He lets out a harsh laugh. “With what experience? You’re just an Omega, Saramaria. What happens if, like your mother, you end up married to the wrong person? You’d be eaten alive. You’d run this place to the ground. I can’t let that happen.”
“I could learn! I?—”
“Enough!” He slams his hand on the desk, making me jump. “I’ve made my decision. The Hendersons are good men. They’ll treat you well.”
“Treat me well? They want me to move to another state and raise their child while they start a new ranch! That’s not treating me well, that’s using me! Do you even know how their last wife died?”
The fight escalates, our voices rising until we’re shouting across the desk. Words like “duty,” “legacy,” and “responsibility” fly from his mouth, while I throw back “freedom,” “choice,” and “respect.”
Finally, he pushes back his chair and stands. “I’m leaving to meet them now. When I return, we’ll discuss this further.” He pauses at the door, turning back to look me up and down. “Perhaps you could clean up a bit. Brush your hair. Make yourself presentable.”
The dismissal stings more than any of his previous words. I stand frozen in the middle of the room long after he’s gone, the photograph of my parents seeming to mock me from the desk.
I flee to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Tears stream down my face as I collapse onto my bed. If only my parents hadn’t died, this wouldn’t be happening. They were the only ones who truly understood me, who knew I’d alwaysdreamed of escaping to the city, of becoming a chef or something—anything but a rancher.
But now, running the ranch sounds infinitely better than being married off to be a thirteen-year-old’s nanny and stepmom. I’m only eighteen. My life shouldn’t be over before it’s even begun.
The tears come harder now, hot and angry. I cry for my parents, for the future I wanted, for the future my grandfather is trying to force on me. I cry until my head aches and my eyes are swollen.
Then something shifts inside me. A spark of the wild girl I used to be, the one who rode bareback through the fields and wasn’t afraid of anything.
I wipe my eyes, determination replacing despair. I won’t let him do this to me. I won’t be sold off like property.
I grab my old duffel bag from the closet, stuffing it with clothes, my iPod, and the small amount of cash I’ve saved from odd jobs around town. I pause at my dresser, picking up the silver locket my mother gave me for my sixteenth birthday—her and Dad on one side, me on the other. I fasten it around my neck, the cool metal a comforting weight against my skin.
The keys to my mother’s truck hang by the back door. I grab them, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
As I drive away from the only home I’ve ever known, I glance in the rearview mirror and see Boone standing by the barn, watching me leave. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and I wonder what punishment he’ll receive for letting me run off. I don’t even know where the hell I’m going, just that I need to be away from here.
My wild heart fractures as I turn onto the highway, leaving Muddy Creek behind. I press down on the accelerator, the truckeating up the miles as I drive toward an unknown future, free but utterly alone.
Saramaria
The words blur together on the page, black ink swimming before my eyes. I’ve read this document seven times now, and each pass through the legal jargon leaves me more confused than the last.
“To my beloved daughter, Angelina Cruz, I bequeath Meadowlark Ranch and all its holdings...”
My fingers trace the crisp paper of the will. It’s right there in writing. Angelina Cruz. My mother. Which means the ranch should belong to me, right? As her only child, her sole heir?
I rub my temples, willing the headache away. The city lights of Denver twinkle outside my office window. It’s all very different from the wide-open spaces of Wyoming I left behind eight years ago.
I’ve handled countless acquisitions at Hartman & Ellis, one of the most prestigious law firms in the city. I can dissect complex corporate contracts in my sleep. But this... this family document tied up in legal language and emotional baggage? It’s breaking my brain.
What the hell am I supposed to do with a whole ranch?
I push back from my desk, the leather chair groaning. My muscles protest as I stretch, arms reaching toward the ceiling.I’ve been hunched over this document for hours, the fluorescent lights of the office creating a sterile glow that does nothing to help my growing migraine.
“Ms. Cruz?” The intercom on my desk crackles to life. “Penelope is here to see you.”
A genuine smile touches my lips for the first time all day. “Send her in, Brenda.”
The door to my office opens moments later, and Penelope breezes in, her vibrant yellow dress a splash of color against the muted tones of my office. Her dark curls bounce with each step, and I’m already standing before she reaches me.
“Hey, you,” I say, wrapping my arms around her.
Penelope hugs me back tightly. “Long day?”
“You have no idea.”
