If Flatlanders wasn’t being targeted because of me or Mom, then it could be lingering resentment toward my brother. Scott had burned bridges. The cause didn’t matter. Dealing with the effect did.
“I don’t need protection,” I said stubbornly. I could not take more of Teller than I was already getting. Teller in his jeans and tight shirt working. Teller with his jokes and ready smile. Teller and those lips that had been on mine.
I went to sleep with his image burning the backs of my eyes. I did not need to see how he lived. I didn’t need to witness the class divide between us. My family was on the wrong side of the tracks. The Baileys were in the castle on the mountain.
“All right.” He scratched the side of his face with a knuckle, fatigue in his eyes.
Guilt returned, cloying and powerful. He’d been working his ass off here, and he had other jobs, more obligations. “You should go. Get some rest.”
“I’ll crash on the pool table.”
“What?” I screeched. My heart hammered against my ribs. Why wouldn’t this guy give up on me? Everyone else would’ve by now.
“You’re not coming with me, so I’ll stay.” The weary lines around his mouth grew deeper as he eyed the pool table behind me. “I can run home and clean up in the morning.”
“You’re not— You can’t sleep here.”
He went around me and ran his hand over the felt surface. “I might have to borrow a blanket.”
The infuriating man hoisted himself onto the table and rolled to his side, his back to me.
“Just hit the lights when you turn in.” He curled his arms under his head.
I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Not only was Mom’s place empty, but the water had been shut off. Same with electricity. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t stay under that roof and get a lick of rest. Memories would assault me until I wished I was being haunted by real ghosts instead.
I exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I’ll get my things.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Madison
To make this night sting more, I was in the same pickup as Teller. I’d hated to leave the bar looking like no one was there, so he’d told me to choose which pickup we took. He had a lot more to lose with his truck if it got vandalized. I’d barely be able to tell if anyone tampered with mine.
He could also buy another one easily enough, while I wasn’t sure I’d get a loan, much less afford another monthly payment. Besides, I hadn’t wanted him to see the holes in the seats, the sun-faded dash, or experience the lack of air-conditioning or a fan of any kind.
So I got to ride in luxury. God, I could sleep in this seat. It was like my ass was getting a hug. I rested my head against the passenger window and gazed at the dark trees we passed. It was better than watching his strong profile and wishing I could run my fingers over his short beard. Was it soft?
Not my business.
But I was his business. Why did that declaration make me want to smile and kick my feet?
He stayed quiet and so did I, but it was a peaceful silence. We were both tired, and I was anxious about seeing his house.
My family’s ranch had been southeast of Bourbon Canyon, while Teller had grown up tucked into the valleys and foothills of the Bridger Mountains. All of the area surrounding Bourbon Canyon was gorgeous, but there was something extra special about the land the Baileys owned. Sprawling pastures, wide valleys, all backed by white-tipped peaks, there was nothing that wasn’t breathtaking.
I hated how much I was anticipating viewing everything in the daylight tomorrow. The trees and grass would be a vibrant green. Some of the wildflowers would be blooming, a sprinkling of yellows, blues, and purples. I’d missed this during the years I had lived in Missoula. That area was gorgeous too, but I’d been working too much to enjoy it.
He turned down a long gravel drive that wound around what must be a draw in the landscape. Nothing but darkness was visible for several seconds before his yard came into view.
“Jesus,” I breathed. The lone light in the yard illuminated a shop that had more aesthetic appeal than any home I’d ever lived in. The rectangular building had wooden supports around the entrance for an overhang that must shade a concrete pad. But it was his house that stole all my words.
Even in the dark, shadowed by the yard light, his log cabin stared back at me, majestic as fuck. Two levels lined with windows that must have such an impressive view he wouldn’t need any artwork inside. Just nature, gazing right back. A wide porch ran the whole length from one end to the three-car attached garage.
He punched a button on the dash and the garage door closest to the house started to rise.
“Oh my god, are you serious?” A cynical laugh slipped out. “I’ve never even stayed in a hotel this nice.” I thrust my hand toward the button he’d just pushed. There was no separate opener. “Or a vehicle.”
“Didn’t your ex get himself a vehicle fit for a lawyer?” He sounded like he knew Damien had done exactly that. I’d never gotten to drive it, and by then, he’d quit trying to take me on dates or spend much time with me.
