Chapter Five

Ivy's old childhood bedroom wasn't even close to being a relaxing space. After traveling Europe, staying in beautiful, modern hotels or quaint BBs, her bedroom left her feeling claustrophobic.

The pale blue wall color that her mother had lovingly chosen when Ivy was a little girl were dated. The window blinds needed ripped down.

She didn't plan to stick around forever. She would make sure her father was on the road to recovery and then she'd find a way to return to her own life. What that looked like right now, she didn't yet know.

She stared at the floral photos over her boring white desk until she could stand no more and flung an arm over her eyes to block it all out.

For her entire life, Ivy had laid in this bed and listened to the heartbeat of the house. Her mother moving around the kitchen or the vacuum running on bedroom carpet. One of their many farm dogs barking from somewhere outside. Her sister and Forest's voices, rising and falling as they battled over a video game.

Back in the old days, she would hear the screen door slam shut and know her father had come inside for dinner.

Now? She only heard the throb of silence. Dead nothingness.

Then faintly, she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Before she heard the knock, she knew Meadow was on the other side of the door.

"Come in!" she called before her sister could even rap on the wood.

Meadow popped into the room. "You've always freaked me out when you do that."

She pushed into a sitting position, propped on pillows and a few much-loved stuffed animals. "I'm glad I can still manage it."

Meadow's stare moved over Ivy's face. "I came to make sure you're all right."

She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Her sister perched on the side of the bed. "Seeing Daddy that way isn't easy. Hooked up to machines."

"It isn't pleasant, that's for sure. I hope he recovers quickly. You say that there's been improvement daily?"

Nodding, she rested a hand on Ivy's arm. Then she did a double take. "Are you wearing my new sweater?"

Ivy gave her a sheepish look. "This old thing?"

When Meadow lightly slapped her arm, she was already prepared. "You always did steal my clothes. I haven't missed that!"

Feeling a bit lighter, Ivy laughed. "So what do you want to do tonight? Our favorite movies? Popcorn? MMs?"

"Um." Meadow tilted her head, drawing Ivy's attention to her gleaming hair waving over her shoulder.

"Wait! You're dressed to go out. Where are you going? I'm coming with you. It's like a tomb around this place."

"Actually, Colton and I are going to Badlands. I came to tell you not to wait up for us."

Ivy bounced off the bed and reached for her makeup bag where it sat among the belongings she hadn't unpacked. "What should I wear? I don't want to clash with you. What is Colton wearing?"

"Ivy. I don't think it's a good idea—"

She spun on her sister, a big, fluffy makeup brush in hand. "I'm coming. I'm old enough to get into a bar, Meadow." A thought hit. "Unless you and Colton are having a date. I don't want to be a third wheel."

"I just thought you might want to rest. Aren't you jetlagged?"

"You forget parties in Europe go all night." She rushed to the mirror and began applying powder to her face, concentrating on her nose. In the reflection, she saw Meadow still sitting on her bed. "I'll meet you outside in a couple minutes, sissy. I just need to slap on some lipstick and run a brush through my hair."

Meadow chewed her lip. "All right. Don't be too long." She stood, looking dazzling in fitted jeans that ended in her favorite embroidered cowgirl boots and a red top that Ivy might borrow next time they visited Badlands.

After she completed her hair and makeup, she assessed her reflection in the mirror. The sweater she'd nicked from Meadow was great, hugging her body in all the right places. But these boring old leggings would have to go.

She rummaged through her suitcase and came out with a tiny scrap of silver sequins. When she thrifted the garment in Berlin, she wasn't quite sure if it was a top or a skirt. She wore it both ways, but today it would go fantastic with the sweater as a skirt.

The real dilemma came in choosing footwear. Badlands always had music and dancing. High heels were much more metropolitan…

"But when in Rome." From her closet, she dug out her old black cowgirl boots and slipped them on. Oh gawd. She moaned. She'd forgotten how good her trusty boots felt.

After a quick glance in the mirror, Ivy sailed out the door to meet her sister and her boyfriend.

Meadow and Colton stood near the truck. Their heads were bent together. As Ivy looked on, her sister lifted her face, and Colton kissed her.

It wasn't just a kiss—the man claimed her.

Ivy stopped halfway to the truck, glancing around for a place to duck behind while Colton practically tongue-fucked Meadow.

"There's no escaping them. I already tried."

The deep baritone had her hair prickling, but not in a good way. Ivy turned her head to pierce Hunter in her stare. "They are in love."

He made that low noise in the back of his throat. The one that made Ivy want to roll her eyes or hiss like a cat every time she heard it.

Colton pressed her sister up against the side of the truck. Meadow wrapped her body around him like a second skin.

