Chapter 9

NINE

TULLY

As Dev stormed out of the apartment over the barn, I let out a long groan, partly of frustration and partly of relief.

His moodiness was getting to me.

All morning, I’d felt like I was standing in a pasture under a wide-open sky back in Texas, watching the clouds roll in and feeling that same silent tension gather around us that charged the air before a lightning strike. I’d known a storm was brewing but not when it would hit.

One minute, I’d felt a connection growing between us, the kind where we could at least be friends for Lellie’s sake, and the next, he closed off, retreated like I was the enemy, and glowered at me over a peanut butter sandwich. One minute, he was introducing his daughter to the horses or reading her a book before nap, and the next, he’d lit out of the apartment, leaving me to watch Lellie without even asking if I minded.

I didn’t mind, of course. But if he was going to be her guardian, for however short a time, he needed to know that he couldn’t simply storm off when he was angry.

I bit out a curse as I looked at the papers strewn across the couch. What was so upsetting about knowing that Katie had owned his parents’ place, for heaven’s sake? The man was incomprehensible sometimes.

Which probably made me a fool for constantly wishing I understood him.

Before I could berate myself too much, my phone rang with a call from my boss. Thankfully, my assistant had already warned me about the custody suit when I’d called to check in earlier, but I still wasn’t prepared for the aggression in Orris Dunlevy’s voice.

“I’m going to need that address for Devon McKay,” he began.

I didn’t pretend not to understand him, but we both knew his pressing me for Dev’s address was shady as fuck. My firm might be handling Pastor and Mrs. Scotts’ case, but I was not their attorney. I was representing my client Kathryn Scott and, by extension, her daughter.

“Feel free to have whoever is handling the case reach out to me,” I replied, trying to remain calm. “How are things proceeding with the Hernandez trust? Jay said?—”

“Fine, fine. It’s all in hand. But I need you to talk to me about the Scott case. Did you make contact with Mr. McKay?”

“Yes. I arrived yesterday.”

“And? Has he agreed to release custody of the child to the Scotts?”

“Definitely not.” I stretched my neck from side to side. “He does not want them having custody of Lellie.”

He made a discontented noise. “So he plans on keeping her.”

Not exactly.

Thankfully, Orris continued without waiting for my confirmation. “Good thing they proceeded with the lawsuit, then. Brock Lois is handling the case. He’s the best. I’m sure he’s already working on getting as much dirt on the man as possible, but I don’t have to tell you that anything you can offer him in support of the Scotts’ suit would be greatly appreciated.”

I clenched my back teeth. “Sir, respectfully, I’m not going to do that. My client was very firm in her decision against leaving custody of Lellie to her parents, so I will not assist a suit to go against her wishes.”

“Tully, I understand your conflicting emotions here, but there are things you don’t understand— can’t understand. Sometimes there are misunderstandings between an adult child and her parents that become meaningless when something as terrible as the child’s death occurs. You wouldn’t understand that, since you’re not a parent yourself. What’s clear is that the Scotts love their granddaughter very much and would make a stable and loving home for her. Any judge in town will side with Pastor Scott, whose church is a fixture in the community and who’s been in a forty-year committed marriage, over a single father who’s never even met the child. The Scotts are going to win their suit, and if an associate of Dunlevy, Pace, and Trumble hinders their efforts to gain custody of their granddaughter, we stand to lose millions of dollars of their legal business from our books. I won’t stand for that.”

“I am not suggesting we hinder them, Orris,” I said. “I’m only stating that I will not aid them by betraying my own client. I have an ethical obligation to represent the interests of my client and her child?—”

“Surely you believe the interests of the child lie with the Scotts.” Orris’s tone conveyed that this was not a question but a clear statement of what I was expected to believe, whether I actually believed it or not. If I disagreed with it outwardly, I would receive a harsh and immediate black mark on my record as a potential partner at the firm.

“My opinion is irrelevant, sir,” I hedged. “It’s not my place to have an opinion here. It’s my job to represent my client.”

I felt a trickle of sweat slide down my lower back.

“As it’s my job to represent mine,” Orris said firmly. “Franklin Scott is my client. The Scotts’ business is worth way more to this firm than Kathryn’s ever was, make no mistake. If it comes down to having to choose sides here, Tully, I expect you to choose the right one. Do I make myself clear?”

My jaw began to ache. There was no point in accusing him of pressuring me into unethical and unprofessional behavior unless I was ready to get fired. And I definitely was not. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll have Brock’s people get in touch with you to get these papers served. Meanwhile, I need you to stay there and keep an eye on McKay in case he gets the idea in his head to take the girl and run.”

