by Maisey Yates
“Well, good,” she said, sounding anything but happy.
“I think we’re done here.”
“Sure.” She reached up, tucking that strand of hair behind her ear that he had been fantasizing about earlier. “I’m going to go ahead and research a few options for you. Furniture. Curtains. Things like that. I’m going to try to go through as many local businesses as possible, and I’ll make sure they know it’s for you.”
“Good. Because I’m so charming that I know we’ll get some good deals,” he said drily.
“You’re charming with other people. That will have to do. Actually, it works out, because I can’t make things out of wood. And I can’t really make curtains or anything, either. So, be nice to other people. You don’t really need to be nice to me.”
“Have I ever been very nice to you?” he asked.
She tapped her palm over the top of her other closed fist. “Intermittently. You gave me a job. So you aren’t really a total troll to me.”
“Just a partial troll.”
“Serves me right for crossing over your bridge.”
“Does that make you a billy goat?” The absurdity of the conversation had him tempted to smile. She was a witch. There was no other explanation for how she’d made him hard as a rock a moment ago, and pissed enough to punch a hole in the barn wall, and had him laughing now.
“Stubborn as hell and ready to head-butt you? Yeah, I’d say that sounds about right.”
“Why don’t you clip-clop back across my bridge until your shift tonight,” he said, his stomach and everything else tightening up when her blue eyes met his.
“Sure. I’ll clip-clop away. I won’t be your problem again until tonight.”
She turned away from him and started to walk away, shoving her hands down into the back pockets of her jeans.
Well, that didn’t help anything. She was drawing his eyes right to where they shouldn’t be. Not that there was much she could have done to have him not check her out while she walked away.
“Hey,” he said.
She stopped and turned. “What? Just hey? Not hey you? How will I know if I’m special?”
“I don’t think we should do work over here anymore.” He felt like he was channeling youth group meetings past. Words like accountability and appearances floated around his mind like screeching buzzards, looming over the diminished carcass of his self-control. “For professionalism and...stuff, I think we should keep meetings confined to the bar.”
She looked up, then at him, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“We’ll still discuss the drinks menu and things. And you can still work on this project—the decor and all. But we’ll confer there.”
“That sounds good. I want to get along with you, Ace. I’m sorry your ex-wife was an evil bitch. But I’m not her.”
“I know,” he said.
That made him feel like an ass, because of course he knew that, but he sure as hell hadn’t been acting like that was the case.
“All right, then. I’ll go off and do things. Things you can presume are non-evil bitchy.” Then she turned away from him and bounced off. Again with the bouncing.
Sierra West was a problem. But one he was determined to get a firm handle on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“STILL WAITRESSING?” COLTON asked, when Sierra came downstairs in her unofficial uniform of shorts and a black tank top.
It got really hot in the bar, and even though February evenings in Copper Ridge were cold, she was sweaty after running back and forth between the kitchen and the tables.
In some ways, it made her miss her office job. She did primarily paperwork for the West ranch and physical activity was a choice she made. Now it was part of what she had to do to get paid.
And okay, she felt a little like the jackass Ace assumed she was. She’d never given a lot of thought to his kind of work. Only that she’d assumed certain people—not her—did it. And that they did it because it was easy.
Yeah, well. She felt asstastic about all that now. It wasn’t easy. It was damn sweaty and hard. And it didn’t pay that much along with it.
The hard work was what made her feel hot. Completely the hard work. Not Ace. Ace and his dark, watchful gaze that made her feel like he could see straight beneath her tank top.
Just thinking about it now made her breasts feel heavy and her stomach tight. She frowned. She needed to get a grip. He was hot, but there were a lot of hot men. There was no use turning into a big fluttery hormone over the least suitable one around.
“Yes. Still waitressing,” she said, walking into the kitchen and picking up the sweater she’d left draped over the counter last night. She wasn’t hot and sweaty yet. “It’s my job.” She jerked open the fridge and pulled out a can of diet soda.
Living with Colton was fine, maneuvering around Natalie aside. His place was a little more rustic than her parents’, but it was big and provided them all with plenty of space.
He had a couple of workers who came and took care of his livestock, but it was nothing half so chaotic as the daily bustle of the West ranch.
The problem was that she had to deal with her well-meaning, but overprotective older brother being all up in her grill.
“Maddy said she talked to you about moving back,” Colton mentioned, just a little too casually.
“Yeah, well, Maddy is meddlesome. With good intentions out the wazoo. But it’s just not something I can do right now.”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, the lines on his forehead looking more pronounced than she’d ever noticed before. She had a feeling she knew why. Like maybe, impending weddings that were more of a nightmare than a fantasy.