Great. Now they were practically dry-humping.

If interrupted, they'd break it up, right? In long strides, she took off for the vehicle.

As soon as she neared the couple, they looked up, saw her and broke apart.

"I'm ready. Thanks for waiting for me, guys." She could mention her sister's disheveled state or the fact that Colton wore an arrogant smile, but Ivy prided herself on her poise.

She reached for the door handle.

"Ivy. What are you wearing?"

She met her sister's eyes. "Your sweater."

"And?"

She looked down at the cute toes of her boots. "My favorite old boots."

Colton issued a low cough, which he did not manage to conceal behind his fist. And a grunting noise was probably formulating in Hunter's throat right this very second.

She waved a hand over her skirt. "Oh, this old thing?"

Meadow gave her a solemn nod that sent Colton into a real coughing fit.

"I know what you're going to say, Meadow. And I'm not fifteen anymore. I'm wearing the skirt."

"It's more like a sequined postage stamp," a rough voice muttered.

She whirled on Hunter, giving him her hottest glare before she opened the door of the truck. Before she climbed in, she tossed out, "Is Hunter really going to fit in at Badlands? He doesn't seem the partying type."

Before she could close the door, she heard Colton say, "Are we really letting her go out like that?"

"You can't clothing-shame someone, Colton. If she's comfortable…"

She slammed the door, cutting off her sister and her boyfriend's discussion about her outfit. Hunter landed in the seat next to her, and this time Ivy let out the grunt.

He caught her gaze. "Is there a problem?"

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I don't have a problem. It's you guys who seem to have a problem with my style."

"You understand why, right? We're going to a place called Badlands."

"I've been around the block a time or a thousand, Hunter. Guys are going to be stupid when they're drunk whether I wear a trash bag or this skirt."

"So that's what you're calling it."

She twisted on him. "What would you call it, then? And who made you the authority on fashion? Are you one of those men?"

From behind the wheel where he'd climbed in, Colton burst out laughing. Her traitorous sister in the seat next to him wasn't doing a very good job of hiding her giggles.

Hunter cracked the door and stuck one long leg out. "I'll just go back in the house for my gun."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, in my vast experience of traveling Europe alone, I learned I can wear sweatpants and men will still be stupid."

Meadow twisted in her seat to look at her. "Wait—you were alone? I thought you were with your friend!"

Dammit. She'd done so well hiding that fact.

"She ran out of money and had to go home."

"When?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "About a month into the trip."

Meadow's jaw dropped. Nobody seemed to be laughing now.

"You've been alone this entire time?"

Ivy bobbed her head. "Yes, which is why I've got this. Please drive, Colton. I could really use a drink now."

* * * * *

Hunter had to hand it to Ivy—she knew how to get that drink she asked for.

In fact, the minute she walked through the door of Badlands, no fewer than six guys flocked around her, chomping at the bit to buy her one.

He'd seen women like this before, daughters of powerful men who got whatever they wanted with a bat of their long eyelashes. He wasn't impressed by that—but he could admire that she had enough common sense to take care of herself for months in Europe. And managed to keep it from her own family.

It was a tough world—he should know. While his action was a lot more brutal, he understood the challenges of living overseas. Ivy was stronger than she looked.

Keeping a close watch on her, Hunter walked up to the bar and ordered a draft beer. He looked around for Colton to buy him one as well, but his buddy had disappeared into the crowd with Meadow.

Clearly, those two weren't concerned about Ivy's safety. Why that was, he couldn't figure out until he saw her walk right up to the huge, six-foot-four-inch bouncer and throw her arms around his neck.

"Ivy!" The man lifted her off her feet just by straightening to his full height. "I didn't know you were back in town."

Hunter missed her reply in the noise of a drumbeat coming from the live band set up in the back of the busy establishment. Busy was the wrong word—booming was more like it.

Didn't Colton tell him that the town of Eden had a very small population? And that there were a handful of bars? It seemed like the whole village was jam-packed into the four walls making up Badlands Bar and Distillery.

The pretty redhead behind the bar waved a hand in front of his face, diverting his attention from Ivy. "Cash or card?"

He held up his phone and paid using his digital wallet. With a nod of thanks to the bartender, he took his beer and moved to a vacant stool. Seating himself between two guys dressed just as country as Colton was in hats and boots, Hunter also positioned himself in the perfect place to keep tabs on the princess.

She was still speaking to the giant bouncer, who towered over her.

The guy pointed at something at the back of the room. Ivy bobbed her head and then threw him a little wave in farewell.

That wave.

Hunter could only call it…

No, he would not say it.

Cute.

Ugh. He needed to quit worrying about the princess.

