“All the same, it made the state paper, and a small town like Sierra Grande doesn’t need a bad reputation. Wes, your wife has done a good job of bringing tourists to this town with The Orchard, and I’d like to see that continue. It’s nothing but good for the local economy, even if it creates a little traffic.” His jab is directed at me, no doubt. And then, Mayor Cruz takes it one step further. “Warner, I have a great idea. Let’s have you become the actress’s teacher. You can let her follow you around, teach her to ride, whatever else she needs.”
I make a face and shake my head, even though he can’t see me.
Wes lifts a stiff upright palm in the air, telling me he’s got this. “Mayor, with all due respect, Warner is my right-hand man on the ranch. I need him.”
“He can still work, Wes. He’ll just have a shadow.”
“I’ll think it over and call you back,” Wes says. He doesn’t like being told what to do any more than the rest of us. It’s a Hayden trait, and it’s indiscriminate of gender. My mother, Jessie, and even Peyton will tell you where you can stick your commands.
“Don’t wait too long,” the mayor warns. “She’s here and she was supposed to start this morning.” The line goes quiet, and my dad tucks his phone back into his pocket, checking first to make sure the line isn’t still active.
“He’s right, Wes,” my dad walks closer. His white undershirt peeks out from the top button of his denim button-up. He stops a foot from Wes. “You’ve got to start thinking about what’s best for this ranch, and unfortunately that sometimes means doing things you don’t want to do. You didn’t want to sell that land to Dakota, and look how that turned out for you.”
Wes scowls. A low sound that’s close to a laugh rumbles in the back of my throat. “It’s true, brother.” I pat his shoulder. “You had no desire to sell that land, but it turned out well for every person in this town, and not just because you got a wife and the business out of the deal.”
An old family rule made it so that Wes couldn’t inherit the Hayden Cattle Company unless he was married. Dakota solved that problem for him, but had he refused the sale of the land, he’d still be single and pining for the family business.
Wes grins at me, and I know well enough to be alarmed by it. “What?” I ask sharply.
“Would you prefer your student call you Warner, or Mr. Hayden?”
My jaw tightens. “Wes—”
“Sorry, can’t talk now.” An exaggerated apologetic look replaces his smile. “Gotta tell the mayor I’ve found Cary’s replacement.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl under my breath.
“Naw, I’m good, thanks. By the way, the new logos came. Make sure you grab one out of Dad’s office and put it on your truck.” He makes a kissing sound at me on his way out of the kitchen.
I start for him, but my dad stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I could easily push past him, but I don’t. Beau Hayden isn’t someone to be trifled with. He might look all of his seventy years, but that’s just a number. What it really means is that for seven decades he’s been kicking ass and burying secrets.
“Come on,” he says, lightly shoving me toward the back door. “Wyatt’s in the stable, helping the farrier shoe horses. Get your ass out there and help him.”
7
Warner
“I’m excited to see Mom.”Peyton glances at me from the passenger seat, assessing my reaction.
I hate that she does that. Correction: I hate that she feels the need to do that. She shouldn’t be worried about how I feel.
“Does she know we’re early?” Charlie asks, his feet bouncing against the seat.
My wink reassures him. “I sent her a text, buddy.” She didn’t answer, but I’m sure it’s not a problem. The actress is coming to the ranch this morning to meet everyone, and I need to get back in time.
We pull up to Anna’s parents’ house. A car I don’t recognize is parked out front. Something slick and fast. My truck dwarfs it.
Charlie and Peyton get out and run ahead. I sling their overnight bags over my shoulders and start for the house.
I’m halfway up the driveway when movement from the backyard catches my eye. It’s probably Charlie, already back there running around. Sugar from the chocolate chip pancakes my mom made him for breakfast is coursing through his veins. It’s a Saturday morning ritual, but it leaves me with a kid on a sugar high. He was bouncing in his seat the whole drive over. We don’t need another close encounter with the bird feeder, so I walk to the gate, opening my mouth to remind Charlie to be careful.
But it’s not Charlie.
It’s my wife.
With another man’s mouth on her neck.
“What the fuck?” I growl. From my limited view between the slats of wood, I see Anna’s eyes widen and her head whip toward the gate.
