Slow Burn Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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      Violet rolled her eyes and crossed the threshold into the house. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and immediately busied herself by tapping her thumbs on the touch screen.

      “Say hi to your uncle Finn.”

      Finn had never gotten fully used to the idea that he was somebody’s uncle. But then, it was difficult for him to believe that his brother was a father. Actually, it was even stranger now that Violet wasn’t in diapers.

      The last time Finn had seen her she had been maybe seven or eight, looking at Cain and at all of her uncles like they were gods. And Cain had still been married. Maybe that was another reason this was so strange. Seeing Violet as something other than the bright-eyed imp who worshipped the ground her dad walked on.

      And being treated to her total and complete ambivalence when before his very existence had made him as unto a god.

      He supposed he didn’t really have a right to feel much about that either way. It wasn’t like he had been very involved in her life.

      Though in fairness to Finn, Cain hadn’t made much of an effort to involve him.

      “Hi, Uncle Finn,” Violet said, not looking up from her phone. “My, how you’ve grown.”

      Her response stopped him short. “I wasn’t going to say that,” he said.

      “Sure.”

      “I wasn’t,” he returned.

      Finally, Violet looked up, a long-suffering expression on her face. “They all do.”

      Not him. He was thirty-four years old. He wasn’t somebody’s elderly relative.

      “Do I have a room or something?” Violet asked, directing the question at her dad.

      Finn could tell that Cain was about to lecture her for being rude, but as far as Finn was concerned getting rid of the teenager as quickly as possible was optimal. “Up the stairs. First room on the left,” he said.

      It had always struck Finn as odd that his grandfather had designed the house to hold so many people, when the old man had few friends and little contact with his family in the broad sense. But the place was big enough to house a small army.

      Most of the bedrooms had gone unused since the house had been built five years ago. And when Finn had gotten a look at the will after the old man had died, he’d wondered if they’d been put there for this purpose.

      Which had made him feel like a damned idiot. Thinking any of this was for him. Was for a job well done. Hell no.

      He’d busted his ass, worked his fingers to the bone—literally in some cases—and they would reap the rewards.

      “Thanks.” She shoved her phone back in her pocket and tried to force something that looked vaguely like a smile before walking up the stairs. It was strange to see somebody come into the house for the first time and not be completely awed by the sheer scope of it.

      The custom-built cabin, with its high beam-crossed ceilings and breathtaking views of the misty green wilderness, was usually enough to stop people in their tracks.

      Apparently, that reaction did not extend to surly teenagers.

      After Violet disappeared, Finn turned to his brother. “Well,” he said, “she’s gotten—”

      “Impossible?”

      “Not what I was going to say. But, you’re the expert.”

      Cain pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not an expert on anything, just ask Violet. But that’s not really relevant to why we’re here.”

      “Okay,” Finn said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re here because?”

      “Why do you think? It’s not like this is some random appearance you weren’t expecting. Our grandfather died.”

      “And per his wishes there was no service. He wanted his money to go back into the ranch, and his body to go back to the mountains. I spread his ashes and didn’t make a deal out of it, just like he said to do.”

      Cain set his jaw. “Grandpa left part of the ranch to me, and I’m here because I want it.”

      Tension crept up Finn’s spine. He’d known his brothers would come for their inheritance. Hell, who wouldn’t? But he’d imagined they would be discussing money. Finn had been prepared to issue payouts—or make arrangements for them anyway.

      What he hadn’t thought was that anyone might want their share of the ranch itself.

      “In what capacity, Cain? Because you’ve never paid much attention to the ranch or what goes on here before. In fact, you never even came to visit in the past eight years. It has to have been that long. The last time I saw Violet she was a kid, now she’s...that.”

      “I’d apologize to you about that, Finn, but I was kind of in the middle of dealing with my life, which hasn’t been easy for the past few years.”

      Finn knew that his brother had been going through a hard time. With the divorce and all of that, but he’d also figured if Cain was having trouble handling it, he would have said something.

      He wasn’t sure why he’d figured that, since he would rather die than go to one of his half brothers for help.

      Which made him feel like a jackass. He resented that something fierce. Feeling like a jackass in his own damn living room when he was the one being invaded.

      “Right,” Finn said, unable to make his tone anything other than hard.

      It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Cain’s issues. It wasn’t that he didn’t have some sympathy. It was just that it was all buried beneath the mountain of resentment he felt over this situation.

      Cain shrugged. “Now I figure I’m going to deal with it here.”

      The sound of a feminine throat clearing caused both men to turn. “Hi,” Lane said, a sheepish smile on her face. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands clasped behind her back.

      “Cain,” Finn said, doing his best to school his voice into an even tone, “this is Lane.”

      “Is she your...”

      “Oh, no,” Lane said, a note of incredulity running through the denial. “I’m just his friend. I came to bring casserole, because I knew that you would be coming. At least, I assume you’re the person that I thought would be coming. You’re his brother, right? You do look like him,” she said, rambling now at that full-tilt pace that he had only ever seen Lane accomplish.

      Cain looked slightly surprised by the avalanche of words he had just been subjected to, but then he seemed to recover quickly enough. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Cain.”

      Lane looked at Finn as if she was waiting for additional information. Well, Finn didn’t have any. At least any he felt like giving. The silence stretched on, and he could sense Lane getting increasingly СКАЧАТЬ