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  Focusing in on June’s smiling face, he felt the anger retreat. She was always a sweet lady, never yelling or slapping his hand away from her freshly baked desserts. In a way she’d become almost a second mother to him after Cade had taken off for college. Brokenhearted without her son around, she’d thrown her soul into the ranch, helping the men with whatever was needed and fussing after Brett like a mother hen.

  He smiled sadly at the memory and then another thought entered Brett’s head. Had June known about Cade’s loose sexual preferences? Had it ever occurred to her that her son might end up with a man instead of a woman? Brett’s brows drew together in a frown as he studied the photo more closely. He could almost hear her now, chattering on and on about Cade’s college girlfriends while they sat around the dinner table. “He’ll meet his perfect woman soon,” she’d always said with a knowing glint in her eyes, “and he’ll settle down faster than Brett here can eat a steak.”

  His gut clenched with guilt and he took a long step back from June’s sparkling eyes. What would she think about his newfound relationship with Cade or about what would inevitably happen between them tonight, probably right under her roof?

  Cade’s footsteps on the staircase jarred him from his thoughts. He looked up as Cade jogged down the stairs.

  “Ready to go?” Cade asked as he stuffed his wallet into his pocket.

  Brett stretched his lips into a smile. “Yeah.”

  He couldn’t get June’s face out of his head all through dinner. It left him distracted and without an appetite.

  “You sick or something?” Cade asked, halfway through the meal.

  “Nah, I’m okay.” He looked down at his plate and force-fed himself some steak. He tasted nothing.

  While they were waiting for the check, Brett saw Mitch drive by in his car.

  “Forgot to tell you,” he said as he pulled out his wallet, “Mitch is having a pool party tomorrow. Want to come?”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” Cade tapped his wallet on the table. “Put your money away, I’m paying.”

  “No way.” He planted a fifty on the table. “Let me get this.”

  “No. This whole thing was my idea.” He pushed the fifty back to Brett. “It’s on me.”

  Brett opened his mouth to argue and then started to laugh instead.

  “What’s so funny?” Cade asked, grinning as Brett tried to silence himself.

  He shook his head, unable to put it into words. Two guys out on a date fighting over the bill. He didn’t know why but it was just damn funny.

  “How about this?” Brett said when he could speak. “We split the bill.”

  Cade hesitated and then huffed. “Fair enough.”

  Brett nodded and started to laugh again.

  ***

  “You should be at home, old man,” Cade declared the following evening when he found Jimmy in the tack shed. “It’s almost eight. You work too damn hard.”

  Jimmy’s wrinkled face broke into a smile. “Hate to tell you this, kid, but you can’t talk. You and Brett are going to work yourself into the ground, you hear me?”

  Cade laughed and fell into step with the older man as they headed into the yard. “You’d be surprised, Jimmy. We won’t be working tonight, that’s for sure.”

  “Ah, one of those parties.” Jimmy tutted beneath his breath. “You boys have all the luck. In my day there wasn’t no such thing as a bikini.”

  “You were deprived, old man.”

  “Lord, you better believe it.” Jimmy pulled his hat lower over his eyes and turned to look at Cade. “You’re a good worker, kid. It’s a good thing you’re here.”

  Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, Cade didn’t know what to say for a minute. Then he smiled and slapped the old man’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

  He watched Jimmy head for his dusty Ford and then took a moment to observe the yard. It was a good thing he was here—good for himself at least. No amount of money could tempt him back to New York, not now anyway.

  “Daydreaming again, Armstrong?” a deep voice drawled from behind him.

  He turned to find Brett on the other side of the yard coming toward him. “Always been a dreamer,” he said with a shrug. “What time do we need to be at Mitch’s for?”

  “Whenever we get there.”

  “Okay, well I’ll go change into something clean.” He looked down at his dirt-encrusted jeans. “I’ll do the driving. I know how much you like your beer.”

  Brett snorted. “Forget about it. I think it’s your turn to get wasted.”

