Chapter Three

Ivy unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed stiffly to her feet. The big guy across the aisle from her did the same, and at the same time, they edged into the aisle.

Only a breath away from him, she felt the rush of his body heat against her.

With a wave of his hand, he inched backward. "Ladies first."

"Thank you," she muttered.

She was sick of thanking this jerk for things. Sure, she was grateful that he let her go first, and that he'd kept her arm from being bashed by the food cart. She just didn't want to owe him any favors.

Steadying herself with a hand on the back of the airplane seat, she reached into the overhead compartment for her bag.

"Want a hand with that?"

There it was again—that rumble of irritation.

She shot a glance over her shoulder at the military man. "No thank you. I've got it."

She braced herself for his grunt of reply and wasn't surprised when he delivered. Did that make his fifth caveman noise or sixth, now? She couldn't get away from this guy fast enough. He'd spent the entire flight judging every move she made, every bite she took and every word she spoke.

She couldn't wait to get off this plane, but being back in Montana only heaped on the stress. She still had to face her sister and her very sick father. At this point, the only people she might not mind seeing were the ranch hands who never liked her to begin with.

A heavy weight sat firmly on her shoulders, tension tugging the muscles between them. She retrieved her carry-on luggage without issue and started dragging it toward the exit. Once she got out of the cluster of people leaving the aircraft, she took off as fast as her long legs would go.

Behind her came a heavy thump of boots. She sent a glance over her shoulder.

Hold up. Was he actually staring at her…ass?

Now she lumped him into another group. He was one of those men, the type who couldn't admire her for anything but her body.

Get a grip, buddy.

She rushed faster to get away from him, dodging in front of a group of older ladies. Let him look at their asses.

As she rounded the corner, she craned her neck, looking for a head of blonde hair just like hers. When she spotted her sister Meadow, a cry hit her lips.

Ohhh, she had missed Meadow. So much. More than she realized.

Ivy rushed the rest of the distance to meet her sister and then stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze landed on the cardboard sign Meadow had penned with bright-colored markers just like the art projects they used to do as kids.

Welcome Home, Poison Ivy

Ivy narrowed her eyes at her sister. Spotting her at last, Meadow's face transformed into a big smile that quicky faded as she realized Ivy was not happy to see her.

She looked down at the sign and flipped it over.

Just kidding. Princess Ivy.

"That's more like it." Ivy strode forward, arms outstretched, and hugged her sister.

Meadow's hair smelled like honey and chamomile shampoo, the same scent she associated with their mother.

Her throat closed on emotions bubbling up, unwanted.

Meadow rocked side to side, taking Ivy with her. "Ivy! It's soooo damn good to see you. I'm so glad you're here."

With her arms still around her sister, in her peripheral vision Ivy spotted a man coming toward them.

Not any man. The Neanderthal jerk from the plane.

To her absolute shock, he walked right up to the hot guy standing next to Meadow and hooked an arm around his enormous set of shoulders in a bro hug. The sound of them thumping each other on the back might as well be boulders falling off one of the mountains surrounding the ranch.

Ivy stepped away from Meadow and gave the men a pointed look.

Meadow scooted close to the tall, chiseled man with dark hair and even darker eyes. "Ivy, you remember Colton—Forest's friend? And my boyfriend…"

At the sound of her brother's name spoken so casually, a sharp lance pierced her heart.

Colton fixed his attention on Ivy. In a single flash, she saw the pain of Forest's loss in his eyes too. It was only a quick glimmer—gone in a wink—but it was there.

To cover the moment, she sputtered, "Did you say boyfriend?"

Colton's lips quirked upward at one corner.

Oh, damn. She could see what her sister saw in this one. Besides being a complete hottie badass, Colton seemed to possess a range of emotions.

Unlike the caveman beside him.

Meadow beamed and slipped her arm around Colton's back. "I did say boyfriend."

Colton slipped an arm around her and pulled her close.

Ivy slowly swung her attention to the other guy standing there. McGrunty.

"And you are?"

He centered those steely gray eyes on her face. An improvement from before when he stared at her ass. "I'm Hunter. Forest was my friend too."

Luckily, this time when she heard Forest's name, she didn't experience the same stab to her heart.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for more than an international flight, Princess Ivy."

Rolling her eyes, she swung away from Hunter and stalked over to the baggage claim. She stood there tapping her foot, watching the luggage slowly trickle into the carousel.

Putting up with the guy on the flight was irritating enough, but she must have committed a big sin to be saddled with him as an acquaintance of Forest's.

She reached for her bag as it came around the carousel, but before she could snag the handle, a long arm reached past her and latched on to her suitcase.

She sucked in a gasp of annoyance as Hunter, aka McGrunty, lifted her bag as though it weighed only ounces rather than the forty-five pounds she knew it did after lugging it all over a continent for most of a year.

When she met his gaze, he gave her that same cocky lift of his brow he had on the plane.

A burning itch zapped down her thighs. She battled an urge to stomp her foot.

Dammit. She was going to have to thank Hunter—again.