But she doubted saying Hey you look old, is it that harpy you’re engaged to? would go over well.
“I don’t mind having you here,” he said. “I just think maybe it’s shortsighted to cut Dad off like this.”
“It’s not shortsighted. Shortsighted was him cheating on Mom. It was keeping Jack a secret and hurting him and...” She blinked. “I can’t get upset about this right now because my mascara will run.”
“Well, we don’t want that.” Colton moved closer, then reached out and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you think I’m not supporting you. You probably think you’re alone in taking a stand against injustice. But I...”
“You can’t cut Dad off right now.”
“Maybe not ever,” he said. “I’m the only son left.” He released his hold on her and took a step back. “I know you blame the wedding and Natalie. They factor, but...not much. When Gage left he basically blew a bomb up in the middle of the family and I swore I would never do something like that. I swore that I would make things work, not run when things got hard. Someone had to.”
The mention of Gage made her eyes feel dry and prickly. She had long given up crying when she thought of her older brother. There was no use mourning someone who was still alive and who could choose to come back to you if they wanted.
She hadn’t fully appreciated what his absence meant to Colton until this moment. Colton was the oldest sibling still around. The only son that remained. Everything—the eventual ownership of the ranch, the construction business, and all the pressure that went with it—that their father had intended for Gage would have transferred to Colton in Nathan West’s mind.
And all of that had been put on Colton when he was only sixteen.
She had been a kid when Gage left. The majority of her life had been spent with the hole he left behind. It was difficult to remember what things had been like before it was there. Difficult to remember a time when it hadn’t existed. But Colton remembered. Madison also, to a certain degree. But no one better than Colton.
“I know how hard it was on Mom for the family to splinter apart like it did
,” he said, as though he was reading her mind. “And whether or not Dad is actually a decent human being, losing Gage hurt him. Having his oldest son walk away from everything he built wounded him deep. Things are broken, Sierra. They have been for a lot of years. But I don’t see how walking away from the family now will fix anything.”
“Maybe I’m not trying to fix things for anyone else,” she told him, feeling like the world’s most terrible person. “Maybe I just need to fix things for me.”
“You have the luxury of doing that,” he said, his blue eyes level with hers.
“Because no one has any expectations of me?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “You said it, Sierra, not me. But the fact is that’s true enough. You don’t have half the expectation put on you that I do. And Madison is still trying to atone for a sin that wasn’t even her doing. She brings it on herself, but she’s not going to change the way she’s dealing with it. You have a smaller piece in the business. It’s easier for you to separate yourself. Maybe you think that Dad doesn’t care about you as much. But from where I’m standing, I would say that you’re a lot more special to Dad than you know. Can you imagine him allowing Maddy or me to get involved in the rodeo? To spend all that time wasting time? He indulges you. That’s fine. But don’t mistake the lack of pressure for a lack of caring.”
“Way to make me feel like an ass, Colton,” she said, running her hand over the top of her tied-back hair.
“That isn’t my intention. I know...I know you have to do this.”
“You guys are acting like I’m selling all of my earthly possessions and signing up to go on a space station. I’m working at a bar. I moved away from Mom and Dad’s property. That isn’t exactly Mars.”
“Good point.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
He laughed. “I guess I just never pictured you waiting tables.”
“Why does everyone think I’m a terrible fit for a waitress? It isn’t like I don’t work hard. Working with horses is damn hard work. So is organizing the records for the ranch, and the schedules and all the paperwork. I mean, maybe it’s different than construction, Colton, but it’s very hard work.”
“I know my way around a horse, Sierra. And I know that’s hard work. But it’s different.”
“Am I too good to be doing this? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
She didn’t know why, but the idea of giving in and quitting now filled her with absolute panic. She felt...she felt so connected to the bar. And she felt committed to seeing this through.
The job, she reiterated firmly to herself. Not whatever this intense connection was with Ace. Though, even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie.
There was something about being with him that infuriated her. And exhilarated her in equal measure. Something that made her feel reckless and alive.
As if she was in danger of being caught up in something bigger than she was.
That should make her want to run away. Should make her want to wave her white flag in surrender and accept Colton’s offer to pay her way.
But God help her, she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay on the edge of it. Perilously balancing between giving in and resisting.
It was the closest to barrel racing she could get without a horse.
“You’re a West, Sierra.”
“Who couldn’t get a job apart from her father’s charity. Obviously I’m not too good for this. Obviously, no one actually thinks I can do it.”
“I just think you shouldn’t have to.”
“I think everything you’re saying is probably really sweet. But right now I’m just kind of irritated. And I have to go to work. Because I show up to my shift on time.”
