She snorts. “Oh, now you’re siding with my brothers?”
“Not even a little. I think you should marry him. Be with a guy who treats you like garbage,” I lie. I may hate the Gatlins, but Lark isn’t lumped in with them most of the time.
She’s not out there trying to make my life hell. If there’s one person who didn’t get the asshole gene, it’s her. Lark has always been the kind one, trying to make peace between two families who have sworn to take the other down. She was close with my wife, and I had to listen to her go on and on about how wrong I was about Lark.
“I have a hard time believing you’d give Harper, Veronica, or Fallon that advice,” she says with a huff.
“My sisters don’t ask me for advice.”
“I wonder why. You’re a veritable wealth of empathy and understanding.”
I grin. “I’m glad you see what I see.”
She lets out a soft giggle that causes my heart to sputter. “You know, you’re not half bad for a Stone.”
I’m not sure how to take that, but the way she says it, all soft and warm, makes me think she actually means it.
“And you’re not half bad for a Gatlin.”
I turn onto her road, and she shifts. “Well, who knew that the two of us could stand each other for even a few minutes? You can let me out here.”
I glance over at her as if she’s lost her fucking mind. “What?”
“Let me out here. I’ll walk to the front.”
“Lark, your driveway is half a mile—at least. It’s fucking pouring.” As if Mother Nature needs to put an exclamation point at the end, the thunder booms and lightning fills the sky.
“Yes, and you and I both know exactly what will happen if you pull onto my property. My brothers are probably home, and really, with all the trouble you’ve caused my family, the last thing we need is bloodshed.”
Her family is something else. They can’t even put aside their hate and pride for Lark’s sake. “It’s raining, dark, and you’re worried about your brothers or parents being mad someone didn’t leave you stranded?”
“No, I’m worried they would’ve preferred me stranded than to get help from you.”
I blink. “You’re serious?”
She nods. “It’s just better this way. I really want to keep the fighting to a minimum.”
That makes absolutely no sense. “You think they’re going to be happier that I dropped you off, in the storm, half a mile down the drive? No.”
I put the car back in drive, and she reaches across, her soft hand resting on my forearm. “Please, Tristan, it’s…trust me, it’s better. They’re not going to be mad. I promise, I’ll make sure they know it wasn’t your idea. Ryan has been in a mood lately—something happened to the fence again, which I’m sure you’re aware of.”
I tilt my head to look at her. “What doesthatmean?”
“We know it was you.”
I try not to feel the change in my heart rate when her hand drops away, and I tell myself it’s because she just accused me of doing something to her family’s fence.
“Me?” I ask, my voice pitching a little too high. I clear my throat and bring it back to its normal baritone. “I have no idea what the hell you’re accusing me of this time.”
“I’m not accusing you. It’s just that they spent all day trying to repair the fence, and the horses were in the wrong pasture because of it. I know you think it’s funny, but it’s causing us a lot of stress.”
I push out the air in my lungs. “For the hundredth time, neither I nor any member of my family is doing anything to your family’s fucking ranch. You know, there are other people who live in this town who don’t like you.”
Her jaw drops. “Who?”
“Oh, pick a name.”
“The Matthewses.”
