Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch

by Landish, Lauren

  No one acknowledges that that wasn’t what was happening at all and that if the Bennetts hadn’t shown up, we’d be a lot worse off than we are. Pride is a dangerous thing, but I’ll let Brody protect his if that’s what he needs.

  “You’re not leaving.” Brody says it as an order, but I hear the hint of a question and nod. “You love him.” A statement, but I nod again. “And he loves you, treats you right?” That’s a question, and even though I’m nervous at where he’s going with this, a slight smile lifts my lips as I continue my bobblehead action.

  “Yes, yes, and yes,” I say, reassuring him.

  “Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You can date the asshole next door.”

  I hop up from the table and tackle him. He catches me around the waist, trying to get away from the kisses I’m peppering his cheek with. I see him wince and remember too late that his face is probably pretty pained right now. “Sorry. Thank you, Brody.”

  “Good thing you came to your senses,” I only half-tease him, “because I wasn’t going to let this go.”

  He lifts one eyebrow, deadpanning, “No shit? I couldn’t tell, Sis.”

  Bruce huffs a tiny laugh, his fork clenched in his purple paw of a hand. “Can we eat now, before all this gets cold?”

  Bobby looks around, a smile blooming on his face, which looks odd because one side is so swollen it looks like he’s got the mumps. “So, does this mean we ain’t feuding with the Bennetts no more?”

  I pick up my fork, holding it high and declaring, “This means we ain’t feuding no more.”

  The atmosphere feels lighter, even with the uncertainty of this contract and what it’ll mean weighing on each of us. At least one drama is handled. And we’ll face the other as Tannens. Too tough to give in.

  Brody and I sit back down, and we all dig in as a family.

  Brody still leans over, talking as he eats. “Okay, rule number one . . . he ain’t sleeping over here. I’m not listening to anyone, Bennett or not, rail my sister, and these walls are too damn thin for any real privacy.”

  I blush fiercely. We don’t do this, but now that he mentions it . . .

  “Where do y’all get laid?” I ask around my mouthful of food. “You just go to the girl’s place and then creep out before dawn for a walk of shame?”

  I look to each of them to find their brows all creeping up toward their hairlines, looking guilty as sin. Finally, Bobby smiles. “More like a walk of fame when they’re begging, ‘Come back, Bobby!’” He aims for a falsetto, but it’s barely an octave higher than his usual deep voice.

  Bruce’s mouth quirks up and I can’t wait for the zing he’s about to throw out. “They’re probably saying that because you didn’t get the job done, fucker. Ladies first ain’t just for opening doors, you know.”

  Bobby grabs what’s left of Bruce’s biscuit, holding it hostage as he taunts. “’Least I’m getting some, not mooning and holding out, lover boy.” With that, he shoves the whole thing in his mouth, which has to hurt. I wonder what Bobby knows that I don’t, but for now, I’ll let it go.

  We’re here, together. And that’s enough.

  “Fine, I’ll sneak out as per usual each night, and you pretend you know nothing,” I reply with a big, fake wink. “I’ll get my freak on with Luke and sashay back over in the morning to make breakfast. Do I need to sneak back in too?”

  Brody’s smile is small but important. A true sign of acceptance of Luke and me. “No, you don’t have to sneak around. But I don’t want to see your PDAs. You’re still my little sister, even when you’re a pain in my ass.”

  I nod, acting like I’m taking notes in the air because my notebook is in my nightstand. “Oh, question, though, now that we’re being all out-in-the-open with relationship stuff. What can you tell me about reverse cowgirl?” I flutter my lashes, the very picture of innocence.

  Bruce and Bobby both groan, but Brody goes one step further. “I’m out,” Brody says, getting up and walking out of the kitchen. But I notice he takes his biscuit with him. He pokes his head back in, pointing a finger at me and talking around his mouthful of bread. “Lawyer tomorrow after breakfast. Bright and early.”

  “Think I’ll eat upstairs tonight so I can chew a little more carefully,” Bobby adds, getting up too. I knew that mouthful of biscuit was too much for his sore jaw.

