I was worried that I’d knock Eli out with the smell of animals and sweat, but he didn’t seem to notice as he drove me back to the main house. More than likely, he was just used to it. Around here, it might as well have been a bottled fragrance.
I walked up the massive stairs and pushed through the ornate front door. The house was designed to look like a wheel, with various short wings extending off the cavernous foyer. The concept was unique, but the execution made me dizzy.
From what I’d gleaned by chatting with Hailey, Beth had wanted a place of her own since she didn’t like the design of my childhood home. The two houses shared a Y-shaped driveway. If you stood out front of both with bullhorns, you might even be able to have a conversation.
When Dad had told me about the plan, I’d wondered whether he was trying to woo Zane and Hailey to move onto the ranch. There would have been more than enough space for their growing family, and Zane had always been slightly more interested in ranching than Daniel, who’d told Dad he would rather be a rodeo clown than take over.
My father called from somewhere nearby. “Is that you, Sky?”
“Yeah! Just got home.” The word home was pushing it, both in my feelings for this house and the structure itself. It was like a cross between a castle and a dude ranch. What was Beth thinking when she decorated this place?
I skirted around a weird, hand-painted cactus statue and into the sitting room. Dad was sitting on a red-orange sofa with a book in his lap. Despite the heat, there was a fire burning in the grate. “You’re earlier than I expected.”
I never knew how to respond to those statements my father made in a flat monotone, so I headed over to the bar instead and perused the selection. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m not supposed to have much alcohol these days.”
I poured myself a reasonable amount of bourbon into a rocks glass and moved to sit across from Dad in one of the mismatched colored chairs. He held out a hand to stop me. “You’re dirty. Don’t sit on the velvet, or Beth will be upset.”
“It’s a ranch,” I deadpanned. “And I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s with all of … this?” I gestured vaguely at the house. “It looks like a funky thrift store in here.” The bar was from the old house, a hulking block of cherrywood that matched the wine cabinet and server. The drapes were bright yellow with tiny polka dots.
Dad rubbed a spot on his forehead with two fingers. “I know. It’s a complete disaster.”
It’s nice to see that we still agree about something. I shuffled two chairs and sat in a leather barstool that I could clean off later if I had to.
“It makes Beth happy, so I just gave up. I didn’t let her touch the library or my office. It was a compromise.”
“That was nice of you,” I replied, a clear edge to my voice. Dad had never indulged Mom this way. He would have told her that was frivolous and that she didn’t understand how to respect the family home. I wanted to know why Beth was so different—so special—that she deserved the kind of doting love that we’d never had.
Maybe it was because she didn’t ask for anything else. Mom was always looking through reports and checking the ranch’s expenses. When things were going south because of Dad’s high-risk management style, she’d intervene in secret, pulling funds from her inheritance to smooth it over. Dad had resented the meddling; he would have drowned without it.
“I saw that you were branding today,” he commented. “We drove by earlier.”
I’d wondered who that was in the tinted SUV. It was impossible to keep track of which ranch vehicles Dad had claimed for himself. “You should have come out and said hi.”
“I just wanted to show Beth since she hasn’t seen it. I was always so busy that it never occurred to me before.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing that it must have been painful for him to have to sit out. “I’m glad you got to see us, though. We had a good team.” The cowboys might not have accepted me yet, but I couldn’t fault their skill. “Speaking of which, why’d you ask Sam to come out here?”
Dad sighed and set his book down on the coffee table. “I thought you could use the help. Sam worked here for years. He knows how things work, and I didn’t want to burden Remy with too much.”
“I was born here,” I protested. “It’s not my first day on the job.”
“Don’t be so arrogant.” Dad watched me drain the bourbon but didn’t comment on it. “There are things in this world that only a man can do. Yes, you’re my daughter, and you know this ranch. But that doesn’t mean you can handle the pressure of running it alone. You should find a husband to handle the things you can’t understand.”
Oblivious that I was on the verge of going thermonuclear, he moved to his wheelchair and came over to kiss me on the forehead. “Just think about what I said and try not to get emotional. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I parroted automatically.
He looked back from the doorway. “And Sky? Mind your drinking. It isn’t becoming of a woman to drink like that.”
As soon as Dad disappeared, I poured myself another drink—this one for spite. I imagined for the millionth time what he would think of me if I’d have been a fourth son living the same life I am now. He’d have been proud of my accomplishments in New York instead of thinking of them as paying my dues. He didn’t know what it was like to fight so hard and still be looked down on, to automatically be disqualified for something I couldn’t help.
The years fell away until, suddenly, I was thirteen again, fuming because my father had taken Zane, Daniel, and Sam out onto the ranch without me. I wasn’t sure what was more insulting: his indifference or his advice. His words echoed in my head. Find a husband.
He made it sound simple, as though I could run down to the feed store and buy a husband in Aisle 5. My prospects in New York hadn’t been great, and things were getting bleaker by the second. The problem with rising to the top was that I couldn’t distinguish between men who were interested in me and men who were interested in what I could give them.
