by Zoe York
Dammit. If Maggie was here, Wyatt was here.
Sure enough, he looked up past his brother’s mutt of a dog to see both of his brother’s trucks parked outside of the barn. He let a string of curses out that was likely to set the prairie grass on fire.
“What? What is it?” Jennifer was craning her neck around, clearly not understanding the importance of the two trucks parked side by side by the barn’s sliding door.
“I…forgot.” For a couple of hours, he’d let himself forget about the meeting with his brothers, and the arguments sure to come along with it. A few glorious hours without worry that he was loathe to leave behind. He wanted to spin on his boot heel and head back to the truck to drive anywhere but there – leave it all behind – but skipping out on the meeting would only make things worse.
If that was even possible at this point.
“Wyatt and Declan are here. Hence Maggie.” He let Jennifer slide down his front in a deliciously painful descent to the ground, nearly groaning at the pleasure it brought him. “Meet Maggie Mae. Maggie Mae, this is Jennifer.”
Maggie, a loyal, hardworking, sweetheart of a dog that Wyatt absolutely did not deserve whatsoever, busily set about licking Jennifer’s hand, her tail wagging madly with pleasure when Jennifer used her other hand to scratch behind her ears. “Oh, aren’t you a sweetie,” Jennifer crooned.
Stetson was trying pretty damn hard not to be jealous of Wyatt’s dog just then, which was ridiculous, even to him.
“I need to go meet up with my brothers,” he said with a jerk of his head towards the barn. “I’ll…be back in a little while.”
It was an awkward-as-hell goodbye, because he wanted to kiss her but they weren’t exactly at the casual-kiss-goodbye point in their relationship but not doing something also felt weird and he thought about hugging her but she was still bent over, petting Maggie, who had obligingly rolled over onto her back so she could get belly rubs, so hugging Jennifer was weird too, so he settled for tugging on the brim of his Stetson and heading for the barn.
Girls were so confusing sometimes.
He walked into the barn, the massive sliding door already open from his brothers making their way in.
I can do this. I can totally do this. I will not beat Wyatt into the ground. We will make Dad proud.
He found his brothers sitting on a couple of crates, bullshitting quietly to each other as they waited for him to show up. Stetson bit back his groan. Being late was not going to help matters.
“Hey,” he said casually, jerking his head in greeting as he leaned on the bumper of one of the work trucks. Usually, Declan had the schedule worked out, so Stetson waited quietly for him to begin.
“’Bout damn time you showed up,” Wyatt snarled. Stetson just cocked an eyebrow at him and stayed silent. If Wyatt thought he was going to apologize to him, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
“Let’s just get going,” Declan put in, ever the peacemaker. Stetson rolled his eyes. Someday, Declan would grow a backbone and tell Wyatt to stop being a jackass. Until then, it was hard to take the guy seriously, even if he was Stetson’s favorite brother.
Not exactly the most difficult contest in the world to win.
“So, here’s the deal,” Wyatt said, begrudgingly taking Declan’s advice. “It’s been a downright awful year for water, other than this shitload of rain that we just had, so my dryland wheat is ripening real quick. It’s gonna need to be harvested before it rots on the stem. Stetson, you bring the trucks up next week. You still have three guys, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve got three right now,” Stetson said, trying to ignore the fact that Wyatt had just ordered him to bring the trucks over next week instead of asking. If he was going to start getting pissy over small details like that, he and Wyatt would never be able to hold a conversation again. “When you thinkin’ of starting? I haven’t done the oil changes on the trucks yet.”
“We’re starting Monday,” Wyatt said flatly.
“I can’t do that!” Stetson protested. “I gave the guys the weekend off; told ‘em to enjoy their last weekend of freedom since harvest was about to begin. I can’t start until Tuesday or maybe Wednesday.”
“Dammit, Stetson, do we always have to hold your hand?” Wyatt snapped.
“My trucks aren’t ready either,” Declan jumped in, trying to placate them. Stetson and Wyatt both ignored him.