He thought he could plant his ass on that barstool and make some friends, get them talking about people in town, maybe dig deep to find the dirt about who was targeting the Gracey Ranch.

But the minute Ivy broke away from her bouncer friend and stepped into the crowd, Hunter shot off the stool and tailed her.

Without so much as a glance his way, she strutted her sequined ass right past him. Three men rushed to make room for her at the bar.

Ivy slapped a hand down on the top in the most privileged move Hunter had ever seen.

The redheaded bartender spun around. She squealed and scrambled up and over the bar.

She landed as gracefully as a kitten on the other side, which earned a few whoops of amusement from the male patrons drinking their beer. But she didn't pay them any mind as she threw her arms around Ivy.

They hugged, squealing in girly delight.

It seemed the princess was also Miss Popularity. She hugged the redhead with as much warmth as Hunter had seen her hug her own sister.

After a brief conversation, Ivy had a cocktail in hand and was moving toward the back of the room.

Hunter shouldered his way through the throng of people taking up every square inch of space, keeping an eagle eye on Ivy's drink. The woman was oblivious to everything going on around her.

A man bumped into her.

Hunter's molars gnashed together.

Goddammit, she's going to get roofied.

When Colton invited him, Hunter had his doubts about letting down his guard and relaxing even a little bit tonight. That idea was definitely out the window.

Now he was officially on the clock, babysitting Forest's little sister.

Colton appeared at his side, his gaze trained on Meadow where she stood a few feet away, talking to a group of ladies.

His buddy raised his voice to be heard over the driving beat of country music and the thump of boots on a wooden dance floor. "Forest was lucky as hell to have us."

Hunter gave him a sharp look. "I'm not sure friendship is enough cause to watch over his little sister. Honestly, on the plane, I never connected who she was. I can't even believe it's the same girl from the photo. She must have been about twelve when it was taken."

Colton eyed him from under the brim of his cowboy hat. "You saw that pic?"

"Yeah." He looked over the heads of people between him and Ivy.

Men swarmed her like flies to honey, and no wonder. She was a fucking knockout. He'd place bets on the fact that every man in the joint wanted her.

He forced his attention back to Colton. "Forest told me that their father backed away from the family after his wife's passing and left his daughters to their own devices. I can see how Ivy ended up spoiled."

Colton gave him a long, direct look. "Forest told you different things than he told me. I never knew about any of it until I got here and puzzled it out for myself. Look, just keep an eye on Ivy, okay?"

At that moment, Meadow bounced through the crowd, long blonde hair swirling around her shoulders. When she looked at Colton, there were stars in her eyes, all for him.

She tossed a smile at Hunter. "I'm stealing Colton for a dance. C'mon, baby. It's my favorite song!"

Colton's grin couldn't get wider as he let her drag him onto the dance floor.

So much for digging up dirt on those attacks.

Hunter had never seen his buddy so happy, so carefree, despite the trouble at the ranch. Meadow was sweet and devoted—Colton was damn lucky.

Meanwhile, Hunter was over here trying to wrangle a tornado.

On the edge of the dance floor, Ivy bobbed to the music. That sequined Band-Aid she wore moved up her thighs with every twitch of her hips.

Forest's words filtered into Hunter's head again. He always said he prayed for the man who fell for Ivy.

More like any man left in the mangled wreckage she left behind her.

He glanced down at her hand. Hell. Where did she put her drink?

Then he spotted it on a nearby table.

Hunter sprang forward, nudging people aside to get to her. Grabbing her by the arm, he whirled her to face him.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide.

Deep, dark green with long lashes.

For a heartbeat, he actually considered the woman sweet. Then she opened her mouth.

"If you want to dance with me, you should just ask!"

"I don't want to dance, princess." He waved a hand at the drink on the table. "You can't just leave your drink unattended. There are a hundred men in this bar who want to drug you and put you in the back of their truck."

Her lips popped open on a gasp. "You think you know everything! Watch this." She removed a thick band around the stem of the glass. He noticed how the band was attached to a thin fabric stretched over the opening of the glass.

"What the hell is that?"

"Watch and learn, big guy. I got this."

She drew her long hair off her face and looped the band around the ponytail she made. He stared at her, then looked down at the cocktail, stunned by what he was seeing.

"See? All safe. It's a natural deterrent. No one wants to drug a drink they have to mess with so much. Too obvious." She removed the ponytail holder and stretched it over her glass again.

He had to admit the hair tie drink protector was kind of brilliant.

Before he could guess what she was about to do, she reached up and patted him on the cheek.

He jerked his head away from her touch.

As he twisted to keep Ivy in his sights, he realized that there was no clever accessory to protect her from the gang of men clustered around her.

Well, nothing but his fists.