Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch

by Landish, Lauren

  Once there, I grab jars out of the emptying boxes. “Doc ordered two for now and a pie later, and I told Sophie I’d bring her a jar too.”

  Brody takes two jars and I grab the last one, heading inside.

  But as I walk in the door, I stop stock-still. I would’ve expected to see James here, visiting Sophie. But that’s not the Bennett brother standing before me.

  As if fate is conspiring against me, or maybe it’s with me, Luke is standing at the counter, chatting with Doc. “And then I said—”

  Luke sort of drifts off mid-sentence, his full lips parted slightly like he’s lost the words he was saying when he sees me and our eyes lock. Everyone else in the room disappears, and it’s only me and him again, a string pulled taut between us.

  I haven’t slept well in days, thinking about him and what we did, wishing things could be different. I’ve even stayed away from the tree, knowing that if I went there, I’d spend the next two hours perched up in the branch, wishing the whole time that he’d come up the rise like something out of a movie. I told myself that if I stayed away, I wouldn’t know if he was looking for me, or worse, has just written me off as a silly girl who literally ran like a bat outta hell at the worst possible moment.

  Well, maybe not the worst. During would’ve been worse, but immediately following having his fingers in my mouth is a pretty close runner-up for the crown of Awful Moments in Shayanne Tannen’s Life.

  “Luke,” I say, my voice obviously belying our more-than-acquaintances situation, at least to my ears. Everyone in the surrounding county must know, or at least everyone in Doc Jones’s office. And Brody’s right here.

  Shit.

  Sophie comes to my rescue, overacting and squealing in a high pitch that makes me wince. She’s got a good squeal. I’ve even heard it from the tree, although I don’t let her know that. “Shayanne, so good to see you, honey!”

  She gathers me a hug, basically shaking me to bring me to my senses.

  But it’s enough to break the staredown I’m giving Luke, trying to decipher what he’s thinking. His face is blank, and I can’t decide if it’s in shock or because he doesn’t care about seeing me. Of course, right now, I can barely focus my eyes on anything because my head’s being whipped around so hard.

  “You too, Sophie,” I reply, but it’s nowhere near as exuberant as I usually am and is in stark contrast to her excitement, even if it’s forced.

  Doc bangs his fist on the countertop, a thick piece of oak that rattles loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention. “All right, you young’uns, gimme my pumpkin pie before I kick the bucket.”

  It breaks the tension further, and Brody steps forward to hand over his two jars to Doc. “Here you go, Doc.”

  But as he steps back, Brody is eyeballing Luke, well aware of the reaction we had at seeing each other. So much for secrets. Brody’s disapproval is coming in . . . what’s the opposite of loud and clear? Silent and deadly? It’s not a fart, but Brody sure looks like he smelled something rank.

  “Bennett,” he manages.

  Luke nods, and his voice is slightly warmer, at least. “Tannen.”

  Both are speaking through clenched teeth, but that’s as much of a greeting as they’re likely to give each other, and honestly, it’s friendlier than usual. Hell, not too long ago, Brody punched James in the jaw at the Fourth of July festival. It’d been a drunken misunderstanding courtesy of Dad’s shit, but still, it’s not exactly roses and rainbows with my brothers and any of the Bennett boys.

  But there’s no need for all these dramatics, so I jump in the middle of them, lilting my voice like a coffee-fueled kindergarten teacher. “That’s right, boys and girls. Tannen,” I say, pointing to Brody’s chest. “Bennett.” I point to Luke’s, pointedly ignoring Brody’s growl at the contact. “Tannen.” I touch my own chest. “Bennett.” I wrap my arm around Sophie. “Cute little Bennett,” I continue, rubbing Sophie’s stomach. “And Jones,” I finish, smacking the palm Doc holds up for a high-five.

  Thanks, Doc. You read my mind beautifully.

  He’s a slick one, sly and spry despite his age, and he’s watching the showdown like he wishes he could have some popcorn, but I’m guessing his dentures don’t allow for that anymore. Sophie would eat some, though, because she’s standing next to Doc with the same ticking eyes. Luke. Me. Brody. Luke. Me. Brody.

