Miller Brothers in Love

by Erin Wright

  He’d caused none of those problems and yet, the sheriff still blamed him because Wyatt had the temerity to buy the man’s livelihood out from underneath him.

  All of that probably wouldn’t have made him and the sheriff besties, but then, Wyatt had to go and celebrate at O’Malley’s the night of the signing with a couple of his buddies. He was so excited; he was finally going to show his father and brother how a real farm was run.

  Damn pronouns. Wyatt knew which “he” he’d meant when he’d said, “I’m finally going to show him how a farm is run,” but by the time the rumor got back to the sheriff, that “he” had become Sheriff Connelly. The way the people of Sawyer saw it, it was bad enough that Wyatt had bought a farm that had been foreclosed on, but to brag about it afterward was just downright awful.

  He’d tried to explain. He’d tried to tell a few people that the “he” was his father, but actually, it was really his brother. It was Stetson who’d insisted on raising cows on the Miller farm. Everyone knew that the Millers were farmers, not cowboys. They raised wheat and beets, not cows, dammit.

  But that was Stetson to a T, going and screwing everything up by raising those damn cows of his. Wyatt had tried to tell them that cows got sick and they shit everywhere and they up and died on you for no damn reason at all, and only the village idiot would want to mess with them, but then again, didn’t that almost perfectly sum up Stetson?

  In the end, Stetson kept his cows and his dad died and Wyatt bought the sheriff’s farm off the auction block and everyone in the county believed that Wyatt believed that he was a better farmer than the sheriff. After years of this persistent rumor floating around, Wyatt had long ago quit trying to explain himself and just accepted that the sheriff was never going to invite him over for tea and cookies.

  But now…now he was stuck in the sheriff’s jail until at least January 3rd, his court date in Ada County, and he had to see Abby Connelly every day and he had to pretend that he saw nothing in her that he wanted, because the sheriff would okay him dating his only child right about the time that he burned the courthouse down to the ground. Wyatt had a better chance at becoming president of the United States than he did of winning over the sheriff.

  Well, no matter what the counselor said on the topic, Wyatt could forgive Declan and move on, but he was never going to forgive the sheriff. He asked for it, refusing to even listen to Wyatt’s side of the story.

  There were some lines that you just didn’t cross, and the way Wyatt figured it, that was one of ‘em.

  Chapter 8

  Abby

  Declan came through the front door of the sheriff’s office, removing his hat as he entered the room. “Ma’am, how are you?” he asked, coming up to the front counter.

  She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Declan, we graduated a year apart from each other. I’m pretty sure we can move past the ‘ma’am’ part.”

  “That’s true. I s’pose my momma would only toss and turn in her grave instead of plain ol’ rolling over if I were to call you Abby.”

  “I won’t tell her if you don’t.” Abby grinned at the middle Miller son, and as they walked to the back to the jail block, she wondered anew why she didn’t find Declan attractive. Well, she did, but in a totally clinical way. He was handsome and tall and kind and thoughtful and damn good-looking…

  And he didn’t do a thing for her. Not a damn thing. She couldn’t begin to imagine kissing him. It would be like kissing her brother, if she’d been blessed with such a creature. Maybe it was because she’d grown up with him…? She didn’t know the cause of her complete and total apathy towards Declan, but she could state categorically that it was there.

  Unlike his older brother, who despite his warming trends, still wasn’t the most pleasant human being to be around. He could be prickly and grumpy and snarky…

  And just being around him made it hard for her to breathe.

  Which just proved that you can’t choose who you’re attracted to, because no one in their right mind was attracted to Wyatt Miller. Not unless they were hankering for pain and misery.

  Which Abby was most definitely not.

  “Hey brother!” Wyatt said, swinging his legs off the bunk and hurrying the few steps to the cell door. “How are you?” They shook hands through the bars as Abby worked to unlock the door. Once she got it unlocked, Declan stepped inside and Abby pulled the door closed behind him.

