Slade’s thoughts were a million miles away as he pulled his pickup onto the Becketts’ long gravel driveway. Probably a good thing he’d made this very same drive so often over the years, seeing as he couldn’t seem to be able to keep his mind on the road.
Even after nearly a week of not seeing her, he was thinking of Laney and Brody and wondering what Baby Beckett would look like. Would the little nipper have Brody’s white-blond hair or a rich caramel brown like Laney? Laney’s chocolate-brown eyes or Brody’s light blue ones?
He had no doubt that any kid with Brody’s and Laney’s genes was going to be a cutie. However Slade personally felt about Laney, any man with eyes in his head would have to admit she was a real looker, the kind of woman that would cause a man to do a double-take if he passed her on the street. And while Slade had no clue what women found attractive in a man, he knew Brody had never had any trouble catching the ladies’ attention. Women had flocked to him, especially buckle bunnies like Laney.
Not that it mattered one way or another what the baby looked like. Slade was going to love the kid—purple, green, blue or otherwise. He would love Baby Beckett, and protect and defend the child against whatever life through at him or her. Teach the kid everything he knew about ranching. About life.
It was the least he could do, since it was his fault the child would be growing up without a father. He owed Brody that much, and more.
Slade scowled when he realized there wasn’t a single place to park in front of the Becketts’ house. What was the deal? If the Becketts were throwing a party, they’d forgotten to invite him—not that anyone had parties on a Monday morning. He couldn’t even take a guess what was really going on.
He pulled farther down the driveway and parked his truck in the only empty spot he could find. His original intention in coming to the Becketts’ this morning was to saddle Nocturne, ride her to his parents’ spread next door where he would stable her permanently, and afterward walk back for his truck.
He’d been bedding his horse at the Becketts’ for long enough, though he still had every intention of helping them out wherever and whenever he could, just as he’d promised. He’d give Laney pointers on ranching and of course he’d be around when Baby Beckett arrived, but at the moment he felt it was time to back off and get a little distance from the situation. For his own good. Every day it seemed he was getting more and more wrapped up in Laney, both in the circumstances they each faced and in the woman herself. Half the time he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.
“What’s all this?” he muttered to himself, taking stock of the trucks parked up and down the driveway in front of the house—old, new and everything in between. Some familiar. Most not.
He started toward the house to investigate, then turned when he heard a ruckus coming from the ranchers’ bunkhouse, where the wranglers slept and Brody’s father kept his office. Grant primarily oversaw the ranch, but Brody had always helped when he was around and as time allowed. Slade knew Brody would have eventually found his way home again, taken over the ranch for good. Started a family.
But now everything had changed. Brody was gone. The ranch belonged to Laney. And there was a long line of scruffy, weathered cowboys, some young and some older than their beat-up trucks appeared to be, winding out of the office and around the bunkhouse.
Slade didn’t recognize more than a few of them, and he knew everyone in Serendipity. Something was definitely up, and with the way his stomach was twisting and turning, he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to like what he found. He’d learned to trust those inner nudges that he couldn’t always explain. Those gut feelings were part of what made him so good at everything he did, from bull riding to serving as a police officer.
He strode across the uneven ground, his boots first crunching against the gravel and then silently sweeping through the long grass. He was going to get to the bottom of this.
Now.
It very well might not be any of his business. Grant probably had it all under control—whatever it was. Call it curiosity, or another opportunity to find a way to help the Becketts. He’d know soon enough.
“Hey,” one of the younger wranglers protested when he ignored the long line of cowboys and cut through to the door of the office. Slade didn’t care if he was breaking the rules, and he especially wasn’t concerned over what the other men in the long line thought of him. He wasn’t some random cowpoke applying for a job at the ranch. Was that why these men were here? Was Grant doing some hiring? Maybe one of the wranglers had given notice.
He entered the office with a friendly greeting for Grant on his lips, but stopped short in the doorway as if he’d slammed into an invisible force field. Laney was sitting behind Grant’s desk with those silly reading glasses of hers perched on the end of her nose. She looked completely out of her element, her hair combed back into a neat ponytail, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her full lips curved up at the corners. She looked as neat and fresh as a bouquet of tulips in a room that was anything but. Her appearance was a stark contrast to the rest of her surroundings. Random piles of papers and file folders littered the top of the desk. The smell of sweat and leather permeated the room and lingered in the stale air.
