Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

Hell, he’d had no freaking clue Harper was still living in Muddy Gap. He’d gone by her house and seen a For Rent sign in the yard. He’d quietly been going crazy for the week since he’d last seen her. Bernice’s Beauty Barn had been closed every time he’d driven by. He’d planned to ask Les today to cover for him so he could track her down as soon as he convinced Celia to tell him where she’d gone.

And now to find out that Harper had been under his nose the entire time?

Unfuckingbelievable.

Why hadn’t she told him she planned to stick around?

Because she probably thinks you don’t care.

“Goddammit. I’m a f**king idiot.”

“Told ya. She wanted one thing from you and when you didn’t offer it, she hooked up with the next rich guy she could find. You’re better off forgetting all about her.”

“I’m better off?” Bran repeated. “What? So I can end up like you? Alone and bitter? Spending my life tying flies and fishing by myself? You’ve said some stupid things to me over the years, Les, but that one has got to take the cake.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know nothin’ about Harper and yet you’ve felt entitled to pass judgment on her at every opportunity. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous of her.”

Les’s face turned bright red. “Like hell.”

“You know, Harper was a great hired hand. She took direction better than you ever thought of doing.” When a mean glint entered Les’s eyes, Bran warned, “You even think of spewing some smart-ass remark about how well she directed herself into my bedroom and I will pop you one in the mouth, old man.”

His hired hand said not a word for a change.

Bran hit the gas and spun a cookie. When he reached the last gate, he got out and opened it, ignoring the temptation just to run the damn thing over. He pulled up alongside Les’s ranch truck, looking at his hired man in a whole new way, mostly with gratitude for the wake-up call. “Go on and finish chores. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You ain’t firing me?”

Bran scowled at him. “Why would I fire you?”

“Because you’re probably bringing Harper back here and you won’t need me no more.”

“Les, if I can convince Harper to give me another chance, she sure as hell ain’t gonna be around as my hired hand.” If he had his way, Harper would be his wife.

Bran burned rubber getting to the Split Rock Ranch and Resort. Two gigantic stone pillars had been erected beside the access road since the last time he’d been by. And between those stone pillars? A heavy chain with signs every foot warning NO TRESPASSING. He snorted. Like that’d stop him.

He hopped out and unhooked the chain. He crested the rise of the big hill that hid the building from view. Once he hit the top of the hill, his mouth dropped open.

Holy shit. It was like some kind of cult compound. Close to thirty vehicles were parked in front of four buildings in various stages of construction. Half a dozen trailers were lined up off to the left. A backhoe, a grader, and a paving machine were sitting idle by a gigantic pile of steel fence posts and rolls of chain-link fencing. Two flatbed trucks stacked with lumber and Sheetrock were backed up to two structures. Even through the closed window Bran heard the loud construction noises—hammering, sawing, and the mechanical whine of generators.

He proceeded down the steep angle of the hill, surprised that Renner had chosen to build this fancy resort in a bowl-shaped canyon. Passage in the winter would be damn difficult, given the amount of snow this area received. His wheels left pavement and his truck skidded across red dirt that resembled a mud bog rather than a road.

As soon as his vehicle stopped and he’d climbed out of his rig, two burly guys approached him. They weren’t local and they didn’t look friendly. “Is there a reason you’re trespassing when the sign on the road clearly said keep out?”

Bran shrugged. “I thought it was a suggestion. I’m here to talk to Harper Masterson.”

The guys exchanged a look, which made Bran bristle. “What?”

“How do we know you ain’t some freaky stalker dude?”

“For chrissake, I’m not a freaky stalker dude. I’m her . . .” He realized he didn’t know who the hell he was to her. Boss? Lover?

Try the idiot who let her get away.

“She’s here, isn’t she?”

One guy glanced at the bank of trailers.

Bingo.

“How about if you give us your name and we’ll see if she wants to talk to you?”

Like hell.

Bran walked toward the trailers he assumed were living quarters. Either the guards were slow or their authority hadn’t been challenged before now, because neither guy tried to stop him.

Heart racing, he stopped in front of the third trailer in and yelled, “Harper. I want to talk to you.”

No answer.

“I know you’re here and I’m not leavin’ until you come out.”

No answer.

“If you want me to start banging on doors until I find you, I will.”

The metal click of a screen door opening echoed back to him. Three seconds later Harper came around the front end of the fourth trailer.

His heart soared. Sweet Jesus. It was as if his world brightened. He took a step forward and stopped when he noticed Renner Jackson behind Harper. Directly behind her. His eyes narrowed. Had Les been right? Was Harper living with him?