Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday
“We hook upwhenever I’m out east…Babe…miss you…”
God, he was being jealous again, and stupid, but her explanation about Charlie and that text hadn’t stopped looping through Tyler’s mind like a broken record all yesterday evening at dinner, all last night as he’d let himself enjoy Heather’s body in his bed and she’d enjoyed his, and all day now.
With one foot on the loading dock from the supply barn and the other bracing his folded-down tailgate, Tyler tossed a bundle of twine into his dually bed. This was why one-and-dones were better. Had he never seen Heather again after the bar, he’d be none-the-wiser to any of this. He shouldn’t be doing this for a week—strike that—now two weeks. She wasn’t the sort of girl to tether down, even though she runs kids’ programs and is a godmom, brought with her the possibility of a legal entanglement, and even though he didn’t want to be tethered either, he just…felt a knot, a nagging glimmer deep in his gut.
“Get your head on straight, man.”
He should be 100 percent focused on two things: farm repairs—of which there were so many, each time he quantified them, a new one was discovered—and what Heather’d alluded to about the slump, which was why he’d agreed to let her stay another week. His sex life wasn’t either of them.
He picked up another bundle of twine. Lobbed it into the back of his work dually, as T.R. and his crew’s trucks roamed back and forth between the dairy facilities, as a team of his hands ran the table saw in the workshop. Picked up another bundle. Tossed it. Farm commotion he tuned out as his brain squabbled and debated competing thoughts. Emotional thoughts. The hell was that about?
Why was this bothering him so much? Because I thought I felt a connection with her… Naw, she was a nice piece who was afraid of commitment, that was all. It was a caveman move to want to mark his territory when Heather wasn’t anybody’s territory. He shouldn’t waste any thought on the idea of Heather gloriously rubbing one out for him one moment, then casually alluding to Charlie in the next. In her world, she didn’t have a care. She spread her butterfly wings and fluttered wherever she wanted. In his world, Tyler was the rock who stayed put and got shit done.
He rolled out his shoulders, heaved up another bundle of twine and tossed it into the bed, sweat from the 100 degree day stinging his eyes. Maybe he’d pushed her too hard about that incision. His boys, and hell, his bros even, were always telling him he had trouble letting things go. That’s probably why she’d said what she’d said about Charlie. He’d tried to connect with her, tried to dig deeper into who she was.
She’d been reminding him of where they stood. Message received.
His chest pinched at that. Stupid body. The idea of her leaving and never seeing her again lodged the same ache in the pit of his stomach that envisioning “Charlie’s” bare ass between Heather’s legs did. He was damned to feel this weird ache either way—
His phone buzzed. But not the double buzz of a text. A single buzz.
His social media app notification? What the hell? He pulled his phone out and stared at it. Read it. Read it again, his mind mulling over the words. Did nothing. Was he being scammed? He hadn’t logged into Facebook in so long, people had long since stopped interacting with him on there. He hadn’t gotten a notification in a long time.
He glanced at the message from Facebook again, brightening his screen. “Heart Carvalho wants to connect with you.”
He stared dumbly at his phone.
“She wants to connect,” he chuckled wryly at the irony. “Could have fooled me.”
Did he dare accept? Dare enter her online world where she no doubt shared all her free love exploits? His thumb hesitated, then like a glutton for punishment, tapped the notification as curiosity got the better of him, and soon, the login page opened. Shoot, he didn’t know his password and would have to reset it. It had been a while since he’d logged in. His page was likely dormant, except for his birthday when people he hadn’t even liked in high school came out of the woodwork to wish him a happy birthday as if he were their best friend.
Naw, there wasn’t time for this shit.
He x’d out and picked up the last bundle of twine. Chucked it onto the bed. Stretched his T-shirt up his abs and wiped the sweat off his face again, jumped off the cement dock to retrieve his chainsaw so he could start sawing up a massive pine tree he’d spent the morning hauling in from a pasture for firewood and bundle it. It was only six. He had a few more hours of sunlight to get stuff done and call his boys for family hour to check in on camp.
He walked to a well spigot, ripped his Stetson and T-shirt off, dumping them with his keys and cell nearby, and picked up the hose. His sweat was so intense, and he needed a dose of relief. Tipping his head back, he held the water over him, letting the cool liquid race over his heated face, sweaty hair, torso and to hell with his jeans getting wet. They’d either dry fast in this evening heat, or they’d be stripped off later and tossed in the wash. He filled his throat with it, too, gulping down several swallows, and bent, bracing his knee so that he held the water over his neck to run down his back and sting upon the cuts from the glass—
His texts chimed and buzzed. He turned off the spigot. Flipping his sopping hair to the side, he scoured the water off his face and sluiced it off his arms, shaking his hands off and swiping up his cell as he licked droplets clinging to his lips.
Toby’s face, and the message on his locked screen, alarmed him.
Toby:Got a legal problem with the ranch, bro. Need you to flex some muscle against these bastards. Message back asap.
His brow crinkled. Who the hell was giving Tobes a hard time? His pulse quickened with that protective edge that always reared its head when needs arose for Dixon Cattle. There was a reason why he still sat on the company board, even though the ranch belonged to Toby. He might be a family law attorney by trade, but he also had a specialty in contract law, which made him a handy accessory for the Dixon legal counsel, too. Besides, no one messed with his little bros except him. What was this trouble with the Legacy? He rattled off a reply.
Tyler:Got a minute. Talk.
A response began to waver on the screen.
Toby:Nothing, asshole. Just testing to see if you’re actually alive. You can’t resist swooping in with a legal fix.
Tyler scoured his face. He’d just played into Toby’s hand. He’d been ignoring his brothers’ texts about this mystery “girlfriend” and now, it was obvious he’d been avoiding them.
Tyler:Screw you.