  Half an hour later, they were in Brett’s truck on the way to Mitch’s place.

  “He doesn’t live in town?” Cade asked when Brett ignored the turn for Steeplecrest.

  “No, he built himself a house on the other side of the creek.”

  “Good for him.”

  They were quiet for the remainder of the ride and Cade started to wonder if his presence at the party was a good idea. Brett seemed tense about something and Cade would wager a bet that it had a lot to do with the fact that they were going to be surrounded by Brett’s oldest friends. Reminded of the night in the shower, he stiffened in his seat. The last thing he wanted was to give Brett any reason to worry.

  “Listen,” he said, “we don’t have to do this.”

  Brett glanced his way. “Do what?”

  “I don’t have to go in.”

  Brett shook his head. “It’s okay, really. I’m not worried about it.”

  Not believing him but unwilling to argue about it, Cade let the subject drop. He’d give Brett some breathing room when they got inside. Hopefully that would help the guy relax.

  ***

  “Brett Miller. I heard you were here.”

  Brett groaned inwardly at the instantly recognizable squeak of Mary Ellen’s voice and forced himself to turn around from the bar. Dressed in a skimpy bikini that consisted of three triangles of red, she was staring up at him, a pout on her lips.

  “Hey, Mary Ellen,” he said, doing a quick scan for anyone who could help him. “How are you?”

  “Not so good.” She stepped closer, so close her tits pressed into his chest. “Last time I saw you, you skipped out on me.”

  Remembering the night Dixie died, he frowned. “Right, I forgot about that. There was an emergency on the ranch.”

  She stroked a fingertip along his bare forearm. “Now that’s just not good enough,” she said sweetly. “All work and no play makes Brett a very dull boy.”

  “Uh huh.” He stepped back and almost knocked a six pack of beer to the ground. “Look it’s been great catching up but—” he caught Mitch’s eye over her shoulder and waved, “—I need to go talk to Mitch. I’ll see you later.”

  He sidestepped her before she could argue and made a beeline for his friend.

  “Hey, man,” Mitch greeted when he’d made his escape. “You still jerking Mary Ellen around?”

  “I’m not jerking anybody around. She just won’t take the hint.” Brett dragged his hand through his hair and glanced at the other side of the pool. When he spotted Cade locked inside a circle of half-naked girls, he grinned. “Do you even know those broads?” he asked Mitch, pointing across the pool.

  Mitch shrugged. “They’re over eighteen. That’s all I care about.”

  They sat by the pool for a while, shooting the breeze. By the time Cade and Tommy came over to join them, Brett had eaten two hot dogs and a hamburger. Between the food and the warm night, he was completely at ease, even when Cade took a seat beside him.

  “You looked like you were having fun,” he noted, gesturing to the gaggle of babes standing by the pool.

  “Ah, you know me.” Cade flashed a grin. “Can’t hold ’em off.”

  “So you guys are doing okay now,” Mitch said after he’d downed his fifth beer in an hour. “Saw you through the window of Delia’s last night. Looked pretty cozy to me.”

  Brett froze at the insinuation but Cade laughed it off.

  “Easy, Mitch. We’r
e trying to play it cool here.”

  Mitch snickered and punched Brett in the arm. “See? He ain’t so bad, is he?”

  Brett tried to relax but a knot of tension was growing in his stomach. Brett kept his eyes on the pool as Cade rose to his feet.

  “I’m going to find some food,” Cade said. “Maybe some beer to go with it.”

  “And some women too,” Mitch shouted after him. As the guys hooted and hollered at Cade, Brett lifted his head. If there was one thing Cade could do, it was play straight.

  “Hey, guys,” Mitch said, drawing everyone’s attention. He got to his feet and nodded his head toward the man who was headed their way. “This is my cousin Rick.” He hooked his arm around Rick’s shoulder and went through the introductions. “Rick’s folks moved out of town twenty years back.”

  Brett shook the guy’s hand as he took the seat Cade had vacated.

