She makes a face I know well, the one where she wants to say something, but she’s biting it back. I narrow my eyes.
“Just say it.”
She gets up, pretending to wipe down the already-clean counters. I didn’t leave a single spot while making my chocolate.
“That new wrangler seems pretty nice,” she says lightly.
“Who?” My stomach jolts.
“Freya’s older brother,” she says with exaggerated casualness. “He’s cute—and single.”
“Mom.”
She shrugs, taking a wet rag and scrubbing at something in the sink. “What? I’m just saying. I caught him looking at you the other day. He seemed a little flustered.”
“Mom, I doubt he’s singleandlooking to mingle anyway. From what I hear, he’s been through a lot lately, with getting out of rehab and working on the ranch.”
“He has been through a lot.” Mom nods thoughtfully. “Poor Freya. They both had a real hard time.”
“What happened to the rest of their family?”
She sighs, shrugging. “There was a fire. The father and brother died in it.”
Now, I’ve lived out around Sovereign Mountain for long enough to know that’s not the whole story. There’s a reason people shy away from some of the ranches further out. Not too long ago, a fire and a murder-suicide conveniently took out one of the bigger cattle ranchers, a farm of two brothers. The investigation was short, and nobody said a word when it was concluded. Not long after, a member of the city government drove off a bridge for no reason at all. The list goes on.
These ranchers stand their ground when it comes to their land. If this was some kind of dispute, it’s better to pretend it never happened.
“Was Deacon involved?” I ask lightly.
She shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean.”
That’s a solid yes, but it makes me feel better. For all this roughness, Deacon has never done anything terrible without proper justification. My parents have been Ryder Ranch employees for years. They’ve always held their ground that he’s a good man who sometimes does bad things for the right reasons.
“What do you think of him?”
“The new wrangler?”
“Yeah, Bittern.”
She’s giving me that look I can’t escape, like she’s got laser vision.
“Okay, fine,” I say, standing and passing her my empty cup. “He’s cute.”
“I knew it,” she says, pulling the dishwasher open. “You should talk to him.”
I duck into the hall. “Mom, I don’t want a rebound.”
“I was single for one day before I met your father—twelve whole hours,” she hisses after me as I climb the stairs.
“Goodnight,” I call quietly, shutting my bedroom door.
CHAPTER NINE
BITTERN
I kind of thought I was fine with porch sitting and eating alone. Now, I’m having a problem. Now that I got off once, or maybe it’s because I finally laid eyes on someone I want, my sex drive is roaring back. I’m so damn sensitive, I go to sleep and end up having a dream that sets me off before I realize what’s happening. That’s embarrassing. Luckily, I have my own space so I can get everything washed up before chores. It’s both the best and worst thing ever, because I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to get laid.
Not in a horny way, although that’s sure as hell there, in a need-to-feel-some-skin-on-skin kind of way. To remember I’m alive, not just a shell sitting on the porch steps, wondering what the hell happened to make me this way. It took me weeks to figure out what was going on. I was so traumatized after the hospital stay, I just took the meds without asking. By the time I realized what they were, it was too late. I was hooked.