  I decide to try and push things along peacefully, even if that means making a fool of myself. I keep the too-high-pitched teacher voice. “Now that introductions have been handled, let’s move on to small talk, shall we? Remember, that’s where we talk about mundane things and do not shed blood.”

  I look back and forth between my brother and Luke, daring either of them to disagree with me and praying neither of them throws the first punch.

  But they stay silent, eyes locked and jaws hard, and I can see Brody fisting and unfisting his right hand. So much for killing them with kindness. I smack him on the chest with the back of my hand. “Manners, asshole.”

  Yeah, I get the irony of me calling someone else on their manners with language that would sound right coming out of a Marine’s mouth, but I do what I can to keep my family semi-civilized.

  It’s a work in progress, me included.

  Brody cuts his eyes to me, fiery smoke rising in their black depths like he can’t believe I just did that in front of a Bennett. Chastising a grown man while he’s mid-dick measuring before a fight is in poor form and I know it. But I glare right back. I might be almost a foot shorter than he is, but you don’t fuck with the person who cooks your food. Ever.

  And I’m no shrinking violet little lady, which he’s damn well aware of.

  “Play nice,” I try again, a bit more syrup in the words. “First of all, we’re in Doc’s place. Second, Sophie’s baby don’t need that stress.”

  My excuses get through to him. Brody might be a hothead sometimes, but he’s not completely without manners. Brody takes a deep breath, and I can see him fortifying himself because to a guy like him, saying the first kind word is an admission of forfeit. But he’ll do it for me. “How’re your horses, Bennett?”

  He spits the name like it’s the filthiest kind of curse, but the question is nice enough. It’s a baby step, but one in the right direction.

  Luke nods, his voice sounding a little more relaxed too. “Doing okay. I was just here to talk to Doc about a stud. How’re your animals doing?”

  “Great. Thinking about getting a few more goats so we can keep up with Shayanne’s soap production.”

  It’s stilted, but damned if it’s not the politest words they’ve spoken to each other in years, which is major progress. And just as importantly, that’s news to me.

  “Really?” I ask Brody, my eyes wide with hope. “I didn’t know that. Are you sure?”

  He nods, eyes still on Luke. “Figured we could use some of the pumpkin money since you did so well.”

  “That’s because it’s delicious!” Sophie pipes up, and I realize that instead of popcorn, she’s opened her jar of puree and is digging in. I didn’t even see her get a spoon, but she must’ve pulled it from somewhere. Probably a pregnancy thing. See-food diet and all. Or maybe she’s having those pregnancy urges, in which case I’ll have to bring her a half dozen jars just because.

  And like a train wreck I can see coming but am powerless to stop, both guys nod their heads at the same time, agreeing with Sophie. It takes zero-point-two seconds for the meaning to dawn on Brody.

  “You’ve had Shayanne’s smashed pumpkin?” It’s an accusation. He might as well be asking Luke if he fucked me. Bam, and Brody’s on his guard again.

  I butt right into that bomb about to explode, stepping between them to explain. “Mama Louise bought some last year.” It’s not a lie, but it sure ain’t the whole truth either.

  Luke smiles, cocky arrogance on full display like he’s baiting Brody. “Yeah, Mama must’ve given me some before . . . or something.”

  “Not helping,” I tell Luke, but I
can’t help but think I’d sure like a repeat of that ‘something’. Even if I did hightail it out of the barn. Ugh. My brain and my body really need to get on the same side of this thing if I have any chance at not going mad.

  But any chance at ‘something’ happening again is only possible if I can get everyone out of here alive. It’s time to go.

  “Okay, well, we’ve got another delivery and a stop by the bank before it closes, so we’d best be going. Thanks again for the orders, Doc.” I’m basically shoving at Brody’s chest, not that I could move him if he didn’t want to let me, but he takes a few solid steps toward the door. Enough for me to relax my guard ever so slightly.

  And just like the punk he is, Brody takes advantage of my laxness and turns back to Luke. “Rule stands, Bennett.”