And that was to say nothing of the sloppily-dressed wrangler standing before the desk, dusty hat in hand and one side of his shirt untucked and dangling like a tail at the back of his well-worn blue jeans. The man flashed Slade an irritated frown, which Slade completely ignored. The wrangler didn’t worry him. He was far more concerned about Laney’s thunderous scowl and the lightning flashing in her brown eyes.
Fire and ice. Everything about the woman was contrary.
“What’s going on here?” He could guess, but he wanted to hear it from her. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest.
Her eyes narrowed and her spine straightened. “Excuse me?”
The lanky wrangler across from Laney turned and faced Slade. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are, but there’s an interview goin’ on here, and in case you didn’t notice, there’s a line outside the door. You wanna talk to the missus here, go wait your turn with the rest of the boys.”
Slade was many things, but a boy he wasn’t. He stared the man down for a moment before shifting his gaze to Laney, who didn’t quite meet his eyes.
Yep. He knew it. The woman had definitely bitten off more than she could chew. If she ended up hiring some mouthy cowpoke like the guy standing in front of her, there would be no end to the trouble she’d find herself in. The fellow would take advantage of her at every turn. In fact, he was fairly certain most of the cowboys hanging outside the office fell into that category. He couldn’t imagine why Grant thought he could leave her alone to handle whatever hiring was being done here. Laney was so far out of her element it wasn’t even funny, and he suspected she knew it.
“You,” he said, pointing to the cowboy and then jerking his thumb toward the door. “Out.”
The man clenched his fists around the brim of his hat and pressed his chest out like a rooster. Slade knew a challenge when he saw one. He stood to his full six-two height and took a single step forward. He didn’t need to posture. The warning in his gaze would be enough to send the scrawny man running, if the fellow had any sense.
“This ain’t over,” the man threatened, jamming his hat on his head before stomping out the door.
“Yeah, whatever.” Slade grinned in satisfaction and nodded at Laney. “That guy won’t be back.”
Laney stood up so fast she knocked a pile of file folders to the floor. “Getting rid of him was not your decision to make.”
Wait—what?
He’d just saved her the major hassle of having to find a way to boot that guy to the curb. She ought to be thanking him right now. Unless...
“You weren’t seriously thinking about—”
Laney cut him off. “No, of course I wasn’t. Contrary to what certain people around here believe about me, I do have a brain in my head.”
He’d never said—never even thought—she was stupid, but she was staring at him as if he’d just openly accused her of that very thing.
No. Not staring.
Glaring daggers at him.
“Are you quite finished trying to take over my interviewing?” she demanded. “Because as you can see from the line outside, I’m super busy right now and I don’t have time for your nonsense.”
His nonsense? Now that was getting personal.
So she didn’t want him to stick around. Then forget formalities. He’d cut straight to the chase. If she didn’t like it, then too bad for her. He was making this his business now whether she wanted him to or not. She was clearly in over her head, and he wouldn’t let her be taken advantage of. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing with these guys? Whose position are you looking to fill?”
“Not that it’s any of your affair, but I’m looking to hire a foreman.” Her brow furrowed and strained lines appeared over her pinched lips.
So she was—what? Cutting Grant off from his own ranch and the only life the man had ever known? And all this after she’d assured him—them—that nothing would change. Anger burned in Slade’s gut, rising upward to spread across his shoulder and neck. It was all he could do to keep himself in check.
He should have known better than to trust a woman. To trust Laney.
“Why?” It was the only word he could manage without coming apart on her. He tensed for the answer, ready to be mentally sideswiped and thoroughly prepared to fight back. Baby or no baby, he wasn’t going to let Laney step all over Brody’s parents. He didn’t care what Brody’s will said, or what he’d promised the Becketts in regards to Laney. She was not going to get away with this.
“Why?” she repeated, shaking her head. She stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. The woman actually had the gall to look confused, as if she didn’t know why he was upset. “Why what? Why I’m hiring a foreman?”
She was trying to play him for a fool. Well, he was having none of it. No woman was going to pull the wool over his eyes, especially not Laney Beckett. She may have fooled Brody, but she’d never get to him.
“Last time I checked, Grant ran this ranch. He’s never seen the need to have a foreman before. He’s always handled everything himself.”
