It was past ten that night when Bear finally got to the last item on his to-do list. Or rather, his third-to-last item, but it would have to be it today because he’d run out of daylight.
He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Pippa he woke up too early and hit the sack too late. What with taking care of everything to be done for the cattle, setting things up for the sheep, helping her, and getting his 4-H kids ready for the fair, he was running ragged. Only an extra twenty-four hours in every day would help him now.
He slumped in the seat of the side-by-side as he drove toward the sheep barn. The grain hopper for the sheep feed had gotten jammed this morning, and he had to fix it before tomorrow if he wanted to feed his ewes. Otherwise, he would have already been heading for bed. But the animals always came first, even when he was nodding off in the driver’s seat.
With a sharp U-turn, he angled the ATV’s lights at the broken hopper. Hopefully this wouldn’t take more than half an hour. He cut the engine, grabbed his tools, and walked toward the hopper, his whole body aching.
Today had been rough. The water line out to one of the pastures had broken in three separate places, so he’d had to dig out three separate holes, cut out the broken pieces, replace them, bury everything again once he was sure it was fixed, then reset all the pivot sprinkler lines. He’d spent hours, soaking wet, caked in mud, arms and shoulders aching from the effort.
Physical pain he was used to though. What really got at him was Pippa’s reaction this morning. He’d thought they’d been having a good time—he couldn’t think of when he’d had a better time—thought that she’d been enjoying herself… and then she’d almost started crying.
If she’d taken the hay knife and stuck it between his ribs, it would have hurt less. He played it off since she was so upset and he also had no idea how to navigate what was happening between them—but her reaction had stung him and still stung some several hours later.
Well, he’d see her again in a few hours no matter what. He’d dream about her, probably something even more explicit and filthy than usual since he’d been all over her today, then he’d wake up too early and head over to fix her hose spigot. Somehow it had cracked even though it had been nowhere near freezing at night.
If they stayed through winter, he’d have to wrap their pipes for them. They wouldn’t know to do it.
He laughed softly, bitterly to himself. He was supposed to be getting them out of that place, and here he was thinking of ways to keep them through the winter. All three of them now.
Thorne would have a stroke when he heard. Assuming Bear could find the time to talk to his brother about it.
When he got close enough to the hopper to see it in detail, his feet slowed. His eyes narrowed as he studied it.
Someone had fixed it today.
He stopped, stared at it for a long moment. Thorne must have done it. Bear didn’t know how his brother had found out it was broken, but he had. And since Thorne didn’t even like the sheep, he’d done it for Bear. This was Thorne’s apology.
Sayer said that Thorne was incapable of admitting he was wrong, and most of the time he was, but Thorne did reach out sometimes, in his own way.
Well. Maybe making up with his brother would be easier than he’d thought.
Bear loaded his tools back on the side-by-side, then went to find his twin.
Thorne lived in the old family home while Bear had taken the lodge house for his own place. Bear preferred it that way even though the lodge house wasn’t exactly set up for a man alone. Narrow, with lots of single rooms, it was more dorm than home. But the mature trees and hedges surrounding it gave Bear more privacy, and it was quieter over where the lodge house was. Not that the entire place wasn’t quiet—no main roads and no close neighbors made for a peaceful place—but the lodge house was somehow stiller. Calmer.
Also, since his sister’s chickens were way on the other side of the family house, he didn’t have to hear them squawking at each other at all hours of the day. They might not be as obnoxious as roosters, but hens weren’t afraid to get loud.
He pulled into his usual spot at the family house, close to the back door. They hardly used the front door these days since Thorne mostly kept to the rooms at the back of the house. And the office that they all used was right next to the back door.
The kitchen light was still on, filtering through the blue curtains patterned with daisies that his mom had sewn a few years ago. The sun had bleached them from a bright, dark blue to something closer to baby blue. Bear found he preferred the way they looked now.
He knocked lightly, then walked in.
Thorne was sitting in the office, going through a bull sale catalog. The sight of it and remembering what he and Sayer were still fighting about made Bear miss a step.
Pippa hadn’t laughed when he’d told her. She’d been sad about it. Like it was her own family tragedy, when she had more than enough of her own share.
“You fixed the hopper.” Bear set himself against the office doorframe, not coming all the way into the room.
“Needed fixing.” Thorne set aside the catalog. The sale was all the way in Texas, not one they’d go to. Thorne was doing research. “You were doing the water lines.”
“And you were welding the old feeders.” Bear had seen Thorne at work on those before he’d even left for Pippa’s place. Bear wasn’t the only one waking up too early and going to bed too late.