  The left corner of Luke’s full lips quirks. “Yep, rule stands, Tannen.”

  The ‘rule’ being that they stay on their land and we stay on ours. Grunt, grunt, rawr, rawr, and to hell with what I want.

  But when Brody bursts through the door, pushing it a little too forcefully, Luke’s eyes meet mine, already dismissing my brother’s bad attitude. He looks hurt, or maybe pained at seeing me, and the questions are mentally telegraphing from him to me.

  Why? What the hell? Wanna do that again?

  Okay, that last one’s probably my thought, not his. But it stands either way.

  Seeing the curious looks from Sophie and Doc, Luke shuts his mouth. His jaw clenches, that little bump appearing and disappearing once again. He really shouldn’t grind his teeth so much. He’ll end up making them into nubs if he keeps at it.

  Or maybe he only does that around me? Maybe I’m the only one who drives him that crazy?

  I can’t decide whether I like that idea or not.

  Chapter 8

  Luke

  My phone buzzes on the coffee table and I ignore it. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to dissect what the hell happened and figure out why Shayanne went from seductress to scaredy cat in the crack of a whip.

  Seeing her today at Doc Jones’s clinic was the most painful salve I could imagine, too. At least I know she’s okay. That’s what I told myself after she waltzed out the door after her brother. But if she’s okay and I’m definitely not, what does that say about me?

  Nothing good, that’s for sure.

  Maybe Mark’s right and I should get out of here for a bit. I don’t have any jobs pulling me away, but that doesn’t mean I can’t grab my go-bag and take a vacation for a few days.

  The beach, maybe? It’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere near an ocean, not since a breeding trip down in the Tampa Bay area, and I was too busy to worry about the beach then.

  I picture me with cutoff jeans and boots, laid back in a lounge chair by the ocean with my hat pulled down low over my eyes. I could even try one of those fruity girly drinks with an umbrella in it. Hank always says they’re tasty, but no cowboy worth his truck would order a piña colada at a country bar. He’d be laughed out of the place before one rum-flavored drop hit his tongue. But maybe a little sunshine and a beach are what I need.

  I grab my phone to look up possible travel deals when it buzzes again.

  Holy fuck, it’s her.

  I had your number from the wedding. Hope this is okay.

  Of course, I text back, my thumbs actually shaking for some reason. Are you okay?

  Those three dots have never seemed so ominous before, and I hold my breath until her reply pops up. They seem to roll on forever, one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three . . .

  Tree in thirty?

  She didn’t answer the question, I notice. But even if she’s fine, I’m going to go meet her and I know it. There’s no question that I want to see her again. To apologize, to make her see reason, to talk to her, to fuck her, maybe to do all of that and more.

  Yeah. See ya in a few.

  I don’t bother saddling up a horse since I already bedded them all down for the night, comfy and quiet in their stalls. But I do grab a blanket, thinking it’ll be handy for us to sit on or to wrap around Shay’s shoulders if she gets cold.

  The walk’s not far, and I use the cool night air to clear my head before I get there.

  Don’t be an asshole, man. She’s inexperienced. Maybe she just got nervous after the fact. Be gentle with her.

  Surprisingly, it’s the last thought that does it. There’s nothing about Shayanne that says she needs soft and easy. She’s as tough as they come. But, in a way, she’s like one of the horses I train, or maybe I’m just such a horse guy that everyone reminds me of one of my equine friends. But the truth is, even though they’re big animals that could stomp you if they wanted, at the same time, they’re incredibly fragile.

  It’s up to you to treat them right. If you do a good enough job, they’ll come right to you and that connection can develop.

  That’s what I need to do with Shay. Be patient, give her what she needs to feel comfortable, and let her come to me. But damned if that doesn’t sound like Mission Impossible when I just want to gather her in my arms and promise her the moon or whatever else it is she wants as reassurance.

  The tree is a dark spot in the night, and underneath the branches is total darkness, but I can sense that she’s already here.

  “Shayanne?”

