“What a shame,” Ian holds my gaze, as I grab my messenger bag and shove the stack inside of it. “You seem like the kind of woman a man would want to give a happy ever after to.”
I pause at the doorway, forcing a smile. “Nah, that’s not me. I don’t care to have my happy ending, but I do care to take my lunch break,” I joke, grabbing my coat. “I’ll see you later.”
“Best of luck with lunch.”
I give him a passing nod, and then head down the hallway for the exit, my phone already on the GPS, figuring out where the hell the Bradford Tree Farm is. I slip out the main door and make my way to my SUV.
Thankfully, no one pays much attention to the Texas plates.
I toss my messenger bag into the passenger seat and then plug my phone in, seeing that I’m only fifteen minutes from the place. Google says that it’s closed, but still… It’ssomething.
And I need to see it for myself.
I navigate the small amount of traffic, and squint at the overhead entryway sign for the farm, fields of trees, and well… A closed gate. I pass it, and then notice a gravel road cutting off the main road around the perimeter. Carefully, I follow the road along the exterior wrought iron fence until I come to a smaller private gate.
I take a deep breath, my heart rate picking up, and then pull off, parking in the trees.I can totally do this.I trade my heels for tennis shoes, punch theunlockbutton, and then slide out, wincing as I bang the door into a tree.
Whoops.
Being graceful was never my forte.
I tug my coat tighter around my body, and slosh through the mud.Why is it so miserable here? Who would choose to live here?I shiver, and when I finally make it to the gate, I stare at the big fat lock on it.
Well, they take security seriously.
I try the lock once, and it doesn’t budge. However, someone didn’t do well with the chain. I press the gate inward and am given about a twelve-inch gap.
Plenty of room for me to fit through.
I remove my puffy coat and suck in a sharp breath. I wince as the metal scrapes my skin through my sweater, so cold that it almost feels like it’s burning me as I pass through. I take in the fields of trees, and then a huge log cabin structure set off to the side, hidden from the main road.
I stay as far back in the trees as I can, slinking my way along until I make it to the edge of the structure. It’s well maintained, but it’s not like front, where everyone buys trees. There, on the back porch, is a row of jackets and boots.
And one looks painfully familiar.
I swallow the knot in my throat as I inch closer, scanning the area for someone who might see me. It’s stupid and reckless, but I can’t take my eyes off the black leather jacket—the one that he got from my grandpa before he left.
I climb quietly up the steps, and then head straight for the coat, pulling it off the rack. I rip the zipper down, and tug it open, my eyes met with the messy bolded name of my brother.
Cade Kellan.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, and then pull the jacket to my nose, inhaling the familiar scent of my brother’s cologne.
He’s here. He has to be here.
I cling to the jacket, and then step toward the back door of the house—or maybe office? I can’t tell the difference, but as soon as I do, I freeze.
Voices.
“Listen, it doesn’t have to be so complicated,” a gruff, Texas drawl hits my chest like a hammer. I don’t recognize it, but it still rattles my body. I slip down the steps, and ease around, getting a view of the front.
Oh my god. Oh. My. God.
I’m met with the sight of three men, and my eyes jump immediately to the one with the blood caked around his nose, his face hidden under a ball cap. My lower lip quivers, and IthinkI see my brother, a more scrawny, disheveled version of him. However, someone else in a black cowboy hat steps into my line of sight, blocking him.
I instantly recognize him.
The man from the surveillance photo.