“Got them all done.” Thorne put two fingers to his forehead and rubbed. “Need to double-check the chutes at the main barn before next week. Make sure everything’s in good repair.”
Thorne meant the cattle chutes. Bear had to do the same with the sheep chutes since he’d have to do blood draws in a few weeks to check if his ewes were pregnant.
“Good,” Bear said. “Thanks for doing the hopper. We’ll tackle the chutes this weekend.”
Thorne looked him up and down. “You look like hell.”
“Haven’t showered yet. Haven’t slept enough in…” He lifted one shoulder. “Forever.”
“We need more help.”
They did, but they couldn’t afford it. Not with everything stretched too tight for the expansion. Which might never happen.
Pippa’s strained, sad expression floated through his mind.
“We’ve got to talk about this lawsuit,” Bear said baldly. “And what we’ll do if they don’t leave.”
For a moment Thorne’s expression contorted. But then with visible effort, he settled. “We thin the herd. We can get by with less breeding stock.” He pinned Bear with a stare. “We’ll need to decide about the sheep operation.”
“That’ll be gone.” Bear said it easier than he felt. “No other choice.” He reset himself against the doorframe. “There’s another sister there now.”
Thorne did something very odd—he laughed, although it wasn’t amused at all. “Of course,” he muttered to himself. “Of course. So the whole family is a wreck.”
That seemed to be a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but Bear held his tongue. “I didn’t meet the new sister, but yes, she’s also down on her luck.”
“I guess it’s good you still go over there,” Thorne said. “You can report back.”
“I’m not doing it to spy on them.”
“What exactly are you doing over there now? Because it’s not convincing them to get out.”
Bear’s temper went on high alert at his twin’s tone. But when he stopped and considered what he had been doing out there, maybe he deserved some censure.
“That’s my business,” Bear said shortly. “And if you don’t know anything about it, you can truthfully say I don’t know if the probate person asks.” He decided it was time to redirect this. “I have a plan to fix things. If the lawsuit doesn’t go our way.”
Thorne looked up at him with something like pleading. Or at least as close as he got. “What the hell? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because it involves Sayer.”
Immediately Thorne shut down. “Absolutely not.”
Bear shoved off from the doorframe. “You haven’t even heard my idea.” Sayer had at least listened before he’d said no. He’d given conditions under which he’d agree even if those conditions might be impossible.
“No.” Thorne got up. “Once he apologizes and is ready to rejoin this operation, then maybe, maybe I’ll listen. But not before then.”
“So you’ll just let this go on forever then? He’s our brother—he’s as much a part of this ranch as the rest of us.”
“Not anymore,” Thorne said bluntly. “He left. He’s happy up there, doing his own thing. He doesn’t want us. Otherwise he would have apologized.”
Thorne was being his usual asshole self, but beneath that, buried very, very deep, there was something else. Hurt?
Was Thorne actually feeling abandoned by Sayer? He’d never let on before.
But if they had to wait for Sayer to come to them, they’d be waiting forever. Same thing for Sayer waiting on them. Neither Sayer nor Thorne was moving.
“Let’s just forget about apologizing.” Bear took a step into the room. “We’ll meet with Sayer on neutral ground. Won’t even talk about…” He rolled his hand. “All that. We’ll just come up with a plan to save the Crivelli property situation. And save the ranch. We can come together to do that.”
And maybe once Thorne and Sayer were in the same room together, working to find a solution, they’d realize their fight needed to end. Apologies or no.
“We don’t need him.” Thorne was unyielding again. Like granite, only harder. “He can’t save us. We’ll do it ourselves.”
Bear stepped back. Why had he even tried to reach Thorne? To expect him to bend even a little bit? “Even if means we have to thin the herd? Or shut down the entire sheep operation?” he demanded.
“Yes. We don’t have room here for anyone who can’t get with the program. It has to be everyone working together. And no one sabotaging things.”
“You mean your program.”
“No, I mean our program. We voted on the sheep, remember? And the breeding program last year. And the new processing plant. And even switching the suppliers on the shipping boxes—we voted on that too.” Thorne shook his head. “This isn’t some kind of dictatorship, so don’t pretend it is.”
Thorne’s a bully. That was true. And it was also true that they did vote on most everything.
“We didn’t vote to kick out Sayer.” But Bear had lost some of his urgency. He wasn’t going to budge Thorne. Same as he hadn’t budged Sayer.
“No, he chose to leave. Just like he’s choosing to stay away.” Thorne sighed heavily. He sounded as exhausted as Bear felt. “What’s gotten into you? First the lawyer’s office, now this.”