  “Just holler when you’re done,” she said, and headed back up front, leaving the brothers with their privacy. They weren’t large enough to have a visitor’s area, so Declan would just have to hang out with Wyatt in the jail cell until he was done. She heard Wyatt’s low chuckle as she shut the door behind her as the brothers began to chat, and she smiled to herself. It was good to hear him laugh. It wasn’t a sound she’d heard in years, and even as rusty as it was, it was still nice.

  She got some paperwork done and finally heard Declan calling out through the thick door separating the front office area from the cell block. She hurried into the back and saw the two brothers standing side-by-side in the cell, watching her walk towards them. Seeing them next to each other made her realize how similar they looked, despite the blond tints to Declan’s hair compared to the dark, rich auburn locks that Wyatt was sporting. He hadn’t had his hair cut since he was booked all those weeks ago, and his hair was starting to get longer than convention usually dictated.

  She liked it.

  She fumbled at her keys on her belt and finally got the jail cell unlocked. “Thanks,” Declan said with a smile as he stepped out of the cell. She glanced over at Wyatt and found that he also had a small smile on his lips. He looked…almost friendly.

  God, what a difference a visit from a family member makes.

  She closed the door, making sure it locked firmly in place and then escorted Declan back up front to the main entry area to sign him out.

  “Hey, I know it’s a lot to ask,” Declan said, his voice low, “but I need to talk to you about Wyatt’s dog, Maggie. She’s not dealing well with Wyatt being gone. She’s quit eating and she won’t move from the front porch. She just sits there, staring down the driveway, waiting for Wyatt to return. I think she may waste away to nothing if we don’t get her in here to see Wyatt soon. He’s already lost his wife and daughter; I just can’t stand the thought of him losing his dog, too.”

  Abby took a deep breath, the heartbreaking story wrenching at her heart. Wyatt may have screwed up; Wyatt may have made poor life choices, but that didn’t mean his dog should die.

  She also knew her dad would freak out if he found out that she was letting Wyatt’s dog in here.

  But hadn’t her father said to “just take care of Wyatt” and that he’d back her in whatever she chose to do?

  He probably hadn’t been thinking about dogs when he’d said that, but hell, that was just too damn bad. If he was going to offload Wyatt Miller onto her shoulders, he couldn’t then complain about how she dealt with that problem.

  She just had to hope that the dog didn’t have fleas.

  “Bring her on by. When were you thinking?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. Will you be here?”

  The unspoken part of that question was that they both knew that if Declan brought a dog in while a different officer were on duty, they’d be turned away at the door. It had to be done while Abby was here, and they both knew it.

  “Yeah, from 3 to 7. I’ll be out on patrol before then.”

  “I’ll be here between 3 and 7, then. Thanks.” With a flash of a handsome smile that did absolutely nothing for Abby, Declan headed for the front doors.

  She sank into the office chair behind the front desk with a sigh. She was about to do royal battle with her dad over this, and even though she knew she was right, that didn’t mean it would be easy.

  Chapter 9

  Wyatt

  Ooowwww oooowwww ooowwwww…

  Wyatt heard Maggie Mae’s distinctive howl just as he heard nails scrambling on the concrete floor a
nd he jackknifed up, his heart pounding. Surely, surely, they weren’t letting Maggie into the jail. That just wasn’t something Sheriff Connelly would allow.

  But Maggie came scrambling into view, her legs going every which way on the concrete as she tried to launch herself through the bars at Wyatt.

  Ooowwww oooowwww ooowwwww…She howled with delight, shoving her head through the bars, her tail wagging so fast, her hind legs kept falling over. She was literally quivering with delight.

  He launched himself at the bars, letting her tongue lap at his face, wrapping his arms around her through the bars, hating the cold steel in the way, loving the fact that his dog was here.

  Here!

  How did she get here?

