“You’re kidnapping me?”
“Only if you fight me on it.” He smirks like he hopes I will, which shouldn’t make my cheeks as warm as it does.
“Fine,” I agree, burying that thought. “But we’ll see how long I stay there.”
Plopping into a chair, I watch as the three men gather my things. I don’t bother to help. And I definitelydon’tthink about the fact that I’ve somehow made myself Dean Graham’s hostage. Nothing good comes from being in his crosshairs.
Nothing good at all.
Texas heat is blistering. Even the breeze is muggy. My thighs stick to the seat as I climb out of the truck. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, so I tie my hair in a high ponytail.
It does little to cut the sweltering heat.
My gaze lifts to the dusty ranch I’ll be calling home now. The welcome sign hangs at an angle, and the gate creaks with every small shift in the breeze.
I miss Colorado.
I miss the mountains that framed the far end of the Harrison family ranch.
I miss the endless fields of flowers.
I miss my friends.
My house.
I miss knowing where to go when I needed room to think.
To breathe.
Wiping sweat off my forehead, I chide myself for being selfish. Grandma can’t take care of Grandpa’s land by herself. And while Dad’s money cleared the mountain of debt, she needs help working the land. She’s doing this all on her own while still grieving. And here I am, annoyed that my life has been uprooted in my first year in high school.
Still, I can’t bury my frown as I kick at the dirt. No shade to block the sweltering sun.
Dad slams the truck door, and I jump, earning a frown from Mom. It’s not my fault that Dad has me constantly on edge. He’s never raised a hand to any of us, but there are other ways to make a person feel worthless. Dad is well-versed in those methods.
“Chin up.” Dad looks from me to Eden. “Make yourselves presentable. You’re both a mess. You look like we’ve been driving all day.”
Wehavebeen driving all day. But I don’t bother saying that because it won’t go over well. I fix my hair and thenhelp Eden with hers. She’s only a year younger than me, but she’s the baby of the family, so Dad treats her like she needs to be protected at all costs.
I love my sister, but I can’t stand how they look at her like she’s the embodiment of innocence—of perfection. While I walk on eggshells and it’s still barely good enough.
We’ve always been held to two different sets of expectations. Sometimes I wish he’d decide I’m not worth it and just move on to her instead of trying to mold me into whatever he thinks the eldest daughter should embody. But that would leave Eden at the mercy of him, and resentment aside, I don’t necessarily want that either.
“Gordon Elliott?” A deep voice comes from the other side of the truck, and Dad circles to meet with the man who called his name.
“That’s me.” Dad smiles—charming and enigmatic.
The kind of smile that makes it difficult for someone who doesn’t know him well enough to see the person he is beneath.
“I’m Tate Paul.” The man reaches a hand between them. “I own the ranch next door. We thought we would stop by to welcome you and your family to the community. Your father was a pillar in this town. He’ll be missed.”
“He will,” Dad agrees, shaking Tate’s hand. “My father mentioned you. You had grazing arrangements with him if I recall correctly.”
“We did. We looked out for each other during tough times. That’s what we stand by here in Lanceleaf.” Tate grins, but something about it is unsettling.
Dad either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind. He’s always working an angle. Looking for a way to use the people around him.
“Well, I hope we can continue to help each other out,” Dad says.
