Wild Ride Cowboy. Maisey Yates

she’d indicated, then took a look around the room. It was sparse—the floor, walls and ceiling all made with rustic wood paneling. There was a red rug on the floor with a geometric design that provided the only bit of color to the room, other than a big, cheery yellow cabinet that was shoved in the back of the kitchen, packed full to the brim with white plates. It seemed a little incongruous with the rest of the place. And at odds with the rickety dining table and its mismatched chairs.

      He had never been to Jason’s house before. They had met when they were in high school, and consequently, had spent their time hanging out away from the watchful eyes of parents and guardians. After that, they’d wound up serving together in the military.

      The place was...well, cozy was a nice word for it. Eclectic badger den possibly less nice but more accurate.

      “I’m hungry,” Clara said, fishing one of the cans out of the bag. “Don’t taint my SpaghettiOs with your judgment.”

      “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

      He watched as she moved around the efficient little kitchen, making small economical movements, getting out a blue-and-white speckled tin bowl and a little pan, then opening the SpaghettiOs and dumping them in it. She put the pan on the front burner, turning it to high, then whirled around to face him.

      “Okay. What are we talking about?”

      “Do you want to wait until you’ve eaten your dinner?”

      “No.” She turned around and opened the fridge, pulling out a can of Coke before popping it open and taking a long drink. She didn’t offer him one, he noticed.

      “I was contacted by your family lawyer shortly after Jason’s death.”

      Clara crossed her arms, her lips going tight. “Okay, why did he call you?”

      “Why didn’t he call you, Clara? I expected you would have talked to him.”

      She bit her lip. “Well. He did. But we didn’t talk.” Alex stared her down and her cheeks turned increasingly red as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I’ve been busy,” she added defensively.

      “Well, if you hadn’t been too busy for the lawyer, he might have talked to you about the fact your brother’s will concerns me.”

      “Excuse me?” This was the part he had been avoiding. The thing he had not been looking forward to. Because his friend had left him with property, had left him with his earthly possessions and a letter explaining his feelings, which ultimately were only that: the feelings of a dead man. Alex had to try to fill in blanks he wasn’t sure could be filled. He’d tried to reason it all out to decide if he could justify defying Jason’s wishes. He hadn’t been able to. So here he was.

      “He left me in charge of the estate,” he continued. “The ranch, everything on it, everything in it, the house—until things are stable or until one year has passed.”

      Clara didn’t move. The only indication she was reacting to his words at all was that her face had gone completely waxen.

      “Do you understand what I’m saying, Clara? I have a stake in this house now. And in this ranch. Your brother left me in charge.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      “CLARA?”

      Clara knew she was supposed to respond. She was supposed to say something. Yell, maybe. Or cry? Something. Alex was standing there telling her he was now linked—legally—to this place that she had poured her whole self into.

      She’d grown up here. All twenty-one years of her life. Jason had joined the army when she was just eight years old, coming back intermittently when her parents hadn’t been able to care for her. But since she’d turned eighteen it had all been on her.

      There had been no college. No dates. There had been this ranch. It was hers. And now he was just...taking that?

      She didn’t scream, though. Instead, she just stood there, numbness spreading from her mouth to the rest of her face. She was way too familiar with this feeling. With the moment the earth fell away and the world shifted. With innocuous moments rolling over and becoming something significant.

      With her life changing completely between one breath and the next.

      That was the worst part about this moment. Not that it was singular in its awfulness, but that it wasn’t.

      Of course there was more. Of course there would be no putting her head down and simply getting over this. Moving on to the next thing. Getting used to her new, incredibly crappy normal.

      Alex had just redefined normal. Again.

      Asshole.

      That little internal invective seemed to wake up something inside of her and her gaze snapped to his. “He left everything to you?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why?” She was shaking now, a strange, deep trembling that started at the center of her chest and began to work its way out her limbs. “Why would he leave everything to you? I’m the one who’s been living here. I’m the one who’s been taking care of this place while he was deployed.”

      “He wanted to make sure you were taken care of,” Alex said, his tone maddeningly flat.

      “Then he shouldn’t have died!” The words exploded from her, and it didn’t matter if they were fair or not. It was how she felt. And Jason was dead anyway, so he couldn’t hear them. Couldn’t get a sense for how upset she was that he had died.

      “But he did,” Alex said, his bluntness offensive to her wounded heart. “And he made it pretty clear to me what was supposed to happen if he did.”

      “I am a grown woman, why did he think he needed to send you here? I’ve been here without him all this time.” She didn’t feel like a grown woman right now. She felt like the floor was shifting under her feet and she didn’t have the strength to stay standing.

      “You’re not a grown woman to him, Clara,” Alex said, slipping up and talking about Jason as if he still thought anything. As if he might be about to walk in the door from a long fishing trip. “The way he talked about you...you were his kid sister. He worried about you constantly, and he worried especially about what would happen to you if he couldn’t come home to you.”

      Clara’s eyes felt scratchy with the effort of holding back all the emotion that was swamping her.

      Jason had been her hero. He’d taught her to ride a horse. He’d taught her to fish—which she’d hated, but she would go with him anyway. Every weekend he was home, he would pack a picnic with the sandwiches he knew she liked and they would drive to the river.

      He’d park his truck on the side of the road and they’d hike down the sandy trail together and sit on the rocks for hours. Talking while they sat there mostly not landing any fish.

      And when she’d complain, Jason had always said, “This is why they call it fishing, not catching.”

      The image of her brother standing out by the river with that carefree grin on his face felt like a stab to the chest.

      Alex shifted, rapping his knuckles on her table. “He wrote me a letter.”

      “What are you talking about? He wrote you a letter that was like... Open in case of my eventual death?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Wow.”

      She didn’t know what else to say. Somehow, the fact that there was a letter almost made it worse. Of course, Jason had known that his death was a possibility. Every soldier knew that. But Clara had never allowed herself to think about it.

      Somehow, it was less disturbing to imagine he hadn’t really given it much consideration. Envisioning him sitting down and writing a letter