by Taryn Plendl
Huge trucks, a few motorcycles, and even a four-wheeler filled the small parking lot. The bass boomed through the walls, vibrating the windows. Bill’s was where all the locals came to throw back a few beers, dance, and meet their friends.
“What’s the smile about?” Ryke asked as we walked to the front door.
“I was just remembering the only time I’ve ever been here. Bill called the ranch for someone to pick up a very drunk Dalton and Silas.” I giggled and Ryke chuckled, too. “Caroline was already in bed, so I had to come. Poor Dalton felt horrible the next day. It was the only time I’d ever seen him that drunk.”
I also remembered that night for another reason—a memory I would keep for myself and not share with Ryke. As I’d poured a very drunk Silas into his bed, he’d grabbed my wrist, pulling me down to him. “You’re so beautiful, Mirabelle.” The goofy smile he’d worn had sent flutters through my stomach. His breath had smelled of beer and something stronger, not entirely unpleasant, and his hazel eyes were almost slits as the alcohol won its fight for consciousness. Even sloppy drunk, he was the most beautiful man I knew . . . and he thought I was beautiful, too.
The music vibrated in my stomach when Ryke opened the door. The bar was old and rustic with more years and personality than I could’ve imagined. Dim lights were in stark contrast to the neon beer signs flashing over the bar, casting shadows throughout the crowded building. An odd mixture of perfume and cologne mingled with the scent of worn wood, assaulting my senses.
It felt good, alive with energy, and in my heart, it was almost as if Dalton was there with me for my first official trip to Bill’s. In a way, he was.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I shouted over the noise and pointed toward the bar to make sure Ryke understood. He nodded and showed me where he would be before his long strides took him in that direction.
I settled at the edge of the bar, enjoying the sound of hundreds of voices competing with the country music, and waited for the bartender to notice me. Gouges and carvings littered the old wooden bar top, some forming words and shapes. A huge mirror lined the back wall, reflecting the bottles of various colored liquid as well as those bellied up to the bar on simple stools.
“Hey, aren’t you Dalton’s little sister?” A vaguely familiar guy claimed the space next to me.
In the past, those words resulted in an eye roll and a huff. But now, a zing of pride replaced my usual frustration. I was proud of who my brother was, and if I was known because of him, I decided right then and there, I would hold onto that association with honor.
“Yes.” I smiled softly and turned to the approaching bartender to place my order.
“Dalton was a good man,” he said, his large hand squeezing my shoulder.
“The best,” I murmured, more to myself than him.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
When I nodded, he ordered two shots of tequila and a beer before asking me for my order. In Baltimore, I would’ve ordered a mixed drink, but a beer sounded wonderful right now, so that was what I said.
The bartender poured the tequila and opened our beers before walking away. My new friend passed a shot to me and raised the other one for a toast.
“To Dalton,” he said, pausing for me to grab mine.
After he dedicated it to my brother, I had to take the drink, so I lifted it up and threw it back. The liquid burned a slow path down my throat. I chased it with a gulp of my beer, savoring the coolness, and when I looked back down, another shot waited for me.
“One more.” He threw me a mischievous grin.
What the hell? Tonight was about having a good time and remembering my brother. A bit of liquid courage was a good way to start. We clinked our shots and tossed them back. Since my throat was already primed, the burn was less this time. I sipped my beer and glanced around the bar. Several people smiled and nodded at me. I was sure they knew who I was, but no one else came up to me.
When I finished my beer, I was ready to excuse myself to find the guys, but my new friend grabbed my hand and tugged me to the dance floor.
“Dance with me?” He didn’t wait for my reply, and I just went with it as the warmth of the liquor coursed through my body.
A Luke Bryan song about country girls shaking it blared through the speakers, and I decided that was exactly what I was going to do. I jumped right in with the line dance and started to lose myself in the music. When the song switched, I completely let go, swinging my hips, throwing my arms up, and spinning around. Large hands grabbed my hips and jerked me back against my drinking buddy’s body. Wiggling to escape did no good. His hold tightened, and he moved against me to the beat of the music.