  “Your family runs Steeplecrest Ranch,” Rick said as he set his beer bottle between his feet. “I worked up there for a couple of summers.”

  “Really?” Brett narrowed his eyes, searching his mind for a Rick. “Can’t say I remember you.”

  “Well, your grandfather took on a few of us kids every summer.”

  Brett nodded, thinking of Old Man Miller. “Did you know him well?”

  “Well enough to know he didn’t care what anyone thought of him.”

  Brett laughed. Though he’d always been very fond of his grandfather growing up, the man’s views on the world had always been extreme and he hadn’t conformed to one bit of political correctness, laughing it off as horseshit. He’d been a stickler for religion, for old-fashioned morals. Brett could still hear him ranting about his pet hates—working women, alcoholics and faggots.

  The breath caught in his throat as his grandfather’s words ran through his mind. He could just imagine what the old man would have to say about him and Cade. Lord knows he would have rather seen his grandson fall off a horse and break his neck than cross a line like the one he was crossing with Cade.

  But it doesn’t matter what he thinks, a voice at the back of Brett’s mind told him as he struggled to get his grandfather’s face out of his head. The man had been dead a good fifteen years. His opinion wasn’t worth dust anymore.

  “Knew your dad too,” Rick continued. “He was a good man. Always made sure we got paid well.”

  Brett nodded wordlessly. Unlike his old man’s, Henry Miller’s nature had always been easygoing. He’d never been one to throw stones and had raised Brett to be open-minded. But Brett knew in his gut that if he’d ever brought a guy home he’d have been lucky to see Steeplecrest Ranch again.

  As his stomach twisted nastily, Brett got up. “I’m gonna get another drink,” he muttered. He headed inside the house, fast as his legs could carry him. The kitchen was covered in trash but at least it was empty. He held onto the worktop and tried to stop thinking.

  The sound of the door opening had his body tensing further. He straightened and then stiffened again when Cade’s voice filled the room.

  “Thought I saw you come in here.” His footsteps on the tiled floor echoed as he approached. “Having a good time?”

  Brett felt every muscle in his body lock together as Cade stepped even closer. The heat of the man’s body crowded Brett and a claustrophobic sensation constricted his throat. He needed air. He needed to get out.

  “Who was the guy you were talking to out there?” Cade asked.

  Brett shook his head, afraid to turn around and look into Cade’s eyes. His dad would never have let himself get caught up in something like this.

  “Hey.” Cade put a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  He shuddered and forced himself to turn around. When he looked at Cade the guy’s eyes filled with concern.

  “Jesus, you look bad, Brett,” he said, putting his free hand on Brett’s other shoulder.

  That’s how Rick found them when he walked into the kitchen. Cade dropped his hands straight away but the damage had been done.

  Rick’s brows lifted in surprise. “Sorry, guys,” he said, backing out of the kitchen. The door closed behind him and Brett felt his insides clench. He looked Cade square in the eyes, feeling raw anger hurtle through his veins. He could barely sort his thoughts from his emotions but he was damn sure of one thing. The buck stopped with Cade. If Cade hadn’t hung around after the funeral and weaseled his way underneath his skin, Brett would still be fucking Mary-goddamn-Ellen or some other chick who wouldn’t tie him down. What the fuck had they started? How had it started?

  The worry in Cade’s blue eyes sickened him further. Needing to get the hell out, he pushed past Cade and strode to the front door. In the yard, he sucked in a breath of cool air and shuddered. He felt hot and cold at the same time, clammy as if he’d just thrown his lungs up. Rick knew. Mitch’s cousin. Before the end of the night they’d all know. They’d all fucking know.

  He heard Cade’s boots thudding down the porch steps behind him and spun around to face him.

  “It was Dixie,” he spat out, realization slicing through him. He tugged his Stetson from his head and pointed it accusingly at Cade. “You waited until something shit happened and then you—” He cut off, not knowing how to even finish that sentence without keeling over.