He was probably performing these kindnesses just to get his ego stroked.

She opened her mouth to ask if he was on some kind of ego trip but slammed it shut. She was much better than this. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of speaking to him.

Yanking the suitcase out of his hand, she set it on its wheels. It started to tip, and she caught it before it fell over. Then with her head held high, she hurried toward the exit without a backward glance at the rest of her party.

Hopefully, this guy was not joining them on the ranch, but what else could he be doing in Montana? It wasn't as though the local town held any attractions.

In the parking lot, Meadow caught up to her. "The truck is this way."

Without a response, Ivy crossed the parking lot to the truck with the Gracey Ranch logo on the side. The letters G and R making up the cattle brand were linked with the crossbar of the G morphing into the rounded portion of the R.

For some reason, the sight of that brand brought tears swimming into Ivy's eyes.

Fantastic.

Just what she needed. Stupid tears. She hadn't shed them in months. Not when she realized how alone she was in Europe. Nor when she received the call that her father had a massive heart attack.

This place stirred up emotions that she strived to stuff down for nine months, and annoyance was at the top of that list.

She heaved her suitcase into the bed of the truck like the badass country girl she really was.

A second bag landed right beside hers.

She glanced over to see Hunter standing inches away.

"You're really getting off on this, aren't you?"

His expression was unreadable. Stiff. Stoic.

The way she wished she could be feeling right this second.

"Getting off on what?"

"Driving me insane."

Before he could respond with one of those trademark grunts he was so good at, she rushed to the door to jump in. But Meadow was already climbing in the front seat, with Colton at the wheel.

Ivy tried not to ball her fists. Being forced to sit in the back seat wasn't a problem. But how did she get stuck with this guy? What kind of hellish coincidence had put them on the same flight, seated across from each other? Now he was going to the ranch with her?

When he slammed the door, she ground her molars. Colton started the engine and rolled out of the parking spot.

Hunter took up more than his share of the seat. After a few miles, he began to really sprawl out. What did he think this was? A leather sofa rather than a leather truck seat?

She pressed herself even tighter against her door until the armrest dug into her ribs. When his knee bumped her thigh, she slapped a hand down on the sliver of seat between them.

"Do you need to manspread so much? Nobody's balls are that big. Especially not yours. Stop touching me!"

Her sister squelched a laugh.

Even that sound roused all the memories of late-night giggles in bed with Meadow.

It couldn't be a worse time for fighting her emotions.

Meadow's voice vibrated with amusement. "Now, kids, don't make Colton stop the truck!"

"That's right. I'll turn this truck around."

Hunter twitched his knee away from Ivy's leg. "Sorry, princess."

"Don't call me that. I'm nothing like what you think I am."

"Based on my experience, you are."

She gaped at him. "Excuse me? Who are you to pass judgment on my character? You don't even know me."

"Maybe I'm wrong. But from what I see, you're the baby of the family, who has a lot of privileges."

"Just because I happened to be born last doesn't mean I have more privileges than Meadow. Besides, we're both grown women, not kids getting every toy we want in the toy store. Not that we ever did. Right, Meadow?"

"That's true."

At last! Her sister had her back.

They could not reach the ranch fast enough.

Hunter's bulky shoulder bumped hers as he reached into the pocket of his beat-up leather coat and withdrew a short length of thin rope.

She stared at the hemp in his big hand. "What are you going to do with that short little rope? Sister, please tell me this guy's not coming to work on the ranch. He's completely clueless about what a real cowboy does."

As she looked on, Hunter knotted the length of rope, creating small loops down the length. Then he knotted the ends together and held it out to her.

"Here's your crown."

With a lift of her jaw, she refused to take it. He had the audacity to stick it on her head.

With a muffled cry of anger, she threw it on the floor.

"I'm going to need that back."

She gave him an incredulous look. "You've got to be kidding me."

He cocked that stupid brow.

"You're not kidding. Oh my god." She bent over and grabbed the rope, then thrust it at him.

Meadow sighed. "If you two are finished bickering like seven-year-olds, I'll fill you in about our father." Her statement made Ivy's spine snap straight.

Her irritation with her travel companion had her so keyed up that she'd almost forgotten her reason for coming home.

"Please tell me what's going on with Daddy." She swung her head to pierce Hunter in her glare, just hoping that he questioned what they were talking about so she could blast him with the news that she'd traveled day and night to get home to her father, whose life hung in the balance.

* * * * *

"This is where you'll sleep." Colton waved at a space with two sets of bunkbeds. "Top one's free."

Hunter dipped his head in a nod and then dropped his duffel to the dusty hardwood floor. "Thanks, brother."

"Sorry it's not more glamorous."

"After the places we slept, it's at least a three-star accommodation."

They shared a tightening of lips, too watered down to be called smiles. The last op, the one that wiped out the squadron and left Hunter laid up for months with a bum leg, wore on both of them.

