Page 22 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

His dark stare burns through me.It delivers a warning.

“You’ll never get away from me.”

“Think of something happy,” I say aloud.

I order my mind to envision beach vacations and spa weekends with my dancer friends—or even the joys of a hot shower.That creek down the hill might allow me to brush my teeth and wash up, but it leaves me trembling with cold.

My mind ignores the command.Instead, it fills itself with thoughts of MacLaine, the hot cowboy rancher.I’ve never seen eyes like his before.His intense violet gaze is lethal.Dangerous.I can’t look away.I think I forgot to breathe when he was standing in front of me today, those eyes shadowed by the wide brim of his caramel-brown felt cowboy hat.

And the impossible-to-hide expanse of his muscular shoulders, arms, and back.

I’m intrigued by much more than his shocking good looks, though.Most of the strong and silent types I’ve known aren’t that way because they’re deep thinkers.Most of the time they don’t talk much because they’ve got nothing to say.They’re just dumb and boring and laser-focused on getting into my panties.

Some of these men are so dumb that they couldn’t pour water from a boot if the directions were written on the bottom of the heel.

That doesn’t apply to MacLaine.He isn’t quiet because he’s dull.Or dumb.And not because he doesn’t have anything to say.There’s so much more going on under that surface of his, and I can’t stop thinking about what’s at his core.

“What ’cha got in the head of yours, MacLaine?”I ask the empty room.“You got any thoughts of me, by any chance?”

Who cares what’s in MacLaine’s head?It wouldn’t matter if he’s Plato in a plaid flannel shirt.I’m not interested in him or any other man.I’m only interested in surviving.

And anyway, he’s absolutely right about one thing… I won’t be staying.

It’s just that I have no idea where to go.

CHAPTER 11

Special K

“Taken care of,” I lie.

My brothers have cornered me in the equipment shed near the barn, which pisses me off.I’m here to load up the trailer with more shit for Boots, but another drive to the ridge won’t be happening until I throw these coyotes off my scent.

They’re on my back about Boots, who Evander refers to asour lady trespasser.

I do my best to steer them toward anything else—talk of weddings and babies and summer vacation plans—but they’re not falling for it.Apparently, my brothers haven’t morphed into complete pussies since falling in love, because they’re not letting up.

I don’t enjoy being the center of attention.I barely tolerate hanging back on the edges of the family.So, this four-against-one ambush is some first-rate bullshit.

I’m about ready to spin around, fists flying.I can kick all their asses.I for sure know that I can take on Finn, Declan, and Evander all at the same time.But if Cal joins in, there’s a fair chance of me not living to see another sunrise.

“You know,” Evander says pressing closer.“I can file charges against our lady trespasser any time.I double-checked the land records at the county recorder’s office.There’s a zero-point-zero percent chance that she has any legitimate claim to any part of this ranch.”

I turn my back on them and pretend to do something other than what I came out here to do.I even consider polishing the stainless-steel storage bins—anything to show them that no matter how hard they come at me, they’ll get no reaction.

“Maybe the ridge isn’t the only thing she’s squatting on,” Declan says.

“Fuck off,” I mumble.

“A complete sentence!”Declan laughs.“Am I right that I’ve touched a nerve with our little brother?”

“Enough, chucklefuck.”Cal slaps Declan on the back of his head.

“Watch it!”Declan rubs his skull.“You know my brain is a quantum computing natural wonder of the world!Nobody wants to fuck that shit up.”

Finn steps forward, and I can feel him pressing in behind me.“What’re you up to, K?”His breath is hot on the back of my neck.“Declan’s right.Something’s going on with you.”

“Am I filing charges or not?”Evander asks.“I got wedding shit to do, you know.I still haven’t decided on which cummerbund goes best with my tux and time’s running out.”