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If Cash knows, there’s no telling who else does.
“Nothing, big brother, just thought we didn’t shit where we slept. Or where our enemies sleep.”
I grind my teeth together, attempting to slow the blood rush to my head.
“I tried to fire her. You can thank Dolly for that plan not panning out.”
“Oh, I don’t want her gone. Girl can cook.” A few beats of silence fill the air before he continues, “Just don’t know how any of us would feel about our brother screwing an ex.”
My jaw tics at his words. He’s not wrong. When and if Duke finds out Rosie is sleeping in my bed, he’ll try busting my face on principle.
Family matters more than anything to the Redford brothers.
A sick feeling settles in my gut as we pull into the airport. I know I’m fucked with Rosie sleeping in my bed, but I’m more fucked when she’s not.
It’s Tuesday afternoon when I start blacking out while I’m riding my horse to check the newest batch of calves on the north side of the ranch. My hands tremble as I grip the reins. I don’t think I’ll make it back to the ranch house without passing out, but Queen Liz knows the way. She’s been my horse for six years now, and Duke took good care of her while I was gone.
My body moves slowly as I put away my saddle and tack. I return the mare to her stable, tossing her some alfalfa hay before stumbling toward the house.
I pull out my phone to send a text to Rosie.
Holden
Where are you?
She doesn’t respond.
I push through the back door and into the kitchen. For a moment, I stand frozen. The ranch kitchen disappears, replaced by the prison mess hall. I’m on dishwashing duty. I look down, and instead of seeing my crocodile leather boots and jeans, I’m wearing the standard issue black tennis shoes and faded orange pants.
My heart pounds as sweat gathers on my forehead.
In the next moment, it’s gone. I’m back at the ranch, and she’s standing right there, staring at me with slanted eyes.
“Holden?” She’s holding a gray dish rag.
I move over to her, desperate to feel her skin and make sure she’s real. She’s here. She’s not a figment of my imagination, like she was for so long. I reach for her cheek. She’s warm, and her skin is soft.
She’s real.
I close my eyes, leaning down to press my forehead to hers. I breathe in her scent, the sweet vanilla mixing in with the lemon zest she must have been baking with.
“Take a break. Come with me.” I don’t have the energy to come up with any excuse to get her to lie beside me, but I can’t fathom trying to sleep right now and waking up from a nightmare in two hours.
“Okay,” she murmurs.
I reach for her hand, throwing the rag into the sink. She guides me through the hall, down to my bedroom. I’m in a daze as we go into the room. I hear her twist the lock on the knob, feeling my eyelids droop as soon as the peace of her presence settles over me.
I make it to the bed, collapsing on it. I start to remove my boots, followed by my hat.
“Stand up and take off your jeans,” she says.
“Finally admitting you want in my pants?”
“Trying to keep the mud out of the sheets.”
I pull them off before stripping my T-shirt off too. I sprawl out on the bed, not letting go of her hand.
“Stay here,” I tell her, gripping her hand and placing it firmly against my chest.