Colton twitched his head for Hunter to follow. When he led him out to a spacious main room, Hunter followed. The area included a sparse kitchen against one wall and a sink stacked with dirty dishes. Hunter wrinkled his nose at the smell. It wasn't worse than living with his own stink after going days without a shower in the deep of an op, but he didn't look forward to living with slobs.

He glanced at the long wooden table with several chairs shoved in haphazardly, then to a more casual seating group with a couple recliners, a sofa and a TV.

In the black screen, he saw his own blurred reflection. It seemed to represent how he felt about himself right now—like he wasn't fully a man. Fully real.

He was supposed to die on that op like the rest of his brothers-in-arms.

Colton waved a hand. "It isn't much, but the rest of the ranch hands are decent. The ranch manager might give you some trouble at first."

Hunter shot him a sharp look. "What kind of trouble?"

They exchanged a look.

"You don't need to sleep with a weapon, if that's what you're asking." Colton issued a rough laugh that held little humor.

Hunter grunted.

"Let's head outside and talk a while before I show you around the ranch."

Ducking his head in a nod, he trailed out the door behind Colton. The freshness of the air had been the first thing to hit him when he stepped out of the truck. A close second was the tang of pine in the air, and third, a cool quality that he filled his lungs with again and again.

Colton led the way across the short patch of grass to a long line of fence and leaned his elbows on it. Hunter did the same.

"I appreciate your offer for me to come to the ranch."

"I knew you were the best man for the job."

"And what exactly is that job?" Colton had only given him the barest hints of what sort of trouble was going down on the Gracey Ranch. He could guess at trespassers, dead cattle or even cattle theft. But situated in the middle of nowhere like they were, with a tiny pinprick of a town miles and miles away, what threat could they possibly need protection from?

Colton turned his head to stare across the landscape. "See that barn over there?"

Hunter followed his stare. "Yeah."

"I killed a man in it a few nights ago."

Their gazes connected for a heavy beat.

"So it's that kind of threat."

Colton nodded. "We aren't certain who's behind any of it yet. But Forest had some suspicions about things his father was doing."

"He told you that?"

"Not exactly. I read something about it in a letter he wrote to his father."

Hunter gripped the top rail of the fence hard enough that the rough splinters bit into his callused fingertips. Anyone in the military knew about those letters—the ones they wrote their loved ones in the event that they didn't return home.

The ones that brought grieving mommas to tears and drove fathers to the bottom of a bottle.

Hunter had had no letters to write. He didn't have any living relatives.

Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket he still wore, he fingered the rope and then drew it out. Toying with the short length had become a lifelong habit of his. During his stint in the hospital, with hours and hours of boredom, he'd indulged the habit more since his days as a SEAL.

He began picking apart the ends he knotted when he fashioned the crown for Ivy. Then, one by one, he worked free the rest of the decorative loops he made.

The look on her face when he slapped it on her head was the best thing he'd seen in a long time. In that moment, he realized that a woman like her didn't even live on the same planet he did.

Colton watched him toy with the rope for a minute. "What are you doing with that?"

He glanced up at his friend. How much should he share? Colton probably didn't need to hear more sad stories, not when they already shared one.

But he was asking, and Hunter had an obligation to one of the last friends he had left.

Holding up the length of thin hemp, he felt the words sear his throat. "It's from my youth."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "We had a boat when I was growing up. My dad taught me how to fashion sailors' knots. I used to keep this bit of rope to practice on. After my parents died, I figured it was lost. But when my grandparents died, I found this in my old room along with some toys from my childhood." He shifted his shoulders in an awkward semblance of a shrug.

"When I was in the hospital, I started playing with it again, making the knots."

"Ivy sure doesn't share the same fondness for it." Amusement danced in Colton's eyes.

Hunter didn't share his friend's amusement over the annoying princess. "She sat across the aisle from me on the flight."

Colton laughed. "That's one hell of a coincidence."

He scrubbed a knuckle over his jaw. "I guess you got the sane sister."

At that, his friend's expression transformed into a grin. A genuine one from the old days. "Meadow and I weren't always this happy and well-adjusted."

"I sense a story here."

"There is. Maybe I'll share it another time, but let's just say that Meadow needed a bit of a firm hand."

That statement brought a chuckle from Hunter, so unexpected that he had to resist looking around for the source of the unfamiliar sound.

"I came here to keep a promise to Forest. But now I've made a new one to Meadow."

Hunter grunted. "You're a lucky, man. You know your path. I have no idea what to do with my life."

Colton clapped him on the back. "While you figure things out, I'm happy to have you here. I need people I can trust to help me protect what Forest's family spent generations building."

"What you suspect his father fucked up."

"There's too much to tell right now. For the time being, I need to show you around, get you set up." He gave Hunter a pointed look. "I'm guessing you have your sidearm?"

"You know it."

"Good—keep it on you."

A prickle ran up and down Hunter's spine, the same tingle he always got when a commanding officer was giving an order. "What kind of danger are we talking about, Nox? You said you killed a man."

Colton looked him dead in the eyes. "I did. And one of the ranch hands is missing. I don't think he ran off."