I glanced over at him, and he was already staring at me. His eyes, so much like Claire’s, yet so different, were full of torment. He was too young to know that kind of shit, to be resigned to a life alone. I swallowed roughly. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Exactly. No one does. That’s why I don’t see a therapist or talk to anyone about it. It’s too painful and uncomfortable for everyone involved.” He let out an incredibly heavy sigh. “But now that you dug in my shit, I’m gonna dig in yours. What are you doing with my sister?”
A laugh flew out of me, not expecting that to come right after the bomb he dropped. “Which one?” I still couldn’t wrap my mind around growing up with three sistersandadding Delilah Chase into the mix. I barely made it with one.
He deadpanned. “Very cute. Let’s go with the one you’re obsessed with.”
My smile dropped then. He’d definitely grown up over the years. We used to tease him, and he’d just take it and never give anything back. But now he wasn’t afraid to hit you right where it hurt.
I answered honestly. “I…care about her.” I hadn’t realized it until he asked, but I knew whatever this was between Claire and me had shifted beyond physical attraction last week. I was just too big of a coward to admit until now. “I told myself I was here just to help, like any friendly neighbor would, but that’s bullshit, honestly.”
“No shit. But if you supposedly care, then why are you going against her for this partnership?”
“That question is harder to answer.”
He nodded, accepting that answer. But he had been vulnerable with me, so I felt obligated to return the favor. And a part of me wanted to. “You ever feel like you have somethin’ to prove? That no matter what you do, it’s never good enough?”
“Constantly.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how it’s been being Mount’s son for the last thirty-five years. Cavendish is an opportunity that I can’t pass up, no matter what I feel for Claire. If I can bring horses to Circle M and do it successfully, I can finally get his approval.” It felt…honestly, it felt pretty fucking stupid to say that out loud. Like I was some boy desperate for his father’s approval, and not a man who controlled his own life.
“I figured it was Mount’s idea,” Emmett said, sounding almost cautious.
I chuckled. “No. This is all me. He’s been tearin’ me a new one every chance he gets for the last two weeks.”
“A part of me wishes I had that.” The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Someone to tear into me. To push.”
“Claire doesn’t?” That was…shocking.
He scoffed. “Fuck no. Her plate’s piled so high already with running this place and our mom. She doesn’t need to hold my hand through this, too.” He sighed and ran a hand through his curly hair. “I don’t know. It’s confusing. I want it, but I’m relieved I don’t have it. Ya know?”
I nodded. Then, an idea popped into my mind. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing. Why?”
I smirked. “You’ll see.”
“Whoo!”Weston hollered, slamming his shot glass down on the sticky high top we were standing around. I rallied the troops—pun not intended—to get Emmett out of his funk. And while I knew one night out with guys he hadn’t hung out with since he was fourteen wouldn’t do the trick, I was sure it was better than anything he had planned.
He was hesitant at first, a little jumpy when it got especially loud, but after a few drinks and keeping him close, he relaxed.
The whiskey burned as it settled, warming my chest. The Bull Pen was packed with a collection of Wild Creek’s finest: old timers, college students, regulars, tourists passing through. A real melting pot of people just looking to have fun.
It was also the only bar in Wild Creek, leaving nowhere else to go on a Saturday night. The kind of place with sticky floors, aged Polaroids of people long gone on the walls, and memories packed into every rundown inch. And there was Whiplash, the mechanical bull. That thing threw everyone off, no matter what. Even Weston, one of the best bull riders in the world currently. So naturally, Whiplash was Weston’s arch-nemesis, and he was determined to “conquer that son of a bitch” tonight. But he said that every time we came here.
I was feeling loose already after three shots and a beer, and even though this was my idea, my mind was stuck on one thing, one person.
Claire. She’d been avoiding me all week, but she hadn’t chased me off the property when I kept showing up either, so that had to mean something.
I shouldn’t care. I should’ve been letting her and Golden Bridle drown to make way for me with Cavendish. But she looked so broken on Monday. There wasn’t any of that fire in her eyes, just devastation that made me sick to my stomach. Spending all my spare time at her ranch probably would bite me in the ass in the end, but I was beginning to struggle to care.
“Ow!” I rubbed my forehead. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Because you’re lost in la la land,” Weston said, flicking me again. “This is boys’ night out, and we’re acting like a bunch of goddamn losers. The quad is back together”—he grinned, slinging an arm around Emmett’s shoulders—“with a new member.” He tilted his beer towards Joseph, who dipped his chin in return, grinning. “We should be celebrating!”
That was when the night turned straight to chaos. Shots after shots after shots for all of us except Joseph, who got saddled with being our designated driver, even though Colt fought him for the spot. Weston kept calling it hazing, as if we were in a frat, and Joseph was our new pledge. And I was drunk enough to think that was hilarious, and dubbed him Pledge Country Club since he had that distinctly ‘I come from money’ look that the rest of us didn’t.
A lot of the drinks we hadn’t even paid for. They were all from fans of Weston’s—or women who wanted to take him home. He accepted those in particular with an infamous flirtatious remark, but then told them it was boys’ night.