As I considered elbowing his ribcage or stomping his foot, all of a sudden, he was gone.
“What the fuck are you doing, Mirabelle?” Silas spun me around to face him. His hazel eyes blazed with anger, as my dancing partner dangled from his fist. Though the two guys were almost the same height, the similarities stopped there. Silas was huge in comparison. His biceps alone were twice the size of my dancing partner’s. Silas’s face was red with suppressed rage. His hands clenched into fists, and a vein pulsed on his forehead.
Somebody’s not happy. Too bad, Silas. Not your choice.
“I’m dancing, Silas. Maybe you should try it.” My palm hit Silas’s chest, and I shoved him, not moving him from his stance. “It might loosen you up,” I challenged.
He stared me down, looming over me, before turning his anger back to my dance partner, shaking him, and pushing him back.
“You stay the fuck away from her, you hear me, Rick?” Silas jabbed him in the chest. His voice was so low and menacing, if I hadn’t wanted to throttle him, I might have been a bit frightened.
His overbearing, protective brother act was more than I could take. I barreled past Silas, barely moving him, and walked over to where the twins and a couple other guys were sitting.
“Nate, will you take me home?” I asked the first one I recognized.
Thankfully, Nate set his beer on the table and stood, although he didn’t look too thrilled at getting involved.
“Sit the fuck down, Nate,” Silas growled.
Nate let out a relieved breath and sat back down. The people at the surrounding tables watched with complete interest as if they were seeing something out of the ordinary. I couldn’t imagine they’d never seen Silas lose his shit. He had a fuse shorter than the dark buzz cut on his head.
He latched onto my arm and dragged me toward the door, but I jerked away from him and stubbornly stomped off in the opposite direction.
Maybe those guys were afraid of Silas Anderson, but I’d known him forever. I’d seen him cry when he’d fallen off a horse and broken his arm, and flinch when Caroline smacked him across the head for picking at her food. The man was intimidating to some, but not me, and I’d not cower to him.
Large arms wrapped around my waist, and before I could do anything, my ass was in the air, and my stomach hit his shoulder.
“Put me down, Silas! I’m not a damn sack of feed.” I demanded.
Of course, he ignored me. As the crowd parted for us, the bar grew unnaturally silent. I punched his back and kicked my legs as he carried me out to the parking lot, doing my best not to be distracted by the tight, round ass in front of my face.
“Put me down, you crazy bastard! Dammit!”
We were definitely going to be the talk for the gossip mongers tomorrow.
Instead of doing as I asked, he smacked my ass. A sting warmed my skin where his hand had been.
“Watch your language.” Silas grunted as he tossed me into the passenger seat of his pick-up. “Put your damn seatbelt on, Mirabelle.” The boom of metal meeting metal rang in my head as the door slammed. When he climbed in the driver’s seat, his hat clipped my head as it sailed into the back. His hands scrubbed over his short hair before hitting the steering wheel.
“Fuck!” he hollered, causing me to jump. His eyes seethed with anger before his
features softened a bit. “Rick Andrews? Really, Mirabelle?” His voice was much calmer now, but anger was still evident in his clenched jaw.
“Why do I know that name?” Narrowing my eyes, I wracked my brain for some recollection.
“Because his fucking family has been trying to buy Sutton Ranch out from under Dalton. They’re sneaky and untrustworthy, and Rick is the worst of them all.”
My heart dropped. I remembered the name from snippets of conversations I’d heard over the years. After our father had died, they’d tried to convince Dalton he couldn’t run the ranch. They were determined to get a piece of the success he’d made out of Sutton Ranch.
“I didn’t know who he was,” I whispered, regret filling me. God, I’d missed so much.
