Damn him. Was there no escape from him?
9
Wyatt
I’d been halfway back to the farm, when I turned the truck around. I wasn’t ready to return home. What I really wanted to do was hunt down Stark and give him the proper ass-kicking he so richly deserved. Who the fuck sent goons out to harass older women? It was like we were living in a fucking movie. I had to hope that like in fiction, all would end well. But because real life didn’t always have a happily ever after, I was still on edge. I was pissed at my father for trying to sell the farm out from under my mother and me. I was frustrated that the mayor’s office wasn’t showing more support for the farmers. And I was hurt that Sinclair found the idea of marrying me so distasteful.
That last one really bothered me a lot. Probably more than it should considering what I’d done. She had every right to be wary of me. Even so, at one time, she and I were as close as two people could be. Or so I thought. Maybe I had it all wrong ten years ago. Maybe her talk of a future together once she finished college was just to placate me until she left for school. Perhaps that was why she didn’t even think about coming with me when I showed up asking her to run away.
All this was whirling around in my brain, making me tense and surly. My mother didn’t need to see me in a mess, so I headed back to town for a drink at Salvation Station. As I made my way back through the city limits, I noticed that most of the rest of the town hadn’t changed in the last ten years. It was much the same, but it felt foreign, which I supposed meant I’d changed. Sinclair had too. Perhaps that meant the marriage idea was nuts because those two kids who loved each other madly didn’t exist anymore.
This was the first time I’d be walking into a social situation since returning home. Who would I know in the bar? Who’d remember me? Who’d care? Right now, I’d be happy to be ignored by everyone except the bartender.
As I drew closer to the bar, the air around me changed. I knew exactly what from. My gaze was like a laser as it found Sinclair sitting at the bar with Trina.
“How about to Wyatt Jones' efforts to kick Simon Stark’s ass out of town?” Trina said, holding her drink up to toast.
“I can drink to that.” Sinclair clinked her glass, but before she could drink, she turned to me, wide-eyed. “Wyatt.”
“Still thinking of me, I see.”
“Holy hell. Look who’s back.”
My gaze jerked to the bartender. Jesus, it was Ryder. He was still here?
He came around the bar, barreling toward me. I couldn’t decide if he was going to belt me, which he’d have a right to do considering what I’d done to his sister ten years ago, or hug me.
“Jesus, where have you been?” Ryder gave me a hug, his smile as warm, real and wide as I remembered growing up. I was glad to see that life hadn’t pounded the affability out of him. And that his willingness to forgive was as big as Everest. After all, I’d left without a goodbye to him. I still wasn’t sure if he’d known about me and Sinclair, but if he did, he’d forgotten or didn’t care.
“Here and there,” I said in response to his question.
“Pull up a stool, man. What can I get you? Beer?”
“I’ll have a whisky or I’ll look like a pussy next to these boozy women.”
“Can’t have that,” Ryder said, getting a glass and pouring me a double shot. “On the house. In thanks for your service.”
So, Sinclair told him I’d been in the military. Or maybe it was Trina.
“We were just discussing my marriage of convenience idea,” Trina said.
I glanced at Sinclair who rolled her eyes.
“It’s not the worst idea,” Ryder surprised me by saying. So maybe he did know about me and Sinclair’s past.
Sinclair glared at her brother.
“What do you think, Wyatt?” Ryder asked. I studied him, wondering if this was a test. If I was for it, then would he pound me into a pulp? If I wasn’t for it, would he be mad I was rejecting his sister? Shit, maybe I should have just gone home.
“He was all for it,” Trina said.
Since Ryder wasn’t shooting me the death stare, I said, “I can see the merits of the idea. The land has been in my family for nearly a hundred and fifty years. I’d hate to be the Jones that lost it to a greedy interloper.”
Sinclair groaned. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “That ownership transfer stuff proves how important that land has been to the family, my father notwithstanding.”
“How’s your mom?” Ryder asked.