Page 30 of His Fake Fiancé

His relationship with his sons had been a little more challenging, but Mama had made sure to soften the rough edges. It also helped that, as the baby of the family, Jake had managed to get away with a lot. Maybe too much.

His cowboy hat hung on the peg next to the door, along with an assortment of others that belonged to various folks who called the ranch home. He usually wore the hat because it hammered home the whole cowboy thing. And the ladies loved it. But somehow, today, it didn’t feel right. He shrugged on his winter coat and pulled the door open. The cold morning air rushed in and he shivered.

He couldn’t shake the feeling he was running away from something. Which was dumb, because what did he have to run away from?

The image of Claire and Olivia in the bed, and how much, in the moment, he’d wanted to climb in there with them, raced through his brain.

Yeah, okay, so maybe he was running. But it was just because he had no idea what the hell was going on with him. Or why he was freaking out so much about everything lately. He just needed to get away from everyone and get his head on straight. That would make everything better, make it all go back to normal.

He turned back to Mama. “Can I get you to check on Claire and Olivia for me?”

Mama’s brows drew together. “Why?”

“They were sleeping when I left, so I just want to make sure they’re settling in and everything.” There, that sounded believable.

She cocked her head and stared at him. His skin felt tight and prickly, and he shifted from one foot to the other.

The moment stretched between them until he couldn’t take it anymore. “You know, I’d d-do it, but I didn’t want to w-wake them, and I’m sure Owen’ll keep me pretty b-busy all m-morning and…” He let the words drift to a stop and blew out a breath. What was with the stupid, fucking stutter? He’d managed to get it under control years ago, and then all of a sudden it was back, making him look like a moron.

One side of Mama’s mouth flattened, and like usual, he didn’t know what she was thinking. Why was he so bad at this? If he’d thought time had slowed before, it was nothing compared to now. Seconds morphed into hours as he stood there, the urge to squirm almost overwhelming.

Finally, Mama let him off the hook—like usual—and gave a quick nod. “Of course, I’ll check in on them. You go and help Owen and I’ll make sure Claire and the baby are settling in.” And then she handed him a travel mug of coffee, shooed him out the door, and closed it behind him.

Which was how he’d found himself standing on the back porch, way too early in the morning, with a cup of coffee and nowhere to go.

So, he went in search of Owen. He found his brother in the workshop, going over a checklist of some sort.

Owen glanced up, and then did a double take. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Jake walked over to the workbench and took a sip of his coffee, mainly to stop from saying something that would probably end up with one of them in a headlock. And maybe with a split lip or a black eye.

Owen had never been exceptionally pleasant, and after he and his wife split, he’d turned into a downright surly motherfucker. Jake never claimed to understand his brother’s pain, so he didn’t call him on his shit. But it had been almost two years since their marriage imploded, and it was time he got out of his funk. Of course, if anyone said anything, they got their head ripped off. It was getting old.

“I came to see if you needed any help with anything.” Jake put his coffee down and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. Why did he always feel like a dumb kid around his brothers? Like a screw up? They’d all decided on a path in life and followed it, making something of themselves, whereas he was still floundering around at twenty-six, with no direction, and a baby as a result of a hook up on the Fourth of July. No wonder they saw him as a fucking child.

Owen grunted, which for him could mean any number of things: yes, no, possibly, follow me, go fuck yourself. Thankfully, Jake was fluent in asshole, and took it to mean that yes, Owen had something for him to do today.

Sam, the ranch foreman, walked through the door. He tilted his chin in their direction. “Hey, Jake.”

“Morning, Sam.” Jake gave him a return chin lift.

“We don’t usually see you this early.”

Jake made a non-committal hum. He didn’t need to justify himself or his actions to Sam, or anyone else for that matter. And if they didn’t want his help today, that was fine. He’d find something else to do. He glanced at Owen, biting back the need to tell them both to fuck off. It wasn’t their fault Jake was in an unusually shitty mood.

Owen continued marking off shit on his list without looking up. His face was shaded by his cowboy hat—which he wore unironically—which made it difficult to make out his expression. Knowing Owen, it was probably pissed off. “There’s some broken fence out in the summer pasture.”

Not the most stimulating job, but at least it was something, and it would get Jake away from here. He just needed a bit of time to himself to sort his head out, and then he’d be good to go.

“Sounds good.” He grabbed a tool box off the shelf and loaded it into the bed of one of the work trucks.

“You want some help? I can get one of the guys—”

He glanced over at Sam and smiled. It felt forced and tight. What the fuck was wrong with him today? “No, thanks. I’m good.”

Sam nodded and didn’t press. It was one of the things Jake liked about him. He was a straight-laced, all-cards-on-the-table kind of guy. It helped that he’d known Sam his entire life. Mama used to babysit Sam and his brothers and sister when they were all kids, so they’d basically all grown up together. There’d been some ugly shit between Declan and Sam’s sister, Shelby, back when they were in high school, but Sam had never let that affect his work or his relationship with the rest of the family. He was a good guy.

Jake went over the details and location with Owen, and then climbed into the truck and was off, driving toward the summer pasture. The cattle were rotated through different pastures depending on the time of year. Each one was specifically designed to optimize the feed or some shit. He really didn’t know the specifics, which probably made his dad spin in his grave like a fucking top. This ranch had been his dad’s whole life. It had often felt like he cared more about the land than he had about his family.