Bear straightened. “What happened?”
“Someone posted Maggie’s location online. Need to get it deleted.”
“Sonofabitch.” X shoved his chair back. “Just point me at ‘em.”
“Kid at the hardware store. The Miller boy.”
“Evan?” River’s eyebrows shot up. “Skinny kid, acne, talks a mile a minute?”
Anson nodded. “Took her picture without asking. Posted it. Six hundred likes, four hundred shares.”
“Shit.” River grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “I’m coming too.”
X scoffed. “You’re not mean enough for this.”
“I can be plenty mean. And if Just Maggie’s in danger, I’m coming.”
“No, he’s right, River,” Anson said. “I need you here. With her.”
“Babysitting duty?” River’s face darkened.
“No. Making her laugh.” Anson met the younger man’s eyes. “She’s scared. Shaken up. You’re good at... making people feel better. Taking their mind off things.”
Understanding dawned in River’s expression, followed by a flash of something like pride. “You trust me with that?”
“Yes.” The simple truth. He did trust River—with Maggie, with the forge when he needed extra hands, with the animals. Despite all his outward chaos, River was solid at his core. Reliable.
River nodded, suddenly solemn. “I’ll head over.”
“Thanks.” Anson turned to X and Bear. “Ready?”
“Been ready.” X grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “Truck’s out front.”
“You driving?” Anson asked Bear.
“Always.” The big man pocketed his winnings and stood, towering over both of them. “X drives like he’s auditioning for a stunt team.”
“One time I take a turn fast...” X muttered, following them out.
The walk to Bear’s truck felt like a death march. Each step away from the bunkhouse tightened the band across Anson’s chest. By the time he climbed into the passenger seat, his hands had developed a slight tremor. He shoved them into his pockets before X or Bear could notice.
Bear started the engine and pulled away from the bunkhouse, the truck’s heater fighting against the bitter cold. X lounged in the back seat like they were going for a Sunday drive.
How could the guy be so relaxed? So at ease knowing they were about to walk into a confrontation?
As they passed through the ranch gates onto the county road, Anson’s breath caught, a soft hitch that he masked with a cough. Every instinct screamed to turn back.
“So.” X leaned forward between the front seats. “Must be serious, huh?”
“What?”
“You. Leaving the ranch. Voluntarily.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth. “For a woman.”
Heat crept up his neck. “Not about that.”
“No? Before all that mess with Nessie this summer, you hadn’t left in how long?”
“Two years.”
