THE CORBIN BROTHERS: The Complete 5-Books Series

by Lexie Ray

  “We can talk more about it, if you like,” she said hesitantly. “I mean, only if you want to. I can try.”

  “You know, it’s late,” I said. “It’s been a long day for both of us. As long as we understand each other on this, I don’t see us having anything else to talk about — on this subject, I mean. It would be weird not to talk to each other anymore. We live here, and work together here.”

  “Okay,” she said. “If that’s what you think is best.”

  “It doesn’t have to be awkward,” I said quickly. “I mean, we don’t have to make it awkward. Everything is fine. If you want it to be fine. I don’t know. We’re fine, right?”

  “Everything is okay,” she said, nodding and taking a tentative step backward. “Right? It’s fine.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, resisting the urge to punch myself in my own face. “Everything is fine. Have a good night.”

  “Good night,” she echoed, then turned and practically fled down the hall. I heard her footfalls quietly dash up the stairs, the door to her room latch shut. I sighed and sagged, rubbing my eyes.

  Nothing was fine. Everything was awkward. And I was afraid that everything I’d ever wanted was now squandered. If Zoe didn’t like me, if she didn’t want to sleep with me, that was her decision. I just couldn’t reconcile that decision with the way she’d responded to me earlier today, the way we’d been together.

  Nothing made sense right now, and I had the sneaking suspicion that nothing would make sense for the rest of my life.

  Chapter 2

  If I had to accept Zoe rejecting my advances as a payment for everything going right for once on the ranch, then I’d have to grow to embrace it. Because after that awkward exchange that night, we had whole weeks of relative normalcy. It was bizarre. We’d been so accustomed to whipping from one crisis to the next that this spate of calm — or at least about as calm as it ever got on the ranch — was something of an anomaly.

  It rained regularly, like it was supposed to this time of year. The river replenished, the grass greened up and grew again, despite it being autumn, and we tentatively decided to stop purchasing water by the truckload to fill the troughs dotting the pastures. We got more serious about starting a grain operation to avoid having to buy any for the cattle and even plotted out a field for our first harvest.

  The fence lines stayed intact, the cattle fattened, and we enjoyed a period without any thefts.

  It was almost as it was supposed to be, the ranch my parents had imagined for us, the place we had been striving for all along.

  Zoe was the only blip that made me unhappy. If only everything had worked out with her. Now, we avoided each other, intent on minimizing the awkwardness that wafted around us in clouds. I got up extremely early and left without breakfast, and delayed getting back to the house until I was sure no one was awake. Moving my office out into the barn had been something of a stroke of genius. I felt less focused out there, though more in touch with the ranch, being able to say hello with the ranch hands who came and went, and touch base with my brothers as they completed their daily tasks. And I was able to almost completely avoid laying eyes on Zoe, my main goal for being out in the barn.

  Paisley and I met at least every week — two CEOs of the same operation — to discuss the ranch and what we could be doing differently. For the first time, our meetings were filled more with positive news than negative complaints.

  “It’s been several months, you know,” she said, finishing up signing the paychecks for some of the ranch hands while I put my own signature on the other half.

  “Several months since what?”

  “The last cattle theft. The one where Peyton shot a guy.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” It had been a terrifying ordeal, all of us rushing down to the pasture in time to see a group of horsemen trying to stampede the herd out beyond our property, through a downed fence. Tucker and I had rushed down from the house, and Zoe had insisted on going with us, saying that it was her home to defend, too. I had been so afraid something was going to happen to her — or any of us — that night that we wouldn’t be able to heal from. Every one of those incidents had made me sick, and the new rules we put into play, including night escorts for the herd and a general avoidance of the pasture nearest the river, were all to protect us.

  “No supposing necessary.” Paisley smiled as she grabbed some more paychecks from me to sign. I’d been making slow work of it, thinking. “I know it to be true. Let’s give everyone a break from the night shift. What do you say?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied automatically.

  “Think about it,” she urged, opening the folder with the schedule in it. “We could save money on overtime. Morale would go up. And those cattle aren’t going anywhere. I think Peyton scared the shit out of those guys.”

  “They’ve shot one of ours, too,” I reminded her.

  “I remember.” It had been Avery, of course. Paisley’s husband, and my second-youngest brother. She had been just as distraught — if not more so — as the rest of us at the blood that had encrusted his shirt, the way he’d slipped from his horse and cracked his head on the ground. It had been an ugly ordeal, and one that was just the beginning of our problems with the thefts. It was the situation I considered the most. I couldn’t lose anyone on this ranch. Especially not my brothers.

  “I think that we should stay vigilant,” I said, looking at the schedule with her. “Have you heard anyone complaining about the night shifts?”

  “They always complain,” she said with a small smile — just not to me. That went unsaid. The ranch hands weren’t comfortable enough around me to really say what was on their minds. “I really think cattle thefts are behind us. Truly. Peyton’s a frightening woman, and I think she scared them away.”

  Peyton was intimidating. I’d have to give Paisley that — and wonder how Emmett, the middle brother and the quietest of the Corbins, got that relationship to work.

