Typically, he was the steady rock of the two of them. He was a cowboy, for heaven’s sake. Riding around his property on a horse with a big hat. Doing all the work, day in day out. Finn was like the tide. Dependable. And always where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there.
But right now, he seemed on the verge of cracking, and when she had looked at someone and seen a stalwart for so long it was a little bit jarring.
And completely unfair. She was having a thing. She needed him to not have a thing right now.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling like a jerk, because of course he was having a hard time. He’d lost his grandfather, and now he was expected to share the ranch he’d invested his entire life in. Finn didn’t share well. And he didn’t unclench easily.
She had a feeling his real resistance to considering her plan had to do with the fact that he didn’t like being told what to do, even if he was being told to do the right thing.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, because she probably did owe him an apology. Maybe she hadn’t meant to be manipulative, but she couldn’t argue that there was a little of that underneath the surface. Even if it was well-intentioned and deeply buried manipulation. “I meant to bring pasta, not an agenda. And you know that I would never ask you to do something I thought was a bad idea. I’m not going to tell you to do something that benefits me but not you.”
“I know that. But too many things are changing, and I can’t consider another one right now.” He took a deep breath and moved to the edge of the porch, grabbing hold of the railing and wrapping his fingers around the top. “I was twelve the first time I came here. My father was consumed with Liam and Alex, who were younger, so they needed him more. My mom was involved in her own stuff. When I came here... I felt like my days had a purpose. I could change the earth with my hands. That’s pretty intense for a kid whose entire life was made hell by selfish adults. Who didn’t have control over one damn thing up until that point.”
He turned to look at her, his expression deadly serious. There was something in his face just then, the intensity and the glint of his dark eyes, the set of his square jaw and the firm press of his lips that made something respond inside her. An answering tension that began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way down her limbs, leaving something restless and edgy in its wake.
He continued, “I know that the rest of them all spent some time here. But nobody connected with the place like I did. And when I was sixteen I left my mom’s house for good. I came here, and my grandfather treated me like a man. He gave me work to do. He gave me a purpose. This place is my purpose.”
Her throat was dry, and so was her mouth. She wanted to do something. To close the distance between them.
Put her arms around him, maybe.
She could only imagine how he would react if she tried to hug him after he shared his feelings. He would probably have a straight-up allergic reaction.
So she just stayed where she was, curling her fingers into fists, trying to do something to stem that flow of restless energy that was coursing through her. This was where their friendship was strange. Because if it were Rebecca, Alison or Cassie, she wouldn’t hesitate to offer them some kind of physical comfort.
Here she was. Made of hesitation.
“I understand that,” she said, her voice sounding scratchy. “I mean, I know what it’s like to find hope in a place.” She bit her lip. She really didn’t like talking about the circumstances that had brought her to Copper Ridge. She was good at dancing around them. But Finn had been there from the beginning. So while he didn’t know the details—her brother didn’t even know—he had a sense of what it had been like in her childhood home.
“When I came here,” she said, “I felt lost. And scared. And yes, I had Mark, but leaving my parents like I did was... Terrifying. You don’t even know. Louise and Philip Jensen do not allow for dissent in the ranks. And I...dissented. Leaving like I did made it very clear, and I could never go back. As soon as I got to town it was like finding a safe haven. A harbor that sheltered me from the storm. I know that’s total hyperbole, but it’s the truth. My heart is here. So when you say that this ranch gave you focus, when you say that it matters—bone deep—I get it. I do. I’m not your enemy. But I might just play devil’s advocate. Maybe your brothers need this place right now too.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh. “I mean, I guess it could be worse.”
“How? Sneaker waves? An anvil falling from the sky?”
“No,” he said, his tone sounding impatient.
“Oh! Plague of locusts.”
“Lane,” he said, his tone a warning. “No. It could be worse because I could be the one stuck with a teenager.”
Lane wrinkled her nose. “Poor Cain.”
Though, in some ways, her heart went out to that girl. At sixteen, Lane’s life had changed forever. She’d been forced to grow up too quickly. She had a feeling that Violet had been too, though in a different way.
It was clear her mother wasn’t around, and Lane knew that no matter how messy your relationship with your parents was, it hurt when you finally pulled the plug on it.
“They won’t stay,” Finn said, and she had a feeling he was saying it more for his benefit than for hers.
“Maybe they won’t.”
“You don’t believe that.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, let the sounds of the night sink into her skin, all the way down to her bones. There was a faint dampness to the air, a tinge of salt and pine on the breeze. It was a cold night, but it was getting to be summer and she could hear the chirp of a few crickets. The faint croak of tiny tree frogs, likely hiding in the dampness beneath the porch.
“No,” she said eventually. “I don’t. Mostly because I don’t see why anybody would ever want to leave this place.”
“The ranch, or town in general?”
“I meant Copper Ridge in general. But I have to admit that this house has a leg up on my rather rustic little cabin. You’d better be careful, or I’m going to want to move in too.”
“I’m much more likely to move in with you,” he said after a pause. “I mean, if my house gets any more crowded.”
She laughed, and for some reason it sounded a little more nervous than she felt. “There may be fewer people in my house, but it’s small. Tiny. We would have to share a bed.”
For some reason, that comment seemed to land in an odd spot. It just kind of hit heavy between them, like a sad, popped balloon that had fallen back down to earth.
And they both just stood there, staring at it. “I mean,” she said, making a last-ditch effort to redeem it. “You would sleep on the floor. In my room. Like a slumber party. But don’t laugh at my headgear.” He still wasn’t saying anything. “We could braid each other’s hair, talk about boys...” Why wasn’t he saying anything? She really needed him to stop her. She was making it weird, and there was nothing to make weird. And yet, frequently over the past few days things had felt exactly that.
Something hard was in his gaze now, and she didn’t like it.
“Eat cookie dough,” she said finally. And then she was done. She really was done. “Okay.” She took a deep breath and started to step away from him. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe. I mean, you don’t have to see me tomorrow. But, actually at least call me, because I want to know what’s going on with everybody. Your brothers. That’s what I mean. Okay.”
She took a step away and he surprised her by reaching out, grabbing hold of her arm and stopping her from taking another step. She froze, her gaze meeting his. Her heart kicked into a higher gear, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what was going on. But breathing was suddenly very difficult.
It was related to the awkwardness. To this whole strange path she had started to walk down earlier in the day, and had continued on into that never-ending ramble. And now it had led to this. Except, her mouth had stopped so her heart was now moving at a near-impossible pace.
“When I spend the night with a woman I don’t do any of those things.” His voice was rough, and it skimmed over her frazzled nerves in a way that sent a strange electric current through her. “Just so you know.”
Then he released his hold on her and she stumbled back, her skin burning where his fingers had just been.
He was holding on to the porch rail again, looking out into the darkness. “See you tomorrow.”
Lane got in her car and started to drive, and it wasn’t until she saw the lights on Main Street that her heart rate returned to normal.
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WERE FEW things more satisfying than looking across the breakfast table at his brothers at five in the morning and seeing just how miserable they were.
Cain was leaning back in his chair, his arm slung over the back like it was a brace that was keeping him from sliding right to the floor. Liam was scowling, one hand curved around a travel mug full of coffee, the other pushed into his dark hair, his elbow resting on the table, like it was propping his head up.
Alex was the only one who was upright, his cup held tightly in both hands, and placed down in his lap. Finn imagined the military ran on ranching time.