Page 5 of Burned & Bound

“No buts,” I growled.

“In order to sell the place, Mr. McNamara, you have to come here personally to handle it. All of your father’s affairs need to be handled,” he explained.Fuck, fuck, fuck.I drew in a sharp breath. That unsteady clawing feeling weaseled its way into my chest as I tried to focus on my breathing. I didn’t want to go back there. “We just need a single meeting to handle it all. That’s it.”

“We?” I managed to ask.

“The estate needs to be gone over with you and Mr. Myles—Jackson Myles,” he told me.

“Fuck,” I snapped. I ran a hand over my face. I couldn’t go back, let alone be in the same fucking room as him. “Fuck!”

“When should I set up this meeting?” Charles continued without hesitation. This guy really did just fucking plow on forward.

“I can be there next Monday.” I heard myself say the words but could barely comprehend them as they came out of my mouth.

The attorney kept talking, but I didn’t hear a fucking word of it. I folded over and did my best to breathe while my stomach tried to empty itself and something awful tried tocrush my lungs.

Double Arrow Ranch.

I didn’t want to go back there.

And I certainly didn’t want to see Jackson Myles again.

CHAPTER 02

jackson

Fuck being in agood mood.

Fuck this goddamn meeting.

And fuck West McNamara. Maybe I’d call him Dakota just to piss him off.Yeah, I was still bitter about the whole damn thing.I loved him—I had for a long time—and I’d honestly been fooled into thinking he loved me too. That night in the field was supposed to be our turning point. But then that selfish asshole just walked away from it all. From the ranch. From his dad. From me.

There was no denying that Dakota West McNamara had broken my heart.

I would’ve been just fine—maybe a little hurt—if he’d told me that night had been a stupid fluke. A thing he didn’t want. But to just leave without a fucking word? That shit fucked with my head.

I leaned against the only window in that tiny as fuck mediation room, arms crossed, boots crossed, and head tipped down. It made it impossible to see a damn thing over the brim of my Stetson. Not that I cared. Beingstuck in a room with Charles Hart and Maggie Lawson wasn’t how I wanted to spend the morning. Hart represented the McNamaras when it came to the ranch while Maggie represented my family. Why the hell my parents split the legal representation was beyond me. Dad died without ever telling me, and Mom’s memory wasn’t real great anymore. I learned early on to not ask questions unless it was dire to the function of the ranch. Maggie seemed to have all her shit in order, so I trusted her.

“I thought you said your client would be here, Mr. Hart,” Maggie quipped once more, her tone tight.

Yeah, West was a good hour late.Color me fucking surprised.

“I have Mr. McNamara’s assurances that he’ll be here soon,” Hart said.

“You’ve been saying that same fucking sentence for the last hour,” I chimed him. I lifted my head, leveling my glare on him. He swallowed hard. That was the thing about me. On camera, I was a hell of a personality. Everyone loved the happy-go-lucky gay bull rider persona. What wasn’t to love about that? But anyone who knew me outside of that? Well, they all knew it was a fucking smoke show. I was a mean son of a bitch when I wanted to be, and no one fucking messed with me. Gay didn’t guarantee I was happy. It just meant I liked dick. I could be as grumpy as I fucking wanted. “I don’t like my time being wasted. Is he showing up or not?”

“He’ll be here,” he insisted and then got right back on his phone. Pushing away from the table, he stormed out of the room. Apparently, Hart was none too impressed with his own client.That made two of us.

“I ain’t staying much longer, Mags,” I told her. “I got shit I need to do. A ranch don’t run itself.”

“I know,” she replied. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. Maggie was older in a way that reminded me of my mom. Dark gray hair, crow’s feet at the corners of her brown eyes, and a smile laced with cyanide. She looked as ready to rip West a new one as I was. Hell, I considered sticking around for just that. “And no one would blame you. I told Charles after everything it took to find Mr. McNamara that we shouldn’t have set this damn meeting until we had him in the state.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I demanded.

“Let me just say that you dodged a bullet with that man wanting to sell,” Maggie said. “It took two private investigators to even find him. Hisparole officer all but told us to just give up because keeping track of West McNamara is… in his words, a fucking feat.”

“What the hell did he go to jail for?” I asked, frowning. I didn’t need to know, considering how quickly I planned to forget the man, but we’d call it morbid curiosity.

“Armed robbery when he was nineteen. He never fired his weapon and he gave up real fast, which is probably the only reason his sentence was so short. But his behavior in prison was questionable at best.” She rolled her eyes. “Should’ve kept him longer in my opinion with the number of drunken disorderlies and bar fights that man has racked up over the years. It’s a miracle he’s not back in jail.”

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