“I don’t get it,” Stetson growled. “Unless the wind picks up and dries your wheat out, your harvest is gonna be shit anyway. Why not just call up your crop insurance agent and collect a payout for this year? Getting trucks into the field is gonna be rough on ‘em – we’re gonna spend half our time pulling machines out of the mud, and then turning around and getting them stuck again. For hell’s sakes, just call it for the year.”
“I am not going to collect insurance on my wheat! Some of us have to work for what we get, and not just get it handed to us for twiddling our thumbs.”
That was a direct hit, and everyone knew it. Time slowed down as Stetson froze in place, staring at his oldest brother, pure anger boiling through his veins. “You bastard!” he roared, his fists clenched at his side. “I was the one who took care of Dad and paid for his chemo treatments. I noticed you were nowhere to be found for that part of it.”
“Some of us had already grown up and bought our own farms,” Wyatt volleyed back smugly. “If I’d been able to just sit around and wait to have everything handed to me, I could’ve played Dad’s nursemaid too, but I had a bank loan to pay.”
“What, and I didn’t?” Stetson shot back. “Dad had an operating loan every year. Has for years. You know that. Just because I got the farm doesn’t mean I inherited it free and clear.”
“Oh, so is that why you’ve hired a bookkeeper to run your adding machine for you?” Wyatt demanded. “Incapable of adding a few numbers up by yourself?”
“It’s a good thing that Stetson hired someone to help him out,” Declan put in, trying to simmer things down a notch. Again, Stetson and Wyatt both ignored him.
“She ain’t a bookkeeper,” Stetson said flatly. He didn’t want to tell his brothers – especially not right now – but lying didn’t sit right on his soul. It was time to come clean, and deal with the aftermath.
“What?!” Declan hollered, getting angry himself for the first time. “You told me you’d hired a bookkeeper to go over things—”
“I know what I said,” Stetson cut him off, still not looking at him. His eyes were locked on Wyatt who was glaring back at him, anger radiating off him in waves. It was a pretty fair bet that Wyatt would never forgive him for what he was about to say.
It was also a pretty fair bet that Stetson didn’t care.
“It’s the bank. Intermountain. There was a balloon payment on that loan that was due on January 1st, and I didn’t make it.” Stetson was talking quickly now, keeping Wyatt from interrupting him. “The accountant is here on behalf of Intermountain, to see if there’s a way for me to make that payment.”
“Holy shit!” Wyatt exploded. “I can’t believe it! I was right. You idiot! I bet it was those stupid cows sucking down all of the money.”
“Hold on a moment here – Dad’s cancer took all the money from the cows. I noticed you couldn’t be bothered to contribute to that effort. It was my cows that gave Dad an extra six months,” Stetson spat out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Declan asked, clearly hurt by Stetson’s silence. “We would’ve helped you.”
“Oh yeah, rain more money down on the Golden Boy so he doesn’t have to learn how to work,” Wyatt threw out sarcastically at Declan, even as he advanced on Stetson. “I should pay off the loan and take over the farm,” he said, jabbing himself in the chest with his thumb. “It should’ve been me that got it anyway! I’m the oldest.”
“Hear ye, hear ye, the perfect brother who has never had any problems,” Stetson said with a heaping dose of his own sarcasm. “Please, do tell me how to farm. I’d love to hear all about it.”
“You need me to tell you how, ‘cause it’s so hard having everything handed to you on a silver platter. Grow up, you whiny little bastard,” Wyatt bellowed, his spittle hitting Stetson’s cheeks. They were so close, Stetson could see the red veins in his brother’s eyes, popping as he yelled. “Don’t you ever think that your bedwetting problems are anything close to what I’ve had to live through. I am ten times the man you will ever dream to be. No wonder Michelle left you standing in the church. No woman wants to marry a baby.”
The comment hit well below the belt. Past caring, past stopping, past reason, Stetson saw red as he went in for the verbal blow.
“You’re a real man, all right.” Stetson’s voice was low and full of danger. “You’ve been directing your anger at us for so long, I sometimes wonder if you’ve bothered to get around to being pissed at the drunk driver who actually killed your wife and daughter. Stop blaming us for what happened.”
