Chapter One
Blaize Wilde walked outside the broken-down barn at Wilde Cattle Ranch taking mental inventory of the shitshow he and his two brothers had just inherited. The weathered wood planks and rusted metal roofing sheets with pieces missing wouldn’t be complete without peeling paint and cracked walls. How was he supposed to get this place up and running without a bank load of cash?
“No one would blame you for selling to get what you can out of it.” Kit, his grandmother, ambled up, catching him off guard while he’d been deep in thought.
You would.Kit had built this small cattle ranch with Blaize’s grandfather. Her son had drained the place of money and spirit. Selling now meant his beloved grandmother would have to move from the only home she’d known for more than fifty years. Not happening. Period.
“There’s work to be done to get the place back in shape.” Blaize stood in front of a barn in need of far more than a coat of paint. It could use a torch. Starting from the ground up might be easier than attempting to salvage what was left of this rickety old, neglected building. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
He forced a smile.
“Have you found your brothers yet?” Kit asked, slipping her bony fingers through the crook in his arm and then holding on to him like she needed him for balance.
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, you got the news about your father’s passing last night and showed up before the sun,” she said. “You should try to get some rest after driving all night.” Blue eyes stared up at him, still bright.
“I’m good.”
Cormac’s death was no loss to the world. A few liquor manufacturers might feel the drop in sales, though. When your last name was Wilde, the jokes wrote themselves. They also got old real quick. Cormac did his best to live up to the family name. His sons couldn’t stand the man for it.
Blaize glanced down into serious eyes framed by wrinkled skin.
“How are you doing with it all, by the way?” She waved her free hand like she was presenting paradise, but the twinge of sadness mixed with helplessness in her gaze told the real story. She was afraid for her future. Yet she would never put pressure on the grandsons she loved.
“Me? Like I said, I’m fine.” Cormac had never been much of a father. The irony there being Blaize had wanted the whole wife-and-kids package, figuring he could do better than his father. “The world is better off without a person like Cormac in it, as far as I’m concerned.”
Another glance told him that he’d struck a raw nerve.
“I’m sorry, Kit. I didn’t mean to say your son was a—”
She clucked her tongue, stopping him mid-sentence. “Nonsense. There’s nothing to apologize for.” She squeezed his arm. “He gave me three incredible grandchildren. It might have been asking too much for him to be good, too.”
Three grandchildren from three different mothers, married to none. Cormac was a real piece of work. Kit had hinted there was a time when he wasn’t like that. As far as Blaize was concerned, there was no excuse good enough to cover the man’s lies and reckless behavior.
“Thank you, by the way,” he said, wanting to change the subject. He smiled and patted her hand. “I’m pretty sure you just gave me a compliment.”
“I meant every word.” She looked up at him with a devilish grin. “I’d keep throwing out compliments, but you’ll accuse me of brown-nosing to keep my bedroom at the ranch.”
Blaize laughed for the first time in a very long time.
“You don’t have to worry about being evicted as long as I’m around.” He wanted to offer reassurance even though he couldn’t be certain his brothers would agree to keeping the place. If he could locate them. Since neither were on social media, preferring to stay off the grid, he was limited as to how he could reach his brothers. All he had was phone numbers, no addresses.
“Speaking of you boys, did you get a hold of Raiden or Phoenix?”
He shook his head.
“They’ll turn up,” she said. “They always do.”
“I’d settle for them answering my calls.”
Not that they had a reason to. Blaize had been living in his own hell for the past couple of years. Losing the person you promised to spend the rest of your life with had a way of obliterating every piece of you and causing you to go dark with everyone you knew or cared about. Your world shrank. You cut people out of your life. Lashed out. Blaize couldn’t blame his brothers for not answering his calls or texts anymore. He’d been a jerk to them, and they had no idea why.
“They will,” Kit said, turning toward the farmhouse that was in almost as bad a shape as the barn. “But first, what should I cook for dinner? Something nice to celebrate your homecoming.”
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
She batted her free hand at him playfully. “You coming home qualifies as special, Blaize.”
