He holds the front door open and gestures one arm wide. “Come on in, Summer. Let’s get you settled and fed before you face the little monster.”
I shake my head and chuckle as I move into the house. Clearly, my assessment of Rhett wasn’t too far off. Or at least his dad isn’t making me feel like I’m in for an easy time. A boulder of doubt drops into my stomach, anxiety seeping out through my body. What if I’m not up to this? What if I fail? Will I always be the one who can’t get things quite right?
My internal monologue melts away as I take in the house before me. The warm wood theme from the exterior carries on inside. Wood beam ceilings and dark green walls give the space a cozy vibe despite the lofty open areas. The floors are dark hardwood, the wide planks slightly worn in heavy traffic areas. And as I watch Harvey march in with his boots on, I think I can guess why.
To my left, I can see the living room with overstuffed leather couches facing an enormous fireplace. Some sort of deer head with black marble eyes that sparkle enough to look real and antlers that reach high above it like thick, ornate branches, hangs above it.
My lips tug down into a small frown. I have no problem with hunting, not the type of hunting that’s done responsibly anyway, but I’m such a city girl that the sight of this majestic animal hanging up in the house makes me a little sad about the deer and whatever end he might have faced.
Let’s be honest. I’m thinking about Bambi.
I shake the thought away and tell myself to buck up. Buck up? God. What is wrong with me?
Before us is the gigantic kitchen with a large wood table smack dab in the middle of it, and I can already imagine all these cowboy-type guys rolling in here after a long day on the ranch to share a big family-style meal.
“Down here,” Harvey’s voice pulls me away, and we turn right down a hallway lit by brass sconces on the walls. “I know this room is on the main floor. We’ll try to keep it down in the mornings. Rhett and I have rooms upstairs, so I thought this might give you a little more space away from us men. It has an adjoining bathroom. The closet is the biggest in here, too.”
He does one pull up with my suitcase. My very, very full suitcase. “Thinking I made the right choice with that.”
My cheeks pink a bit. I must seem like a real city girl to a man like Harvey Eaton. “I wasn’t sure what to expect with this assignment.”
He chuckles good-naturedly. “Expect a rodeo, girl. I love my boy. But he’s a handful. Has always been one. Come to think of it, I’m not sure anyone has ever truly handled Rhett at all. Youngest boy and all that. Even his baby sister ended up being the more mature of the two. The one who looked out for him—because Rhett needs looking out for. My advice? Don’t push too hard. He’ll just push back.”
I nod, a little wide-eyed. He’s making Rhett sound downright insane. “Sage advice, Mr. Eaton.”
He drops my suitcase just inside the door of a room at the very end of the hall. “Girl, if I’m calling you Summer, you’re calling me Harvey. We got it?”
I smile at him as I enter the room. “Got it.”
“Good.” He steps back out into the hall. “Take your time getting settled. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready. We can eat, and I’ll show you around.”
“That’s perfect.” I give him the brightest smile I can muster before he ambles back down the hallway.
When I close the door behind him, I rest my head against the cool wood and suck in a deep breath to chase away the anxiety.
And then I pray for patience because something tells me I’m going to need it.
4
Rhett
Rhett: Want your daughter back yet ? I promise I’ll be good.
Kip: She’s not even there yet.
Rhett: Think of all the time you’ll save her by calling her back now.
Kip: No.
Rhett: Please?
Kip: Don’t try to be polite. It doesn’t suit you.
Rhett: Suck a dick.
Kip: How do you think I’m keeping all your sponsors?
Summer Hamilton pulled up in her fancy SUV and ridiculous prissy outfit like she’s going out on the town rather than showing up on a cattle ranch.
So, I made myself scarce. I might be stuck with her, but I don’t have to like it.
And I don’t. I fucking hate being treated like a child, or like I’m stupid. Or worse, like I’m some sort of criminal. I had hoped that sleeping in my own bed and having some processing time to come to terms with my new arrangement might make it feel a little less stifling—less insulting.