I thought about the work I was already missing. “Stay here for how long, exactly?”

“As long as it takes, Tully.”

After ending the call, my hands and jaw ached from clenching them so hard.

How the fuck am I supposed to handle this?

I knew what I owed Katie, and I felt that responsibility keenly. But Katie knew my career was my life—the dream I’d worked toward since I’d been a poor-as-fuck kid in Texas squirreling away every penny I’d earned as a ranch hand to put toward my tuition as a down payment on a better, more stable future. Being a partner-track attorney at a firm like Dunlevy, Pace, and Trumble wasn’t the sort of job where you could easily transfer your acquired skills and contacts to a new firm, either. If I had to find a new position, it would mean starting over from scratch, with a massive loss of money, seniority, and career security.

I didn’t even want to contemplate it. Hard fucking no .

Which meant I had to make sure it didn’t come to that… somehow.

I paused in the bedroom doorway to check on Lellie. She was still sleeping peacefully in the travel crib with her little arms flung out beside her head and her rounded cheeks pink from heat. I moved close and pulled the cotton blanket down until it was only covering her lower legs and feet.

The room smelled like sandalwood. Like Devon. I closed my eyes and indulged in a few deep inhales. Memories that were never truly far off cascaded behind my eyelids. The scent of his faded cologne as I brushed my nose along his neck and behind his ear. The salty taste of the skin there. The sound of his deep voice as he encouraged me to feel good, just like that.

I shook my head and quickly grabbed the video baby monitor so I could go downstairs to the barn and get some distance from Dev’s scent and his surroundings.

I was here to give this man custody of his daughter and to make sure that Lellie would be safe in his care. That was all—and after that conversation with Orris, that was going to be more than complicated enough—so it didn’t matter how often I’d fantasized about doing much, much more to him these past two years.

Indigo was busy filling troughs in the nearest paddock with fresh water while listening to something on giant headphones. At some point, he’d managed to swap his flip-flops for mucking boots, but he’d stuffed his linen pants in the top of them, making them balloon out comically.

When he saw me, he jumped. “Whoa, dude. Warn a guy.”

“Sorry. I was just stretching my legs and having a look around,” I explained. “My name is Tully.”

“Dope. Indigo. I’m here to help out with the horses for a bit. You, too?”

I reached out to offer my knuckles to a nearby gelding for a sniff. “No. Just here for a visit. Up from Texas. What about you?”

“I’m from Utah, originally, but I went to school in Colorado. Just graduated last week, so I’m probably heading back to Utah in a couple months to get, like, a real adult job,” he said sadly. “When I thought about going back now , though, I was totally bummed. So I told myself, ‘Nah, Indigo, you need a summer adventure.’ But, like, also gotta make money, right?” He shrugged. “Mostly, I wanted an excuse to climb Three Daughters, so…here I am.”

I hoped that wasn’t as creepy as it sounded. “Three Daughters?”

He tilted his shaggy hair in the direction of a triple-peaked mountain vista in the distance. “Three Daughters. Killer climbing, bro. Big water, too, if you’re into it. Mountain biking. All that. You know AdventureSmash? They’re holding their GrandSmash race here this summer.”

I wasn’t sure I spoke the same language as this guy, but he seemed friendly enough. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, yeah. Gonna be lit,” he agreed. “Some friends of mine are already heading up the mountain. Hope to connect with them again next week, maybe, but I needed the rest. Did a climb last weekend that was a total muscle-fuck. Totally flashed it, but fuck, man. Intense . You know?”

I definitely did not know, but I nodded anyway. “So, you’re going to be able to wrangle the horses during roundup in a few days?”

His affable smile didn’t dim. “Yeah, dude. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. No stress, lemon zest. I’ve been playing polo forever, so like… how hard can it be?”

I imagined Dev’s response to this attitude. Since it was possible his reaction would cause local law enforcement to show up, and since I definitely didn’t want that sheriff turning up anytime soon with his proprietary attitude toward Dev, I decided to do a little proactive crisis management.

“Well, that depends,” I told Indigo. “In order to separate herds, you need to understand herd dynamics. From what I know about the Fletcher Ranch, these are primarily trail horses used on dude ranches. They spend the winters here being taken care of, and then when the summer tourist season begins, they get sent in smaller batches to their respective ranches for the summer. That means those large herds you see in the pastures will need to be picked through to separate out each individual horse.”

Indigo’s smile had finally faded. “Why don’t they just keep ’em organized all winter? Like the Johnson ranch horses live in this pasture and the Smith horses live in that one? Seems like it’d make it easier come summer.”