  “Are you telling me that people don’t have the same kind of respect for the Corbin name as they do for Peyton Crow?” I half-joked.

  “What I’m saying is that Peyton is probably about one hundred percent more likely to shoot someone than a Corbin,” Paisley said, raising her eyebrows. “As a rough estimate.”

  “That seems about fair,” I said. The Corbin name was one that had always been pretty highly regarded in the ranching world, but it was because of the long history of our family among ranchers, not that we were blood thirsty. It would’ve been perhaps a little unfair to call Peyton blood thirsty, too. She’d simply been taking care of business, doing what she had to do to respond to the situation. The would-be cattle thieves had been shooting first, after all.

  “Maybe these guys were just desperate men during a desperate time,” Paisley mused. “Maybe now that things are better for everyone, they’ve stopped. Could you think of a better explanation?”

  “You’re saying that they were stealing because of the drought?”

  “Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “It stealing rain was a thing, I don’t think I would’ve been above doing it — at least taking a crack at it.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “That implies that these men were ranchers.”

  “Not necessarily. It implies they were desperate, and willing to do whatever they needed to do to get some money. Corbin and Summers are still names that mean something. What if they thought we had the cattle to spare to help them get through the thin times? Cattle they could sell for cash. Or eat.”

  “I’d be more willing to believe your interpretation of things if they hadn’t been shooting at us,” I said. “That’s the only thing that really bothers me.” Actually, it really bothered me that anyone would try to steal from us, especially if we were all going through the same struggles. It didn’t make sense to sabotage others during those times. It just wasn’t the way things were done here.

  “Let’s ease up on the night shifts,” Paisley urged again. “I think it’
s time to trust that life is going to go back to normal. Better than normal, even. If Peyton didn’t scare them away, if the favorable weather didn’t help their conditions, then I think the cameras are what did it.”

  We’d belatedly purchased a security system — complete with cameras — for the ranch after a terrible incident. I only wished that I’d listened to Tucker or Emmett sooner, who had both recommended security cameras as a way of deterring the cattle thefts. However, it had taken a serial killer spiriting away Amelia right from our house to get me to justify the cost of the system. It had been a reaction instead of something proactive, but the important thing was that we had them, now.

  Even if they weren’t catching any illicit activity.

  “But what are the cameras going to do if there’s another theft?” I asked. “They’re not going to fire a rifle in the air to scare people away. They’re not going to keep the herd from stampeding.”

  “They’ll give you evidence, hopefully, of something concrete,” Paisley said. “Something we can take to the cops to really make sure it’s all over. Evidence for prosecution.”

  “I don’t know. I just feel like we’re leaving the animals defenseless out there.”

  “I think we have to trust that it’s over,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve talked with some of the other ranchers in the area. They haven’t had any thefts since then, either. Everyone agrees that whatever climate that existed to make those things happen is over. Maybe those people even moved out of the region, found something else to do to spend their time.”

  “I hope they found some other way to spend their time,” I said with a snort. “A hobby or something, at least.”

  “Watch the cameras all night if you have to,” Paisley recommended. “Hell, ride your own horse out there in the dark if you’re so worried about it. But I know the thefts are over. I know it in my bones. We need to reward our people for sticking with us through all of this by relieving them from the night shift. Come on. It’s time.”

  There had been times when we couldn’t pay the ranch hands, couldn’t save money to save our lives, hemorrhaging cash. The bank had already tried to foreclose on the ranch once, and I was sure it wouldn’t approve another loan if I tried to take one out. Maybe Paisley was right. Maybe it really was time to relax and just focus on the success of the ranch instead of the people trying to sabotage it. Maybe it was time for things to go right, for once.

  “Okay,” I said finally, sighing heavily, feeling like I was making a wildly popular decision and a really stupid one at the same time. “We can suspend the night shifts. Let the herd sleep by itself. Rely on the security cameras.”

  Paisley grinned at me, triumphant. “This is the right decision, Chance.”

  “Then I wish I knew why it felt so wrong.”

  “You’re used to things being bad all the time,” she said. “Give things an opportunity to look up, for once. You might be surprised. Everything might go just perfectly. We could even start up the dude ranch, finally.”

  “Maybe,” I echoed, not feeling sure of myself at all. “You want to deliver the good news to everyone, or should I?”

  “I’ll do the honors,” she said, beaming. “I’m the one who’s been hearing the ranch hands do all the bitching about it, besides. What is it about me that they think I want to hear them whine and moan all day about things?”

  “More approachable than me, I guess.”

  “Uh-huh. I think it’s your constant scowl that drives everyone away. Maybe I should practice it in the mirror so I could get a moment alone.” Paisley tugged the corners of her mouth downward and drew her brows together in a face that looked more comical than foreboding.

  “I don’t really look like that, do I?” I asked, a little aghast. “I don’t scowl.”

  “It isn’t resting bitch face,” she said, patting my shoulder. “You worry too much about everything. You should relax. You sitting here stewing about night escorts for the herd isn’t going to prevent anything from happening.”

