Page 4 of Buck Me

So much for optics.

As I edge toward the side door, I catch fragments of my father's urgent whisper to his campaign manager. "The development company's already broken ground on the shopping complex. If this easement doesn't go through by Christmas, we lose the anchor stores. And I lose my biggest campaigncontributor." His eyes flash toward the Kingridge brothers. "Those boys think they can play politics? They have no idea what's coming."

In the midst of the storm, I spot Danner.

He’s holding his brother back. One arm is wrapped around Alex’s middle, and the other braces against his shoulder. But his eyes… his eyes are locked on me.

Even as he manages the chaos, Danner jerks his head toward the kitchen behind me. It’s subtle, but intentional. I follow his gaze to the glowing redExitsign and then back to him.

He mouths,go now.

I don’t need to be told twice.

With my father distracted by his own performance, I slip from his grip and edge toward the side door. My heart pounds as I push it open. The quiet whump of the door closing behind me is a relief.

When I get outside, the cool night air hits my face like a balm. I kick off my heels and start walking. As soon as I reach the field beyond the barn, the grass softens beneath my feet. I don’t look back. I just keep walking until the noise from the gala fades into crickets and moonlight. I’m desperate to put distance between myself and my father’s chaos.

I knew it’d be like this when I got back. But where else can I go? How the hell will I get there when Dad holds all the cards?

I reach what looks like an abandoned garden and slip through the gate. When I hear the creak of the spring behind me, my whole body stiffens.

Please don’t be my dad. Please don’t be—I turn.

My heart stops.

It’s Danner.

CHAPTER 3

DANNER

Two Weeks Before,The Farm to Table Gala at the Velvet Spur

“I saw him tug your arm.” My voice comes out sharper than I meant it to. It’s more bark than question, but I can’t help myself. “Why is he tugging your arm like that?”

Becca blinks up at me. She looks startled, but not afraid. Not of me, at least. “That’s just how he is,” she says quietly, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “He wanted to make sure I didn’t embarrass him.”

She says it like it’s normal. Like it’s fine. Like she’s already justified it to herself a thousand times.

“You say that like it’s normal, like it’s fine when it’s anything but. I don’t know how many times you’ve had to justify that to yourself, but that doesn’t make it right.”

She cuts her eyes at me, and the heat bubbles in her stare. Then, without another word, she turns and forges a path between the overgrown garden beds. I give her space to take it all in and push it all out of her mind.

The moment she steps off the stone path and into the moonlit soil, she changes. Her shoulders lowered. Her breath steadies. She starts pulling deadheads off the rosebushes. Her fingersmove with practiced ease. She brushes petals and tugs off dead leaves.

Then Becca crouches to pick at weeds and leans into a cluster of overgrown wildflowers. The sequins on her dress stretch across her back, catching the light, shimmering like starlight across velvet skin.

My mouth goes dry.Don’t look. Don’t think it. She's too innocent.But I am looking. Hell, I can’t do anything but look. I catch the imprints of angry fingers on the inside of her forearm. My adrenaline spikes again, flaring through my chest and arms like wildfire. The anger has nowhere to go, so it just sits there, burning.

“Ha.” My laugh is dark, bitter. “Your dad doesn’t need any help embarrassing himself. I don’t like what I saw. There’s not a reason for any man to put his hands on you like that. You know that, don’t you?”

She doesn’t look at me, just keeps deadheading a rose like it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense.

“Becca, how old are you?” I ask the question hot on my tongue before I can stop it.

She glances over her shoulder, then straightens, a handful of seed pods clutched in her hand. “I’m twenty-two.”

My jaw clenches, and I lean against the splintered split rail fence. “So get out of there. You’re an adult, move away from Bellcourt’s bullshit. You don’t have to deal with it.”

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