Cowboy Up (Coming Home #3)

“Trey was out on a late ride tonight. He does that shit after a long day—don’t ask me why he goes this damn late. He said when he went west, all was quiet. About an hour later, before he could even see where it was comin’ from, he noticed the glow of somethin’ burnin’. He tried, Clay. Rushed back to grab the extinguisher here, but by the time he got back up the hill, there wasn’t anything left.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed with a heavy exhale. I click on the light and brace my elbows on my knees, looking down at the floor. I feel Caroline press against my back, her hands rubbing my arms in silent support. Fuck, I don’t want to tell her. I’ll rebuild it, no doubt about that, but it won’t be the same. I know that, even without telling her and confirming it.

“He see anyone else out there?”

Maverick’s silence tells me all I need to know.

“Who?”

“Calm down, brother. You gettin’ pissed isn’t gonna help shit.”

“I’ll be there in five.” Knowing in my gut that he didn’t tell me who it was for a reason, that reason pressing herself against my back, I shake my head and look down at my feet.

“What is it, honey?” Caroline’s question breaks the silence, worry in her tone.

“Fuck,” I hiss, knowing this is going to put a dark cloud over our wedding day. “I need you to trust me, darlin’. I don’t know much, but there was a fire and I need to go meet Mav and find out the rest. I’ll tell you everything when I get back, but stay put while I go get answers.”

“You’re scaring me,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “Was anyone hurt?”

I turn and reach for her, pulling her into my lap. “No, Linney, I don’t think so. Trey, Mav’s uncle, found it and did his best to put it out. I don’t want to scare you, darlin’, but I need you to stay here and let me handle this. Until I know more, I don’t want you leavin’ the house.”

She nods, but I can tell she isn’t happy about me leaving her with no answers.

“I’ll be quick and I’ll keep my phone on me.”

“Is . . . is there more? Is everything okay?”

“Everything will be okay.”

Her eyes search mine for a beat before she nods and pulls a choppy breath in. “Be careful,” she whispers.

“Always.”

I climb from the bed and start getting dressed. The whole time her eyes follow me. I see her wrap the comforter tighter around her body and I hate knowing she’s worried. She isn’t stupid, my girl. She’s likely connecting the dots, just like I did when Maverick mentioned a fire. We haven’t had a single break in finding the person who set her bookstore on fire twice, but judging by what Mav didn’t say, I have a feeling that’s about to change.

The question is, will finding those answers do more than give Caroline the closure of knowing the truth? I know she’s no longer the scared and shy woman I first fell in love with, but this situation is worthy of a little fear. I just pray that fear guides her to rise through the aches.

“I’ll be back,” I promise.

She nods. “I’ll be ready.”

She’ll be ready. Fuck me, this girl. She means it, too. I can see her building herself up, steeling herself for whatever news comes back with me, ready to take it on. She isn’t building walls, not like she used to do. She’s building her emotional army. Even with the shit I’m about to go handle, I can’t help but feel pride witnessing just how far my shy and timid Caroline has come. I honestly believe she could take on the world. My Linney, she’s always been so much stronger than she gave herself credit for, but just as our love saved me, it helped her see that. I have no doubt about it.

“Yeah. Yeah, you will be.”

“I love you, honey.”

I bend over the bed and kiss her soft and quick. “I love you too.”





26


CAROLINE


“The House That Built Me” by Miranda Lambert

- -

A fire.

Clayton said was. Past tense. There had been a fire, not that there still was one. That’s something I’ve been holding onto since he left ten minutes ago. I locked the front door behind him and watched through the living room window as he rushed across the grass and into the detached garage that holds the golf carts and quad bikes. A few minutes later, he’s tearing through the night on the back of one of the quads. I expected to see some sign of the fire close, but seeing the direction he’s headed makes no sense. The land between our house and Maverick and Leighton’s holds nothing. Unless the fire was at his brother’s. God, I hate not knowing, being afraid for the family that already owns my heart.

There’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep.

It was just a little past midnight, I think, by the time we finally fell asleep earlier. I lost track of how long we spent loving each other, but the last time I saw the time, it was close enough to midnight that I’m fairly sure that’s when we passed out. Glancing at the clock above the oven, I wince. Fifteen minutes till two. No wonder it feels like I just fell asleep—I literally did.

Needing to keep my mind occupied, I start the coffee maker and then go to the fridge to pull some breakfast food out. We haven’t eaten since the dinner at Maverick and Leighton’s after the ceremony, but even then, we didn’t eat much. Even if we hadn’t been anxious to be alone, we couldn’t keep our hands—and mouths—off each other long enough to eat anyway. I don’t even think either of us finished half of our food before we were making our excuses and rushing home.

Not knowing how long he’s going to be, I decide to start putting together a quiche. Nothing crazy, but at least it’ll keep me busy. If it wasn’t the middle of the night, I would call one of the girls to talk me through my worry. I take my time cutting the onions and bell peppers, the mindless task not taking my mind off my worries at all.

“This isn’t workin’,” I mumble, dumping the diced bits into the bowl.

I grab the piecrust I had already prepped and start to add all the ingredients, my eyes moving to the clock every five minutes or so. I blow out a breath, pick up a handful of peppers and onions, and scatter them on the bottom of the pie tin, covering the crust completely. As satisfied as I can be with my mind in such a jumbled mind state, I pick up the egg, cheese, and spice mixture and pour that into the crust.

Picking up the quiche, I turn from the island and start to walk to the double ovens. Two steps in and the deafening sound of glass shattering breaks the silence. I scream, my whole body jolting in fear. The pie tin hits the floor, the sticky yellow contents splattering my bare legs and the area all around me. I glance down, confused, seeing the mess before another sound by the back door reminds me what startled me enough to drop the quiche in the first place.

“Hello, Caroline.”

The heinous heat in those two words slam into me, and without looking, I know this is going to be bad. I just hope and pray that whatever happens here, Clayton won’t be harmed.

“Look at me, you stupid bitch!”

I fill my lungs with a deep breath and say a silent prayer. Then I look up from my egg-soaked mess and into the evil glare of Clayton’s ex, Jess. Jess, who is pointing a gun in my direction with wild hair and even wilder eyes.