Silas nodded, then started the truck and began the drive home. I put my head against the cold window, trying to focus on the cool sensation on my hot skin. The more time that passed, the more embarrassed and angry I became. That Silas thought he could drag me around like he had some sort of claim on me—even if I had screwed up—pissed me off.
As soon as the truck stopped in front of the house, I was out, slamming the door and stomping up the porch steps. I stopped short when Silas spoke.
“What’s your problem, Mirabelle? You come back here with a chip on your shoulder, when you were the one who left. You were the one who ran away when things didn’t go your way.” His door slammed shut, and he climbed the steps, squaring off across from me.
“Do you even remember what happened? Why I left?” My hands shook with uneasiness. What if he had no idea why I left?
“What are you talking about, Mirabelle? You clearly want to talk about something, so just come right out and say it.”
“Come on, Silas, you remember.” Irritation set my feet in motion, stalking him like he was prey. “Really? My eighteenth birthday? I worked up the courage to ask you to be my first, and you practically laughed me out of the barn.” The memory came flooding back, filling my gut with misery as much now as it had then. After all this time, it still cut just as deep. I hated the feelings he drummed up in me. The insecurities he brought out made my skin boil. Was he seriously so clueless about that night years before?
I had followed Silas into the barn after one of my friends dropped me off at the house. We’d gone out for my birthday, and they had snuck some alcohol. I wasn’t drunk, but I was well on my way, feeling much braver than usual, my body warm with liquid courage.
Silas had always been someone I cared about, but as I’d gotten older, I’d noticed him in a completely different capacity. There were times when I’d thought he’d noticed me, too, but he’d never made a move.
He and Dalton were very protective of me. Others had told me they’d threatened all the guys to stay clear of me. I’d never confirmed it, but it didn’t matter anyway. I was convinced there was no one else for me but Silas. None of the local boys came close to swaying my interest.
When I’d made my way into the barn, Silas was in the back checking on the horses. It was August and hot, so the guys had been keeping an eye on the fans and water levels around the clock. I tiptoed, but he’d still heard me coming.
“Did you have fun tonight, Mirabelle?” he asked without looking.
“Yes, but I didn’t get everything I wanted.” I walked up behind him and put my hand on his bicep. I remembered how warm his tight skin was, how his muscles bulged beneath my hand, and how he stilled when I touched him.
“What are you doing, Mirabelle?” His voice was soft and low, and I couldn’t be sure, but I swore his breath hitched slightly, spurring me on.
“Don’t you want to know what I want for my birthday, Silas?” I was glad he hadn’t turned around. I wasn’t sure if I could do this with him peering down at me.
“Mirabelle, don’t.”
“Please, Silas. I’m going away to college, and I don’t want it to be anyone but you,” I pleaded. His muscles rippled under my hand, his breathing rapid.
“Have you been drinking, Mirabelle?” Silas asked, finally turning to frown. His gaze roamed up and down my body.
“Just a little. I’m not drunk, Si.”
His eyes locked on mine, and I knew he didn’t want me. Words weren’t needed for the refusal to hit its mark. In that instant, my heart shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again. I backed away, begging the tears not to fall until I got out of the barn.
Silas shook his head and ran his hands over his face. “I can’t, Mirabelle. Not like this. This isn’t right.”
With this final slight, I ran from the barn, ignoring his yells, and went straight to my room. When I woke up the next day, Caroline told me the guys were out replacing fences. I called the airline and switched my ticket to Baltimore for the next day.
When Dalton came in that night, I told him my decision to leave early. I waited for him to say something about the previous night, but it was obvious Silas hadn’t told him. The following morning, after caring for the horses, Dalton drove me to Colorado Springs to catch my flight. Silas had stayed in the field, and I had been saved from the further humiliation of seeing him. I avoided several calls from him over the next few weeks and convinced myself I needed a clean break.
I remembered the rejection as if it was yesterday. The pain and disgust on his face had haunted and humiliated me. A lot of good four years had done.
