CHAPTER 04

jackson

I slammed the door to my truck, taking my anger out on it. Cussing out Harrison and West McNamara while I drove only did me so much good. What I really wanted was eight seconds on the back of a beast trying to take his rage out on me to center myself, but that shit wasn’t happening. It left me wound up and ready to fucking snap.

My foreman, Mickey Hughes, sat on my porch when I rolled up. Mickey began working for my family when he was eighteen years old. That was over forty years ago—not that anyone ever brought up his age to him. Old and weathered, his gray hair was thinning, his skin was wrinkled, and those brown eyes were tired, but he didn’t stop. I wasn’t sure he knew the meaning of slow down. And I wasn’t about to tell him to either. I may have been the ranch owner, but everyone around here knew Mickey was in charge.

He was also the only employee allowed at my house. No one else dared to cross the creek for a visit unless the world was ending. It hadn’t so far.

“Your truck broke, boy?” Mickey asked as I stopped on the step.

“You know it ain’t broke,” I snapped .

“I’m guessin’ the sale didn’t go real well.” He took off his hat, dropping it on his knee.

“It didn’t go at all. Did you know Harrison changed his fucking will?”

“Boy, I don’t take a shit without tellin’ you what I’m doin’,” he reminded me, his tone hardening. Unfortunately, that was true. The man told me everything he did on any given day without sparing me any fucking details. I sure as fuck wished he would though. “So, don’t you go actin’ like I kept somethin’ from you.”

“I know.” I sighed and dropped into the rocking chair next to him. Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Harrison changed his fucking will so it prohibits an immediate sale. Instead, the McNamara’s half of the ranch has been put in a trust for the next year. West has to be my goddamn employee for one year in order to inherit and sell.”

“That sick son of a bitch,” Mickey grumbled. “He sure did know how to fuckin’ stick it to you in the end, didn’t he?”

“Yup,” I muttered. That was the understatement of the century. It was no lie Harrison McNamara and I didn’t see eye to eye. It’d been rough before my dad died, but these last five years? Fuck, they’d been a nightmare. I had no clue why the man fucking hated me, but every turn of business was a goddamn fight with him. And that was before his gambling problem toppled the ranch’s finances.

I wasn’t thrilled when anyone died, but I sure as fuck didn’t feel bad when the old man keeled over from a heart attack either.

“So, what now?”

“Now, I just need to wait him out and sell in a fucking year.”

“At the rate things are goin’, you ain’t goin’ to have the money to settle up that deal.” Mickey reminded me—not that I needed it. I didn’t offer forty-seven to West because I wanted to cut him out of the business—I did, but that wasn’t the reason behind the number. The truth was the ranch was drowning. I couldn’t do it all. Between bull riding, sponsorship duties, and the ranch, I was stretched thin to my limit.

In the last year, we had not one but two viruses sweep the herd. It killed nearly half my cows, including most of the young. The recovery was brutal and almost didn’t happen. As was, buying new stock was out of the question .

It also cost me half my men. Not that I blamed them. They had families to feed and take care of. But that left Mickey and I working our asses off to make up for it.

My plan had been to sell off the land once West was out of the question. That money could’ve been funneled back into the herd to pick the ranch off its ass. I had four months to figure this shit out. I didn’t want to spend it chasing around West McNamara just to protect what was mine.

“How’s he lookin’?” he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Like shit,” I answered all too quickly. Mickey’s head tipped back in the chair as he busted out laughing—a full, body-shaking kind of laugh that I rarely saw from him. And at my own goddamn expense. I scowled.

“Boy, you forget I’ve known you since you were born,” he replied. I wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face. “You may fool most of them, but you ain’t foolin’ me. And quit your grumpin’. I taught you that shit.”

“Fuck you,” I muttered. Mickey had been the first person I came out to, though he hadn’t been surprised in the least. Really no one was. But he was the one person around the ranch who treated my sexuality like any other part of me—interesting only when it entertained him. Changing the subject, I said, “Look, I want you to run a full background check on West. I don’t want any fucking surprises where he’s concerned. We can’t afford surprises.”