But it still feels like trash.
Which is why I’m here pounding posts with my older brother. Setting new fence lines for some of his horses to be closer to his house, which is just over the crest of a big hill from where my dad and I live. Cade pulls a post out of the back of his pickup and hefts it over his shoulder with a grunt. He looks the most like our dad, wide shoulders and tightly cut hair. The only thing missing is a mustache. Something I love to harass him about, especially since he’s one growly motherfucker. It’s just too easy.
“When are you going to grow out the ‘stache and go full Old Man Eaton?”
He glares at me before he drops the post and lines up the pointed end with the spot he wants. “Dunno. When you cutting your hair, Rapunzel?”
This feels good. This feels familiar. Pissing Cade off is one of my favorite past-times. And he’s so fucking grumbly that it never stops being satisfying. He’s all bark and no bite, one of the nicest dudes I know.
If you can overlook what a prick he is.
I pull my cap off and flick my hair over my shoulder, trying not to wince at the shot of pain in my shoulder. Or the swelling in my knee. Or the ache in my back.
Never mind Rapunzel, I’m more like Humpty Dumpty.
“Never. How will I pull a princess through my window?”
He snorts and grabs the post pounder while I take over holding the post upright. “Just one princess, brother? Hardly seems like you.”
I roll my eyes. Cade is the monk in this family. I don’t think I’ve seen him with a single woman since his divorce.
“I’m just trying to have enough sex for the both of us,” I lie. That part of me has changed. It doesn’t hold the same appeal these last couple seasons. Not like it used to. It brings drama, and I’ve grown tired of having to spend time with people who only want something from me or who see me as some sort of trophy.
Cade reaches up and slaps the cap off my head. “Douche. You going to help do one or just stand there looking pretty?”
I step away and cross my arms. “I am pretty, aren’t I? People keep telling me that,” I deflect because I don’t want to confess that my body is feeling utterly run down. All that will get me is a lecture about how I need to retire, how I’ve stuck with it too long.
The problem is, I’m addicted.
Riding bulls is a high I can’t replace. A rush I can’t stop chasing.
“Uncle Rhett!” The small, sugary voice makes me smile, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
Cade glances over his shoulder, brows drawn together in concern.
“Luke! What’s up, little man? I thought you were with Mrs. Hill,” I say.
My nephew smiles at me, exposing his little Chiclet teeth, a mischievous expression overtaking his face. “I told her I wanted to play hide and seek.”
“Okay . . .”
Luke peeks at his dad from around my body, like he knows he’s about to get in trouble. And then he leans in close to me and holds a hand up next to his mouth. “And then I ran over here instead.”
His eyes go wide as he takes in my expression and then his dad’s, who is probably scowling behind me. I try not to laugh.
But I fail. This cracks me up, and I bark out a loud laugh. This kid runs my brother into the ground. He keeps him light—and God knows Cade needs that.
That said, we’re all a bunch of softies where Luke is concerned. Our little sister may have left the ranch, but we’ve got Luke to dote on now.
“Papa is looking for you,” the boy continues.
“Luke.” Cade walks up from behind me. “Are you telling me you ran away from your babysitter to help Papa find Rhett? Because that sounds an awful lot like not minding your business.”
Luke rolls his little lips together, and I swear I can see the gears turning in his head. Almost five, smart as hell, a full-on troublemaker. But still too young to realize when he’s blown it.
He side-steps that question, widening his eyes strategically. “Papa came looking for you at home. He’s with a lady.”
I groan because I know what this means. Lady. A more apt word has never been used to describe Summer Hamilton. My agent’s princess.
My brother’s eyes dart to my face. “Lady? Did you finally knock someone up?”
Cade is such a dick. “For fu—”
“What does knock someone up mean?” We both stare blankly down at the little boy, but before we can respond, my dad and Summer show up at the top of the hill.