Slow Burn Cowboy(50)

Finn snorted and wrapped the barbed wire around his hand, his leather work gloves keeping it from piercing his skin.

He had been out repairing fences with Cain all afternoon, and for the most part his brother hadn’t made him want to crawl out of his skin. This was the exception.

“Hey,” Finn said, “I just decided not to kill all of you in your sleep and tell law enforcement it was an unfortunate accident so that I could claim all parts of the ranch back for myself. You might want to tread lightly.”

Cain smiled. “All things considered, I’m not really sure that you’re the one who has the monopoly on brother killing jokes.”

Finn frowned. “Why did they name you that, anyway?”

Cain shrugged. “Hell if I know. Probably my mom’s idea of something different and interesting. Or maybe they figured I was doomed to be an ass from day one. But better Cain than Abel, right?”

“I guess.”

“So what’s your plan?” Cain asked, resting his foot on the bottom rung of the fence and looking out toward the mountains. He tilted his hat back on his head, letting out a long, slow breath. “I mean for your life.”

“Really? Are we having this conversation?”

“I’m curious. My plans go as far as Violet getting into college. And then I’m going to have to work to pay for her to be there, because I don’t think she’s getting any scholarships. She’s a great kid, and I love her, but she’s not exactly interested in applying herself in any exceptional way.”

“Right,” Finn said, “why would she want to? At her age, there’s about a million more interesting things to do.”

Cain grimaced. “Which I also try not to think about. But... I didn’t imagine myself here. On the West Coast. Away from Texas. Raising a kid by myself, who’s barely a kid anymore. I feel fucking old and I’m not even forty.”

“You are pretty fucking old.”

Cain gave him a sideways glance. “Thank you.”

“I assume based on that expression that I’m now doing exactly what a younger brother should do.”

“I suppose,” Cain said, his tone flat. “Anyway, that’s my plan. Two more years and my daughter will be out of the house. I can’t imagine getting married again. Probably won’t be having any more kids. And then what? I think... I think that’s the real reason I wanted to come here. Because everything in my life back in Texas was finished. Or at least, close to being finished. And it was also... Not really mine. It was a life that I built with somebody else. I can’t have that life back. Also, I don’t want it back. But I needed something new. I promise it had nothing to do with ruining your life.” Cain paused, then looked over at Finn, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. “That’s just a bonus.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“That refrain is getting old.” But Cain didn’t really sound like he minded.

“Well, I’m not sure I understand why you’d want to link your hopes and dreams to cows, but if you do, if you want to make this your life, I guess I get it. I can’t really begrudge you that.”

“So what’s your plan?” Cain asked, bracing his hands around the top of the fence. “Cows?”

“Basically.” Finn bent and started collecting his tools, sticking them in the rusted old toolbox his grandfather had probably had since WWII. “Expanding the dairy now. I mean, thanks to Lane.”

“I thought that we inspired you to do that, by our very presence. And also to keep us busy so we kept out of your hair. And to give Liam something to do so he wouldn’t be such a jackass.”

“Liam is past the point of redemption,” Finn said, his tone dry. “But, I mean, you were part of it—the reason I said yes to expanding. The added manpower alone makes it more possible than ever. And, yes, getting you out of my hair can’t be underestimated. But even if that hadn’t been a definite fringe benefit, Lane is pretty damn convincing.”

Cain smiled. “You gonna marry that girl? Because I wouldn’t mind having her around more. I certainly like eating her food.”

Finn shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not really interested in marriage.”

“I’d ask why. But I’m pretty sure I already know.”

“Hey, Alex and Liam had their mother and our father for a little while. You and I don’t even know what a functional relationship looks like.”

Cain nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, I sure don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You can see that, given that I torpedoed the one serious relationship I had.”

“You did?”

He spread his hands. “I must have. It was so bad she had to leave her child in order to leave me.”

“I’d offer you some vague reassurance, but I don’t know your life. Maybe it was your fault.”

“I appreciate that.” Weirdly, he sounded like he meant it.

For a second, Finn let himself think about it. Marrying Lane. Not just that hazy fantasy of having her in his home, but having her with him as his wife. There was definite appeal to that. He couldn’t lie. But he’d seen relationships break down. He’d seen what abandonment looked like. Had felt it too deep. Enough that he couldn’t imagine taking a step like that, one that offered some kind of false assurance of permanence when he wasn’t sure such a thing could exist for him. “It’s not like that,” he said. “I mean, between Lane and me.”

“It looked plenty like that to me when I walked in on you the other day.”

“I’m sleeping with her,” he conceded, not seeing the point in being evasive about it anymore. “But, she’s got some stuff. She doesn’t want to get married. She doesn’t want to have kids. I don’t either. I have long considered that a personal goal,” he said drily, “not fathering any kids out of wedlock. Not leaving a string of abandoned people in my wake. It’s just better to... To stay away from that stuff. I don’t see why things can’t keep going the way that they are with her. We have a good thing.”

“I need that thing,” Cain said, bending down and picking up a hammer. “Because another marriage sounds like an invitation to hell as far as I’m concerned. But damn, I miss women.”

“Find one.”

“I’m raising a kid,” he said. “I barely have time to turn around. Much less find somebody to sleep with. I’m certainly not bringing anybody back to the house.”

“If you wanted to spend the night away, there are plenty of people there to take keep an eye on Violet.”

Cain let out a ragged sigh and Finn had a feeling that—for some reason—he was being a little too pragmatic for his brother. “Well, she’ll be gone in two years anyway.” He didn’t sound particularly happy about that, though.

He looked at Cain, and he saw even more reasons to avoid that kind of entanglement. Hell, Cain had gotten married. And then it had all blown up. He had a kid, and now that kid was getting ready to leave him too. And Finn saw the way they interacted with each other. Saw how difficult she was.

Finn had already had a lifetime of people walking away. He didn’t think he could sign on for a wife and kids, only to watch them do the same.

“Hey,” he said, “Lane is bringing food tonight, so if you can’t enjoy the other pleasures of having a woman, you can eat my woman’s food.”

Cain laughed. “That, I will take. Your woman, huh?”

Finn frowned. “Well, yeah. But it’s not like that.”

“Okay,” Cain said, bringing the hammer back down on a nail.

“It’s not.”

“I said okay.”

Out of everything Cain had said in that conversation, maybe the truest thing was that Finn mostly wanted to kill him. And that older brothers were supposed to make you crazy.

If there was anything else Finn had learned today, it was that he never wanted to feel the depth of the loneliness that his brother seemed to feel. When he saw that stark, hollow expression on Cain’s face, it was way too close to a darkness he’d experienced before and he’d be damned if he tempted it again.

No, what he and Lane had was good. He had always wanted her, and now he had her. She had broken down her walls for him. Had given him some of the burden, and he was damn glad of it.

Sharing with Cain hadn’t been so bad either. And maybe, just maybe, dinner would go more smoothly than he’d hoped.

* * *

HIS HOME WAS NOISY, and the weird thing was, it didn’t even bother him that much. Even Violet had come downstairs for dinner. Alex was giving everyone a hard time, because that’s what he did, Liam was nursing a beer and Cain was sitting in easy silence.

Lane, of course, was making conversation. A lot of it ridiculous, because that’s what she did when she was full of energy. Nerves or energy and you could pretty much count on strange things coming out of Lane’s mouth. He liked that, he realized. It was one of the big things he liked about her.

His grandfather had been steady, but taciturn. He had never been one to waste words. Lane wasted them with a particular sort of glee that he found endearing. Always had. This home, the home that now had noise filtering up to the rafters, had always been quiet. Except when Lane had come over.