And he didn’t need a foreman now. He didn’t say the words aloud. He didn’t have to. Clearly Laney understood what was not being said. Good for her. She could read between the lines.
She gave an exasperated sigh. “So that’s what this is about. You’re worried about the Becketts.”
“Yeah, that’s what this is about,” Slade growled, seething in frustration as he jerked his head toward the doorway. “How am I supposed to take it when I see all those guys out there waiting to take over Grant’s life’s work?”
With measured steps, Laney returned to her seat behind the desk and gestured to the chair opposite, then leaned down to collect the folders she’d previously knocked to the floor. He, on the other hand, was less smooth in his movements. He stomped to the chair she offered and threw himself into it with a grunt, even going so far as to prop his booted feet on the desktop.
She stared pointedly at his boots and then shook her head, not taking up the bait.
“I’m not trying to hurt Grant,” she said, her voice and her gaze softening. “I’m trying to help him.”
“By replacing him?” Slade tried to control his tone but knew the question sounded sharp, even judgmental. He couldn’t help it, because that was exactly how he was feeling at the moment, and he’d never been very good at masking his emotions.
“I’m not replacing him, exactly. Just finding both of us some extra assistance until I can get my feet under me. He needs more help than I can give him right now, especially until I have the baby. After that, we’ll see.”
She was talking about Grant as if he was some doddering old senior, not the strong, vibrant rancher who spent every day in the saddle.
“If you think any of that bunch out there can do what Grant does, then you don’t know the first thing about running a ranch,” Slade said. He would have continued, but Laney cut him off with a frown and a slash of her hand.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but you don’t need to point out my weaknesses to me. I’m perfectly aware that I have a huge learning curve to conquer.” She met his gaze squarely. “And I know I’m not in the best position right now to be taking on ranch work. But make no mistake—I will figure all of this out, even if it takes me a while to get everything straight. I’m determined to do whatever it takes to keep Baby Beckett’s legacy on solid ground, so to speak. Nothing and nobody is going to get in my way.”
She almost made it sound as if he was the one blocking her progress. He bristled. He wasn’t the one they were talking about right now. “So you’re just pushing Grant out of your way?”
Laney looked as if she was about to blow a fuse. He could actually see it in the cherry-red flush of her face. If ever there was a time when he felt like ducking and running for cover, this was it. The woman was ready to explode, and he was the target. “No. Of course not. Nothing remotely like that. I can’t even believe you would suggest such a thing. I would never disrespect Grant that way.”
“You already have. He doesn’t need extra help.”
Her gaze locked with his. “Yes, Slade. He does.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s spent nearly every day of his life out here working on the ranch.”
“Exactly. I’m not saying he’s over the hill, but he’s tired. The two of us have talked about it at length. He always assumed Brody would settle down and take responsibility for the ranch some day. Brody passed that duty over to me when he left me the ranch in his will, and I want to do whatever I can to lighten Grant’s load. Someday I pray Brody’s child will have the honor of taking over this land, but in the meantime, I have every intention of hiring someone knowledgeable to show me the ropes. I’ve got a long road ahead of me if I’m going to keep the Becketts’ cattle business in the black. I need to know every aspect of the business, and I figure a good foreman will be the best way to do that.”
“You’re going to take over running this ranch?” It was one thing to own a ranch—but quite another thing altogether if she thought she could just step in and run the place.
She scoffed. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’ll have you know I have a master’s degree in business administration. Granted, I didn’t expect my career to lean toward cattle ranching, but I’m fairly certain my background will serve the Becketts in good stead.”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean—”
“I know exactly what you meant. I have no experience and I’m going to get in way over my head. I won’t be able to handle it, and I’m going to crash and burn.” Her shoulders stiffened and she rubbed at a spot on her belly.
The baby. In Slade’s haste to force the truth from her and find out what was really at the foundation of her actions, he’d forgotten that what affected Laney also affected Baby Beckett. Laney getting all stressed out wasn’t going to help Brody’s kid, and he didn’t want that to happen, no matter how frustrated he was.
