Lip Service. Susan Mallery

far away, bubbled to the surface. What was he supposed to do with himself now? Ride around in the truck, like an old man?

      “I have something for you.”

      He turned toward the voice and saw Arturo leading a bay into the barn. The gelding was big and moved easily.

      Mitch took a step back. His heel caught in the wood floor and he nearly fell into the hay.

      “This is Bullet,” Arturo said, stroking the horse’s nose. “He’s been trained so you can mount him on the right side. You also only need to use your right heel. He’s strong and fast, with a bit of a temper. I thought you two would have that in common.”

      Mitch curled his hands into fists. “I don’t need your help,” he growled.

      “Maybe not, but I’m offering it. Besides, I used your money to buy him.”

      That should have made him smile, but Mitch was beyond humor. He hated everything about the ranch. The chickens, the organic beef with every single thing about their lives documented. He hated how the socks on his stump were soaked with blood every night and how the nightmares kept him from sleeping. He hated that he’d been so grateful to be alive only to find out nothing about his life was how he wanted it.

      “You want to ride again,” Arturo told him. “I know you do.”

      “Stay out of my life.”

      The old man’s mouth tightened. “Fine,” he said, and dropped the reins. He walked out, leaving Mitch and the horse alone in the barn.

      Mitch felt like an ass. He knew Arturo was only trying to help, but there were—

      He heard footsteps and was surprised Arturo had returned. But when he looked toward the entrance he saw a different silhouette.

      “You’re even more of a bastard than I thought,” Skye said as she moved into the barn. “Does it make you feel like a man to hurt people who love you?”

      She was the last person he wanted to see. Worse, she’d witnessed a part of him he had trouble controlling.

      “He loves you,” she said. “He wants you to know that.” She patted the horse’s neck. “Come on, Mitch. Why is that so bad?”

      “Arturo is fine. He can take care of himself.”

      “You’re his family. He shouldn’t have to.”

      “Get out,” he told her.

      She moved closer, until she stood right in front of him. “Are you going to make me? You’ve pretty much peaked on crappy things to say to me. So what’s left?” She raised her chin. “Want to hit me? It seems that you want to hit somebody. Why not me? Don’t I deserve it?”

      “Do you like it rough these days?” he sneered.

      She flushed but held her ground. “I know that certain parts of your life suck, but you got to come home. That counts. You have people who are thrilled you’re back. That counts more. What I want to know is, do you have a timetable on the pity party? Or is it playing indefinitely?”

      “Right. Because it’s so easy for you to judge from your perfect life. Want to trade, Skye? Want to give up a leg or an arm? Live with that for a while and then we’ll talk.”

      “You are so full of crap,” she said. “This isn’t about your leg. This is about you.”

      He wanted to crush her. He wanted to take her and make her beg. He wanted her naked and vulnerable and then he wanted to walk away.

      She stared into his eyes as if daring him to do everything he was thinking. Finally she drew a breath.

      “Erin has provided her DNA sample. Anytime you’re ready, you can do the same. Then we’ll be done.”

      “Erin’s mine. We’re only starting. I’m spending my nights thinking of all the ways I’m going to punish you for what you’ve done to me.”

      Sadness invaded her green eyes. “If hating me gives you strength, then go for it. But I will warn you not to get too excited about taking me on. Erin’s not yours, Mitch. No matter how much you want her to be, she’s not. And if calling me a whore makes that easier to bear, then go for it. Just remember this. That little girl thinks you’re a hero. If you give her one reason to believe otherwise, I will make you regret being born.”

      That made him smile. “You really think you can?”

      “Absolutely. You’re so far down, you don’t care if you live or die. I have something to fight for. My daughter.”

      She left then, her back straight, her long red hair beckoning. He watched her go, admiring her spirit, however delusional. There would only be one winner in this game and it was going to be him.