Your Ranch...or Mine?

Taylor waited until he went upstairs to gather his clothes before she walked out onto the front porch and sat down in the swing. She didn’t want to watch him walk out the door and run the risk of abandoning her resolve. It would be too tempting to tell him to stay and to ask him to give her a reasonable explanation for why he had turned to a life of crime after his father died, as well as why he’d lied to her—even if it was by omission.

Nothing would make her happier than for Lane to tell her that he had only been acting out as a normal teen would do after becoming the victim of a life-altering tragedy. He had lost so much in such a short time; she couldn’t imagine how traumatizing it had to have been for him to find his father’s dead body. He had only been thirteen at the time and she could tell that the incident still haunted him. But even if he told her that he’d been acting out, how could she be certain it was the truth?

The sudden slamming of a door and the sound of Lane’s truck’s powerful engine starting caused her eyes to burn with unshed tears. He was doing what she wanted, so why did she feel so miserable about it?

But when she watched the taillights of his truck fade into the darkness as he drove away from the ranch toward the main highway, she couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as the only man she could ever love drove away from her.

* * *

“I’m staying here with you for a few days,” Lane announced two hours later when T.J. opened his front door.

“Uh-oh. Something tells me there’s trouble in paradise,” T.J. said, standing back for Lane to enter the house. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?” Lane demanded.

“We’re guys,” T.J. answered. “We screw up all the time and women just love to point that out. So what did you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lane ground out. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash what had taken place with Taylor. The woman was as stubborn and frustrating as a green-broke mule and his gut still burned with anger from their encounter.

“Let’s go into the man cave,” his brother said, nodding. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“That’s a given,” Lane muttered, following his brother to the back of the house.

When they entered T.J.’s game room—decorated to look like an old-time saloon—Lane took a seat on one of the stools while his brother went behind the bar to get their beers. Lane stared at the miserable-looking man in the huge mirror on the wall behind the bar. He looked like hell. For that matter, he felt like it, too.

“So are you going to tell me or am I going to have to drag it out of you by playing twenty questions?” T.J. asked, breaking the silence.

Lane drained the bottle in his hand and just as he’d anticipated, his brother set him up with another one. “There’s nothing to tell. She’s pissed off and I’m staying with you. End of story.”

“Well, you know I’d be the last one to pry into your personal business,” T.J. said, as if choosing his words carefully.

“Since when?” Lane asked. “You’ve been the nosiest one of the six of us for as long as I’ve known you.”

T.J. grinned. “It’s something I’m good at. And I’ve always been of the opinion that if a person is good at something, they should do it often.”

“This is one time you need to back off, brother,” Lane warned. “I’m not in the mood and I’d hate to have to kick your ass.”

“That must have been some argument,” T.J. said, shaking his head. “You’re usually the cool, calm and collected one of the bunch.”

“Not tonight.” Lane finished his beer. “I’ll take another one.”

T.J. got him another beer and set it in front of him. “You must really have it bad for Taylor if she’s got you this tied up in knots.” He frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink that many beers so fast.”

“Well, you might see me drink four or five more before it’s over with.” Maybe if he drank himself into oblivion he would find some peace from the burning ache that went all the way to his soul.

“She found out about your past, didn’t she?” T.J. guessed.

Glaring at his brother, Lane took a swig of beer. “Shut up, T.J.”

“How did she find out?” T.J. pressed.

“I don’t know.” Lane shook his head. “She didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask. Hell, it doesn’t matter. She found out before I could tell her myself and jumped to the conclusion that I cheated her grandfather out of half of the Lucky Ace.”