Page 6 of Buck Me

“Sorry, I didn’t want to get that part wrong. But now you’re here,” she says, lips tugging into a smile. “You're trying to figure out how to fit in on a ranch with a bunch of bros who can’t get out of their own way.”

I snort. “Pretty much.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I thought I’d get to know my family. Figure out if I can belong here. Didn’t think it’d be this hard, if I’m being honest,” I admit. “I’ll die trying to get them to understand that recycling isn’t a personality trait. I really thought the whole world had caught on. You know—plant food, not lawns. Build habitat, conserve water. Turns out outside the west coast, sustainability makes you woke.”

“It can’t be easy for them,” Becca leans into me. “Learning they’ve got some random brother out here, suddenly part of the family. Pa’s instant favorite. The most handsome of all of them. Showing up, charming all the women in town.” Her cheeks flush, and she drops her gaze for a second too long. A deep red crawls across her skin like wildfire.

“Someone’s got to do it,” I growl.

“You know what? Fuck the bros. Build a habitat. Save the bees. Conserve the land.”

I grin. Wide. Real.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Fuck the bros.”

CHAPTER 4

DANNER

And just like that,we’re standing in the moonlight, and my heart is thudding in my chest. Becca and I are trading battle cries like we’re the only two people on the planet who understand what it means to want more than what we were handed.

An hour passes in the blink of an eye. The conversation is smart and deep. She tells me about growing up with the expectations of a narcissist. She doesn’t feel like being run out of the only life she’s ever known just to escape him, and I understand that. She tells me that she’s never been in love and about all the guys who have tried to make her fall along the way. Becca is different from anyone I’ve ever met.

I tell her my truth, too, even the dark parts, but she doesn’t seem afraid. I came here broken. My ex left me three months after Mom's funeral. She said I'd emotionally checked out, and maybe she was right.

I’d spent two years watching cancer eat away at the strongest woman I knew. When it was all over, I didn't know how to feel anything but empty. But the problems in our marriage started much earlier than that. I had the wrong family. The wrongconnections and the wrong degree. I was never enough, no matter how much I did.

When Becca talks about her love for the arts, I drink in every detail. She’s a breath of fresh air and my first real connection since I arrived in Texas. The ranch was supposed to be a fresh start for me, but some days I wonder if I'm just running from one failure into another.

Until tonight.

Tonight, this woman who sketches gardens in the margins of her life has changed everything. She looks at me like I might actually be worth something, and I like the version of myself I see reflected in her.

Becca pulls a pin from the back of her hair. It sends a wave of auburn hair cascading down her back in soft waves. The strands catch the moonlight as it tumbles over her shoulders. One coil catches on the sequined strap of her dress.

She frowns and tugs at it gently, but it snags again. “A little help here?”

“Of course,” I say, though the words feel like a promise I’m not sure I should make.

My hand lifts before I can stop it. I brush my fingers along the exposed skin at the nape of her neck, slow and careful. Her hair is soft and silky, but wild too. The touch sends a jolt of awareness through me. I notice the way her breath catches as my fingers work through the tangles. I feel the way her body reacts to my touch and sense the slight tremor that runs through her. As I ease the strands free, my fingertip trails down her shoulder blade. Goosebumps ripple up in my wake.

Becca leans almost imperceptibly into my hand. When I trace the line of her shoulder blade, the small sound she makes goes straight to my gut. The way she responds to me is delicate and strong at the same time. It makes me want to pull her against me until there's no space left between us.

"There.” The word catches in my throat. But my hand lingers, thumb brushing once more across her neck.

She turns to face me, and the want in her eyes mirrors my own. All of a sudden, Becca and I are close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She turns to face me, chin tilted up, lips parted just slightly.

"Becca," I say, her name like a prayer and a warning all at once.

The moonlight reflects off her cheekbones, painting her in silver and shadow. Her eyes are wide, steady. She’s not scared of this moment.

I am.

We’re so close I can feel the heat of her skin. My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to break free of the cage. Kissing her would be a bad idea on every level.My brothers. Her father. Politics. The small town gossip. The fact that I’ve never been able to hold on to a woman I love.I failed enough for both of us. I carry baggage.

Becca may not know it, but she carries the weight of expectation. She’s young and bright and full of the kind of softness I’ve learned to live without. She’s innocent and unjaded.

And yet… I want her.

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