“Yup. And if he ever gets back on a bull again, I’ll kill him. Him organizing that rodeo every year is bad enough.”
I fade out from the conversation. I might not have told Winnie about the bet between Cord and Jed, because I hadn’t been able to bring the words to the surface. Saying it makes them truer, and I hate how much Cord stands to lose.
He refuses flat out to cancel the wager, though I suspect he could easily cover the cost of Coyote Falls in cash to pay Jed off. But for men like them, who live in a world most never see, value and worth mean something different than to everyone else.
Perspective matters.But a broken life doesn’t come with a price tag.
Cord’s life.
The tears begin to flow, Winnie’s constant consolation on the otherend of the line her offering while she has no true understanding of what is at stake.
Because Cord is betting the only thing left to him that has value.
I cry even harder.
The boys don’t come in for dinner. The yard grows silent, the distant howl of a wolf drawing my eye back to the mountains rising from the dark sea beyond the still grasslands. My toes itch as I pad toward the frosted glass double doors, the open grasslands and forest beyond with their unknown packs calling to me. The evening holds a pensive air, cool with a warm tail that slices across the yard. When the howl fades, I retreat into the warm haven of the homestead, seeking something I’m not sure I’ll find there.
Levi leaves us with pie and a salad, providing a long hug I didn’t know I craved, if from the wrong man. I sink into his touch, wishing it could fill the gap deep inside, but it only makes it deeper. Even West’s hug earlier hasn’t helped.
Only one man can fix what’s breaking here.
Of course, I know where to find him—in his office, where he headed once we returned. I sneaked into his room, showered, and put on fresh pajamas, which are a new level of comfort all of their own. This whole living-in-a-house thing is getting to me. I might not be able to go back to bivouacking if I keep getting spoiled with hot water and comfy beds and no thermals to sleep in.
But no matter how long I wait, Cord’s door remains closed. Levi’s delectable food doesn’t have the same appeal. I push it aside, despite not having eaten all day. Knowing it’s a terrible idea, I grab a wineglass instead and filled it to the brim, collecting my laptop.
Data entry and watching my wolf pack colored scribble that decorates my screen fill the hours and an empty patch in my heart, while Cord remains locked away in his office. I know he needs to work, but right now I need to talk. Hours pass, and I finish the bottle of wine on an empty stomach. Data entry no longer seems like a good idea when the screen wavers, and I flick over to emailsinstead.
Still a bad idea, but only if I answer anything.
It always amazes me that despite knowing so few people in the world, my inbox regularly overflows. Several dozen emails discover the trash can’s location. I yawn, clicking through the remaining unread pile. As I hover the cursor over one email that readsGRANT APPROVALin the subject line, my stomach seesaws.
I need to speak to Cord and figure out who we are together. Stepping willingly into his life is unplanned in my already chaotic existence. The irony doesn’t escape me that I am the one who told him to be impulsive.This is my fault.
Regardless of how much blame I feel, part of me so desperately wants to stay with him. To have the perfect dream just work out, for once. Sure, Cord is damaged in plenty of ways. And he is “perfect” too: the reclusive billionaire with a remote ranch. But he is also the broken, still-recovering man who thinks he can take on the world alone.
I don’t understand that, exactly. I mean, who could? But that’s Cordell Rand to a tee, and I wanted to give it a try.
And I had. And here we are.
My head wants me to work on my career and pursue the long path I’ve always followed. To return to the wolves I have cataloged and analyzed for so long, complete my study of the juveniles, and watch them grow. As autumn sets in, Alaska calls to me over and over. But my heart aches to stay with the man who occupies almost every waking thought.
My laptop dings a reminder, the battery flashing red. At least Cord’s house has an excess of power sockets. He’s been locked away in his office for nearly six hours with no indication that he will emerge any time soon. I swipe a weary hand over eyes that blur the screen worse than before and click the email open.
Cord plops down beside me, breaking me out of a wine-induced doze. My empty stemless glass topples, but he catches it in steady hands.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he says softly, placing the glass on the table. One arm stretches across the sofa behind my shoulders, his muscles taut and tense. I’m too exhausted to fight with him over meager sofa space as I lean into his warmth.
“It’s one in the morning. How do you get up in four hours?” I yawn widely behind a hand that doesn’t hide anything at all.
He grins down at me, sliding his fingers through what’s got to be mussed-as-hell hair.So not sexy. “If I’m asleep, nothing changes. Nothing gets done.” Roughened fingers trace my cheek. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, throwing caution away if just for tonight. I can berate myself in the morning. “You can’t tell me you’re not like that,” he murmurs, pressing his thumb over my bottom lip lightly.
I wave his excuse away, folding my laptop. “Maybe. I wanted to wait up for you.”
“Now I do feel like crap.” His hand finds mine, steadying my grip as he takes the laptop from me and deposits it on the cushion on my other side. “Bed?”
I eye him. “I’m tipsy, Cord, but I’m not that drunk. Not after what you did last night.”
He gazes at me steadily. Hope glimmers within, and maybe something else I want to deny but can’t. “I meant to sleep.” He’s not begging, exactly, but he’s not far from it, either.