It had been less pronounced in the city, where potential suitors had no idea who I was. Even the people around me only saw that I was powerful and well-compensated at the firm. Here, it was hopeless. Everyone in Bellfield knew that I was an heiress. There would be no way to tell whether it was true love or a cash grab. How could I risk it? I was pretty enough to turn a few heads with my dark brown hair and blue eyes, but I wanted something more than lust for my body or my bank account.
The sound of a door opening and closing interrupted my contemplation. I leaned forward to see more of the foyer and smiled as Sam poked his head into the room. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
I held up my glass. “Just having a drink. Dad went to bed already. Were you eavesdropping?”
“Hardly. I’m just on my way to the kitchen.”
“I bet you worked up an appetite today,” I said, patting my grumbling stomach. “You didn’t forget how to do a thing, did you?”
Sam stepped farther inside the room but didn’t sit. “I guess not, but it’s still just not for me. I’m a boardroom and conference call kind of guy.” He pinched his bicep as he took a seat across from me in one of the Beth-approved chairs. “But I do think being around all those tech nerds is getting to me. My arms are noodles.”
“How long are you staying?” We hadn’t talked as much over the past few years as we should have. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the lack of sleep, but I was suddenly overwhelmed by the possibility that he would leave before we’d even had a chance to reconnect. “I know you’re busy being a California big shot.”
“Kind of indefinitely?” Sam said, his tone making it a question. “Your dad was here for me when my dad died. I just feel like I should return the favor.” His eyes lost focus for a moment, and I could practically see his thoughts playing through my mind like a reel of film. It had been a Monday. I remember that. Seventh grade. Sam hadn’t shown up for school that day, and by the time
I’d made it home, the news about his father’s death had circulated the ranch.
“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to.”
“I want to,” he said. “Plus, I’ve got all kinds of money in Wentworth cattle, so it’s not like this is completely selfless.”
I wagged a finger at him. “Ahh, I see. The truth comes out.” Even as I heckled Sam, internally, I was glowing at the mention of our agriculture business. It had been Mom’s idea, her way of bailing out Dad without making it obvious. Now, our legacy was part of our country’s legacy as well. People believed in us and what we could do. But she’d never gotten an ounce of credit for it, not in this house, not even in her obituary.
“I also just want to be here for you,” Sam said suddenly, his eyes searching my face. “I know how important this is to you. And I also know that you’ll probably need to scream at some point to avoid drowning your father in a trough.”
“I’m going to tell him you said that.”
“He’s going to write me out of the will,” Sam teased, a common threat my brothers and I still levied at each other whenever one of us got into a disagreement with Dad. “I’ll never be able to inherit those… lovely… velvet armchairs. In all seriousness, though, how are things with you two?”
Sam’s bluntness caught me off guard. I don’t know why since he’d never exactly been subtle. Between him and Stan, trying to keep a secret as a kid had been like trying to hold water in my hands on a trampoline. “They’re alright. He just keeps insinuating that I can’t do this. He told me earlier that I need a husband,” I scoffed. “He probably invited you here to bully you into marrying me.”
It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. My father had been known to sink far lower than that in his meddling. When I had first met Beth, she seemed so quiet and kind. I hoped she would temper Dad’s overbearingness. It wasn’t until after a few family holidays together that I realized she wasn’t quiet so much as she only cared about her own interests.
“Aw, come on. Don’t let him get to you.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Tell you what,” he said, checking the time on his mud-caked watch. “The cowboys are having a party tonight. Why don’t we go? It’ll cheer you up.”
I looked up. “They’re having a party?” Sam was wrong. That didn’t cheer me up at all. Even Crystal hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and she’d had more than ample opportunity. “They didn’t invite me for a reason. I’m not going to crash a party.”
“It’s not like that. You know how they are. They just threw it together at the last minute.” Sam could be relentless when he wanted to be.
“Yeah,” I said, sounding dreary even to my own ears, “I know how they are. And I’m positive that people like Gus don’t want me around.”
“You’re not going to win the hearts of the people by sitting alone in your castle, Your Majesty.”
He had a point. “I just don’t feel like they’re ever going to accept having a woman around. And don’t you even point at Crystal because they all know that Remy would eat them if they disrespected her.”
“Crystal might have had an advantage because of her dad, I’ll give you that. But they respected the hell out of your mom, too.” Sam was one of the only people who could bring her up casually like that without making me want to scream. He knew firsthand what it was like to watch a parent go from healthy to a casket in a year. “And she didn’t ask nicely to be let in.”
I threw up my hands. “Fine. I guess if they don’t like me already, crashing their party isn’t going to change that.” Scowling at the layer of grime coating my clothes, I asked, “Do I at least have time to take a shower?”
“Please do,” Sam said, pinching his nose and chuckling. “Do you know what you look like right now?”
I stood and cocked one hip, looking down on him with a glare. “Why don’t you tell me how I look right now, Samuel Allen Davis?”
“You look like…” He trailed off. “Actually, for my own physical safety, I’m not going to answer that.”
“Good call.” I held my chin up as I walked towards the door. “Because while you were getting soft with your tech nerds, I was boxing attorneys on Wall Street.” The thought boosted my confidence as I padded down the hallway in my socks. I might not have been in finance anymore, but that didn’t mean that I’d forgotten how to throw a punch.
