The shiplap walls are a warm white with a scallop trim around the bay window. It has a built-in seating area with a pale pink striped cushion decorating it. It overlooks the wheat field and riding arena. The sunrise streams in through that window, lighting up the room every morning.
I don’t know how long I stand in the center of the room, staring out into the darkness outside the window, but I hear Duke’s truck pulling up in the front driveway and a car doorslamming before I move to turn on the lamp beside the wire-framed bed.
I meet them downstairs just as he’s bringing in the second suitcase. Dolly is standing in the entryway, arms folded over her middle as she peers around the room. Last time she was here, I was drunk in the morning and asking her to feed me cake with her fingers.
Not going to repeat that scenario.
She changed into spandex shorts and an oversize hoodie. Her hair is still in soft waves around her shoulders, but she’s washed her face free of all makeup. I hate that a primal part of me loves her in this state, loves that I get to witness her dressed down and comfortable. I imagine her groggy and sleepy in the morning, and I have to look away before I continue down that road.
Duke walks over to me, his face unusually solemn.
“I want you to know I view you as a brother. I trust you as much as Sterling, Cash, or Holden. I know you’ll make sure no one lays a finger on her, the same way any of us would.” His eyes bore into mine, like there’s a double meaning behind the words.
I hold his gaze, trying to ignore the sweat that’s beading up on my lower back. I slowly nod. “You know I won’t let anyone near her.”
He holds the stare-off with me for a few more beats before turning to Dolly. He pulls her into a tight hug, whispering something in her ear before walking back out the front door. The hinges squeak until it shuts with a finality.
We’re alone again, for the second time in our lives. Thank fuck I’m sober.
Dolly seems to shake herself out of whatever stupor she was entranced in, moving to grab one of her two large suitcases. I step forward, careful not to touch her as I take it from her hands. I grab the big one next to it before swinging the duffel bag over my shoulder.
“Your room is this way.”
I lead her up the stairs. Once we reach the room, I set the bags down inside. She steps in, taking the room in through her eyes. For some reason, I’m holding my breath.
She wanders over toward the window seat, peering out into the black night. There’s a lonely light illuminating the arena and a three-quarter moon in the night sky.
It’s unsettling, having her here. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I shove them into my pockets.
“Well, you know where the kitchen is. The bathroom is in there.” I gesture to the door that leads to the en suite. “I’m two doors down the hall. I’ll sleep with the door open, in case you … need something or whatever.”
She spins toward me, gray eyes studying my face. “Like, if I have a nightmare, I can just crawl into your bed with you?”
That defiant, bratty attitude is rearing its head. I know her well enough to know she turns it off and on at will when it suits her. I don’t know why she feels it’s necessary at the moment.
“No. You’d probably be wise to stay out of my bed while you’re here.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m only at risk of ending up in your bed in your dreams, Seymour. Don’t worry; if I get lonely and sad, I’ll just bring Belly Flop in to cuddle with me.”
I nod, stepping back through the doorway, needing to put physical distance between us.
“That’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night.”
She doesn’t answer. I turn and walk out into the hall, shutting her door behind me.
11
DOLLY
Sunlight is streaming in on my face as I wake up. Dread immediately begins to build like a mass in my stomach when I remember where I am. I exhale, glaring up at the ceiling.
Moonlight Ranch.
Sam Seymour’s ranch. The place where all my dreams and nightmares could come to fruition. There’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll remember this as the best or worst time in my life.
I reach my arms overhead, stretching leisurely. I slept all night, shockingly. I sleep like a baby in my own bed, but I have trouble when traveling or staying anywhere else. I don’t even like sleeping over at Holden and Rosie’s house because I toss and turn in their guest bedroom.
I sit up, peering around the room in the soft morning light. I tap my phone screen to see that it’s not quite seven a.m., which is when I normally get up. The room is cozy and inviting. I’m surprised Sam has such a girlie room at his ranch. I know he only inherited it weeks ago, but having lived here his whole life, this seems like a place he would’ve turned into a gun and bow storage room or some equally male-centered space.