  Before he passes the door, I call out, “Come back, Bobby!” My falsetto sucks just as bad as his does, and I can’t help but giggle at his groan of frustration.

  Bruce reaches for Brody’s plate, spearing his abandoned chunk of ham with his fork and moving it over to his plate. He takes a big bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Whatcha need to know about reverse cowgirl? And do we need to have the birth control talk?”

  Now I’m the one crying out. “Ugh! I was kidding! No, I don’t want to talk sex positions with my brothers, and I’m good on the birth control.”

  He winks, pointing at me with his fork. “Gotcha!”

  I smile, enjoying this moment of banter. We’re all masking some feelings, playing on the surface where it’s light and easy, but the water’s scarily churning below and full of sharks. That’s okay, though. It’s Get Through Shit 101, focus on the moments of good and fake the rest till you make it out the other side.

  Chapter 31

  Luke

  “So, what’d the lawyer say?” I ask, my fingertips swirling a mindless pattern on Shay’s belly.

  We’re at the tree, my back pressed to the bark through a wool blanket. Shay’s between my spread legs, leaned back against my chest. Together, we make up one big, fluffy burrito of blankets to ward off the chill of the night.

  We could’ve gone to my perfectly warm house, but it’d seemed right to meet here tonight. She needs the open vastness of the night to spill the hard details of her day, now more than ever. The darkness, broken by the moonlight, is like its own blanket, insulating us from the issues we’re facing, a protective shield in its own way.

  But that shield only goes so far.

  “Basically that we’re fucked. Ten times over and twice on Sunday,” Shay responds sadly.

  I squeeze her in the circle of my arms, a silent request for her to spill it.

  She sighs and looks up at the stars. “From what the lawyers can tell, the contract’s legit. Which means it’s binding and we have to pay up. There’s not enough in Daddy’s estate or any of the accounts to make even a dent in the balance he has. So the only way to make it right is to give them the farm or sell it and pay them off. Either way, we lose.”

  She sniffles and then wipes her eyes on the blanket. “I can’t lose my home, Luke. I don’t know what to do because it seems like it’s all falling apart no matter what. Brody damn near lost his mind today and then took off like a demon in his truck after the meeting. I don’t even know where he went, but Bruce said to let him go, that he’d be okay, just needed to figure some shit out. But there’s nothing to figure out! We’re just up shit creek without a paddle.”

  “Shay, honey . . .” I start, not knowing how to take this pain away but wishing hard that I could.

  She’s not done, though.

  “The worst part of it is that I am so furious at Daddy. He did this to us. Franks isn’t a good guy, and I sure haven’t forgotten the sight of his goons beating up everyone I care about, but he’s just holding up a contract he signed in good faith. It’s not his fault, not really. It’s Daddy’s. He took that money knowing he couldn’t pay it back and that we’d be the ones to pay the price when he died. I’ve gone back and forth emotionally at losing him, but right now, I’m so mad I could spit nails. If I could, I would strangle him with my bare hands.”

  Shock courses through her at her own words, her body going rigid. She mumbles something that sounds like regret, but I soothe her, pulling a hand out of the blanket to rub along her wavy hair, twirling a lock around my finger.

  “It’s okay to be mad at him. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean that he’s now some reverent saint you can’t
ever speak ill of. He was a man, with all the inherent flaws that go along with that. Maybe he had more than his fair share of hurts and weaknesses, but it’s okay to be upset that what he did is fucking you over.”

  It’s as much of a kindness as I can say about the man right now. Shay’s right. If I could bring him to life to kill him again for hurting her like this, I would. In a heartbeat.

  But I can’t. We’re where we are, with what we’ve got. And we’ll have to cope.

  “So, what’s the plan, then?” I venture.

  Anything she says will suck. I know it, she knows it, and her brothers know it. There’s no way they’re getting out of this with their farm intact. At this point, they’ll be lucky to have their family intact.