“First of all, you were my best friend’s little sister. Second, I was not going to take your virginity in a fucking stall in the barn, Mirabelle.” Silas flung his hands in the air, face reddening as if frustration was seeping from his pores.
So much for all the progress I thought I’d made at the bar with people knowing me as Dalton’s sister. It hurt coming from Silas. It always had.
“See, there’s the difference. To you, I was always going to be Dalton’s little sister, but to me . . . You were . . . Never mind.” I shook my head, letting the tears fall. Silas moved closer and reached for me, but before he could put his hands on my arms, I stepped back. I didn’t want him to comfort me. I held my head up, pulled my shoulders back, and tried to get myself together. “You had a chance to show tenderness or cruelty that night, and it took you no time to make your decision. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What does that even mean?” His voice was low and tight, his neck rigid, as he stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Well, you know what they say about the college experience, Si. You can find anything you’re looking for. Whether it’s drugs, alcohol, or just somebody to take the gift nobody else wanted.” I shrugged. “Fortunately, I never touched the drugs, and the alcohol lost its importance, too.”
His jaw twitched, hard eyes staring at me as the angry look from the bar returned. Jealousy? Disgust? Did I even want to know?
I didn’t have the energy for round two, so I held up my hands in surrender. I could continue to fight this battle, but what was the point? Nothing good would come from it. Too much hurt piled up between us right now for either of us to see a way through it. Sadness consumed me, pushing every other emotion from my body. Where there used to be life, laughter, and love, was an aching hollowness that robbed my liveliness.
“This fight isn’t even worth having. That ship sailed a long time ago.” My shoulders sagged, my head hanging. “I buried the only family I had left today. I’m tired and sad and so fucking lost right now. I can’t do this, Si.”
Without looking back, I slipped into the house, stunned by the can of worms I’d managed to open tonight.
The only thing pushing me forward was the urge to separate myself from Silas before I somehow made things worse between us. Otherwise, the path I was on might lead me to become a person I never wanted to be. Bitter and jaded. Dalton would’ve been so disappointed.
S I L A S
“Do you love her?”
“Who, buddy?”
“You know who.”
“Yes.”
“Get her home, Si. She doesn’t belong aw
ay from here, and she loves you, too. She may not admit it easily, but she always has. Get her home and take care of her for me.”
“I will, Dalton. I promise.”
“Good.”
And then he was gone.
I tossed the pliers toward the tool box and wiped my sweaty face on my sleeve. The scene had played through my mind every day since we’d lost him. When I’d gotten back to the house after they’d taken Dalton’s body, my first thought was Mirabelle. I needed to call her, but I was so afraid to tell her, her brother was gone. Causing her more pain was the last thing I wanted to do, but keeping my promise to Dalton was important, too. In the end, I’d chickened out and made Nate take care of it.
“For fuck’s sake, Si!” Nate’s angry voice pulled me from my memory.
“What?”
“That’s the third tool you done gone and tossed at me. I swear to all that’s holy, if you fucking hit me with one, I’m beating your ass with it.” His Oklahoma twang was always stronger when he was pissed off, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit as he crossed his arms and glared at me.
“I’m sorry, man.” My arms spread wide in surrender. “My mind is all over the fucking place this morning.” A sudden need for caffeine brought me back to the quad for my thermos of coffee. Out of desperation, I gulped the lukewarm liquid.
“Does this have anything to do with last night and how you carried poor Mira out of the bar like a caveman?” Nate crossed his arms and watched me with knowing eyes as he settled against the other quad. “I’ll have you know I had a hard time picking up any women after you left like that. The ladies were all swooning. Even my best moves weren’t getting the job done,” Nate complained.
Mirabelle was definitely responsible for my mood. Our conversation last night had made it apparent she was still upset with me for turning her down. What she didn’t realize was, I thought I would have a chance to do things right with her before she left. What I didn’t realize was, she would be gone when I came back in from the field. For weeks, I was so fucking pissed, Dalton and the other hands had kept their distance.