“Speaking of surprises,” Mickey began slowly.

“Fuck. Cows or horses?” Because my luck would have my mom’s horses getting sick now too.

“Lost two in herd three on the west side last night.”

“ Fuck . It wasn’t Daisy, was it?” I had a favorite cow. Couldn’t fucking help it. Daisy was more dog than cow at this point, but I was fond of my girl. Most of my lunches on the ranch were spent cuddling that cow—not that I had a choice. That girl was the definition of forcing cuddling on anyone.

“That heifer?” He chuckled. “Nothin’s goin’ to kill that girl. Nah, these two were older, but I got the boys quarantinin’ that portion of the herd.”

Fuck, I wasn’t sure we could keep segmenting the herd. As was, we had the fields divided up way more than I was comfortable with using makeshift fences. It was the best thing I could do to try containing the virus that kept killing my goddamn cows.

“Another thing,” I continued, trying to sort my thoughts. Fuck, this whole West situation had me riled up and all over the place. “I don’t give a fuck why he’s here or that half of this is his family’s land, I don’t want West knowing any of the inside shit you know. Or anyone else. No one fucking talks to him. If he has questions about how my fucking business is going, he can ask me. I’ll set him straight on where he fucking belongs.”

“And where’s that?”

“Gone. That’s where. He did it once, he can do it again.” I knew how I sounded, but I didn’t fucking care. I didn’t need West popping in for a year and fucking everything up. I had enough troubles without his help.

“Now, you ain’t got a clue what sent that boy packin’,” Mickey said quietly.

“Oh, I know.” Me. While Harrison had never quite come out to say it, I had a feeling he found out what happened in that field that night between West and me. And Harrison had been real upfront about West’s upset state of mind—ranting about this couldn’t be his life and all that shit and how he was off to find something better. Someone better. The implication was real fucking hard to miss.

The worst part was that I’d fallen for West’s shit in the field. Hell, that night all but confirmed what I’d been thinking about for the better part of a few years: I knew I loved West, but was I gay?

On top of that mess, I hadn’t expected shit from West. He could’ve told me it was a mistake, and I would’ve recovered just fine. Hurt? Sure. But I was built tough. He didn’t have to run away and never say a goddamn word to me again.

And so if West wanted to find someone better and leave me then fuck him. Karma was a force of fucking nature, and it sounded like she’d handed him his ass more than a few times. Good.

“I want him gone, Mick,” I said, making my intentions as clear as day as I stared the old man down. I didn’t want there to be any confusion. “He gets nothing extra, we give nothing but the bare minimum, and I want him gone. I don’t care what the fuck it takes. I don’t want West McNamara making it a fucking year here.”

“Now, I know you got a bunch of hurt feelin’s invested—”

“I’m not fucking hurt,” I scoffed. “I’m fucking pissed. This is bullshit. You know it and I know it. ”

“—but you’re startin’ to sound a lot more like Harrison McNamara than Jacob Myles,” Mickey finished. His entire expression hardened at the mention of my father. Fuck. “Your daddy was good man, boy, and I know you got a good heart in there too. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck how hurt you are over the shit that went down between you and West. You’re a Myles, and your daddy would be rollin’ in his grave if he thought you were tryin’ to set that boy up to fail. Tryin’ to cheat him out of what he’s earned.”

“He hasn’t earned shit.”

“And you don’t know the full fuckin’ story,” he snapped. “You think you knew Harrison McNamara but you didn’t, boy. You think you know everythin’ about West McNamara, but you don’t, boy. I suggest you get that thick head of yours out of your ass before he shows up here. If he don’t cause trouble, neither should you. And I ain’t sayin’ more than that.”

He slapped his knees as he stood, groaning the whole way. My scowl couldn’t have been any deeper as I watched him meander down my front porch. What the hell did he mean by the full story?

What the hell did Mickey know that I didn’t?