Bear wasn’t sure that something had gotten into him so much as he was sick of the conflict. The distance between them all. It didn’t have to be this way at all except that both his brothers were so pigheaded. If they were cattle or sheep acting up, Bear would simply put them in the chutes and do what needed to be done for their own good.
Sticking his brothers in a chute wasn’t going to fix this. Bear was starting to despair that nothing would.
But at least Thorne was talking to him again. In order not to jeopardize that fragile peace, he merely shook his head. “Nothing’s gotten into me. Just tired. I’m going to bed. Thanks for doing the hopper.”
Thorne looked for a moment like he might press the issue. But then he simply said, “It was nothing. See you tomorrow.”
Bear was ashamed that he was relieved to leave it at that.
They were back to their old routines this morning. And the morning after that and after that, until it had been a week since their time alone in the hay barn, and they hadn’t mentioned it once.
Pippa had thought she’d be relieved by that, but instead she was frustrated. Of course, she couldn’t let it show, but being so close to Bear each morning, knowing how he felt pressed against her, how hungry she was for touch in general and him specifically, but being unable to do anything about it… She was more than frustrated. She was going a little bonkers.
Bear wasn’t going bonkers though. He was somehow even calmer, not even growling at her once. Everything between them was pleasant, smooth. Neighborly.
She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t do anything about it. The new distance between them was good and proper. Even Ms. Keller wouldn’t have found anything to complain about.
But she missed the edge to their previous interactions. Turned out that polite, bland Bear was not as intriguing as the man who growled at her one moment, then kissed her the next.
Bland Bear was all she was getting these days though.
This morning they were setting up some temporary fencing so the goats could eat down some of the weeds on the far north side of the property. Pippa hadn’t realized just how much acreage they actually had and how much work it took to keep it up, even when there was nothing really there.
The house and the accommodations for the animals took up about two acres—at least that was what Bear had said; Pippa had no real idea what an acre looked like—which seemed pretty vast to her. Her old apartment probably could have fit in the current goat pen. And then there were still twenty-three acres more to be maintained. Pippa had no idea what Esme had done with it all. It was too big for one person, but it also seemed too small for a working farm.
Perhaps her ancestors had owned more land once and had slowly sold most of it off. Which made her wonder who exactly Bear’s family had bought their ranch from. But she wasn’t going to ask, given their current truce.
Allie had come out to help them, which relieved Pippa. Her sister had been spending most of her days sleeping, completely uninterested in food, the goats, or recovering her things. Allie always had been the soft one, and Pippa worried losing everything had crushed something vital in her. She didn’t want to lose her baby sister to the family curse—Pippa was almost used to losing everything, so she could take it. Allie was another story.
But her sister had woken up this morning and put on what she’d called work clothes. Pippa could tell now they weren’t really thanks to her work on the farm and at the feedstore—the leggings were too thin and would catch on things, and her tennis shoes were made for running, so when something landed on her toe, it was going to hurt—but she hadn’t said anything to Allie. Instead, she’d handed her sister some too-big work gloves and asked her to come help with the fencing.
She and Allie were wrestling with the roll of what Bear called horse fence, trying to pull it taut enough for Bear to connect to the T-posts he’d put in. Pippa knew what those were, having sold a bunch just the other day at the feedstore. It turned out Ansel carried all kinds of things and not just feed.
“One more clip,” Bear grunted, arms and neck straining. He packed a deceptive amount of muscle on his lean frame. Of course, he’d lifted her like it was nothing that time in the hay barn—
Pippa shook her head hard, almost dropping the fence roll. Allie squealed as she tried to recover her end.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Pippa chanted as she grabbed the roll. “Are you okay?”
“I’m all right.” The strain in Allie’s voice didn’t sound all right though. Here she was, finally feeling well enough to come out to help, and Pippa almost hurt her.
“Can we pay attention?” Growly Bear was back in all his glory. “Somebody’s going to get hurt.”
“Sorry,” Pippa said meekly even though the sight of Bear’s familiar scowl was making her heart pound. Oh, she had missed that. If it wouldn’t put Allie in danger, she might just drop the fence roll again so he could get even more worked up.
Except they were also trying to be serious here. Pretending to be just neighbors, two people who were not locked in a legal battle and had certainly never kissed.
“We’re almost done.” Bear sighed as he stared at the posts that were left. “Don’t get hurt before then.”
Which made Pippa feel bad, because he looked as tired as ever. She should have told him she could handle this herself. Except she couldn’t have, and Ansel wouldn’t have been able to get out here until next week to put up this fence. Bear had been muttering darkly about defensible space for days, saying that the brush had to get cleared now.