She was right about one thing, although probably not in the way she’d meant it. He didn’t know if she was capable of running a cattle ranch, though he had good reason to doubt it, whether she had one business degree or a dozen. Most folks with ranches were born and raised for country life. He’d only seen her at that one rodeo where she and Brody had met, but as far as Slade knew, Laney had been one of those fancy rodeo princesses who wore lots of sparkles and waved flags around and whose only job was to sit on a horse and look pretty. Which, he granted, she probably did quite well. But she had to realize that wasn’t the same thing as wrangling cattle. Not by a long shot.
Even from behind a desk, running a ranch wasn’t for the faint of heart. So she had a couple of diplomas hanging on her wall. Good for her. Classroom learning wouldn’t cut it, not out here on the range. It was a tough life. It required a firm hand and plenty of understanding of what needed to be done. Even a task as simple as overseeing the wranglers could be a disaster with the wrong person in charge. The interview Slade had walked in on clearly showed that Laney didn’t know how to handle those situations. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. There’d be many more challenging and stressful issues she’d have to face.
That was what worried Slade the most. Even if the pressure didn’t directly affect the baby, and that was a big if—one which Slade didn’t want to leave to chance—it would eventually be too much for Laney to handle. If he didn’t miss his guess, she’d buckle within a week or two, pack up and leave town for good.
And then where would he be?
Out of Baby Beckett’s life.
Slade clenched his jaw to offset the ache that had opened up in his heart. That wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it happen. No matter what, he had to watch Brody’s kid grow up, be part of the kid’s life. He needed to be Uncle Slade, the fun one whom the child would look forward to seeing. Baby Beckett was all he had left of his friend, and he would be hog-tied and branded before he let Laney out of his sight and out of his life.
“Send those guys away.” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a demand, exactly, though he knew that was how it came out.
“Excuse me? Are you trying to order me around again? I believe we’ve covered this ground already. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
He sighed deeply, using every resource in his small arsenal to keep his cool with her. “I’m not giving you an order. I’m trying to help you here, and it would be really good if you’d just listen to what I’m trying to tell you is going to happen.”
Her jaw dropped, her gaping mouth only slightly wider than her eyes.
He took a deep breath and started again.
“You can send them away now, and good riddance to every last one of ’em. You don’t need to worry about this anymore, and you definitely don’t need the hassle of trying to work with any of those guys.” He didn’t even want to think about what kind of situation she’d almost put herself in. Judging by the looks of them—not to mention by the attitude of the one he’d spoken to himself—none of the wranglers waiting to interview with Laney came even close to what she needed right now. “If you’d rather, I would be happy to do the honors for you, only I’m warning you it won’t look so pretty if I’m the one to kick them out.”
Her mouth snapped shut and she shook her head. “Really, Slade? Clearly you haven’t heard a word I’ve said all day.”
“Oh, I heard, all right. Giving Grant a break. Business degree. Running the ranch.” He ticked off the list on his fingers. “But you aren’t going to need to interview any more of these wranglers to find someone to show you the ropes. Simple as that.”
She huffed out a disbelieving breath and arched one dark eyebrow.
“And why is that?” Her voice sounded more than a little bit acerbic. As if she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Oh, maybe she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Well. He could fix that.
He stood and braced his hands on the desk, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from hers, so close he could smell the fresh, clean woodsy scent of her perfume. Not that he noticed.
“Because,” he said softly, slowly, with every ounce of determination and certainty he possessed, “I’m your man.”
* * *
Miserable man.
Laney took the long way to the community stable in town where Slade had told her to meet him, enjoying a brisk walk to clear her head before heading in the direction he’d indicated. She couldn’t imagine why he’d need to spend any time at a public stable, much less why he’d want her to meet him there. Even before he’d agreed to help her learn the ins and outs of the ranching business, he had kept Nocturne on at the Becketts. No need to rent a horse, or find a place to ride one.
If he was planning to start educating her about life on her ranch, she would have thought that he’d want to meet her at her ranch.
Slade was her man.
Ugh. Two days wasn’t enough time for her to get over his incredible arrogance. She hadn’t liked the statement when he’d made it, and she didn’t like it now. She was beginning to believe no amount of time would diminish the intensity of the utter annoyance she experienced every time she thought of the stubborn cowboy. Slade was every bit as overbearing in personality as he was in size, and that said a lot, big oaf that he was. If she had any sense at all, she ought to have told him where to hang his offer—right off his beak.
She should have. And she would have.
