Page 11 of Cruel Expectations

They could not reach the ranch fast enough.

Hunter’s bulky shoulder bumped hers as he reached into the pocket of his beat-up leather coat and withdrew a short length of thin rope.

She stared at the hemp in his big hand. “What are you going to do with that short little rope? Sister, please tell me this guy’s not coming to work on the ranch. He’s completely clueless about what a real cowboy does.”

As she looked on, Hunter knotted the length of rope, creating small loops down the length. Then he knotted the ends together and held it out to her.

“Here’s your crown.”

With a lift of her jaw, she refused to take it. He had the audacity to stick it on her head.

With a muffled cry of anger, she threw it on the floor.

“I’m going to need that back.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He cocked that stupid brow.

“You’re not kidding. Oh my god.” She bent over and grabbed the rope, then thrust it at him.

Meadow sighed. “If you two are finished bickering like seven-year-olds, I’ll fill you in about our father.” Her statement made Ivy’s spine snap straight.

Her irritation with her travel companion had her so keyed up that she’d almost forgotten her reason for coming home.

“Please tell me what’s going on with Daddy.” She swung her head to pierce Hunter in her glare, just hoping that he questioned what they were talking about so she could blast him with the news that she’d traveled day and night to get home to her father, whose life hung in the balance.

* * * * *

“This is where you’ll sleep.” Colton waved at a space with two sets of bunkbeds. “Top one’s free.”

Hunter dipped his head in a nod and then dropped his duffel to the dusty hardwood floor. “Thanks, brother.”

“Sorry it’s not more glamorous.”

“After the places we slept, it’s at least a three-star accommodation.”

They shared a tightening of lips, too watered down to be called smiles. The last op, the one that wiped out the squadron and left Hunter laid up for months with a bum leg, wore on both of them.

Colton twitched his head for Hunter to follow. When he led him out to a spacious main room, Hunter followed. The area included a sparse kitchen against one wall and a sink stacked with dirty dishes. Hunter wrinkled his nose at the smell. It wasn’t worse than living with his own stink after going days without a shower in the deep of an op, but he didn’t look forward to living with slobs.

He glanced at the long wooden table with several chairs shoved in haphazardly, then to a more casual seating group with a couple recliners, a sofa and a TV.

In the black screen, he saw his own blurred reflection. It seemed to represent how he felt about himself right now—like he wasn’t fully a man. Fully real.

He was supposed to die on that op like the rest of his brothers-in-arms.

Colton waved a hand. “It isn’t much, but the rest of the ranch hands are decent. The ranch manager might give you some trouble at first.”

Hunter shot him a sharp look. “What kind of trouble?”

They exchanged a look.

“You don’t need to sleep with a weapon, if that’s what you’re asking.” Colton issued a rough laugh that held little humor.

Hunter grunted.

“Let’s head outside and talk a while before I show you around the ranch.”

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