Page 44 of At the Rancher's Pleasure

Sarabeth shook her head. “No, I’m done. We’re done.”

“Just like that?” Brett asked brusquely. Sarabeth caught a flash of pain in his eyes and resisted the urge to fling herself into his arms, to apologize, to talk him around into giving her another chance.

And then what? They’d have another two or three months and she’d be deeper in love with him and then he’d dump her.

No, it was better this way. It had to be.

“Bye, Brett.” Sarabeth stroked his arm from shoulder to elbow before lifting her hand and bunching it into a fist. Pushing her shoulders back, she forced herself to look at Rusty, whose lips were curled into a nasty smirk. “Remember what I said, Rusty. If you ever mess with my kids again, I will disembowel you. Are we clear?”

“You’ve got quite ferocious in youroldage, Sarabeth.”

The old age comment was a dig but Sarabeth ignored it. Really, he was such a petty little man.

Rusty turned his head, his stormy gaze landing on Brett. He lifted a finger and waved it in front of the younger man’s nose. “We’re not done. And I will take you down.”

“You can try,” Brett responded, his voice tight. Sarabeth looked at him and sighed. His face was granite hard and, with his arms folded across his chest, he looked tough and oh-so-distant. Which was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

“Leave him alone, Rusty,” Sarabeth told her ex, surprised at how weary she sounded. “Our relationship has nothing to do with you.”

“As of two minutes ago, we don’t have a relationship,” Brett corrected her before turning around and walking away from her.

Rusty’s laugh contained no amusement and was full of contempt. “You really do have a talent for screwing up, don’t you, Bethie?”

There was no point in responding so Sarabeth just held his eye until his smirk receded. She thought that she caught a hint of respect in his eyes and told her imagination to stand down. Rusty didn’t respect her and Brett didn’t see her as strong and capable. Because he couldn’t see her clearly, he could never love her the way she needed him to.

Sarabeth was certain she’d done the right thing.

Hadn’t she?

Eleven

Brett opened up the engines attached to his luxury powerboat and smiled at Jules’s whoop of appreciation. He looked over his shoulder to see his best friend lounging on the leather seats behind him, his ball cap on backward and a blissful look on his face.

They both needed a break. Jules because he was on forced leave after being shot at during a routine traffic stop, and Brett because he’d been dumped.

Dumped.Man, he sounded like a fourteen-year-old boy.

Brett sighed, grateful to be out on the water. Last night, a week after the TCC cocktail party, and feeling out of sorts and irritated and, yeah,lonely, he’d found himself wanting to jump out of his skin. He’d called Jules and suggested they take his boat for a spin. Of course, taking his luxury cruiser for a spin involved a three-hour drive to the elite waterside community of Mustang Point on Trinity Bay where he berthed his Riva 63 Virtus.

It was now midday, the sun was high in the sky and it was a perfect day to be on the water. Once they’d satisfied their mutual need for speed, they’d pull out their rods and throw some hooks in the water. They might or might not talk. Brett hadn’t told Jules his and Sarabeth’s relationship was over—though he was pretty sure that he’d heard by now—and Jules might mention the bullets that flew past his ear, but words didn’t matter.

Getting away did.

His friend stood up, stretched and ambled over to stand next to Brett, who had one hand on the wheel as they flew across the lake-like waters of the bay.

Jules squinted across the bow and dropped his dark shades onto his face. “Is that Appaloosa Island?”

“Yeah.”

Jules leaned forward as if to see the island better. “I’ve never been there, it looks impressive. And expensive.”

Brett powered up again and when they were closer to the island, they could see a couple of homes on the western side of the island. “This side of Appaloosa has a few large vacation homes, all with pristine, private beaches. Farther down the coast, around the headland, there’s a small, exclusive boutique resort just south of the landing. Only people with very deep pockets, the right pedigree and a connection to the Edmond family can build here.”

“Rusty Edmond owns it?” Jules asked.

Brett nodded, knowing his expression was grim. He was still, and probably always would be, pissed at Sarabeth’s ex.

“It’s really remote,” Jules commented.

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