Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“You think so?” Colt looked over his shoulder with a sly smile. “I think you’re rather blind to seeing if someone likes you. Your judgment might be misguided a bit.”

“That’s not true,” I argued, a blush filling my cheeks. “Maybe I just have my reasons for not paying attention to any of that.”

A chuckle rumbled in Colt’s chest as he turned back around to stir the bubbling froth. The strong muscles in his back shifted against the fabric of his flannel shirt.

“Michael’s a good man,” Colt said. “You don’t have to worry about him with Tiffany or the horse.”

“It’s not him that I’m worried about.”

The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Colt looked over at me again with hooded eyes, but I hopped off the bar stool before anything else could be said. I hurried up the stairs in the direction of the guest room with no intent of facing Colt for the rest of the night. He knew just as well as I did what I meant.

I wasn’t worried about Michael. I was worried about Colt.

Chapter Twenty

Colt

I kept one eye trained on the barn through the living room window. The barn lights were off, but the light next to the hayloft was still on. My father had built that small little apartment years ago for the head ranch hand to have a place to stay during busy seasons, but also when the weather was too dangerous.

What do you think of all this shit, Dad? What would you do?

Nothing. He would do nothing because none of this would be happening on my father’s watch. He knew how to run this ranch. He knew how to deal with all the political and corrupt bullshit around Green Point. A solution would’ve been reached by now. That’s for damn sure. He was probably rolling around in his grave out of fury.

I took another long drink of whiskey before settling in the leather chair I had dragged to face the living room windows and barn. The rest of the house was quiet because of the late hour. Tiffany had taken her pain pill two hours ago, and after fighting sleep, she had finally passed out on the couch before I carried her upstairs to her room. Now, it was silent, and I was grateful for it because I could think about what I needed to do.

And all I could think about was Cheyenne upstairs. That’s what I needed. I needed her calm and reasoned against the fury starting to build in me. I needed that gentle touch to soothe the headache that throbbed in my temples. Except she had gone upstairs and never returned after taking a shower. Her bowl of soup still sat on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not worried about him.”

I ran a hand along my face in irritation. Getting close to Cheyenne meant caring even more. It didn’t even occur to me that I wouldn’t have gone out in the rain looking for a horse that was too scared of me for anyone else. I did it because Cheyenne was devastated. I couldn’t erase that brokenhearted expression on her face from my memory.

“What the fuck do I do?” I groaned out, letting my head fall against the back of the chair. “I wish you were here, Dad, to tell me what I need to do. You were always good at telling me what to do with my life.”

That had been the fight before I flew back to New York. I dimly remembered it now. “Son, you can’t just turn your back on responsibility. That’s part of being a good man. This ranch is your responsibility.”

“It’s my responsibility to make sure that everyone on this ranch is happy,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “It’s my job to make sure that this place is protected. Fine job I’m doing. It’s karma that the Iron Stallion is closed down right now.”

Marcus wouldn’t even return my calls. It was Joe who called me earlier this morning to tell me that black gunk was coming up through the drains. I couldn’t afford to let the Iron Stallion go another week without plumbing and customers. The ranch was a cushion, but not a comfy cushion against the temporary closure. Donating supplies to Cheyenne had been a stretch without any flow of cash coming in at the moment.

That would change soon though once the contracts came back. Tiffany had dealt with a few corporations a few days ago. They would be coming out to the ranch to inspect it. They didn’t want another Bill Coates story circulating around the news for the general public to see. It led to financial hits for them too.

“Colt?”

I jerked in surprise to find Cheyenne alongside my legs. Her long dark hair was damp from her shower earlier, but she was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a tight shirt that accented her ample breasts perfectly. My mouth went dry as I sat up in the chair, trying to keep my eyes focused on her concerned face than on other places of her body that my hands longed to touch.

“I’m sorry,” I said, sitting my glass down on the coffee table. “Did you say something?”

Cheyenne shifted nervously on her feet. “I saw the living room light on still, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Silence stretched on between us. Unable to deal with it, or with how wonderful Cheyenne smelt of vanilla, I gestured to the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Care for a glass with me?”

To my surprise, Cheyenne nodded in agreement. I poured us both a glass as Cheyenne settled down in the window pane to also look at the barn.

“Nothing so far?”

“Nothing,” I said, scooting the chair closer to her. “Rick will handle it if someone comes up to pull another prank.”

Cheyenne pulled back to take a sip of her whiskey. Her face was measured when she looked up at me curiously.