Jess was as stunned as if she’d been slapped in the face. It seemed as clear as day now. How could she have missed it at the time? How could she have been so weak?
“I’m even more screwed up than I realized.” A terrible thought came to mind. When she whispered the words aloud, she felt like her lungs were being crushed. “Cord deserves better than me.”
“Don’t you dare say that.” Laurel spoke like she was squeezing the last smidgeon from a tube of toothpaste. “If you believe that, Parker wins. Are you going to let that happen?”
Jess sucked air deep into her lungs and held it, then released it through her mouth in a whoosh. “No.”
“That’s my Jess!” Laurel let out a whoop that rang in Jessica’s ear. “You’re going to put this behind you and move forward with life. Now, tell me more about Cord.”
As Jess answered all her roommate’s questions, her mind raced, going over every detail of her relationship with Parker. How had she changed from a strong assertive woman to a weak and vulnerable version of herself?
She realized the answer. Under Parker’s constant encouragement, she’d opened up and shared her deepest thoughts, believing he cared for her. He knew her secret fears and anxieties. When he began to exploit that knowledge, manipulating her emotions, she’d refused to acknowledge it.
Meanwhile, Parker hadn’t shared a single vulnerable detail about himself in all that time. What she’d interpreted as his strength of character had simply been a power play.
Armed with this revelation, she questioned her judgment even more than before. She’d thought Cord and Parker were exact opposites. But just as Parker had never shared any deep, private thoughts… neither had Cord.
“Bucky, have you got a second?” Cord had been wandering all over the ranch, checking every building, until he finally found Peter Buchanan repairing a hole in the chicken coop.
“Sure.” He straightened and wiped his shirt sleeve across his brow, leaving a smear of dirt.
Cord shook his head, folding his page of numbers and stuffing it in his pocket. “Why don’t you let me do that for you?”
“I’m not too old to do manual labor. Only seventy-four.” His bushy eyebrows bent down, the dark color a stark contrast to his white hair.
Cord hoped he would be in such good shape at Bucky’s age. “Yes, but you’re paying me to work for you.”
“I’m paying you to work on the computer stuff and the business accounting. And you’re still in no shape to do strenuous work.”
Bucky’s gaze traveled down to Cord’s arm, still tucked protectively over his sore ribs. The sling and the bandage were gone, as were most of the lacerations. From the outside, he looked fairly normal. The yellow-green was almost completely faded from the skin around his eye, and he’d abandoned his glasses for his usual contacts.
“The doc says I can start using my arm a bit.” Cord didn’t mention the fact that he’d been expressly forbidden from riding a bull until the dislocation was completely healed, which would take three to four months.
“A bit, huh?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed, as if he wasn’t quite buying the story. “What’d you want to talk about, anywa
y?”
“Only that I’ve hit a wall trying to figure out why you’re losing money. At first, I thought it was McCaffrey dropping the ball, but those numbers don’t add up to a huge change in income or expenses.”
A chicken wandered past, stopping to pluck a bug out of the dirt.
“Be honest. Is it a lost cause?” The sudden droop of Bucky’s shoulders made him look ten years older.
“No, the answer is here. Somewhere. I just need to find it. I want permission to audit all your tax records for the past six years. That way I can compare, and see what changed when your finances started going south.”
“Knock yourself out,” said Bucky. “I keep all the old records in the attic over the office.”
“Thanks. Are you sure I can’t help you with that?”
“Here’s something you can do for me,” said Bucky. “Hold this two-by-four at the top of this post while I secure the other end.
Glad to feel useful, Cord hefted the board with his left hand and held it in place. Bucky nailed one end with three precise strikes of the hammer, checking the level before driving a nail in the other end.
“Is the arena ready for the rodeo?” asked Bucky.
“A few minor problems, but nothing we haven’t been able to handle. I think you’ll be glad you added onto the grandstands. In the end, it didn’t cost us any more than renting extra bleachers, and we’ll be ready to go next year.”
“Any other last-minute hitches?”