Except for one tiny, indelible fact which she couldn’t ignore even if she wanted to—and oh, how she wanted to.
He was right.
As much as she hated to admit it, Slade showing her the ropes and helping her out until she learned all the things she needed to know to keep the Beckett ranch running smoothly made sense—in the worst possible way. And not only because she’d gotten a bad feeling from every one of the wranglers she had interviewed. Hiring any of them would have been a disaster. She couldn’t have trusted a single one of them. And while she couldn’t really trust Slade to be kind or compassionate or anything other than the overbearing boor that he was, she knew he had the best interests of the ranch at heart.
He was a friend of the family. For reasons she couldn’t even begin to understand, Grant and Carol trusted him implicitly and practically considered him their own son. It was no doubt a great consolation to them to have him around now that Brody was gone. Slade had worked the Beckett land with Brody when they’d been younger, giving him a unique advantage when it came to showing her the ropes.
Hadn’t he been checking their fences for the Becketts her first day back in Serendipity? She hated to admit she needed help, most especially from Slade, but his arrival that day had been a Godsend. He’d returned her to the Becketts’ house without incident when otherwise she might have—probably would have, if she was being honest—been hopelessly lost.
That didn’t make it easier for her now. She had to swallow gall just to consider what she was about to do.
Even though she was already feeling winded from the extra weight she carried in her midsection and the way the baby pressed up on her lungs, she picked up her pace to just short of a jog. She missed being able to exercise the way she used to prepregnancy. She’d been a regular jogger. Her morning runs were one of the few opportunities she had to get out of her own head and just be. She couldn’t wait to get back to it once Baby Beckett was born. But with the size of her stomach right now, she was well past running anywhere, and for now, brisk walking—which she suspected looked more like a waddle—would have to do.
Working with Slade would likewise have to do. The man was infuriating on so many levels. It couldn’t possibly be good for her blood pressure to be constantly around him. And even that would be a potential problem. The thought made her chuckle. She could only imagine what would happen if she so much as hinted to the overbearing cowboy that his presence was causing her pulse to rise, putting the baby at risk.
Just kidding.
He’d be racing her to Dr. Delia’s faster than she could say boo.
After another minute’s walk she spotted the stable on the far corner of the block, located across the street from the park. She was getting her bearings around town and even becoming more used to the sounds and smells of country life. She didn’t know that she would have intentionally traded the conveniences of city life for Serendipity’s slower pace if she’d carefully considered the matter, but she’d made that decision sight-unseen the night she’d married Brody in a spur-of-the-moment Las Vegas wedding.
She would have followed Brody to his childhood home in a second once they were married had Brody given her any encouragement to do so, instead of renting an apartment in Houston as they had. And now that she was carrying his baby, she wasn’t about to turn her back on her obligations. The way she saw it, whether she’d come home with Brody back when they’d first married or now, without him and grieving for him, she would have ended up in Serendipity.
It was inevitable. She just wished it hadn’t happened in a way that left her feeling so alone.
Baby Beckett picked that moment to jam his or her heel into her rib, a sharp, active and very real reminder that she wasn’t alone—and that she had the most important reason of all to make her life in the country work.
Brody’s child.
She started toward the interior of the building but her attention was drawn toward a large corral where she saw a gaggle of teenage girls hanging over the side of a split-rail fence, clearly and quite loudly vying for the attention of whomever was inside. Probably some cowboy strutting his stuff for the poor, impressionable teenagers.
Some cowboy. She scoffed and shook her head, playing a hunch as she changed direction and headed for the corral. Slade was such a show off, especially to females. Even—or maybe especially—to the young, impressionable ones. And the old ladies who got a kick out of the handsome cowboy flirting with them. And women of every age in between.
Except for her.
It took Laney a moment to insert herself between two of the giggling girls before she could see who they were cheering for.
Her gaze landed on a single dark-haired cowboy and her smile dropped like lead. Her breath froze in her lungs.
It was Slade, all right. She’d expected as much. What she hadn’t been prepared to see was that he was crouched on top of a fearsome-looking bull, shifting his weight and adjusting the strap across his hand, which, as far as Laney could see, was the only thing between him and disaster.
Or death.
What was he thinking?
Had he abandoned all sense? He’d recently lost his best friend in a bull-riding incident and he was riding again?