Stetson knew he was pressing Wyatt’s biggest button with a sledgehammer but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
The words were barely out before Wyatt launched himself at his youngest brother.
Stetson was ready. The brothers collided like a train running into a mountainside. They tumbled to the ground, fists flying as they fell. The two angry men rolled around on the dusty barn floor, each blinded by rage. Some blows missed while others found their mark.
Somewhere in the distance, they could hear Declan yelling for them to stop, but neither paid him any mind. The air was split with the sounds of fists striking flesh. Blows were punctuated with a litany of swear words.
For the first time in their lives, Stetson gained the upper hand in a fight. Pinning Wyatt to the ground with his knees, Stetson’s fist connected with his brother’s cheek. Wyatt’s lip split as his face contorted from the punch.
The single blow was almost victory enough for Stetson. Almost.
Cocking his arm back, Stetson readied to strike again if Wyatt pushed the issue.
“You can harvest your damn grain without my help,” Stetson growled. “Now get the hell off my farm.” He rolled off Wyatt and onto his feet in one smooth motion.
Dusting himself off as he stood up, Wyatt glowered at Stetson for a long, considering moment before he spat blood on the floor and stormed out of the barn, Maggie Mae following behind, tail tucked between her legs.
Declan and Stetson shared an awkward moment before Declan shrugged and followed Wyatt.
“We’ll talk later,” Declan said, before pulling the massive door shut behind him.
Chapter 32
Stetson
“I swear, every time you go out to the barn, you come back bleeding. I’m not going to allow you to continue to go out there if this keeps up,” Jennifer joked as she dabbed at the cut over his left eye.
Wyatt had managed to land one really good punch during their tussle in the barn, damn him.
Stetson was feeling bad, but not because of the fight. He was actually feeling pretty good about that. Well, at least the part where he’d come out on top in a fistfight with Wyatt. That had never happened before, so yeah, that part felt good. Awfully damn good, if he was being honest with himself. Even if he’d had to punch Wyatt with his knuckles that he’d already hurt working on the tractor, he didn’t care.
But his jab about Shelly and Sierra dying – that wasn’t his finest hour. Now, just minutes later, he was already starting to regret saying it. If Wyatt wasn’t such a dick, he’d totally apologize to him for it.
Too bad Wyatt was a class-A dickwad.
No, what Stetson was really feeling bad about was that he’d ruined Jennifer’s mood when he’d walked in the door with blood streaming down his face. She’d bounded out of the office when she’d heard the back door open but her happiness had vanished when she’d caught sight of him.
She’d dragged him into the kitchen and plopped him down at the kitchen table, giving her the height advantage for once, and then had proceeded to dote on him. Stetson had visions of having to turn a corner of the kitchen into a first aid station if the injuries continued.
“So what happened?” she asked gently as she dabbed at his eye.
“Oh, you know how brothers are,” he answered, hoping to downplay what had happened. Actually, he preferred not to discuss it at all. Females didn’t tend to understand the intricacies of male relationships.
“I’m an only child, so no, I don’t know about brothers,” she murmured, peering closely at the cut. “This might need stitches…”
“We show each other our love by wanting to kill each other,” Stetson said, ignoring the stitches comment. He’d heal without stitches. He had before. “It’s complicated.”
“Sounds like a dangerous relationship.”
“It usually is,” Stetson agreed blandly. “Where’s Carmelita?”
“I think she’s changing bedding or something,” Jennifer murmured. She was bent over, her button-up pearl snap shirt falling away from her chest as she looked closely at his eye. Stetson enjoyed the view, forgetting for a moment how to breathe. If she didn’t remove that delectable chest out of reach real quick, he was gonna pop a button on his jeans.
Or simply grab her and make love to her on the kitchen table.
His impulse control wasn’t real high today.
“Well,” she said, thankfully – or horribly, depending on how you looked at it – straightening up and putting her hands on her hips, “it’s right on the border. We could try and see if we could get away without using stitches on it. We need to get the bleeding to stop, and then I’ll use some Krazy Glue to seal it up.”
