Mason filled his cup. “Just the same.”
He leaned against the counter rather than sit down and took his first sip of the elixir of life. The dark, bitter liquid warmed his stomach and went to work igniting his synapses for the day ahead.
“What do you have planned today?” Colt asked over the brim of his own mug.
Mason sipped his coffee to stall answering. Less than a week and he was already tired of this. Tired of Colt too close to him every waking moment of his day, yet completely unreachable.
“You should just leave,” Mason said, the words spoken before his brain registered them.
Colt raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, so Mason continued, because why not. He’d already fully lodged his foot in his mouth, and the sun was barely cresting the horizon.
“It’s a waste of time, you all being here. Nothing has happened since you arrived, and I doubt anything will. It’s like I’ve been saying all along, it’s just someone trying to spook me.” He paused and then added, “It’s pretty clear you don’t want to be here anyway.”
Colt was quiet, but his eyebrow had dropped to its normal resting place. “Are you done?”
Heat crept up the back of Mason’s neck. He pursed his lips in answer.
“Good. Now, what do you have planned today?”
Mason stared at Colt—who was annoyingly calm and completely unfazed—and huffed his irritation at having to clear his schedule with Colt. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but maybe if the detail Nick had hired was anyone other than Colt, he wouldn’t find himself being so contrary.
“I have to run into town for some supplies. Stop by the post office for Katie.” Mason took another sip of his coffee while running a mental list of the day. “Then I need to spend some time with the new rescues. John is running fence today if Levi wants to go with him.”
Colt nodded. “John is your senior-most ranch hand, correct?”
“Yes, he’s been here for nearly twenty years.”
Not long after you left.
The coffee he’d swallowed gurgled uncomfortably in his stomach at the thought.
Colt drained his cup and stood up to place the mug in the sink.Too close, too close. The hairs on Mason’s forearms rose, and he shifted away from the counter, opening the space between them.
“I’ll just grab breakfast in town,” Mason said. He didn’t want to spend another awkward morning sharing a meal with Colt. Katie hadn’t even bothered to join them after the first day when she noticed how weird the tension between them was.
“Sounds good,” Colt replied. “That’ll give me a chance to talk to some of the locals.”
Right, because of course Colt would go with him. He silently cursed Nick for the umpteenth time for insisting he not be left alone. Nothing had happened for nearly a week, and as far as he was concerned, everyone was just overreacting. Whoever was behind the threats would give up as soon as they realized Mason would not be scared off from anything ever again.
He sighed. Yes, he was concerned. Who wouldn’t be? This had been going on since he’d taken over, but it had never escalated beyond threats. Until the bullet holes in the water tanks . . . and thein-so-many-wordsdeath threat drawing. And okay, he could admit that maybe there should be some sort of security out on the ranch—for his sisters’ sakes at the very least—but the Stonebraker brothers . . .? Why did it have to beColt?
Mason shook his head, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and made a point of walking tall toward the foyer. He jammed his feet into his boots, popped his hat on his head, threw on a light jacket because spring mornings in the high country were still chilly, and headed outside. Colt followed suit, stuck to his heels silent and stealthy and absorbing far too much air than any man had a right to.
Mason was ten feet from the main barn, where he and his sisters kept their horses, when his youngest ranch hand, Thad, stepped out the door. His skin was pale and brown eyes wide. Mason’s stomach clenched at the expression on his face.
“What happened?”
Colt was in front of him in a flash. He reached inside his jacket, where Mason knew Colt carried a gun. He did not at all like the idea of guns in his house or anywhere near him—even though they did have a couple of rifles to scare off wolves and coyotes when they got too close.
“Wait here until I tell you it’s clear,” Colt ordered without looking back.
Thad and Mason watched as Colt disappeared inside the barn.
“It’s Cuervo,” Thad said, his hands in his pockets, and he shifted on his feet. “They—”
“No.” Mason charged for the barn, ignoring Thad’s shout and Colt’s order as panic shot into his throat. He’d raised Cuervo since the day he was born a few months after he’d returned from living with his aunt and uncle, when Cuervo was an uncoordinated long-legged colt, full of spit and fire and an infectious joy for life. Cuervo had seen him through his heartbreak at finding Colt gone and had given him peace and purpose when he’d needed it most. In all his years, he’d never come across another horse quite like Cuervo and knew he never would. Cuervo was his heart horse.
He skidded to a stop at Cuervo’s open stall door just as Colt stepped out and snapped a photo with his phone. His mouth turned down, and his expression was unreadable when he looked at Mason.