  Cade approached slowly and then stopped and raised his hands when Brett backed up to the car. “I know you’re mad, Brett, but just because Rick saw us like that doesn’t mean—”

  “Shut up,” Brett barked, putting up his hand. “Just shut the hell up.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could break into a run and chase away the anger crawling up inside him. But he had to stay and end this now. “I don’t know what your game is, but it stops here.”

  Cade folded his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you talking about, Brett?” he bit out, concern becoming frustration. “If you want to say something then out with it.”

  “I want you gone.” The words left his mouth on one simple breath. He watched Cade’s face which went slack with shock. “I want you off the ranch and as far away from me as you can get.”

  There was a long pause as Cade stared dully at him. Then, shaking his blond head, he strode forward, his long legs carrying him faster than Brett had anticipated. He didn’t have the chance to pull away before Cade grabbed his arm.

  “You’re confused and you’re freaked out. Rick walked in at a bad time,” Cade said, voice strained with emotion as Brett tried to shove him away. Cade’s grip was resolute. “I get that. But I know this is what you want. It’s what we both want.”

  “No.” Brett dropped his gaze to where Cade’s hand gripped his forearm and then looked up into the guy’s desperate eyes. “I don’t want this,” he bit out, still fighting against Cade’s unyielding grasp. “I never did.”

  Long moments dragged out as they stared at one another. Brett held his breath, anger and pain flaring inside him on a constant burn. He just wanted to go.

  As if picking up on his thoughts, Cade’s expression changed, dulled. Abruptly, his hand went limp and he released Brett’s arm. When Cade stepped back, Brett could breathe again. Brett turned and stalked away on unsteady legs.

  He didn’t look back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So you’ll be back here Monday morning then? I can tell Susie to set up your desk?”

  Cade rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to snap his cell phone shut. How many times did he have to repeat himself? “Yeah, Mike,” he said down the line, reining in his irritation. “Bright and early Monday morning. Just like I said.”

  “Glad to hear it, Armstrong. Sullivan & Robson hasn’t been the same without you.”

  Cade tried to force a smile but quit halfway. No point when the guy couldn’t see him. “Thanks, Mike,” he said, mustering up a shred of enthusiasm and working it into his voice. “I’ll see you next week.”

  As soon as he hung up, he threw the cell onto the sofa and stormed out into the hallway. He almost tripped over one
of the boxes lining the walls and let out a string of curses. “Goddamn shit,” he muttered under his breath, shoving the box out of the way with his foot.

  The shrill sound of the kitchen phone rang through the house and he winced. He’d ignore it. He still had the whole upper floor to pack up and he was leaving in two days. The last thing he felt like doing was answering the phone.

  The phone rang until the machine picked up. As Jessica’s soft voice filtered into the hallway, he straightened from the boxes and walked into the kitchen.

  “Just wanted to see how the packing is coming along,” she said lightly. “I’ll pick you up at JFK when your flight comes in. I’ve got the times all written down.”

  He smiled at that, knowing she probably had yellow Post-its stuck to every available surface in her apartment. If it wasn’t a fashion show or an appointment with her manicurist, it would sail right out of her pretty little head.

  “I’ve made reservations at Chow’s,” she said, referring to their favorite restaurant at the corner of his apartment building. “My treat.”

  Softening to her efforts to cheer him up, he crossed the kitchen and was ready to lift the receiver before her following words wiped the smile from his face.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this,” she continued, her tone becoming tentative, “but honey, I think you’re making a big mistake.”

  He closed his eyes, annoyance simmering inside him. She was right, he didn’t want to hear this and she damn well knew it. He turned from the blinking machine and strode out onto the deck. He looked out across the backyard, past the trees and up toward the pastures. Slowly, the tension eased in his shoulders and he let out a groan.

  He didn’t know why Jess kept pushing the issue. The last time she’d called he’d told her flat-out to shut the hell up about it but still she continued to press on. She didn’t seem to get that each time she brought it up, every time she mentioned his name, the pain deepened. Gripping the railing with his outstretched hands, he bent at the waist and stared into the wooden slabs between his feet.