  Declan and Abby rounded the corner, a little out of breath as they caught up to Maggie Mae. Abby was pulling her keys off her belt and working them into the lock as Maggie continued to bathe his face with all of the love and happiness her heart contained. He couldn’t help it – he laughed, letting the joy that was welling up in him spill out.

  “You let my dog in here,” he said around his laughter, wonder filling his voice, staring up at Abby. She finally got the cell door open and convinced Maggie that she could get to Wyatt a little easier if she went around to the open door, rather than continuing to try to force her way through the bars.

  Although, as she launched herself at Wyatt, knocking him back onto the concrete floor, causing him to bust out laughing again, he suddenly realized that getting between the bars would be easier for her right now than it really should’ve been. Running his hands up and down her flanks, he could feel her ribs.

  He looked up at Declan, who was grinning with happiness, but his eyes were dark with worry.

  “Has she not been eating?” he asked around her tongue, which was busy cleaning up his face and then over to his ear.

  “Not a damn thing. She’s just been wasting away, refusing to eat or drink, and refusing to move off the front porch. I know she seems like a bundle of energy right now, but I think she’s been saving that energy up for the last five weeks because she’s hardly moved all that time. I started to worry that she’d die of heartbreak.”

  Wyatt felt that like a punch to his stomach. Maggie was totally blameless; had never done anything but love and sometimes obey and then love some more. She didn’t deserve to go through that.

  “Thank you,” Wyatt said softly, looking back and forth between Abby and Declan. “This is the best Christmas present I ever could’ve asked for.”

  Declan reached over and pulled some items out of a bag that Wyatt hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying. He had been busy fending off Maggie, who was now on a self-appointed mission to clean his other ear, but still, he was usually more observant.

  “I brought some food and water,” Declan said, putting bowls on the ground and pouring Kibble into one and bottled water into the other. “I was hoping that with her here with you, she’d be willing to eat and drink. If she won’t, I’ll have to take her to Vet Whitaker and see what he can do. She may need to go onto an IV drip.”

  But at the sound of Kibble hitting the bottom of her food bowl, Maggie Mae launched herself off Wyatt and dove into her food bowl like she was starving.

  Which, of course, she was.

  As she alternated between eating and gulping down water, Wyatt pushed himself off the concrete floor. He didn’t know how to thank Abby – shake her hand? Give her a hug? She was his jailer. He couldn’t exactly send her a thank-you card.

  But he had no doubt in his mind that Abby’s father would’ve absolutely said no to this idea. This was all her doing – there was no question on that.

  In the end, he looked at her and said simply, “Thank you. It means a lot. I…thank you.”

  And then stopped, because he didn’t have any other words to say. She just dipped her head in acknowledgment and headed back up front, pulling the cell door closed behind her as she left. “I’ll check on y’all in a minute,” she said quietly, disappearing and giving them privacy.

  “Thanks for her, Declan,” Wyatt said, nodding towards his dog who’d finally started to slow down on her food consumption. He was a little worried about her getting a stomachache but the idea of taking her food away from her just didn’t sit well with him. He’d let her decide when she was full.

  “Merry Christmas. To both of you.” Declan shrugged, downplaying what he did. “I know that being in here during Christmas won’t be easy, and I thought that Maggie Mae was the best present anyone could give you.”

  That was Declan, all right. Always thinking of others.

  Which, of course, made him think about what a difference there was between Declan and their youngest brother, Stetson. Stetson had his head so far up his own ass, Wyatt was surprised he could still walk straight. He sure seemed to have won the lottery when he convinced Jennifer to marry him. Wyatt gave them three years of her putting up with Stetson’s bullshit before she gave him his walking papers.

  Pushing those thoughts away, he asked Declan, “So, what are you guys going to be doing for Christmas this year?” There was a golf-ball sized lump in his throat that he had to talk around. He didn’t used to be this emotional and he wasn’t exactly sure he appreciated the change. “Is Carmelita making her world-famous roast beef and potatoes?” And homemade cinnamon rolls? And gingerbread cookies?