“I’m rooting for you. That’s the bottom line. Whatever you think, whatever I say that hits you the wrong way. I’m rooting for you, Sierra.”
“Root a little softer from the sidelines, asshole.”
He snorted. “I deserve that.”
“You do. But even though you’re a little overbearing sometimes, I really appreciate you letting me stay here. If it weren’t for you I’d still be at Mom and Dad’s and it just isn’t the place for me right now.”
He smiled at that. “That’s what big brothers are for. Helping out while giving you hell.”
She laughed. “Come get a beer from me anytime.”
“I might take you up on that.”
“You have to pay.”
“What kind of garbage is that?”
“I am a laborer, Colton. I deserve my wage.”
“All right. Go off and earn it, then.”
She walked out the front door and stood on the porch for a moment, letting the salt air drift across her face. She hadn’t realized how warm her cheeks were until the cool ocean breeze touched her skin. She knew that Colton loved her, and that he was well-meaning. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t a little bit pissed off.
She felt guilty. Because so much of what he’d said was true. And she did kind of have to admit he had a point—their father loved her very much. Even if it was in a different way than he demonstrated for Colton and Madison.
But it was so hard to reconcile that man with the man she’d seen a few weeks ago in her parents’ home. Ranting. Nearly unhinged.
The news of Jack being his illegitimate child had apparently filtered down to the country club he was a member of, and it had been the talk of the men—and the women.
Her poor, fragile mother had been subjected to cruel commentary from women who were meant to be her friends, and then her father—who should have hung his head in shame—did nothing but rant about how it was all Jack’s fault for going back on their agreement.
That overheard argument changed everything for Sierra. Destroyed the illusions she’d built up around her family.
Someday, she would find some balance in all of this. Maybe when she was stronger she would be able to figure out a way to accommodate Jack. To give him a position in her life, and still maintain some kind of relationship with her father.
But there was no way to do any of that as long as she leaned against her family. She was going to stand tall, on her own.
And if it started with waiting tables, that was fine with her.
* * *
A LOT OF WAITRESSES had come through Ace’s bar. A lot of pretty ones. And he was human, so he had taken the occasional moment to sit back and admire their earthly charms. Because he was a dude, and when there was a beautiful woman in front of him he was hard-pressed to do anything else. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything else.
But they didn’t distract him. None of them had ever challenged his no-banging-the-staff rule. But he could barely keep his eyes off of Sierra for more than a few minutes at a time. Every time he looked out into the dining room there she was, bouncing. Smiling. In general acting like she was completely oblivious to his presence while he was in no way oblivious to hers.
He had watched her deliver hamburgers all night, barely able to concentrate on what he was doing, barely able to concentrate on what his customers were telling him. If she had been any other woman he might have thought that all of the persistent springing and flicking of hair and effortless smiles were performance art for him. But this was just her. It was just who she was. A sparkling, effortless creature who should seem ridiculous, impractical and silly. She did. She honestly did. It was just that he also found her captivating.
She was like a lure. Twisting around beneath the surface of the waves and capturing the sun. And she sure as hell had a hook buried in her. Still, he was the dumbass salmon swimming right toward her.
You don’t have to swim toward her.
No, he did not.
That was the point of enforcing a strict rule about where they met. About firmly putting her in the box of employee. That
was, at the beginning of the night, why he had decided to keep a close eye on her work. Because if he saw her as a waitress, then maybe his body would recognize that she was a waitress. His waitress, who he paid. Which meant he couldn’t touch her. Ever. Apparently, his loathing of rich women was not going to keep him away from her. It was not going to kill the lust that overtook him every time he looked her direction.
The last buffer was that he signed her paychecks.
So he needed to internalize that buffer. He wasn’t sure if you internalized buffers, but he was going to try.
The dining area was starting to empty; the last call bell had rung already. He should send Sierra home. He should tell her to knock off early, honestly, since there wasn’t that much to clean. The first part of the day was slow enough that if there wasn’t a thorough cleaning done at closing, it could easily be done at opening.
She walked across the bar, headed toward him. There was nothing ambiguous about it. Her blue eyes were locked with his, a sassy little smile curving her lips. “Did you want to take some time to go over the menu for the new place?”
“This late?”
“I’m acclimating. I’m becoming a creature of the night.”
“Have you grown any fangs yet?”
She lifted her top lip and slid her tongue beneath one of her teeth, testing it gingerly. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
His brain had stopped working around the time he started following the motion of her tongue. Because he could easily imagine it on his skin. All over his body. And that fantasy, so strong, so real, was his cue to send her on her way.
But he didn’t.
“Well, let me know if you suffer a severe case of bloodlust later. I’ll find you a small rodent.”