What kind of fool even did that? He was certifiable. Crazy. Out of his mind.
“Slade,” she called, not expecting him to hear her over the chatter of the silly girls who continued to egg him on. The animal snorted and butted at the metal gate and Slade appeared to be completely in the moment, his attention solely on the bull underneath him, but at the last second he lifted his head and his gaze met hers.
Then someone opened the gate and the bull was loose.
Laney couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move at all beyond tightly gripping the fence, not even caring when splinters pierced the soft skin of her palms. She was certain her heart had stopped beating.
She remembered the first rodeo she’d been to, the one where she’d met Brody. She’d been impressed by the strength and athleticism of the bull riders and had been especially flattered when she’d been approached by one of them. Brody Beckett, with his fair good looks and charming smile, had simply swept her right off her feet.
Time stood still as Laney watched Slade. This wasn’t even a rodeo. It was a guy on a bull in a mostly empty corral with only one cowboy there to spot him. How would he even know when his ride was supposed to be finished?
More to the point, how did a man even stay on such an angry beast, even for one second, never mind eight? Slade made it look easy. With effortless grace and athleticism, he anticipated the bull’s every move and brilliantly compensated, even when the animal dug in all four feet and hopped sideways and backward.
After what seemed like forever, a buzzer sounded and the man spotting Slade pulled his horse in close so Slade could jump to safety, if that’s what it was. The way Laney saw it, he practically flew off the bull, seriously jarring his body when he landed on his feet and jogged a couple of feet to regain his balance.
Slade bent to retrieve his black Stetson, which he’d lost about halfway through his ride. He raked his fingers through his hair, replaced his hat, and tipped it in her direction. Or maybe he was acknowledging his little fan club. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.
Laney felt the heat rising to her cheeks as her breath returned to her lungs. Her heart, which had only moments before been a still, solid mass in her throat now jolted back to life and started beating with all the vengeance of a jackhammer.
Slade disappeared behind the high row of bullpens. Laney pulled her hands from the fence and picked at the sharp splinters, welcoming the pain to distract her. Better than thinking about what she was going to do to Slade when she saw him.
“Laney.” Slade’s rich, deep voice came from over her left shoulder and she stiffened but did not turn. The teenage girls’ chattering increased exponentially, sounding as if they’d gone from a few sparrows to an entire flock of geese. Laney watched Slade from the corner of her eye and was surprised when he didn’t so much as acknowledge his young fans.
Instead, he moved in right next to Laney, leaning a forearm against the fence and bracing a foot on the lower rail. The long sleeves of his dirty white Western shirt probably prevented him from getting the splinters Laney had received, but it would have served him right if he’d picked up one or two, or a whole log’s worth of them.
Feeling as if she were about to boil over, she refused to look at him until he nudged her shoulder with his.
“So, what did you think?”
What did she think? What did she think?
She whirled on him and let him feel the full force of her fury. Anger and grief and a surprisingly heavy dose of anxiety coursed through her as she glared daggers at him, clenching her fists as tension rolled through her.
This wasn’t about thinking. It was about feeling. And right now she was feeling—well, she didn’t even know. Just that he’d opened something in her that she desperately wanted to remain closed.
Unable to contain herself any longer, she reached for his chest and took handfuls of his shirt in her fists. At first she had the notion of shaking some sense into him, but the man was built like a tree. She could have pushed all day and he wouldn’t have budged.
Not unless he wanted to.
He wrapped his large hands over hers, completely encompassing them, but instead of forcefully breaking her hold on his shirt, he lightly brushed the rough pads of his thumbs across the backs of her hands.
There was pride striking back from the depths of his blue eyes, but there was confusion, too, and other emotions Laney couldn’t put a name to, which made her feel even more vulnerable than she already was.
“How could you?” she choked out. Slade’s gentle response had taken the wind from her sails and her voice sounded more like a sob than a demand. “How could you go back to riding bulls after what happened to Brody? Don’t you have any sense at all? Any kindness in your heart, knowing that I’d be here—that I’d see? Did you even think about what I might be feeling?”
His features hardened and his brow lowered.
She knew what she was about to say wasn’t a fair question, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her tongue was lashing out with all the fury of a horse whip, her emotions a runaway train with no brakes to stop her from falling over the edge of the ravine.
“Never mind me—don’t you care about Brody at all?”