  She hops down from the low branch and wordlessly steps into the night. Her sweatpants are pulled up to her knees, leaving a gap of curvy calf above her boots. She’s got a flannel shirt over a tank top, and her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot. She’s gorgeous, natural, and effortless, and I’ve never seen a woman so stunning by moonlight.

  “Luke? I’m so sorry,” she finally says, and I can hear her voice shaking.

  “It’s okay. Come here,” I soothe her, pulling her to me in a hug. I still don’t know what’s going through her head, but I hate that she’s upset. Especially if it’s something I did.

  She curls into me, her soft curves molding to the hard lines of my body, and I run my fingers over her neck, teasing at a tendril of hair that’s escaped. “Shay, talk to me. Just talk to me. Help me to understand.”

  She steps back, putting an inch of space between us so I can see her nod. I take that as a sign that she’s willing to talk, so I spread the blanket out, guiding her to sit down next to me. There are only inches between our hips, but where before it felt like I could feel her energy buzzing around her body, now it feels like the valley outside of town. It’s a ravine that has to be traversed carefully, step by slow step, or you’ll tumble down, banging your head on the rocks the whole way.

  She takes a big breath, and I’m ready to hear her say something heavy and profound about how she got nervous because it was her first time or about how our families would never allow us to be together.

  Instead, she laughs, but it’s high-pitched and vaguely hysterical. “I freaked the fuck out.”

  She shakes her head and tries again. This time, her voice is quiet, tinged with sadness and worry. “I know this is gonna be hard, and people, A-K-A our families, are definitely going to have some things to say. I was all rally cries and ready for war with Mama Louise and Mark, but then you said shit was gonna hit the fan, and I realized this wasn’t just about me. I didn’t want anything to happen to you, so I bolted. I think I thought it’d keep you safe or be easier or something.”

  Her chin drops, her hair a curtain around her face, so I tilt her face up so I can see her in the moonlight. “You think you can take on Mama, who’s literally the scariest person I know, but I can’t take on your family? What kind of pipsqueak do you take me for?”

  Her smile is weak but growing as I spread my shoulders wide and flex my biceps like I could fight the world for her.

  Her giggle is lighter, brighter. “You think Mama Louise is scary?”

  I look around, lowering my voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t say her name again or she’ll appear like Beetlejuice just to get us in trouble.”

  From behind her
hands, she whispers. “Mama Louise!” She looks around the moonlit pasture, squinting to see toward our house. “Guess she’s not as scary as you think.”

  But I can feel her unease at the true thread running beneath our silly joke. “Seriously, I know it can get ugly. Based on how Brody looked at me today, the odds are that shit’s going to fly, and it won’t be pretty. But I can take it if you can.”

  “I spent this entire time thinking about you and hating that I hurt you,” she confesses, and then she apologizes. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, my chest loosening though I didn’t even realize it was tight. “I’m sorry too, Shay. I thought I’d hurt you or pressured you—”

  She interrupts, her hand on my thigh between us as she shakes her head. “No, not at all. It was everything I ever dreamed of. Well, not everything, but you know what I mean.”

  “Okay, so we’re good?” I ask, needing to be sure because it feels like we just went through the wringer but came out the other side pressed a bit closer.

  Her lips twist into an ironic grin as she says sarcastically, “Well, except that you’re a Bennett and I’m a Tannen. Oh, and a ’fraidy cat, yeah.”

  “Girl, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t ya?” I tease, tucking another loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  She flinches, and I’m not sure why until she says, “Don’t call me girl, okay? Not to be weird, considering we’ve been damn near naked and all, but that’s what my daddy calls me to put me in my place. I hate it.”

  Her voice trails off like this was more revealing than everything else we’ve done. For her, it just might be.

  I’ve never been a fan of her father, and the way he tried to strong-arm our family into selling to him put the nail in his coffin as far as I’m concerned. But all those ugly feelings for him are nothing compared to the way Shayanne sounds small when she tells me about him putting her ‘in her place’. As far as I’m concerned, her place is anywhere she damn well wants it to be, and I’d fight her whole damn family to make sure that’s the case, if that’s what it took.