Wrangled (Steele Ranch 2)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she countered, a little too quickly. “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like this.”

“You didn’t raise me. Chapman Academy did.”

I stepped back, turned around in a circle, bit my lip. “You’re on the Committee for Energy and Commerce.”

“The Environment sub-committee, to be exact,” Boone clarified.

All eyes shifted to him. He’d obviously checked out more than me with his online search.

“I’ve been in college for five years,” I continued. “It took you that long to get yourself set up within the ranks in DC and Borstar helped you. How much money did they provide to your campaign?”

My mother stood abruptly, her chair scraping across the floor. “Penelope—” Her tone held censure. Anger. Yet she kept her cool. Barely.

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “In exchange, you gave them me.” I paused, analyzed. “At first, you did. But then you tossed in Steele Ranch to what, sweeten the pot? Figured out how to use your one-night stand with Aiden Steele to your advantage.”

She gasped in feigned outrage.

“The surveyor was here—what, a day early?—because you told them I’d work for them. That once I was on their payroll, they’d have access to my inheritance. Prime oil and gas land.”

She pursed her lips, remained silent.

“I’m not taking the job. I’m not doing the stupid dissertation.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You will do as you’re told.”

Boone and Jamison stood to their full height, towering over both me and my mother. Perhaps that was the DNA I’d gotten from her. Short stature.

“I’m staying here, in Barlow.”

She laughed then, but it was laced with sarcasm. “And do what? Can home-grown vegetables?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’ll dig for oil. I’m certainly well versed in it. But you planned for that, pushing me into that area of study. For just this moment when you needed an insider in the field.”

She sputtered, then stopped. Took a deep breath. “Do you remember what I told you would happen if you didn’t follow in the Vandervelk footsteps?”

I nodded, smiled. “Oh yes. You’ll cut me off. Consider it done.” I stuck my arm out. Pointed. “There’s the door. I don’t need you. I don’t need your money. I certainly never had your love.”

“What do you have here in this God-forsaken place?”

I glanced at Jamison and Boone. “Everything.”

She followed my gaze, raked her eyes over Boone as if he’d just wrestled a nest of snakes. “You found love with a cowboy? He’s at least a decade older than you.” She laughed then. “What would he want with a child like you? Oh yes, he’s in it—in you—for your money, for the inheritance. At least my interests are for the good of the country. My connection with Borstar will lessen the American reliance on outside energy resources.”

“No, your connection with Borstar lines your pockets and ensures your political position. Nothing more. You don’t give a shit about America. You don’t give a shit about anything but yourself.”

Her mouth fell open then. Practically to the floor. I’d never spoken back to her like that, never used foul language.

“So you’ll shack up with an old cowboy. All that education for nothing. You’re a waste.”

Boone took a step toward my mother, but didn’t touch her. I could see the anger radiating off him in waves. “I’ve never hit a woman, but that might change today.”

Mother paled. “How dare you—”

“You don’t speak to my wife that way.”

“Wife?” she sputtered.

I held up my left hand, let her see the rings on my fingers. While Jamison remained quiet, I knew he was ready to toss her out the front door if I gave him the green light.