Page 57 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

William smirked at Patrick’s words, and instead of engaging, I did the only practical thing I could think of and walked away.

Twenty minutes later, I’d eaten, and William and Patrick had the kitchen sparkling. I hadn’t expected William to know how to scrub, but someone had taught him, because he and Patrick worked side-by-side to get it done.

Now we were headed out to the barley field. We’d left the dogs behind, because they always managed to get in the way. In an act of desperation to keep some space between William and myself, I’d climbed into Todd’s truck.

Todd, who had arrived at eight—an impressive feat considering he’d driven from Houston—raised his eyebrows as I shut the door.

The ride to the field wasn’t long, and I’d expected to sit in silence with Todd, but he surprised me by asking, “How is William doing?”

I was pretty sure his undertone meant he was asking how I was doing with William. I chose to ignore that. “Fine. He’s a surprisingly hard worker and wants to understand the ranch.”

“Do you like him?” Todd asked.

I glared at my brother.

Todd rolled his eyes. “I meant as an owner for the ranch.”

“Sure you did,” I muttered.

Todd held up a hand. “I got the message that I shouldn’t mess with your love life loud and clear in high school.”

Todd had been the one who’d paid Christopher to take me to a dance. I’d gone, mostly because I hadn’t figured it out until the day of the festivities, but after I’d gotten home, I’d had it out with Todd in a screaming match that was still legendary in the family.

The mere thought of the situation brought me back to kickball, which always threatened to send me into a spiral of anger, so I focused on the pasture we were passing and forced my mind back to the question he’d asked.

Would William be a good owner for the ranch? Now would be the time to talk to Todd about me taking over instead of my dad selling, but I couldn’t bring it up with him. There was too much baggage between us, and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my feelings. So I answered his question. “I think William will be okay,” I admitted. “He’s not afraid to be hands on, but with his CEO responsibilities, I doubt he’ll be around much to do anything himself.”

“Will he take care of the place?” Todd asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” I hadn’t told anyone that owning a ranch was some sort of childhood dream for William, but over the past days, I’d gotten the feeling that he would make the place as perfect as he could.

In theory.

I smiled at the thought, caught Todd looking at me, and wiped the grin off my face.

After a moment of silence, he asked, “Are you mad that Dad is selling?”

I blinked and looked at my brother. Had I said or done something that had given it away? I decided to stall. “Why would I be mad?”

“Not sure.” He turned onto the road that led to the field. “But I’m getting your angry vibe.”

Todd had plenty of up close and personal experience with my angry vibe. I didn’t want to tell him my real feelings, so I put a different spin on them. “Dad surprised me, that’s all.” And since I knew Todd would ask follow up questions, I added, “I’ve been making plans to improve the place. I guess I should have talked to Dad about that so I didn’t waste my time.”

We were the last vehicle in the column, and the scent of kicked-up dirt came through the vents.

“What plans?” he asked.

“Just upgrades, maybe another horse barn, a better way to shear sheep. That kind of stuff.”

“Why?”

I swallowed. I, once again, had to give him a partial truth. “Things around here have felt a bit stuck since mom died. I thought moving the ranch forward might help Dad.”

And me.

“I see.”

We’d come to the end of our drive, and I gladly hopped out of Todd’s truck so I could escape the conversation.

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