  “The lawyer Sophie’s brother recommended . . . his name’s Mr. Branford. He said if we give in to Franks and complete the contract, there’s no real cushion. It’d be a true hand-over of the property and we’d walk away with the money in the accounts and the clothes on our backs. We could take the herd, but we’d have nowhere to raise them, so our best bet would be to sell them so we’d have a little money to set ourselves back up for a fresh start.”

  She chuckles humorlessly, both of us knowing that none of her family wants a new life somewhere else. They are that farm, just like we are our ranch. I get how impossible starting over sounds to them. We’d be devastated too if something like that happened.

  “Second option is to find a buyer who wants it as an investment property. Basically, just a silent owner who’d let us keep running it like we always have. But we’d have to answer to someone. It wouldn’t be ours.”

  I nod, my chin digging into the top of her head. “But you could stay. Your brothers could stay. Would someone do that?”

  She twists, looking at me in the dark. “I asked Sophie if her brother or Roxy would. Do you know how hard that was for me to do? I mean, she’s my best friend and I would never want to use her like that, but I didn’t see any other way. Desperate times, you know? So I swallowed my pride and asked.”

  My breath is frozen in my chest. “What’d she say?”

  “She cried and said that if she could, she would. She tried, she even checked her own bank balances. She has a trust from when her parents died, and they have James’s bull riding money, but it’s not enough. And with the baby coming . . . she can’t. Jake and Roxy couldn’t either, something about having just made a big long-term business investment, which I get, but I just . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  She shivers, but it’s more from the cold in her veins than the night. Still, I need to get her inside where it’s warm.

  “C’mon, honey. Let’s go home,” I tell her, my voice raspy with emotion.

  She gets up, standing like a zombie as I slip a blanket over her shoulders. I toss another around my own and then my arm around her to lead her toward my house. All the fight’s gone out of her and she lets me guide her through the darkness.

  I don’t bother turning on the lights at home. We just shuffle inside to the bedroom, where I strip Shay down to her panties. She doesn’t move other than to step out of her sweats and lift her lifeless arms as I pull her shirt over her head. She’s a shell of herself, all vibrancy and fire snuffed out. Lying in my bed, she looks forlorn, a lost kitten whose final hope at kindness in the world has been ripped away.

  I strip to my underwear and curl up behind her, a buffer to the storm raging around her family. But I can’t do anything about the storm inside her heart.

  Or can I?

  “I know it’s not much, but your goats . . . they can stay here. We’ve never had any, but we can help take care of them, and that way, you can still make your soaps. If it comes down to it, Mark’d probably buy your herd for the going rate. He was gonna buy some at the winter sale, anyway.” I’m talking out of my ass, not having a clue whether Mark was going to add to our herd or not but knowing that he’ll do it for the Tannens. For Shayanne. For me.

  It’s the smallest gesture, but it’s all I can think of right now.

  Shay’s voice is small, broken. “Thank you.”

  And then she drifts off into a fitful sleep. Meanwhile, I stay awake for hours, thinking and planning, wishing and hoping.

  For a future with Shay. For an answer to her family’s problem. Hell, around two in the morning, I think I make a wish for world fucking peace. All I know is, I can’t let this woman in my arms go and I’ll do anything to make her happy.

  * * *

  Three days later, Mark and I are sitting at a desk in town. There’s a stack of papers in front of me with neon yellow flags sticking out the edge.

  The portly man across from us smiles, his cheeks lifting so high his eyes look squinty. “If you’ll just read through this, initial and sign as noted.”

  Mark puts his big hand flat on the papers, stopping me. His eyes bore into mine, his breath slow and his voice a growl. “You sure about this? It’s not on you, Luke. And they’re going to be pissed as hornets. They’re gonna fight against it and might not even take us up on it.”

  I press my lips together, knowing he’s right. But after hours of thinking, several long and hard conversations, and a long ride on Duster’s back to talk with Pops in my head, it’s the best I’ve come up with.

  “I’m sure,” I say, my voice sure and steady even if my hand is shaking a bit.

  Courage is not the absence of fear. It’s doing what you need to do even when you wanna piss yourself. Hell, sometimes, it’s doing it while the piss is running down your leg.

