sweet,” McKenna said. “But that’s not all it is. It’s not platonic. And I don’t see why you should have to accept that. I don’t see why you should keep acting like his nurse or...or God forbid his sister.”
“Because he’s important to me,” Bea said. “And no matter what happens with him he’s basically part of my family.”
“Except he isn’t family,” McKenna pointed out.
“McKenna,” Jamie said, after having been noticeably silent for the whole trip over. “I think what you don’t understand is what Dane is.”
Jamie turned the truck to the left, off the main road and up a paved driveway that Bea knew would carry them toward the impressive, immaculate Dalton ranch. Bea focused on the lawns, the white fences, the glorious white barns with green roofing.
Because if she didn’t she might yell at Jamie.
Jamie acting like she knew about Dane. About men like Dane. Because why? Because she lived with rodeo riders like it made her an expert?
She was just as big of a virgin as Bea was and she was always going around talking like, of the two of them, she knew more.
Jamie claiming to be an expert on men because she shared a house
with rodeo guys was as stupid as Bea claiming an expertise on sex because she’d watched crickets mate.
“What do you mean I don’t understand what he is?” McKenna said. “He’s a man. And no offense, but I think I know more about men than you.”
“He’s a bull rider,” Jamie said. “And I’m related to one of them. I know all about them. We’re about to go to the house of one of those men. I think he happens to be your father?”
McKenna waved a hand. “Sure,” she said, meaning Hank Dalton, who McKenna had just discovered was her father a few months ago. It was that connection that had first brought her to Gold Valley. Hank had been reluctant to embrace the daughter he hadn’t realized he’d had, the result of an extramarital affair he’d engaged in back before he and his wife had gotten their relationship on track.
“You’re saying that all bull riders are like my father?” McKenna asked.
“Yes,” Jamie said. “No offense, because he seems like a really nice man.”
“None taken,” McKenna said. “But Wyatt seems to be a pretty good husband, I have to say.”
“It doesn’t matter. The odds are bad with those guys. Believe me. I’ve completely had the mystique of the cowboy destroyed. Living with a whole bunch of them will do that.”
McKenna muttered something and Jamie shot her a look.
“What was that?” Jamie asked.
“I don’t think that’s entirely true, Jamie,” McKenna said, her tone crisp.
“It is absolutely true.”
Bea looked out the front window of the truck and saw a rangy figure moving across the manicured property toward them. Gabe Dalton.
“So my brother is just boring to you?” McKenna asked, her tone exceedingly leading as she referenced her newfound half brother.
“Gabe Dalton is nothing but a work partner to me,” Jamie said. “When I do find somebody to date it’s going to be someone a hell of a lot different from these assholes.”
Jamie got out of the truck and began to walk across the grounds toward Gabe, leaving the two of them in the dust. McKenna looked over at Bea. “Don’t worry about what she says. I don’t know what her deal is. But you know my assumption would be that she protests too much.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to talk about those things. Especially if you’re not used to being able to,” Bea said slowly. “And Jamie... Jamie likes to think she knows everything. It makes her feel safe, I guess.”
“I get that,” McKenna said. “I’ve been the very queen of self-protection for years. It’s only since Grant that I actually changed at all.” McKenna frowned. “It’s not only Grant, you know. It’s you. You and Jamie and your friendship. I don’t mean to come at you with tons of advice or act superior or anything. I just want you to be happy, because you’ve helped make me happy.”
A warm glow expanded in Bea’s chest. She loved McKenna, and she loved that the way Bea cared for her in the beginning had meant something. It was something Bea knew how to do well. How to care for people. How to care for creatures.
“I’ve had feelings for Dane for half my life,” Bea said. “And you know... You know he’s made it clear in a lot of ways that he doesn’t have similar feelings to me. But I still... It won’t go away. I’ve pushed it down and tried not to think about it. Tried not to talk about it all this time. Having him look at me like that...”
“I think you should take a chance on him,” McKenna said. “If he’s not interested, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“He never speaks to me again?”
“This isn’t high school, Bea,” McKenna said gently. “And I don’t want to... I don’t want to offend you. And I feel like Jamie would probably box my ears if she heard me say this. But you know... It’s not that big of a deal. Making a move. Having it rejected. I feel like you’ve never done it, and that makes it all feel huge. But it doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have to feel fatal. Or permanent. You can just...see what happens.”
“Well, that’s the problem. I have a lot of feelings, but I also don’t think I want to get married or anything.”
“Bea,” McKenna said. “Middle ground. You know, you could just sleep with the man for a while and enjoy him. You want him. Why not?”
The idea slapped Bea right in the face. “I... Well. I don’t know. I guess because feelings and...”