The bunkhouse was a repurposed barn that my mother had suggested renovating into lodging after an electrical fire when we were teenagers. Before that, the cowboys had all lived out in town in bachelor pads or on the ranch in trailers sprawled over the course of miles. That was all well and good until the barn caught on fire at 2 o’clock in the morning, and there was no one in the vicinity to help the hapless security team who’d found it.
With the closest fire department 15 minutes away and most of the cowboys speeding in from home, it had been a miracle that all of the horses made it out. From what I’d heard after the fact, most of the credit went to that enterprising security team and a strategically used fire extinguisher. During the subsequent investigation, they found a makeshift daisy chain of extension cords that had melted in the middle of the night.
This was a win-win situation. It gave the single cowboys an alternative to cramming into a trailer while also ensuring we had staff at one of the more remote parts of the ranch. Maybe I’ll build more of them in the future. It was still so foreign to think that I had the power to do that, or anything, really.
“Do you remember when this place caught on fire?” Sam asked as we approached, a bottle of Dad’s whiskey tucked under his arm.
“I was just thinking about that!”
“Great minds think alike.” He held a flat hand over his brow and scanned the area around us. “Of course, I don’t see any great minds around here since I was the only one to go to Berkeley.”
I smacked his shoulder as he grabbed the door and held it for me. The barn’s ground floor housed half a dozen people with shared bathrooms and a communal kitchen in the center. They’d left one of the stalls intact to serve as storage. The loft had been extended and transformed into a recreation area with a winding staircase on either end.
I could hear the music playing as I ascended the stairs behind Sam, who had graciously volunteered to go first. There was a short period when no one had noticed me yet that allowed me to get my bearings. Someone had set out a basic spread of chips and finger food. The table beside it containing the alcohol was far better stocked. Girls from town danced and whooped beside a ping pong table with a torn net.
“I should set this down.” Sam hefted the bottle of whiskey onto the beverage table. “You want anything?”
“Sure. I’ll take some of that if you don’t mind.”
He returned a few moments later with a plastic cup that had a depressingly small amount of whiskey at the bottom. “Thanks,” I said.
Most of the cowboys were drinking beer, but that just wouldn’t cut it for me after a day like this. Gus spotted me and scowled, stage whispering to the person next to him. “Hope she stays o’er there. Hate to have them piss poor ropin’ skills rub off on me.”
“Trust me, Gus, no one wants to rub off on you,” I muttered.
Sam coughed on his beer and dribbled some down the front of his chin. “Look what you made me do.” He wiped it with the back of his hand. “I need a bib!”
Having someone there with me made all the difference, and much to my surprise, I was beginning to enjoy myself. A few of the younger cowboys—the ones who didn’t seem to mind my presence—gave me nods or introduced themselves. I wasn’t sure if their friendliness was all an act to keep the boss happy, but it was better than outright hostility.
After about an hour, a stocky cowboy about my age stepped forward, his tanned hands clasped in front of him. He twisted a plain gold band around his finger. “Miss Wentworth, ma’am?”
I smiled at him. “Just Sky,” I repeated for the millionth time. “Ma’am makes me feel
old.”
He bobbed his head. “Yes, ma’am. I’m, uh, my name’s Cooper.”
I didn’t think I was ever going to win that battle to have the ranch hands call me by my name. But after all those years in finance, I’d been called much worse than ma’am. “Everything okay?”
His ring twirled and twirled. It was almost mesmerizing, the way it never ended, no ornament or stone to mark its revolutions. “I just wanted to, uh, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice lowering as I waited for whatever was inevitably coming next. I turned my back to the rest of the party and shuffled slightly to give him more privacy. There was obviously something else he wanted to say.
Cooper pinned his eyes to the floor. “I moved out this way about twelve years ago. Got married too young. Bad divorce. Lost most of my money. I was broke and thought maybe I could find work at the ranches. I grew up with cattle and all…”
It was a story I’d heard before, the stories about my father offering salvation like he was some saint. Charles Wentworth the Benevolent. Charles Wentworth, Keeper of the Cowboys.
“I got hired on at Wild Brook for pennies,” he admitted, surprising me. It wasn’t every day that Dad would even consider speaking to someone who worked for Will’s family, never mind giving them a job. They were the enemy. “And I was there the night Jacob Blythe found out his son had been seeing you.”
For once, I was happy to have been given such a weak drink. Otherwise, I might have just fallen over. “Oh?” I managed.
“It was bad.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’ve already heard about what he did to Will,” I remember Stan’s frantic call in the middle of the night saying that Will had stumbled to his front step, beaten bloody by his father and looking for help. I’d wanted to go to him, to swear that he was worth more than any ranch, but I couldn’t forget my mother’s dreams for me. When she died, a few days later, it felt like she’d waited to know that I would continue to fight for this place that had always kept us just outside the threshold.
The Cowboy's Promise: Love Triangle Billionaire Romance (The Wentworth Cowboy Billionaire Series) Page 4
