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We’ve been dancing around something ever since she came to the ranch, and last night we acted on it, but it can’t go any further than one time.
“Think it’s wise,” Vaughn asks, lifting his steaming cup of coffee to his mustached lips, “getting involved with some strange girl you barely know?”
“We ain’t involved. And she’s not strange.”
Delilah’s a fighter, as strong or stronger than any of my brothers. She’s real. The realest thing I’ve seen on this ranch. She’s used to figuring things out on her own. Used to running. To being abandoned. I hope she knows that she can stay here as long as she likes.
“Let me guess.” Warren gives me a skeptical look. “Stripper with a heart of gold?”
“Don’t call her that,” I grind out, meeting War’s eyes. A warning he’s this close to getting his ass kicked, and my older brother knows it.
My uncle clears his throat and exits the room. He knows a fight brewing when he sees it.
“You still planning to run her off?” Ezra’s brows knit together, and I can’t tell if it’s confusion or worry.
“No.” I pull out a chair and give him a pointed look. “We gonna talk about me all damn morning, or figure some shit out about the new release?”
At the glances Warren and Ezra exchange, I sigh. “What is it now?”
“We got that online order,” Ezra says. “Two hundred bottles of bullshit.”
He means the run. I lean back in my chair. “When?”
“A few days before the launch party. Seven p.m.” That puts us at the end of August.
“Fuck.” I drag a hand down my face. Dread and worry curl my stomach. “Are we ready?”
“Everything’s loaded up. A driver’s been provided by whoever the fuck Syd’s contact is.” That’s the way it’s always been. A nameless contact takes our truck along with the guns. In a month or two, it’s always delivered back to us—clean and empty.
Making a decision, I look at Ez. “I don’t want you there.”
Warren nods. “I agree. You have Evvie.”
“I don’t want to be there either.” Ezra shakes his head, looking conflicted. “But I won’t sit it out. We’re all in this. I go.”
Warren and I share a look. If it comes down to it, one of us will take the blame for Ezra. Hell, I’ll tell the cops I coerced him at gunpoint. Evvie won’t lose her father because of me.
Ezra grins. “Now, if you assholes are done barking orders, can we get back to the fucking launch party?”
An hour later, after we’ve hammered out most of the details of the limited-edition launch party that Delilah’s had approved by Ezra, I head back to my place. I grin when I catch sight of Delilah coming across the field, looking gorgeous in the pale morning light.
“All clean,” she says, puffing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Barely.” Her voice drops, almost shyly. “We made a mess last night, cowboy.”
My cock swells, and I take a resolute breath. “Was worth it.”
I mean it. Denial, running away, closing down, it’s been my greatest superpower after Jack, after my parents. With Delilah, the pain feels duller. Almost like the blurry bad dream of loss doesn’t have me in its numb grip.
She smiles.
Reaching for her hands, my thumbs rove across the silky skin on the inside of her wrists. “You want to have breakfast with me?” There are still the cows and the fence to deal with, but damn if I don’t want to steal another moment with her.
If her eyes didn’t burn like the fire of whiskey, she might be easier to forget.
She smiles, a small, silvery laugh tumbling out of her. “You don’t eat breakfast.”
Today’s an exception.
Delilah’s an exception.