  Stetson lucked out with two women in his life – Jennifer to love him and Carmelita to cook for him. When Wyatt had bought his own place, he’d wanted to hire his own Carmelita, but had never managed to find someone as amazing as her.

  Some days, Wyatt could find ten reasons to hate Stetson before breakfast, and thirty before noon.

  “I don’t know what they’re planning,” Declan said with a shrug. “I’m going to be spending it here with you.”

  “What?!” For the second time that afternoon, Wyatt felt like he’d been punched in the gut, but this was a positive punch, if such a thing existed. “You can’t miss Christmas at the farm!”

  Even when Declan and Wyatt had moved out and bought their own places, they’d always, always gone back home for Christmas. Stetson may have inherited the family farm without doing a damn thing to deserve it, but that didn’t matter when it came to Christmas. The Miller Farm was home for all three of the brothers, and always would be, no matter who their father gave the farm to in his will.

  Declan just shrugged. “Stetson and Jennifer have friends they can invite over if they want to. They’re lovebirds; they won’t even notice that I’m gone. You’re all alone here. It didn’t seem fair.”

  “How’d Stetson take this news?” Wyatt asked suspiciously. Declan may be laissez faire about this idea, but he was pretty sure Stetson wasn’t.

  Declan grinned wryly. “Let’s just say that I’m probably off the Christmas card list for a while.”

  Wyatt grinned back for just a moment but quickly felt the smile die away. Here was yet someone else who was innocent, who was being hurt by his actions.

  “So you’ll be coming back tomorrow?” Today was Christmas Eve Eve, if such a thing existed. Wyatt had only kept tabs on the day of the month so he could keep a countdown going of his hearing in Ada County, where hopefully, he’d be heard by a judge who gave a damn about justice.

  Maggie flopped to the floor, finally satiated for the moment, and began to snore.

  Wyatt was happier already, having her nearby. It was amazing to him how much he’d missed her snores, something he never would’ve guessed before being shoved in here against his will.

  “Yeah, I’ll be back tomorrow. Let me talk to Abby for a minute, though.” Declan turned and shook the cell bars, trying to make enough noise to catch the attention of Wyatt’s beautiful jailer.

  Now where did that come from? If there was any person in the world off-limits for Wyatt, it was Abby Connelly. She was his jailer, for starters. He’d bought her father’s land from them off the auction block, and the town and her father hated—

  He stopped that train
of thought right there. His counselor had been trying to get him to let go of the negativity he’d been holding on to for so long, and that included not dwelling on choices made by others.

  I can’t control the thoughts or actions of others; I can only control myself.

  Abby came heading back down the hallway, her hips swaying with a natural grace that caused Wyatt’s thoughts to go a little further south than he’d intended, but he forced his eyes to focus on hers. He wouldn’t let himself think about anything else.

  He wouldn’t.

  She slid the key into the lock with a bright smile. “Y’all done in here?” she asked, looking back and forth between them.

  “Listen, I need to chat with you for a moment,” Declan said with a charming smile he normally reserved for Carmelita, as he tried to wheedle his way into another slice of her amazing peanut butter and chocolate pie. Wyatt wanted to tell him that Abby never brought pie back from Betty’s Diner but rather only boring turkey sandwiches. Maybe that’d get Declan to stop smiling so much at her. There was no reason to smile that much at the jailer.

  Beautiful jailer.

  Jailer.

  End of story.

  They pulled the jail cell door closed behind them and headed back down the hallway, towards the front. Wyatt dropped to his knees, running his fingers through Maggie’s fur. She instantly sat up, panting, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth as she grinned at him.

  Wyatt smiled back, but he felt grief well up inside of him as he felt the changes in her even clearer now that the initial rush of surprise was over. Her fur was thinner and more coarse to the touch, and her ribs…he could count every one of them, and the knobs of her backbone, too. She’d never been husky, but this…she was nothing but fur and bones.