He certainly was a little black rain cloud, talking about how the house was going to collapse or burn to ash or something equally catastrophic. If Pippa didn’t know how much he actually cared, she’d have called him the worst kind of pessimist.
“I’ll be careful.” She held up her pinky as best she could since her work gloves didn’t fit any better than Allie’s. “Pinky promise.”
He ducked his head, but not before she saw one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Come on,” he said. “Grab that roll. Pull it tight. No, tighter!”
Even with Bear barking at them and her arms aching and the metal wire biting through the gloves, Pippa was enjoying herself. She’d done hard work before—the warehouse job had left her exhausted and aching every day—but there was something different about doing it for her own home, her own goats. Not that she wanted to do this all day long, but for a few hours in the morning, it was good. Satisfying.
Allie didn’t look as if she agreed. Her face was red, her forehead beaded with sweat, and she was breathing hard.
“Will this actually keep them in?” she asked between pants.
“No,” Pippa said, “but it’s fun to pretend.”
“It’ll work just fine.” Bear sent a warning look over to Hecate, who was pretending not to watch them. “And if it doesn’t, I know some people who make a mean birria.”
“Are you…?” Pippa grabbed her throat. “Are you threatening to eat my goat?”
“She’s a dairy goat,” Allie said very importantly even though she’d just learned the definition yesterday. “Not a meat goat.”
“I’ll still eat her if she breaks out of this pen.”
“Thank goodness she doesn’t have ears to hear you.” Pippa sniffed. “And she’d give you the kind of indigestion you’d never get rid of. You’d have to spend the rest of your life on a bland diet. Applesauce for every meal.”
“I happen to like applesauce.” There was a spark in his eyes that suggested he really would eat applesauce at every meal just to rile Pippa up.
A familiar heat spread through her. She had the urge to roll up on the balls of her feet, jut her chin out at him.
They were sparring again. And it was sending her places she shouldn’t want to go.
“Prove it.” She had no idea how he would—they certainly didn’t have any applesauce—but she couldn’t help herself. The old Bear was back, and she wanted to keep him.
“What is going on?” Allie said with deep confusion. “We don’t have applesauce.”
Bear smiled because he’d won that round. “Too bad. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
Allie squinted at something down the driveway, shielding her eyes with her hand. Pippa made a quick mental note to get her a wide-brimmed hat from the feedstore.
“There’s a truck coming up the drive.” Allie’s voice trembled a bit. She hadn’t been too sure about Bear at first either. Pippa couldn’t remember her sister being so timid before. Yes, Allie was quiet, but not like this.
“It’s fine,” Pippa said bracingly even though she had no idea who it was. This wasn’t the kind of place you just stumbled on looking for somewhere else.
Bear was staring down the drive too. Slowly his expression hardened. “It’s not.”
Pippa whipped around to look at him. “Who is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He stripped off his work gloves, his movements strangely heavy. “It’s just my brother.”
“No.” She frowned. “That’s not Sayer’s—” Her heart sank as she realized. “Do you mean Thorne?”
He didn’t answer, but Bear’s expression told her everything she needed to know. Oh no. This was not good. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Thorne—okay, maybe she was, a little—but she didn’t want to cause any more trouble between the brothers.
“Thorne?” Allie was officially freaking out. “That’s his name?”
“My mom’s a hippie,” Bear said absently, still watching the truck.
That bit of info caught Pippa up short. His mom was a hippie raising all those ranchers? Suddenly his name took on a whole new meaning. It wasn’t meant to be tough, macho—it was almost wistful, a wish for something wild, free.
Pippa couldn’t think of any good spin to put on Thorne’s name though, not since she’d met him and knew what he was like.
Allie bit her lip. “Will he… will he be mad? About the house?”
Pippa was tempted to tell Allie to go inside, but that would only make her more afraid. “He’s already mad about it.” She dropped her voice so only her sister could hear. “I think he might have been born mad. But we’re safe. He won’t do anything.”
At least Pippa hoped not. Bear would stop his brother if he tried anything. Not that Thorne struck her as the impulsive type. No, he was cold and steady as… as… She couldn’t think of anything cold and ruthless enough. Thorne set his own standards for that.
“What’s up?” Bear called as Thorne got out of the truck.
Seeing them side by side, Pippa was struck by how alike and yet not they were. When they were still, it was like a mirror was between them, reflecting a perfect copy back. But when they moved, when their personalities came out, there was zero chance of mistaking one for the other. They barely looked like twins then, at least not to her.
Certainly she had a less than zero urge to roll in the hay with Thorne. If she found herself stuck in the hay barn with him, she’d break a limb, trying to flee.
