Prologue

PROLOGUE

SIENNA

Two Months Earlier

Home sweet home is how the saying usually goes for most. Not me, though, I’m a home is where the heart is type of girl. I’ve missed the smell of early morning sunrises, the sound of rain as it hits the ground, the animals slowly making their presence known from their own slumber, and hours like these. I can’t tell you which is my favorite—sunrises or sunsets. Cotton candy skies in the morning or evening, there’s really no way to choose which is better. What I do know is in Arrowleaf, Wyoming, it’s a million times better. My camera roll is full of two things: our farm animals and sky lines. When I was away from home and in a city where I felt no connection, the loneliness and homesickness settled in and stayed. City life is not for me. Maybe for a minute, the newness was fun, but it quickly wore off. Even my short trips back home for holidays and breaks weren’t enough to make it bearable. My heart always longed for home and my stomach was queasy ninety percent of the time whenever I went back to college.

The minute my college advisor told me I could graduate early by taking a few extra courses throughout the year, it was game on. A full six months ahead of schedule, and I’m home earlier than my brother anticipated, much to his dismay.

Amos Damien Ellison is a knight in shining armor. He raised me when he should have been starting his life. He did it all, helped around the farm more than most kids his age should have, going shopping when Mom had a craving and could stomach the thought of food after a long day after chemotherapy. Dad stayed glued to her side, doing the bare minimum around the farm, house, and myself. Amos kept at it, taking the brunt, and when I tried to help, he told me to stay near Mom in case she needed something. So, when the time came and Mom passed, he held us all together, and when Dad left this earth less than a year later, he did it again.

“This view never gets old,” I say to the bunnies who are hopping back to their den. There’s a whole family. Right now, it’s just the mom, and she only comes out twice a day. My raccoons haven’t come around lately, and yes, I call them mine. A lot of people, Amos included, call them nasty critters, when really, they do great things for the land surrounding us. Like eating rodents and reptiles that are pests, cleaning up dead animal carcasses, plus a whole slew of other stuff. This is where my love of all animals comes out. Maybe not skunks because of them spraying on you, but even then, that’s just their defense mechanism.

I watch as the sun rises above the mountains in the distance as I hold my cup of coffee. I’ve already done my share of what needs to be done even with Amos grumbling about me working side by side with him. He’s unrealistic in his way of thinking and over the top protective. I get it more than he knows. Amos wanted me to move away from our home in Arrowleaf, a place where maybe he felt I’d be trapped. The truth is this land has been in our families for generations and generations. Leaving isn’t something I need or want. Since I’ve been home, nothing has changed. The farm is still running the same. No, I take that back. Amos has this place fine-tuned with precision, literally. He’s pissing excellence with how amazing he’s done. There are more cattle than before Mom got sick or Dad passed. He’s made the Triple E Farm into something I know our parents would be proud of. Amos has kept himself busy, that’s for sure. The only downside of him taking on so much is now he’s all work and no play and not living a life of his own. I hate to say this, but my big brother needs to get laid. He’s like a ball of stress and a grumbling bear all wrapped in one. And while I’m a smidge grossed out thinking about my brother getting horizontal with a woman, he deserves to find happiness of his own.

“Son of a bitch.” I take my first sip of coffee, forgetting that Amos has the temperature set to scorching, and burn the crap out of tongue. I pull the mug away and set it on the railing, ready to throw it all out. Except I’m not a fool and my love for hazelnut creamer is endless. Amos says I’m gross by adding the over-sweetened sugary syrup to his overly strong bean water, and while he may like hair on his chest, I surely don’t.

“That’s one way to say good morning.” I’m jarred once again, but this time, I have no choice. It’s either put the mug down or burn myself while keeping my eyes off the owner of the voice.

He’s my brother’s best friend.

He’s thirteen years older than me.

He makes me lose my senses.

And he’s also the reason I agreed to leave town and go away to college.

My brother has lost every person in our life. The last person I wanted him to lose because of me is Trey Johnson. I can remember the moment when I realized how good it felt to have his eyes on me .

“Trey.” I struggle to string more than one word together. I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve seen him throughout the past three and a half years, but that’s not the case. Any time I’d come home to visit, he’d be around. I’d have no idea he’d be there. On more than one occasion, he’d be at the house when I came home. Most of the times, he’d be in the living room having a beer with Amos, eyes on me the entire time. Then there were the times he’d follow me into the kitchen with the excuse to grab fresh beers, and I’d be alone with him. Those were the absolute hardest. I tried my damnedest to stay away, but Trey didn’t allow that. He'd corner me against the counter. A touch here, a caress there, and the last time, his front pressed against my back. Muscular arms would bracket me on either side, lips gliding along the side of my neck in a whisper-soft kiss, and I more than felt the heavy length of his cock.

I watch as his nostrils flare while his fists tighten at his sides. Today started out normal with chores, followed by a long hot shower, one where my hair needed to be washed two days ago, yet I held out until I couldn’t stand it any longer. There’s something about having to blow dry the long tresses only for it get hot and sweaty again in a few days’ time.

“Sugar.” Trey’s deep gravely timbre hits me between my thighs. My knees tremble, and the moment I lower my arms, I know I’ve made a terrible decision. The towel I have wrapped around me slips down my body. “That’s a hell of a welcome home, See. Thought it’d be better if it were me unwrapping you.” Damn my stupid self for not grabbing my robe or getting dressed. I struggle to grab the towel from sliding down my body further. A nipple slip is one thing, a full body shot is an entirely different story.

“You could at least pretend to be a gentleman and avert your eyes,” I complain, turning around to readjust the towel, tucking myself in, and making sure Trey isn’t getting another look. Jesus, Amos would lose his ever-loving mind if he walked outside right about now. I guess there is a plus side for keeping my childhood bedroom. The door from my room to the back porch gives me unlimited access, and for the most part, no one else uses it.

“I think we both know that will never happen where you’re concerned. See you soon, sugar,” Trey states. He’s like an apparition—here one moment and gone the next.

“Sienna, you see Trey anywhere?” My brother walks out the back door, the one off the kitchen, and when he sees what I’m wearing, he shakes his head.

“Nope,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders. I keep my arms tucked while grabbing my cup of coffee off the railing. Surely, it’s cooled off and I can take a sip without it scalding my tongue. Unlike the match Trey just lit between us where we’re both bound to get burned.

“Funny, I could have sworn I heard his voice. May want to get back inside just in case.” My overprotective brother has no idea what happened mere moments ago. I’m actually shocked he’s not rushing into the house to grab a parka or a blanket to throw my way.

“I was going in anyways.” So much for enjoying the sun rising with my coffee and thoughts. Nope, now I’m a muddled freaking mess. I left Arrowleaf for a few reasons, two of them being my brother and Trey. It seems I did it all for nothing, too. There’s no way we’ll be able to keep things strictly platonic between us. Not when Trey singlehandedly lit the match, watched the flame grow, and let it burn.

“Good,” Amos says grumpily. I roll my eyes. There’s no use staying out here when he’s in a mood. I love my brother, but damn can he be a pain in my ass.