Page 2 of Bound and Branded

And what’s the point of that?

I’m about to say exactly that when he stands. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

He looks at me, just for a second, and everywhere his gaze touches, I burn. With fury, with something else. But it’s like I can’t move. Like he’s immobilized me with just his glance. I hate that too.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Business. With your father.”

He walks past me like I’m incidental. Like I don’t matter. Like my feelings mean nothing. But I suppose to him my feelings don’t mean a damn thing.

He walks out the front door, and I go after him.

I can hear my father’s voice as I slam the door shut. No. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do, not when I have to do everything. He doesn’t get to exercise authority when he feels like it. Not when he can’t keep the place stable without me.

“What’s going on? I have a right to know. My dad’s name might be on this land, but I’m the one running it.”

He stops then and I keep going, bringing me almost toe to toe with him, and I can barely breathe. He’s stunning, that’s the problem. So tall and broad, his hair dark, and though I’ve rarely seen him without a hat, I know it curls just a bit at the top and around his collar. His eyes are a piercing blue I can feel all the way through my body.

He’s not quick with a smile, his mouth is grim, and dark stubble covers his square jaw. He’s more than classically handsome. It’s almost enraging. Why should one man get wealth, strength, height and looks so fine they could topple mountains?

I’m short and poor with hard won strength in my bony arms and deeply average breasts, which as far as I’m aware is the main feature men look at – unless they’re into asses. As far as your face goes, if you’re competent with makeup the glitter and flash seems to read as ‘beautiful’ to them no matter how your features are actually arranged.

I’m bad with makeup.

And I had one man who seemed totally fine with all that and I tanked that relationship.

Caleb Flynn remains tall, gorgeous, and in my grill.

“I’m aware,” he says, his gaze assessing. “Avery, you might not know anything about me, but I know everything about you. Everything about this ranch. I know what financial state you’re in.”

“I know that we burn through a lot of money –”

“No, you burn through money you don’t have. I don’t think you know how bad it is. Do you know how much your dad gambles?”

The words are like a slap. “Some.”

“He’s an addict.”

“He’s not an addict. He just… Likes to blow off a little steam.”

“Avery, you’re in danger of not ever having a shred of this ranch without my intervention. Luckily, I’m stepping in.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your dad is borrowing money from me, but he’s using the ranch as collateral.”

“Are you… Are you kidding me?”

“No. I’m not.”

“This is our land. You… You’re a predatory son of a bitch. You’ve been buying off chunks of this property ever since you moved in, and this is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“What the fuck do you think will happen if I don’t intervene?” he asks, moving toward me, and I’m reminded of just how big he is. Broad, like the side of a mountain. Well over six feet.

“I don’t…”

“Of course not, because you still trust him.”

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