  I did take too many things to heart, but I didn’t understand how I could change that about myself. I cared deeply about this ranch and its success. I cared about my brothers. I cared about every single ranch hand. I cared about each and every member of the herd. I wanted everything to go well. I needed everything to go well. This ranch was more than making a living. It was a way of life. It was the last tie we had to our parents.

  “Need anything else?” Paisley asked brightly, stacking the paychecks together.

  “No, I guess that’s everything,” I said. “Let me know if anyone gives you any trouble or anything.”

  “Nobody’s going to give me trouble,” she said, laughing. “I’m going to hand out paychecks and tell everyone there’s no such thing as night shifts anymore. They’re going to write songs about me. Organize parades in my honor.”

  “Get out of here,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” she said, walking toward the door. “And stop scowling! Your face is going to freeze that way, and then how can anyone love you?”

  She laughed at her own witticism as she strolled away, and with the roar of a truck’s engine and the crunch of gravel beneath tires, I was alone again. God, I hoped I was doing the right thing with ending the night escorts. I didn’t want to have to deploy people to stay out in the pastures through the night, but it was something we’d had to do. There hadn’t been any other choice. Now, though, when we did have a choice, I felt like I was messing everything up.

  I put my head down on the desk to try and clear it, to try and focus on other things, and ended up falling asleep. It had been a long day, if not a long few weeks, and I was having trouble sleeping in the house. Too many things going on there. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if I grabbed a few winks in a lull on the ranch. Plenty of other people did it, too.

  “Hey.”

  I jerked with recognition at Zoe’s rough voice, having expected Paisley back again, forgetting something, and turned to face her as she walked in the barn.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked, blinking and wishing my voice wasn’t so thick with slumber. It was embarrassing to be caught sleeping on the job, especially since I was the CEO. Especially since it was Zoe doing the catching. “Is everything all right?”

  “No, everything’s not all right,” she said.

  I became a lot more alert, my instincts honed by necessity. “What’s wrong?”

  She paused for a long moment as if to consider her words. “I thought you said this didn’t have to be awkward. That everything was fine.”

  I gulped. This wasn’t the kind of crisis I was very prepared to deal with. I would’ve rather heard that someone was trying to make off with our cattle again than to deal with affairs of the heart.

  Of Zoe with my heart in her fist.

  “Everything is fine,” I tried. “Really. It is.”

  “Then why have you been fucking avoiding me?” She put her hands on her hips, and there it was. I had been doing a terrible job of dealing with the situation, and Zoe had noticed. I was the one who was making things awkward. I was the asshole.

  “Things have just been really busy now that the ranch is doing well,” I said.

  “Things are always busy, whether the ranch is good or bad,” she pointed out. “Even in the worst of times I saw you. You’ve stopped coming to meals. What are you even eating?”

  “I’m eating.”

  “If you are, it’s not my food. Not Amelia’s, either. You’re losing weight you shouldn’t be losing.”

  “I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “There are just a lot of changes right now. A lot of things to consider. We’re about to calve, too. It’ll start happening any day, and then none of us will be eating or sleeping.”

  “Stop trying to bullshit me,” she said. “I know this is about our time in the kitchen together. About the fact that I didn’t think we should be fucking around like that.”


  I gulped. Her bluntness was one of the reasons I liked her the most, but it was hard to face head on sometimes, especially when it was directed at me like a searing spotlight.

  “Maybe I thought it would be best to keep my distance,” I allowed. Was that safe to say? Would it offend her? It was as much of the truth as I thought I could say. Maybe it would appease her and she’d leave me to my own devices out here in the barn. Away from her, I could think. I could immerse myself in all things related to the ranch. Hell, I’d just been preparing to watch the video feeds from various cameras set up all around the ranch before I’d fallen asleep. I was sure that would work as an effective distraction from everything.

  From Zoe.

  “Because you felt awkward,” she said. “Because you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I said. “I don’t know. I guess I do feel awkward. I feel bad that I put you in a situation you didn’t want to be in.”

  “It’s a lot more complicated than all of that that, Chance,” she said. “A lot more.”

  “I understand that things are complicated,” I said. “I just thought it was best to maybe give the situation some time and space.”

  “You don’t understand shit,” she snapped, tugging on her own hair so hard that the rubber band securing the bun on top of her head snapped, sending her hair cascading down just below her shoulders. “Goddammit!”

  “I have a rubber band around here somewhere, I think,” I said, getting up hurriedly and hunting around the flotsam and jetsam peppering the table I used as a desk.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “I really do — I just have to find it. I swear I saw one earlier today. Maybe someone thought it would be funny to flick it around the barn. Let me look for it.”

  “Chance. Stop.”

  Something in her voice made me pause in my distracted searchings and look at her. Zoe never wore her hair down. Seeing it loose now, I noticed for the first time that it was wavy. I had always thought that it was just a little unruly, eager to escape the buns she always gathered at the top of her head. But these were waves women used irons and sprays and mousses to try to achieve and preserve. Did she even realize what she had?