  Pops’s gross bastardization of the famous quote runs through my head.

  Mark nods. “Thought so. Just had to be sure. Damn proud of you, Luke.”

  Chapter 32

  Shayanne

  I know Mama Louise is being nice, but I really don’t feel like a big family dinner tonight. But she’d insisted, telling me not to cook a thing and just to show up with my brothers. And by insisted, I mean virtually dared me to disobey.

  So dinner at the Bennetts’ it is.

  We sit around the mish-mash of tables on the back porch again, space heaters whirring in each corner. Through the window screens, you can see the last leaves leaving the trees and the bare yellow-grey of the grass for miles around us.

  “Ooh, it is colder than Christmas out here. Gonna have to figure out a better solution for dinners before the real winter weather hits.”

  Mama’s offhand words cut deeply because we won’t be here to see the winter snow covering the acres of land. I mean, I’ll still come over to see Luke, of course.

  But it’s not the same. It won’t ever be the same again.

  Mark says a quick prayer over the food and then Mama takes over. “Dig in before the chill takes the warmth outta dinner,” she says chirpily.

  We each grab the nearest platter or bowl and serve ourselves as the passing of dishes circles the table. I look down to see chicken fried steak with white pepper gravy, mashed potatoes drowning in brown gravy, fat green beans with bacon, and a roll on my plate. I don’t remember putting any of it there and don’t want to eat in the least.

  The table’s quiet, sounds of food disappearing into people’s bellies the only breach of the silence. Mama Louise clears her throat once, and then again.

  I look up from my glum stare at the steak, like it’s the thing that’s offended me. Mama is looking pointedly at Mark, who swallows his food with a gulp.

  He looks to Brody, hesitation in his eyes. “So, I know you don’t want to talk about this, Brody. And I wish I could respect your wishes, but I can’t.”

  Brody’s eyes are coals, hard and barely covering the fire burning through him. He hated swallowing his pride to ask Sophie for help with the lawyer, and I didn’t even tell him that I’d begged her to buy the farm because I knew he’d have never allowed it, not that it mattered in the end. But the truce with the Bennetts is too fresh for a challenge. Especially not by Mark, who’s the equivalent to Brody in our family.

  The leader.

&nb
sp; Not when Mark is doing well, keeping his family stable and safe, and Brody feels like he’s failing. He’s not. The failure is all Daddy’s doing, but Brody feels responsible all the same, and nothing we’ve said has persuaded him from that line of thinking.

  “No,” Brody snaps back immediately, his jaw clenching.

  “Hear me out,” Mark says, not a question in his hard words. But at least not an order. “Please.”

  I can only imagine what it cost Mark to tell Brody ‘please’ since neither of them is known for their softness or kindness.

  I swallow, a gnawing in my gut telling me that something’s going on. I glance around the table. Bruce and Bobby are doing the same as me, looking around in confusion. Mama Louise, Luke, and James are all looking at Mark like he’s holding court. Sophie and Katelyn are looking at me, though, a message in their eyes I can’t decipher.

  Luke drops his hand to my thigh, squeezing tight. He’s trying to tell me something too, but I don’t know what it is.

  Brody doesn’t agree to listen, but he doesn’t get up from the table either, so Mark goes on. “We know that the lawyer said your best option was a silent investor.”

  A tiny ridiculous hope blooms in my heart as my eyes widen. Is Mark gonna offer to be a silent investor for us so we can keep our farm?

  “I’ve been accused of being quiet, that’s for sure. But I ain’t silent, I can guarantee you that.” And poof, that hope disappears like cotton candy into water.

  Brody looks at him, his eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  Mark’s eyes tick to Mama Louise, who nods. Her face is straight, something I’ve never seen before. She’s not usually a bluffer—when she’s happy, she smiles, when she’s sad, she frowns, and when she’s mad, she’ll bite your fool head off while you apologize for causing a ruckus. This is different . . . scary.

  “I want you to hear me out before you say no. You owe that to yourself and to your family,” Mark decrees. Brody doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t argue.