“You should like the guy you’re sleeping with,” McKenna said. “I’ve lived with men I didn’t like very much because I thought I needed to be with them to survive. I needed a partner, and I was scared to be alone. Well, you’re not alone. You have money and security. A place to live. Dane would be a decadent extra, and then when you’re done with him, you can still be friends.”
Well, that sounded a lot better than what her parents had always done. Tormenting and hurting each other. Infinitely better to the way Damien had been with Lindy. That sounded sophisticated and reasonable and like something Bea really would like to be.
“You have experience with the still friends thing?” Bea asked.
McKenna hesitated. “Well. No. But I dated a lot of jerks. But I really, really liked Grant and I went into it with that intention.”
“But you ended up with him,” Bea said.
“Well, yes,” McKenna said, shrugging. “I really didn’t expect to though. He was difficult. He was really wounded after losing his wife. And I understand that. He loved her very much. I had to get in there and be understanding of the fact that he might not be able to feel the same way about me. And you know what? He doesn’t. We have a different relationship. We have our own relationship. Our own kind of love. It’s certainly not less. It’s...intense and wonderful. I never thought I could have love like this. But I only got it because I took the chance in the first place.”
Bea nodded slowly, but said nothing. She watched as Jamie stood and made stilted conversation with Gabe. And worried that for her, it would be much the same that it was for Jamie. That the risks would never seem worth it, and that in fact the possibility of having something destroyed or rejected would be a lot more fatal to her.
Though the advice session had been better than Bea had anticipated. Bea was beginning to understand that sometimes talking about things was actually helpful. McKenna certainly hadn’t made her feel small. She’d opened something up in Bea’s mind.
“I suppose we should go intervene,” McKenna said. “Jamie asked us here with her for a reason, I’m sure.”
“Probably to keep Wyatt off her back,” Bea said. “He’s been touchy about her spending time with Gabe.”
“But Jamie hates cowboys so much,” McKenna said, her tone dry. “And she definitely knows her own mind, and just exactly what she’s doing. Wyatt has absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Bea worried a little bit about her friend. Jamie was brash and bold, and so many things that Bea wasn’t. Bea, for her part, had always seen herself as soft. As vulnerable and easily wounded. It was why she’d always hidden away, why she’d let herself be invisible.
Jamie, Bea knew, was no less vulnerable. She just didn’t know it.
And it terrified Bea that her friend might have no idea the kind of hurt she could get herself into.
Gabe tipped his cowboy hat up and smiled down at Jamie, and Bea immediately felt protective. Yes, it was a very serious worry.
“Yes,” Bea said. “We had definitely better go...intervene.”
“What are you going to do about Dane?” McKenna pressed.
“Hope that one of you will intervene?” Bea asked.
McKenna laughed. “I don’t think you need someone to intervene,” she said. “I think you need someone to give you a push.”
CHAPTER TEN
BY THE TIME Dane limped into the bar the day after the River Incident—as he’d begun calling it in his head, in hopes it would superimpose itself over images of her body like a giant censor bar—he didn’t know w
hat the hell to call the feelings rolling around inside of himself. Hell, mostly. Just a little bit of hell that had gotten into his bloodstream and seemed to be spreading throughout his whole traitorous body.
He couldn’t stop picturing the way Bea had looked at him while they were sitting there by the chicken coop. She had been delicately nibbling the chicken at first, and that had been...something of a strange distraction. One that should not have meant anything to him, but it did.
He had been distracted. By her teeth, by her lips. By the little smacking sounds she made.
What the hell of a psychopath was interested in the smacking sounds a woman made when she ate chicken?
A sexually deprived one.
A deviant.
But it had only gotten worse. A hell of a lot worse. Because then that little rabbit had looked at him.
Her eyes were so wide, so luminous and just plain fascinating. He had wanted to stare. And keep on staring. And then something had changed on her face. Color had crept into her cheeks, and he had realized something.
Beatrix Leighton was looking at him like he was a man.
And he had seen her down in the river only an hour earlier, and had been made very aware of the fact that she was a woman.
Tension had wound around them, thick and intense, and he’d had so many questions that he wasn’t even sure he wanted the answers to. Like if this was the first time she had looked at him and seen a man, or if she had for some time.
He was left wondering if he had ever really looked at her at all.
Seriously. Closely.
There, in the sinking sunlight she had been beautiful.
A pretty little halo around all those curls, light spiraling through them like flecks of gold. Her lips were pink and full and lovely, and he’d wondered what they would taste like.
A moment of insanity that was now branded into his brain.
Absolute insanity.
He knew only one solution to that. And that was to drink it away. He had not wanted to risk drinking at home. Not because he’d do anything to Bea.
But drunk. Alone in his bed. With his body acting like this...