Thorne didn’t answer his brother at first. Instead, he looked around their property, slowly, calculatingly, almost insultingly.
Pippa forced her mouth to stay shut, to not blurt out all the improvements they’d made, all the things they were still working on. Forced herself to not defend her home from that snide expression of his that said what they had wasn’t worth anything. But she did let her hands curl into fists.
Starting a fight would be a bad idea. Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be here, but neither was Bear. And they weren’t supposed to be here either. Best to simply let Thorne talk to Bear about what he came for and ignore him otherwise.
When Thorne finished his contemptuous survey of the place, his attention landed on Allie. His lip curled. “Of course,” he muttered to himself, as if he found Allie entirely expected and unwanted. Like catching rodents in his feed grain.
That did it for Pippa. He could be rude to her all he wanted, but not to Allie. “You need to get out of here.” Her heart was pounding and her throat was dry, but she forced herself to be fierce. Thorne looked like the kind of guy who only understood bullying.
How was he Bear’s brother again? His twin even?
“So do you,” Thorne said, still staring at Allie. His cold expression was turning angry. His scowl was so mean it made Bear’s scowls look like smiles.
Allie shrank behind Pippa, curling in on herself. Darn it, Pippa should have sent her inside after all. Allie was still too fragile to be dealing with this.
“Stop glaring at her,” Pippa snapped. “It’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
“Okay.” Bear held up his hands, walked toward Thorne. “What happened?”
“Cattle broke through the northwest fence and are out on the road. Which you’d know if you answered your phone.”
Bear’s face immediately twisted with guilt. “Damn it. I left my phone in the tractor.”
“Well, when you’re done fixing the fence here”—Thorne made a gesture toward it that expressed exactly how he felt—“maybe you can come home and help fix that fence. You know, if you have time.”
Pippa exploded then, images of Bear’s tired face flashing through her mind. “He works himself to the bone, and you know it! If he’d had his phone, he would have had already been there, helping you. But you already know that and you just want to make him feel bad. Well… Well…” She crossed her arms, searching for a good finish, one that would knock stupid Thorne Westfall flat. “Well, I won’t let you.”
Thorne looked as if she’d smacked him upside the head. So did Bear. They looked very, very much like identical twins just then.
Maybe that wasn’t quite the finish she wanted, but it seemed to have the desired effect.
“You’re yelling at me?” Thorne blinked as if he couldn’t believe a person would do such a thing. Especially Pippa.
Maybe that was his problem. Not enough people stood up to him when he was a jerk. Although since he seemed to be a jerk so often, maybe not. With his track record, someone had to have sniped at him before.
“You’re yelling at him?” Bear repeated, as stunned as his brother. His expression softened. “For me?”
She put her hands on her hips. Now that she’d said that, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Getting Thorne to leave would probably be best. “Well, yes. Of course for you.” Some strange part of her was twisting inside her chest, making her feel shy. Bashful. Bear’s disbelief that she’d stand up for him was making it happen.
“You need to go get your cows,” she said too loudly because the strange feeling was almost unbearable. “Do you want me to come help? I’m good at catching Hecate now.”
Really, cattle couldn’t be any harder to catch than that cursed goat, for all that they were so much bigger. They certainly couldn’t be more cunning. Or diabolical. Hecate had actually made it to the top of the chicken coop somehow the other day. A cow wasn’t going to do that.
Bear’s answering smile was wide, dazzling. It took her breath away, in the best way. He marched over to her, took her hand, gave it a too brief squeeze. “You’re a genius at catching that goat. But you need to get to work. We’ve got it covered.” His expression flickered with something deeper, rawer. “Thank you.”
If she could catch her breath, she might reach for him, keep him close a moment longer. Instead, she let him walk back to his brother.
“We can’t catch cows,” Allie whispered from behind her.
Before coming to this house, Pippa might have agreed with her. “We could try. Bear would help.”
Thorne wasn’t a bit charmed by their little moment together. His scowl was thunderous. “She yelled at me.”
Allie whimpered with fright. Even Pippa’s heart skipped a beat.
Bear wasn’t daunted. “She’s right—we’ve got to get those cattle. Get in the truck, dummy. You can bring me back to get the dozer later.”
“Dummy?”
“Yeah.” Bear swung himself up into the truck. “Let’s go.”
With one last scathing glare, Thorne followed him.
Pippa watched them drive away, not quite believing what had happened. She had yelled at Thorne. But really, he couldn’t talk to Bear like that.
Bear had liked it. More than liked it, he’d been touched.
She curled her hand over her heart. He wasn’t the only one.