I nodded. “It might. Except there are other reasons to separate them differently. Pregnant mares need special care. So they might get put together closer to the barn where Dev can keep an eye on them. Older horses more sensitive to the winter weather might need to be kept in a pasture that’s more protected from the wind. Certain animals might have special dietary needs, and keeping them together would make daily feeds easier.”

My information about Fletcher Ranch had come from an internet search on the plane yesterday, but I’d done some additional research on my phone since hearing Dev describe his job as managing the ranch’s breeding program.

“It’s probable that many of the programs that lease horses from the ranch don’t need specific horses as much as they need a specific kind of horse. Like ones trained for trail riding or ones trained for carrying packs. So at roundup, maybe Dev needs to pull ten trail riding horses of varying sizes for a particular dude ranch program, and then he needs to pull eight packhorses for a different program. And let’s say all of those horses come out of a large herd in the same pasture. He needs to be able to separate out the right horses to load up in the trailers for those contracts.”

Now there was actual concern on Indigo’s face. “Whoa. But, like, can’t I just clip a lead to each of their harnesses and walk them out?”

“Not when you need to divvy up a hundred horses in a day. But if you’re comfortable in the saddle… do you ride western?”

“Yeah. Been riding since I was little. Only started polo in high school cause of this hot dude…” His cheeks turned pink, and I wondered if he knew he’d tripped and fallen into the gayest ranch in rural Wyoming. Lucky bastard.

“Uh-huh. Well, I suggest asking Dev or Way to take you out before roundup and show you how cutting works. Be honest with them about your abilities and tell them you’re willing to do what it takes to be ready in time.”

Indigo eyed me. “You seem to know a lot about this. You going to help, too?”

I shook my head. “I need to stay here and look after Lellie. The little girl you met earlier.”

His face softened, and his smile returned. “Now, see, I’m much better at wrangling kids than horses. You should switch places with me and let me do the baby thing while you do the cowboy thing.”

I wish , I thought and then immediately dismissed it.

I didn’t actually want to be a ranch hand. Not ever again. Dev could side-eye my nice clothes and haircut, but those were the trappings of a life I’d built on my own terms and the way I told the world that Tully Bowman was worth something. I wouldn’t trade that for all the muck boots and saddle leather in the world.

“One of us was hired for the cowboy thing,” I reminded him with a grin. “And it wasn’t me. But you’ll do fine as long as you can get some practice in before the big day.”

He inhaled through his nostrils. “Thanks, Tully. ’Preciate it.”

A squawk from my pocket reminded me about the baby monitor. I pulled it out and saw Lellie waking up. After throwing a “Later!” over my shoulder, I bolted back up to the apartment to grab her before she tried climbing out of the crib herself.

She woke up cranky, whimpering, and wriggly. I did a quick diaper change and spared a moment to wonder at the vast turn my life had taken in the past week.

My clients at Dunlevy, Pace, and Trumble were wealthy power players with high expectations and limitless influence. I was invited to fundraisers and galas, high-stakes wealth-management discussions, and meetings about tax shelters for people who didn’t think twice about purchasing a second yacht.

And here I was, trying not to get poop on me while crouched on a bed over a barn in nowhere Wyoming with a toddler who wasn’t even mine and was every bit as moody as her father.

I felt the uncomfortable pinch in my chest as I remembered Orris’s earlier words.

If it comes down to having to choose sides here, Tully, I expect you to choose the right one.

One of my law school professors had spent an entire lecture on various ethical dilemmas, all relating to the concept of conflict of interest. That professor loved to quote Camus. A man without ethics is a wild beast loosed upon this world.

It was clear that I was being pressured into a conflict of interest here, and my boss was unwilling to recognize it as such. That was wrong. Obviously, it was.

But it was one thing to defend Dev’s right as Lellie’s biological father to retain custody of her and another to defend his right to give her away to a stranger instead of allowing her to stay in her own family. Was that worth derailing my entire career?

I hadn’t heard a single compelling reason why Dev was so hell-bent on refusing custody of Lellie himself. He was affectionate and sweet with her. He had a support system and a family-centered place to live. With Lellie’s money, he’d be able to afford a proper house and plenty of childcare. So if he didn’t care enough to try to keep her, should I really risk my job to help him keep her away from the Scotts?

I gathered Lellie up and nestled her against my chest, inhaling her sweet, clean scent as she babbled against my shoulder.

The answer should be simple, but like everything else in the past two days, it felt anything but.

Why didn’t Dev want to keep his daughter?

And why did his rejection of her cut me so deeply?