Page 3 of Chasing Bandit

“More like a bear trap that I’ll kick and fight my way out of.” I shot back.

Clay laughed again before giving me a hug and heading to his truck. “You need a ride back to Ashwood ranch or are you staying a bit longer to assess things?”

“I think I’m going to take one more pass through the property and write up some design notes I can discuss with Jovie later.”

He nodded and waved as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with my thoughts and space to plan in silence.

The warehouse was enormous, an impressive size for the non-profit Jovie had envisioned. I could already picture the layout: a spacious receiving area at the front for produce deliveries with plenty of open space to accommodate special events. We’d set up tables where operational hires would sort, clean and package the produce into boxes. Delivery drivers could then pick them up near the kitchen exit at the back to distribute into the community.

Nourish Texas Co-op, a food delivery service non-profit that will receive donations from neighboring ranches and farms of fruit, vegetables, and other produce, was Jovie's new venture after selling a few acres of property on Ashwood ranch to Rig Cameron. The non-profit would deliver this produce weekly to underserved communities in rural Texas, providing fresh food to nourish families. It was a vision born out of our own upbringing and one that I knew had been placed on her heart for decades.

I was proud of it, but also overwhelmed by how much work still needed to be done before the opening date she'd set for early October.

I headed back inside and found a ledge in the kitchen to sit on while I made a list on my phone of the tasks that needed to be completed over the next few months. My mind whirred to life as I tapped into my creativity, drafting plans, and outlining priorities. I was so engrossed in my notes that I didn’t hear the front door open until he was standing right behind me.

“Well, if it isn’t the pickpocketing Vector sister who stole my favorite cowboy hat," a deep, familiar voice spoke.

I spun around, coming face to face with Wylie Cameron who was wearing that devilish smirk he often wore across his face.

He looked good, a little too good. Unlike Nash and Clay’s messy, dark blonde hair and smoldering stares, Wylie Cameron had inherited his father’s deep brown hair, just long enough to brush the edges of his button-up collar and perfect for fisting. His piercing green eyes seemed to see right through you, and the spring Texan sun had started to brown up his skin. And his smile, though definitely smoldering, was a little more devious than his brothers.

I’d never been into the whole cowboy style vibe—I preferred my men in suits and ties, crewcuts and loafers—but Wylie had that new-age cowboy style going for him. He could listen to country music and then switch effortlessly to R&B. He wore Wranglers and cowboy boots but could rock a backward baseball cap, Nike dunks and a band tee. He was difficult to label, and it was both sexy and infuriating at the same time.

“You have a closet full of them. I don’t know why you’re still upset about that,” I tossed back as I saved what I’d been writing and slid my phone back into the pocket of my floral print dress.

Wylie took a step back, sizing me up as heat spread through my body. I’d chosen a lightweight outfit for the warmer weather, and I was barefoot despite my usual aversion to dirty feet. My heeled wedges were carelessly tossed in the corner of the co-op, so I walked over and slipped them back on. I had taken them off earlier because I didn’t want to walk the property in them while touring with Clay, and my feet were hurting.

With Clay, I felt comfortable; with Wylie, I felt on edge. I needed those extra inches of height to brace myself for whatever inappropriate comment he was bound to make next. I stood to face all six-foot-three inches of his tall, muscular frame while doing my best to manage my attraction toward him.

It had been just one time—well, six times if you count the orgasms and not just the night spent together. After visiting during Thanksgiving five months ago and spending that weekend in bed with Wylie, I had headed back to Houston without saying goodbye—back to where I belonged.

Wylie, however, hadn't taken my abrupt departure well. He’d followed me to Houston for reasons only he knew, showing up at my apartment door in the middle of the night, rain dripping from the brim of his hat and eyes filled with heat. When I told him to go back to Lonestar Junction, he'd pushed his way inside, only to find Charles leaving my bedroom completely naked. Anger flashed across his face for just a moment, and as he turned to leave, he happened to notice that I was still wearing the brown cowboy hat I'd taken from his house as a souvenir.

“I’m upset about it, because you took it without asking like it was some damn trophy you collected from another kill, Bandit. Did you bring it back with you for your visit?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed.

I had.

But not because of Wylie, of course, but because Jovie had warned me that I needed to bring hats for the hot, Texas heat I was sure to endure this summer.

Sure, I supposed I could have borrowed one from my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Nash, or Jovie, but I liked the one I’d taken from Wylie best. It was chocolate brown with a smaller brim and a red, braided strip around the bucket.

He rolled his eyes again, “You probably should have brought it. They are predicting a scorching summer this year but don’t come knocking to borrow one of mine when you realize I’m right, Bandit.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, “And why are you here, Wylie?” I tapped my foot, annoyed.

“Well, I'm certainly not here to provide you with a warm welcome. Clay texted me and said you needed help with some measurements on the place.”

Fucking, Clay. Though I really could use Wylie’s tools to make sure I got the right size for the furniture pieces I was going to need to order.

“I'll get tools from Ashwood ranch and do it myself later tonight.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, don’t be so difficult, Stevie. I have the tools right here in my truck.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you doing me any favors.”

He smirked. "Trust me, I won’t be doing you anymore favors ever again. I'm doing this for my future sister-in-law. Plus, I’m pretty sure you're still thinking about the multiple favors I gave you during your last visit.”

---