“It’s anonymous, remember?”
“Right. Damn, that doesn’t worry you? She could be sixty years old. How long have you been talking?”
“It’s only been a few weeks. She’s really cool. I think we have a lot in common.”
He grins. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Maybe you should meet up with her and get laid. See if it helps you quit acting like a dick.”
“Is that what you want? For me to be happy?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. Seconds tick by. I feel like a bug under a microscope, so I start chugging my water.
Finally, he answers, “I want you to stop torturing yourself by denying yourself what you actually want because you think you don’t deserve happiness or good things in life.”
I stare at him, shocked by the intuitive statement. “I don’t do that,” I mutter.
He nods. “Yes, you do. You dated Keely all those years, and you never even liked her. Shit, you barely tolerated her. You only go enjoy things like the lake or a cookout with us when I force you to. You do the fight club because it’s a form of self-inflicted punishment for not saving your mom, for surviving, for inheriting all this money and the ranch when she lived in a shitty trailer with nothing.”
His assessment is spot-on. I feel exposed and vulnerable with his words hanging between us. The honesty and sympathy shine in his eyes before his mouth morphs into a smile.
“You didn’t know I knew all that about you. Damn, you really are a dick. I love you, man. You have a lot of people who love you. I just wish you’d stop punishing yourself. You can still have a good life. None of that shit was your fault, Sam. You were a kid.”
Moisture is building behind my eyes. I can’t help but wonder if he would be saying all this if he knew who was in my bed this morning.
“You’re a good friend, Duke. I wish I were a better one.”
He claps me on the back, grinning wider. “You’re a damn good friend. You’re letting my little sister stay in your house. I can’t even imagine how annoying she’s been. She’s always bitching about dumb shit, like me leaving my dirty boots out or not washing every dish I use three seconds after I’m done with it.” He shakes his head. “And if you help us catch this sick son of a bitch, you’ll have no choice but to get branded.”
“Branded?”
He pulls his shirtsleeve up to show me the Redford Ranch brand on his shoulder. All the Redford brothers have it.
“We already talked about it. We want you to get it, if you want to. You’re a part of the family.”
I can’t do that, not when I know he wouldn’t forgive me for permanently deflowering his little sister when I was supposed to be taking care of her. Guilt eats at me, making my stomach feel hollow.
“We’ll see. Maybe I’m not as crazy as you fuckers.”
Duke opensthe front door to Holden’s house. “Why haven’t you asked her to cut your hair yet? It’s too damn long.”
I’ve been too busy taking her virginity.
“Just been busy,” I say instead.
“Dolly!” he calls out as we walk into the living room.
Rosie and her and lounging on the sofa, wineglasses in hand and a bowl of popcorn between them. They’ve always had some sort of secretive girls’ night every Friday where they kick us guys out. Tonight they’re watching a vampire show I’ve never seen.
“What? You’re interrupting braless Fridays.”
“Sweet baby sister, I really need that haircut we talked about. You promised. I can’t get laid looking like this. Well, I can, it’s just easier when I’m clean-cut.”
Dolly rolls her eyes at him, but when she sees me, she licks her lips.
“Sam first. Then you.”
I try to hold back my grin. Duke scoffs, glancing at me. “Why him first?”
The suspicion in his voice is undeniable. I nonchalantly grab a barstool from the island in the open concept kitchen.