“Hold on, you’re going to glue my head back together?” Suddenly, the idea of stitches didn’t seem so bad after all.
“That’s what a hospital uses when you go in with a cut,” she said with a shrug, washing her hands in the kitchen sink. “They use a fancier name for it, but it’s basically super glue. If the cut isn’t too severe, it works much better than stitches. Heals a lot faster, with less pain.”
“Sometimes you medical people are sure weird,” Stetson grumbled, holding the cotton gauze up to his eye that Jennifer had forced into his hand.
“Hey, I’m not the one who just got in a fistfight with my brother.” She grinned teasingly at him, and Stetson felt himself smiling back.
Smiling. After he and Wyatt had rolled around on the barn floor, beating the hell out of each other, Stetson found himself smiling.
Wasn’t that just the damnedest thing.
Chapter 33
Jennifer
Dinner was turning out to be a rather quiet affair. When Carmelita had come back downstairs, her arms full of laundry, she’d taken one look at Stetson’s eye and launched into him for daring to fight with Wyatt. Jennifer couldn’t help noticing that Carmelita had just assumed that the fight was with Wyatt, without even asking any questions first.
Smart woman.
Stetson had taken it all like a small child, only occasionally trying to interrupt and defend himself, but quickly realizing the futility of it and falling silent again.
Eyes bouncing between them like a spectator at a tennis match, Jennifer was pretty damn sure that this was a “discussion” the two of them had had more than once.
Hmmm…I definitely need to meet these brothers of Stetson’s. See why they’re so difficult to get along with. Or at least why Wyatt is.
Once the scolding was done, Carma had led them into the dining room where she’d laid out a stunning dinner for them – lasagna, tossed salad fresh from the garden, and homemade garlic bread. She then had disappeared, murmuring something about chores she needed to do. Jennifer had stared after her. “Is she always that obvious?” she’d asked dryly.
“Pretty much!” Stetson had said cheerfully.
That had been the last of their conversation for quite a while, actually. Jennifer wasn’t sure if it was because the food was so amazing, there was no time for talking, or if Stetson just didn’t have anything to say to her.
>
Finally, he spoke up. “You never told me why you became an accountant,” he said, piling a third helping of lasagna onto his plate. How could he eat so much and still stay in such good shape? The Miller genes at work were a sight to behold.
“I didn’t?” she asked, confused. She thought they’d already discussed all of this.
“Nope. You told me why you quit the nursing profession, but you didn’t tell me why you then chose to become an accountant. It’s not like that’s a given or something – if you don’t like the medical field, you automatically become an accountant.”
“Oh. Yeah. No, you’re right. I guess that does seem like a strange switch, from the outside. It made perfect sense to me, but then again, your own actions usually do.” She took another sip of her wine, letting the warmth spread through her. “I’d gotten into the nursing profession because I wanted to help people. I figured out that I don’t like poop and blood all that much, but I still like to help people, so I decided that I could do it by becoming an accountant.”
“Stealing people’s farms away from them is helping them?” Stetson cocked an eyebrow at her in disbelief.
She glared at him. “I don’t go around holding a gun to people’s heads and taking their stuff from them, first of all,” she informed him tartly. “They have to have missed payments with the bank, which is not my fault. Second, like I said, working for Intermountain in the audit department wasn’t really my dream job, or the reason I went to school to become an accountant. They were just the ones hiring when I graduated from Boise State, and I have a crapload of student loans I need to pay off. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
They stared at each other for a long minute as Stetson chewed his lasagna in silence, his face a wall of stone. No emotion leaked through as his jaw moved rhythmically, eyes locked together in a silent struggle.
Finally, he swallowed and then nodded. Just once. “You’re right,” he said gruffly, looking down at his plate as he spoke. “I’ve been looking at Intermountain as the enemy for so long, it’s rough…I don’t change my views with a snap of the fingers. But…” He heaved a huge sigh and looked up at her, his cheeks tinged a little red. “I…I did miss the payment. That $176,000 is the bank’s money, not mine. No matter how I got into this mess, a man still pays his bills.”
